//------------------------------// // Epilogue: The Storm on the Horizon. // Story: A Second Chance // by Bolt Magnet //------------------------------// Gilda stood in the ‘Situation Room’ of the Royal Palace. Locationally, it was situated directly beneath the Central Chamber. Fredric had assured Gilda that it was the most secure room within the entire Palace. Like that made her feel better. The room was had a cramped feeling to it, like the ceiling was too low set. It gave Gilda an unnerving feeling of claustrophobia. In front of Gilda, was a large wooden table – which held a detailed map of Grimoria on one half, and Grifforia on the other. Gilda glanced up at Fredric, – whom stood directly opposite her – “So?” “Well,” he gestured to the market district on the map, “There are several matter within the city that demand your attention. First and foremost, is setting the new business levy.” “Business levy?” “Yes ma’am – all market stalls and businesses must pay a fee, this is to ensure that no unfavorable character set up shop within the city limits.” Gilda quirked an eyebrow, “So, what. I have to set a new tax price?” Fredric nodded, “Yes ma’am.” “Can’t I just get rid of the tax?” Fredric frowned, “Yes, you could do that. However, taxation is one of the cities primary sources of income. It would be very difficult to run the city – let alone the country – if we had not money to do so.” Gilda massaged her temples, “This is already making my head hurt. What kind of options do I have?” Well, “Your uncle enforced a strict taxation on the city. If you kept the fee the same, you wouldn’t win any favors with the locals – nor would we see any increase of our net profits. You could reduce the tax, which would defiantly make you more popular – however, we would lose profits in the long-run.” “And the third option?” Gilda inquired. Fredric’s eye’s gleamed as he grinned, “Increase the tax.” Gilda’s beak fell open, “What!?” Fredric raised his claws, “Please, your Majesty, allow me to explain.” Gilda clenched her jaw, “Go on.” “If you increased the taxation fee, you would certainly make enemies. However, our profits would increase, giving us more money in the long run.” Gilda narrowed her eyes, as she pondered her choices. “The decision is entire up to you, your Majesty.” Gilda frowned, more money would mean more opportunities to fix the city later on. But at the cost of possibly inciting a rebellion, not to mention all of the Griffins she would force onto the streets. She remembered walking through the market district when she had arrived yesterday. How many Griffins would starve if she increased the tax? How many more would resort to pottery crime just to survive? In the end, how many more problems would she cause before she solved any? Geez, a Griffin could go crazy over thinking this kinda stuff, but then, that was exactly what she was supposed to do, wasn’t it? Gilda briefly wondered if she had made a huge mistake coming back to Grifforia in the first place. Suddenly, she felt extremely overwhelmed by the responsibility she had thrust upon herself. She glanced up, Fredric was staring at her, expectantly, “Well, has your Majesty come to a verdict?” Gilda blinked, that was it, then. She literally had the power of life and death and at the tip of her talons. She could do anything she wanted. She could throw money from the rooftops, or demolish orphanages. No one could tell her what to do, because at the end of the day, she had the power. “Ma’am?” Gilda narrowed her eyes, she held her head high as she gazed back at Fredric, “Lower the tax.” Fredric quirked an eyebrow, “Are you sure?” “Yes,” Gilda answered evenly, “I finally have a chance to do some real good, I’m not gonna mess that up. I won’t become my Uncle.” Fredric smiled, “As you wish, ma’am. I will begin drawing up the necessary paperwork immediately.” Gilda sighed. That felt… good. Like an oppressive weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. She smiled to herself. “Now that that is taken care of, there are other matter to discuss.” Gilda’s smiled died, “Like what?” “Well, There is the matter regarding the Undercity, the problems along The Great Divide-” “Problems? What problems?” Fredric sighed, “Well, since your Uncles reign, the east has been… neglected, to say the least. They formally announced their independence a few months before you arrived.” “Well, we need to get them back!” “I’m afraid that is impossible, Ma’am. They have declared hostilities against Grimoria – any and all who wonder too close to The Great Divide are met with extreme prejudice.” “We’ll need to fix that.” “How, your Majesty? They have cut themselves off, they wouldn’t know about your ascension.” “Then I guess I’ll just have to tell them.” Fredric’s eyes widened, “That’s suicide, Ma’am!” “You got a better idea?” “Well-” “Look, if have any hope of surviving whatever-the-hell is coming, then we need to stand together. How will we be able to focus on the bigger threat if we’re constantly worrying about getting stabbed in the back?” Fredric nodded solemnly, “Very well spoken, Ma’am. What would you have us do?” “Well, we need to get Grimoria fixed up first. Then, I’ll take a small group of Guards with me, across The Divide.” “Very well, Ma’am. There is still the matter of the Undercity…” “The Undercity can wait.” Fredric cocked his head, “Ma’am?” “That’s a long term problem, not something I can fix in a few days. We should focus on the little stuff, and get ourselves ready for the fight ahead.” “Very well Ma’am, what do you propose?” Gilda eyed the map of Grimora, she pointed to the base of the mountain – on the west side, “What’s here?” “That… that is the Western Basin. It is where the mountain meets the desert, there is nothing there.” “So, there’s heaps of space there?” “Well, yes.” “Good.” “Why do you ask?” Gilda glanced up, and half-grinned, “Cause we’re going to build a refugee camp there.” The way I feel inside is written in her lines, and I... well I am left here all alone. And I cannot see, under this black sun. Now it starts to rain. I know now, that what I did cannot reverse my fate...