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So it is done: King and the Queen
🕑 Added 2022-02-19 17:38:41 +0000 UTCOnce upon a time, Ghira Belladonna's father, the wisest man Ghira had ever known, Ka Belladonna, created the White Fang. And from then on, the White Fang were an integral part of Faunus society, even when Menagerie were born, the White Fang were there.
He had created it after the most devastating war in Remnant's history, where the following weeks felt like decades, and where important events seemed to be happening all the time. Events that’s so cluttered, it could be analyzed for years without ever grasping the complexity of the interconnections, each of which entailed, no, causes dominoes to fall that made the years seem to go on and on.
First the Great War led to the death of the best sons of their generation, the best children of all Remnant to die an ignominious death. A four-year-long war that took the lives of millions, a senseless massacre borne out of a senseless argument writ large.
How many soldiers can Mantle field? Mistral? Vale? Vacuo?
During the Great War, Remnant, for the first time in its history, knew the answer to that question. For the first time in ever, armies of millions marched on Remnant.
A war that killed ten percent of Remnant's entire population, whether by bullets, famine, disease, and then, the Grimm came and killed some more.
Remnant still hasn’t recovered from that tragedy, and probably never will. For a society that was always on the brink of collapse, the Great War almost completely tore it asunder.
People, humans, were dying on the war fronts, day by day entire armies melted like snow. And so, the powers that be, began to wonder…
Mistral was the first.
Why send our sons, noble men who are destined to be great, when instead we can sacrifice the faunus instead?
Of course, what a brilliant idea these educated men thought. The faunus were only half-intelligent savages, after all, kept for centuries as second-call citizens to serve humans, but can they not, with all their savage fury, do what our soldiers do at the front? Give them weapons and point them at the enemy, and they will fight.
Besides, isn't it time for them to pay back the human’s kindness by allowing them to live amongst them in the first place?
It’s easy to forget now, with Faunus living side by side with humans, even with their relations sour as it is, but in the not so distant past, the Faunus were segregated. Outside the walls of cities and out of sight.
With promises of better treatment and privileges should they enlist, is it any wonder that the Faunus joined the war effort in droves. Then again some Kingdom, Mantle, didn't even give the illusion of choice.
And so Mistral's army, then on the back foot, barely able to stop Vale's onslaught on the capital, suddenly inflicted a heavy defeat on General Lagoon, pushing Vale's main forces away from the seemingly already defenseless Mistral.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the General had lost.
Soon, the news of Mistral's successes spread around Remnant, and the generals of the world slapped their collective hands on their forehead.
The faunus, of course! How could they forget such a large contingent of battle-ready adult men and women?
The faunus were pretty much conscripted into the service. Under human command, serving as special units and, when needed, as a meat shield or distraction.
For a short time this seemed to the commanders the ideal solution. Why hadn’t they thought of this sooner?
Mantle’s faunus brought in as laborers for the mines? The faunus of Mistral, straight from the rice paddies? The faunus of Vacuo, languishing under the heat of the plantations? All became millions of new soldiers ready for service.
Four years later, the Great War was over, and the former High Commanders remembered why they had originally been reluctant to draft the faunus.
Because giving yesterday's workers, taken off the plantations and bent over for their masters' day in and day out, weapons and training was a stupid decision. They were already making some undercurrent of support from the humans for Faunus rights!
Of course, they tried to couch it as a gift, an entire Island, a Kingdom for the Faunus! They must have been laughing themselves sick for their creativity of naming it Menagerie. For the Faunus, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. To put all the Faunus, already considered by most military generals to be dangerous and by politicians as inconvenient, in one place? Nobody was stupid enough not to know what would come next.
A world that had barely begun to recover from the Great War was facing a new crisis, and just three years after the Treaty of Vytal, the world was on the brink of another war.
An all-out war, a war for survival.
In such a situation, the emergence of the White Fang, created by Ka Belladonna, was the wisest move imaginable. It was the only way to contain the uprisings that had already begun to rise around the world and avoid starting a new war, faunus against humans, the whole world against the other part of the whole world. To create a face for Remnant’s Kingdom to negotiate with.
