The small car sped across the coarse dirt road, kicking up great plumes of dust behind as it drove single-mindedly towards its destination that was now coming into view. A quiet modest cottage, isolated amongst the farms. Ignacio hastily parked and scrambled inside, hurriedly drawing curtains and locking doors. He was safe at last from the blood and steel that had swamped the capital, carnage wrought by the insurrectionists and joined in by the military garrison who had allowed them to come upon the city unopposed. And it was only through the efforts of a brave, or foolish, lieutenant that had been escorting him from work that he had escaped at all. An immense, rattling sigh loosed from his lungs allowed Ignacio to regain some calm.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, slumped against the wall, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of a distant engine approaching. A cautious peek through one of the windows revealed nothing for several eternities before a shape finally appeared, cresting the horizon. It was a green car- no, jeep. Military. And not likely loyalist. It was passing over a hill some ways away, not coming directly for his hideout. His tension relaxed. But... what could he do now? The pantry was sparse, so he would have to venture out for food eventually... Perhaps the neighbours- Ignacio froze as he realised that the engine from before was growing louder once again, and a quick glance confirmed it. In a panic, he quickly grabbed whatever furniture he could to barricade himself inside, for his discovery would be a death sentence, this he was sure of.
Tables and cabinets behind windows, the sofa behind the front door, a chair propping the side door closed, and he was fetching a chair for the back door when the engine stopped nearby. The sharp ring of metal unlocking, a pause, then the thud of relocking. Though he did not hear them, he felt every footstep they took towards his holiday home, motivating him to move faster and flighter in desperation. Their rapping knocks and calling shouts filled his head as they grew louder and more impatient. Next was the thud of a kick and the cracking of wood, but it would not budge. One continued to beat intermittently upon the front door whilst a second circled around. Shattering glass and the dull noise of the chair being pushed to the side, followed by the creak of the door. One was inside. It was only a matter of time now. Ignacio, upstairs, locked himself in the wardrobe.
When they did not find him, they went room by room, tearing up furniture until there was nowhere left he could have hid. He sat in terror as every other room but his was searched. The door opened. A man shouted. His wardrobe, was, unfortunately, first. The soldier tore him out and threw him to the floor. They pointed guns in his face. He shakily raised his hands, sobbing for mercy, there on the floor. They did not shoot. Another picked him up harshly and bound his hands. Ignacio was walked out of the house, past his car, and to their jeep. As they drove away, he recognised the route they were going, for it was very much the same as the one he had taken only much earlier...
The Judgement of Providence
Re: The Judgement of Providence
Ignacio would not be in Madrid for long. In processing, he was determined to be a potential candidate for appearing in an event that La Provi was planning. He was transported under lock and key to a detention centre in Barcelona; taken to none other than Montjuich Castle. There he would be kept for several days with about two dozen other prisoners, bureaucrats like him, their clothes the ragged and stained remains of fine suits. They were kept in bare rooms, four to a cell. The guards acted like they weren't even there except during the routine and invasive group inspections. It was inscrutable what they were looking for, but a handful seemed to fail the criteria. Those privileged few were taken away, never to be seen or heard from again. He suspected that they simply didn't want to have to mop up their blood from the floors.
It was before lunch that day when a surprise inspection was called, all the prisoners were to be assembled in the common area. Ignacio had a sinking feeling, the guards had been on edge all day. This would surely finally be it. At this point he was so dead on his feet that he invited the end, a respite from this nightmare. As they lined up for presentation, a new Officer he had not seen before approached the Warden. From his uniform it was clear he was much more important. He walked the line with the Warden at his side, delivering prideful reports of his duties. The Officer stopped in front of a seemingly random prisoner, narrowed his eyes and looked him over in disgust, then drew his riding crop and savagely beat the man right there in front of them. No one moved. It must have only been a matter of seconds, but it felt like hours until the Officer was satisfied. With a smile, the Officer declared them ready. The dread hung in the air thickly as the guards sprang into action, rounding them up and herding them into the back of a truck waiting outside.
They were driven to the Palau Reial Major and marched into a room of immense size. Its ancient stone walls sprouted elegant gothic arches supporting the wooden beams of the low, peaked ceiling. They echoed with the guitar plucks, passionate voice, and signature crackling of a record playing in another room. The aged wooden floor had recently been polished and shone with reflections from the lights, which were mounted low on the walls and were directed upwards. Most of the illumination came from the windows on one side, nestled between the arches. The lights revealed a slight haze of smoke suspended in the air. Though its scent faint, the floral notes were unmistakable. While the guards lined them up and the Officer looked on, he dispatched an aide who quickly disappeared from sight. It was not long after that the aide returned in a rush from another side door that he held open and assumed a deep bow. From the open door spilled forth a hum carrying the tune of the record.