The White Fang had to fight for seven years for the right to speak on behalf of all faunus. What began as a group of moderate activists, veterans of the Great War, twelve founders in all, achieved both the right to speak for all faunus, and the right to freely expatriate suffering faunus in the other kingdoms to Menagerie. Changing the poisoned gift the Kingdom offered into the home for all Faunus.
It was a great victory for the faunus, who, for the first time, had a place they could call home. And for Ka Belladonna, who went from being an inconspicuous official from a settlement in the outskirts of Vale, serving as overseer of a small commune of fauna, to their leader, the mouthpiece of all the faunus.
Ghira was born when Ka himself was old, when Ka was almost old enough to be called his grandfather, and took over the inheritance, White Fang, when he was not yet twenty.
He was so afraid to accept such a burden from his father’s capable hands, afraid for himself and for all the faunus.
If Ka had become a great leader from a small official, Ghira only wanted to become a small official from a great leader.
He lacked the wisdom of his great father, and all he retained from his teachings was the desire to treat people far better than his surroundings expected of him.
Ghira knew that his father had an adopted brother, a man who had been raised by his grandfather, Balu who he could perhaps pass his inheritance to, though he had never seen Maw with his own eyes.
He had been brought up among the faunus, and the humans that were a friend of the faunus. Perhaps it was his father's stories that had so strongly influenced Ghira himself as a child?
And so, upon taking on the burden of leadership, Ghira found himself at the head of all the faunus of Remnant. And he was afraid.
He had always had a talent for conversing with people and a personality that people easily liked, but it wasn't enough. No amount of training or lessons could’ve prepared him for the position as the leader of the White Fang, essentially the ‘face’ of the Faunus. All that Ghira himself can do, was to try his best. To keep his hand and heart steady, as to not destroy the legacy his great father and the Faunus of the past had created.
No grandiose plans or modernization, he would exclusively follow a policy of conservation.
Small negotiations here and there, concessions and minor advances were all that Ghira had the confidence to handle.
And it was not at all what his people had expected of him.
The son of the wise Ka turned out to be such an indecisive weakling?! Shame, shame!
Maybe Ghira couldn't see the signs, or maybe he didn't want to see them, perhaps so that he could suffer less when the time came. The White Fang had been gearing up to replace him. He would probably have kept his position as chieftain of Menagerie, but he would definitely lose his position in the White Fang.
Ghira probably even suspected, somewhere deep down, never admitting even to himself, where it would all come to. The policy of conservation and pacifism has one problem. It yielded few results, and those that came, came slowly.
And so, when for the first time whispers began to be heard behind his back for who would be his replacement, when for the first time the question, still in a whisper, was uttered, ‘do we really need Ghira Belladonna?’ A helping hand that would cement his position came from somewhere he would never expect.
Kings, state branches, Super-hordes. All of those things were things that were far away, not something that would cross his path. What a surprise that from all these factors, he would receive the greatest support.
No, a Super-horde didn’t come to Menagerie, and he was crowned king for repelling it, thankfully. He was already uncomfortable enough in his position as head of the White Fang, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel for him to gain a higher position.
No, a king that was crowned for doing all that, the king of Glenn, had made an overture of diplomacy with Menagerie.
Menagerie had never been a good place to live, otherwise the kingdoms would have fought for it and hadn’t ‘given’ it to the Faunus. No, it was a piece of useless land, most of which was covered in uninhabited desert and the steppes that existed were without a single brick building. It didn’t even have the almost ubiquitous ruins of past civilizations! It was so far removed from any trade and sea routes that it made as much for people to settle it as farming in Solitas.
A piece of useless land, crumbs, but father wisely realized that demanding something more would only unequivocally derail the peace negotiations, and the seemingly dead Faunus rebellion would erupt with renewed vigor.
Would this eventually lead to new, far more habitable territories for the fauna? Possibly. But how many faunus would be left to live in those lands then?
And so, having become the new leader of the White Fang when his father passed, Ghira was confronted eye to eye with the harsh reality of the current state of affairs.
It was almost impossible to farm on Menagerie. And without farming, you can't build a large society. Without society there are no factories, and without them there are no jobs, and without jobs there is no money, no army and no laws, no control and no state. Fishing alone couldn’t sustain a large population, never mind the dangers the Grimm-filled seas pose.
And in these circumstances they expected him to do... What?! Go on a conquest without an army?!
Maybe a tough foreign policy?! Towards the Mistral that fed them?! Or perhaps demand things from Vale, who was responsible for the electricity in Menagerie?!
And so, when Jonathan held out his hand to them, Ghira grasped it, as any drowning man would. That was when Glenn and Menagerie's story began - the two of them fledgling states that needed help.
At first, it was an awkward alliance between two states that didn't really have much to offer. In such a tense political situation that was created by Glenn declaring itself a separate state, Jonathan could not turn to Vale, Mistral or Atlas, even if there existed people that wanted to help! And all they could think of was to reach out to Menagerie.
Menagerie then became the middle men for food, water, and building material.
For the first time in Ghira's reign, the faunus suddenly realized that their pockets were beginning to become heavier, and with that comes influence
Everyone loves money.
Even the Mistralians turn a blind eye when a faunus decides to buy a couple of trains of canned goods from them, at least, if you give them enough of a reason to look the other way. Employees of the Schnee Dust Corporation agree to keep their eyes closed while someone carries off their trains, especially when a suitcase full of banknotes laden their eyelids.
And for the first time in a long time, the Faunus were prospering.
Jonathan spared no expense in preserving his people and his state, and Menagerie spared no expense to satisfy this demand, stuffing them as best they could with new and new bundles of notes.
After a while, however, when the first stage of the crisis had passed, Glenn had stopped relying so heavily on Menagerie, and the spring of good fortune seemed to have dried up. At that moment, it seems that Brother Gods have a sense of humor, as their shared enemy suddenly gave them a stellar opportunity.
Jacques Schnee suddenly instituted a total embargo on Glenn. And that's when Jonathan reached out to Menagerie again to ‘solve’ this problem. The White Fang was happy to answer Glenn’s request.
Perhaps, given time, Glenn would probably ‘deal’ with it quite easily, Ghira really didn’t want to think what the RATS do, but at that time they didn't have enough hands of their own to deal with it. So, then where would Glenn ask for help?
Menagerie might not have a proper army, but the White Fang was not to be underestimated. They were originally founded during the time of war after all, some memories are not so easily forgotten.
So, what would happen if we paid you for the services of noble highwaymen?
If nothing else, Glenn has a lot of things to entice cooperation. After all, no one would refuse the miraculous drug that can cure even the terminally ill.
And so, as he watched the more radical of the White Fangs baying for blood, Ghira made up his mind. His people who were just recently smiling as their bellies were filled fully for the first time in a long time, or that their roofs no longer leaked, were fervent in protecting the happiness they had found.
Maybe… No, one of the reasons Ghira also agreed to such a plan, was that he had met Jonathan in person.
The short young lad bore the signs of a terrible tragedy. He limped as he walked, tapping his cane slowly and breathed seemingly unevenly. This Ghira was able to notice during their meeting interaction, as if he was constantly short of breath. All the while, Ghira noticed that he neither drank nor smoked, yet he looked so burdened.
And yet he always behaved in a sedate, controlled manner. He smiled, he joked, but he did not lower his eyes, nor did he fear Ghira, who towered above him by several heads. He was the kind of person that answers kindness with kindness and enmity with enmity.
And that was then that Ghira made up his mind.
Would Ka praise him now? Probably yes, his old man had always believed in him.
And so, with his decision made, things moved on like a snowball. No, not in a bad way, but in that things build up more and more in a slow, stable manner.
Menagerie, during his father’s time, and as sad as he to admit it, during his time as well, were barely a state. The only thing they had to an organized institution were the White Fang. While it was a very large organization, branches existed across all Remnant, but it doesn’t a state makes.
They have no army, just a few wings of a militarized group of White Fang members, they were practically volunteers, supervised only by commanders. All their laws were in utter disarray, the courts worked almost blindly, and it was not uncommon for judges, unable to find a suitable article, to judge people ‘according to custom’ or even worse by ‘familial relations’.
Schools, hospitals, factories, thinking of these things caused only a chuckle, a very sad chuckle.
But Ghira had no way of changing that.
How would he create a full-fledged constitution when he could not even control the judges? How would he create an army, when he didn't even have enough money for a warehouse for Dust!
But with Jonathan, money, and opportunities seemingly rushed like a raging river into Menagerie.
Ghira would be the worst of fools to miss this opportunity handed to him.
And so, first, an army.
From its very beginnings, the White Fang had maintained a small fighting force scattered around its many branches. Calling the few dozen fighters an army, is too much of a stretch. The fighters in the White Fangs were more like the personal guard of a few of the organization's more prominent figures, with the bulk of them staying in Menagerie as its defense force.
Now? Now with Menagerie full of happy faunus, the Faunus were eager to defend it. With the White Fang finally under one leadership, Ghira’s, he sees no problem with creating an army now.
Ghira had always feared that if the White Fang were to become more militarized, it would only be a matter of time until the more radical leaders decides to do something stupid. Something like attacking a Kingdom, or Brother’s forbid, a Hunter Academy. That would be the catalyst to the second Faunus Wars, and Ghira feared that this time, the Faunus would lose.
But without that possibility, for the first time the White Fang are now a real army, with ranks, and a proper chain of command. And, although it would be a long time before they completely forgot the time spent under the command of just one faunus, for the first time in a long time the army was subordinate to Ghira.
Next were the police, as for the first time the White Fang were not there to replace police functions. Just the image of the military patrolling the streets alone would be detrimental.
Then, the writing of the Constitution and the full certification process to find judges as to their knowledge of it. The creation of the first universities, the first factories, even a dust mine! With how many Faunus were forced to work in the Dust mines, Menagerie has no shortage of mine workers. This time they were even happy to work!
And even with all they had accomplished, Glenn's hand was extended again.
A 'pact of mutual cooperation' they said.
Glenn’s labor force was cut after losing so much of its population, the only thing Menagerie had in abundance, and Glenn was happy to take them. With one stone, two birds were felled. Glenn lacks a labor force, and Menagerie lacks places where people can work, a win-win solution.
With their cooperation, Menagerie and Glenn found friends in each other. Not two years ago, Ghira heard that sentiment repeated by the people of Menagerie.
"Menagerie and Glenn are brothers forever!"
His father warned him that there are no friends in politics, that in the world of politics there are only temporary allies, temporary adversaries, and eternal interests.
But he also warned him not to mistake a state to the man who ran it.
Sometimes the most brilliant men have been forced to do the stupidest things by those around them, and sometimes the kindest men have been forced to do the most horrific things to help their people.
And right now, such a choice faced Ghira.
What to do next? What was Jonathan to him, an ally or a friend? And was it even possible to use such a term as ‘friend’ in politics?
Ghira would have liked to know how his father would react to the decisions he had made, or at least the ones that the news published..
"As part of the deepening friendship between the two states, Glenn and Menagerie, visa-free travel is henceforth being introduced between the two states… "
"Menagerie and Glenn will hold joint military exercises to share combat experience..."
"The first photos of the heir to Fox Albain's financial fortune wedding with scandalous pop singer Lash Evergreen, photos on the third spread!"
Okay, the last one might be quite out of place, but it doesn’t mean that he didn’t have his hands in it.
Ghira took advantage of Glenn’s, no, Jonathan's, power to consolidate his position by developing Menagerie as far as he could.
Hospitals, schools, factories, all were built not only to help Menagerie, but also secure his position. And Jonathan… Well, Jonathan got a lot out of that collaboration too.
There was a lot that had been accomplished when Menagerie joined hands with Glenn. Friendship between nations, an ally, an influx of new population, and… and the legitimization of Raven Branwen.
Senior Specialist of the Menagerie Army, Raven Branwen.
Fate clearly had a sense of humor, a Hunter who eschewed state control, becoming a criminal, eventually returned to become an important figure in an army, and in an army of faunus at that.
The decision caused consternation in many people, but Ghira's authority was at an unreachable height. At a height where the waves of public opinion could not even splash his clothes.
If Ghira Belladonna himself said it is fine, then it must be so!
Whether in the future it would backfire on Ghira, that question remained unanswered. But, it was Jonathan's request, a friend that had improved Faunus’ life more than Ghira ever imagined… could Ghira Belladonna stab a friend’s back, when it came to politics?
That was something the First King of Menagerie, White Fang and All Fauna, Ghira Belladonna, did not know.
It was also the day that he had followed Jonathan's example, announcing the establishment of a monarchy in Menagerie. Nor did he know now.
***
Aisa coughed, watching as the doctor struggled to find the right words, muddling through the lines before smiling weakly.
It always seemed to her that death would never catch her in bed.
While people dream of dying with their families, at home, living to a hundred years old, Aisa Moira hadn't even considered that occasion as an option.
She would die on duty, die in battle, in a disaster, whatever it might be, but she would certainly not die with her family in a bed.
And indeed, Aisa never had a family after all.
She never had a husband, children or grandchildren to speak of, she simply gave that privilege up, pragmatically devoting her time to the army rather than something as alien as family.
Aisa Moira would not have made a good wife or mother anyway, or at least that’s what she herself believed.
But, she still died in bed, surrounded by the people she knows. What a pity there were only two of them, her doctor and Jonathan Goodman.
The doctor seems to finally find their words as they exhale. And after glancing at the king beside him as if to ask whether he should disclose the personal information about the patient to a non-family member, he continued.
“The third treatment is not giving much results either. We still have some treatments we can try, but we have never seen such an aggressive form…”
“Save me the details,” A couple of weeks ago, Aisa might have answered the doctor loudly and confidently, brushing his doubts aside. But after the treatments, she could only whisper, barely moving her lips, her body that much weakened. “Time. I only need the time.”
The doctor, evidently understanding what was being said, hesitated before exhaling.
“That's unknown. We might, with the support of… Your Majesty.”
At this point, the doctor did openly glance in Jonathan’s direction before exhaling. “Be able to gain a few more years. If at least one of the drugs proves to be effective, perhaps we can get more…”
The doctor then hesitated and Aisa waved her hand languidly. It was clear to her without words.
A couple of years at best, then, ha… How short.
Aisa didn't think she would live forever, but from birth it seems to her as if she was blessed to never age. Always young, so young that successive generations had never even wondered when her time would come. So young, that she herself never thought of the moment when she would die.
It's a shame that death doesn't take people's thoughts into account.
“I think that's enough, doctor.” Jonathan spoke out, turning to the doctor, who looked at his King and bowed slightly, after which he excused himself and walked out of the room, leaving the two heads of Glenn alone.
Jonathan, after watching the door close behind the doctor, pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at Aisa. She tried her best to show a smirk, but she was barely strong enough to make a grimace that could only be called a smile.
“You're dying,” Jonathan made no secret of it, saying the most pertinent thing at once.
“All of us are dying..." Aisa bent down in a fit of coughing and Jonathan held her body back a little, "Some faster, some slower.”
“I'm going to miss your sense of humor,” Jonathan smiled slightly, looking at Aisa with barely hidden sadness before exhaling.
Aisa felt sorry for the boy.
He wasn't supposed to be a King. Some kind of philosopher, maybe a teacher, some sort of educator definitely, he was good at getting along with children. Not somebody who has to send those children to their deaths.
But fate had its own strange sense of humor.
Aisa was the hand behind Glenn’s throne, the real queen of Glenn, albeit without that title.
Whether it will be politics or the army, laws or goods, it all came down to her.
Jonathan Goodman was the perfect public figure. The Savior of Glenn, a mighty Hunter, the tragic hero, humanist and philanthropist, and reformer who is close to the people. However you look at it, he’s exactly the perfect face that people wanted to see looking at them from yet another poster.
Such people became the perfect public darlings, and the worst politicians of all. Not that that kind of person should play politics, the people’s favor were a thing. Hard to gain and easy to lose.
A King losing the favor of the people is the recipe for revolution. Nothing good comes from a King too involved in politics.
Aisa knew that the day would come when her grip on power would finally loosen, and someone else would need to take her position. That the time would come for someone to shoulder her burden.
Aisa saw great potential in Cinder, the girl was growing up to be the ultimate wolf, a shark among small fish, but she was still too young.
Perhaps in ten years? In ten years, Cinder Fall would be a name that would terrify people all over the world, and would command respect even in those who feared her.
Ten years that Aisa didn't have.
Old allies, her army friends, were leaving their posts, either by the door or the casket. They leave their heirs behind, men no worse than themselves, but different. Completely different.
Now, those who became representatives for the Royal Parliament, are no longer people that had been under her command, they had not seen the horror, the full picture, had not shouldered the burden that Aisa had borne through the years. They became the ruling elite when the responsibilities of that ruling elite were no longer as important as their rights.
It was cruel to lay that responsibility on Jonathan Goodman. To see a harmless humanist become something more, and something less at the same time. To see a good man become cruel.
But was there anyone else who could take up the mantle of Glenn's rule now?
“I pressed the parliament,” Aisa smirked faintly. “A couple will have to be removed… but there won't be a problem.”
“I see.” Jonathan replied tersely, still immersed in thought as he looked at the dying Aisa.
Aisa wondered exactly what he was thinking now.
After the assassination attempt, Jonathan Goodman had changed. A better ruler, but not necessarily the better man.
Economic reports and revision of legislation? That wasn't bad. Increased funding for the secret services and more police powers? Not so straightforward anymore.
“I wish I'd caught…” Aisa exhaled. “The first release from Hermes.”
Aisa did as much as she could at her post. She had succeeded in returning Glenn to its pre-tragedy level, after which she pulled Glenn higher than it was before. With the economic cooperation of Menagerie, Glenn was just one step away from becoming as influential as other Kingdoms.
Perhaps, not a giant like Atlas, just something like Vacuo, but it was enough to make the whole world reckon with Glenn, to make the whole world recognize the power of a revived monarchy. It was a position that the previous council of Glenn could only dream of.
She had created, reformed and elevated the army as it should have been. She had made Glenn the shining beacon of the Remnant monarchy.
And nothing spoke more to the power of Glenn than the creation of the new Hunter Academy.
So far it was only a project, its buildings still under construction and equipment procured, of what would become the fifth Hunter Academy in the future. But the mere fact that such a thing existed was a great achievement. It is also a sign.
A sign that Glenn was going to take its place among the great nations of this world, and rightfully so.
Hunters were important to the world. The Hunters were a symbol.
Hunters are the bulwark of humanity against the hordes of Grimm. A hunter is the one who stands guard over the world from monsters. And a hunter is a living celebrity, someone who inspires fear and admiration in everyone around him.
The hunter is a symbol, the symbol of the greatness of their academy, a symbol of the might of the state.
And the hunter is a giant burden in the budget. Specialized equipment, costing as much as to fully outfit an entire army squad, built to unique blueprints exclusively for one man. Trains of dust spent on a few hours of battle. A small village's monthly budget for a single mission.
Creating a Hunter Academy is a claim, a claim to economic power, to great ambition.
Establishing a school for future Hunters was a step in the right direction for a Kingdom, but preparatory schools exist in every self-respecting settlement, sometimes even several for a large one.
The Academies, on the other hand, there have always been four, a fifth academy would be the greatest achievement for a new Kingdom.
That the Glenn Kingdom is no accident. Creating an Academy would claim, to the world, that we are a force that has reared its head to take a predatory look at the world around it.
We are here for the long haul.
Aisa would like to be remembered after her death as the person who laid the first bricks in the foundation of a new Kingdom, a new great player in the political arena of this world.
She didn't need monuments, paintings, busts, or films made about her, she just needed those claims to be true. The unvarnished truth would have been enough for her.
And yet, the first brick, that was enough for herself.
Her time was coming to an end, in a year or two she would die. That was the truth of life.
She won't be able to see the moment when the first Hunter proudly says ‘I'm Hunter of Glenn Academy’. She will not see the moment when Jonathan Goodman sits in his proper seat in the VIP box of the Vytal Arena, cheering on the participants. Not will she be able to see the many and many things that lie ahead for Glenn…
“Good luck to you, Jonathan,” Aisa smiled weakly at the silent King. “Go. I feel sleepy. I’m old you know, I need my sleep.”
The King of Glenn bowed to Glenn's most powerful woman, and left her chamber.