The source of the hum strode in comfortably. She was a short woman, no more than 160 centimeters, but her presence was easily twice that despite of, or perhaps because of, her youthful vigour. An adult to be sure, but definitely younger than he had expected- no, as young as one would have to be to so callously indulge in such violence as she is responsible for. Her face was pretty, but not exactly the image of royalty, being unfashionably tanned and sporting unremarkable dark eyes and common hair trimmed to the neck. This was the butcher who perpetrated all that slaughter? Who would be responsible for his own demise? She would surely prove to be the undoing of Spain in due time. His gaze shifted across her. What was that she was wearing? Is it truly? Medieval garb, in this century. And a sword as well! This castle would be no accident then. She must fancy herself some sort of knight-king of old. Pitiful.
"If you do not mind, Captain, I shall inspect them myself." The Officer extended an arm towards them and directed her to their line. She looked each of them over laboriously, but never in the eye. "Guards, make them kneel." One by one from either end they were forced down by the shoulder. A few, including Ignacio, did not go down easily, either unbroken by their treatment or, like himself, galvanised. Swift strikes to the back of the knees, however, brought them down. "These ones seem to still have some life in them!" she laughed to the Captain, who quickly began to offer excuses but was silenced. "I have no need for those ones," she said flatly as she gestured at the compliant ones. They were promptly dragged outside and shot. She stood in front of Ignacio and grabbed him coarsely by the chin, turning his face side to side. He struggled, but she overpowered him easily in his exhausted state.
"Yes, yes... these will do. These will do wonderfully. Excellent examples of the resilience of the cancer so infecting our nation. This one in particular- its contempt is strong," she was saying to nobody in particular. She released him and left, trailed by a snap of the fingers. They were dragged away to another holding cell, where they would wait, but not for very long...
It was before lunch that day when a surprise inspection was called, all the prisoners were to be assembled in the common area. Ignacio had a sinking feeling, the guards had been on edge all day. This would surely finally be it. At this point he was so dead on his feet that he invited the end, a respite from this nightmare. As they lined up for presentation, a new Officer he had not seen before approached the Warden. From his uniform it was clear he was much more important. He walked the line with the Warden at his side, delivering prideful reports of his duties. The Officer stopped in front of a seemingly random prisoner, narrowed his eyes and looked him over in disgust, then drew his riding crop and savagely beat the man right there in front of them. No one moved. It must have only been a matter of seconds, but it felt like hours until the Officer was satisfied. With a smile, the Officer declared them ready. The dread hung in the air thickly as the guards sprang into action, rounding them up and herding them into the back of a truck waiting outside.
They were driven to the Palau Reial Major and marched into a room of immense size. Its ancient stone walls sprouted elegant gothic arches supporting the wooden beams of the low, peaked ceiling. They echoed with the guitar plucks, passionate voice, and signature crackling of a record playing in another room. The aged wooden floor had recently been polished and shone with reflections from the lights, which were mounted low on the walls and were directed upwards. Most of the illumination came from the windows on one side, nestled between the arches. The lights revealed a slight haze of smoke suspended in the air. Though its scent faint, the floral notes were unmistakable. While the guards lined them up and the Officer looked on, he dispatched an aide who quickly disappeared from sight. It was not long after that the aide returned in a rush from another side door that he held open and assumed a deep bow. From the open door spilled forth a hum carrying the tune of the record.
The source of the hum strode in comfortably. She was a short woman, no more than 160 centimeters, but her presence was easily twice that despite of, or perhaps because of, her youthful vigour. An adult to be sure, but definitely younger than he had expected- no, as young as one would have to be to so callously indulge in such violence as she is responsible for. Her face was pretty, but not exactly the image of royalty, being unfashionably tanned and sporting unremarkable dark eyes and common hair trimmed to the neck. This was the butcher who perpetrated all that slaughter? Who would be responsible for his own demise? She would surely prove to be the undoing of Spain in due time. His gaze shifted across her. What was that she was wearing? Is it truly? Medieval garb, in this century. And a sword as well! This castle would be no accident then. She must fancy herself some sort of knight-king of old. Pitiful.
"If you do not mind, Captain, I shall inspect them myself." The Officer extended an arm towards them and directed her to their line. She looked each of them over laboriously, but never in the eye. "Guards, make them kneel." One by one from either end they were forced down by the shoulder. A few, including Ignacio, did not go down easily, either unbroken by their treatment or, like himself, galvanised. Swift strikes to the back of the knees, however, brought them down. "These ones seem to still have some life in them!" she laughed to the Captain, who quickly began to offer excuses but was silenced. "I have no need for those ones," she said flatly as she gestured at the compliant ones. They were promptly dragged outside and shot. She stood in front of Ignacio and grabbed him coarsely by the chin, turning his face side to side. He struggled, but she overpowered him easily in his exhausted state.
"Yes, yes... these will do. These will do wonderfully. Excellent examples of the resilience of the cancer so infecting our nation. This one in particular- its contempt is strong," she was saying to nobody in particular. She released him and left, trailed by a snap of the fingers. They were dragged away to another holding cell, where they would wait, but not for very long...
Re: The Judgement of Providence
The sky was quite clear that summer day, just a few scattered wisps of clouds streaking across that heavenly canvas. Hanging high above, the brilliant incandescence of the sun and the brutal heat it delivered upon all below it only served to heighten the oppressive atmosphere to suffocating levels as Ignacio stood there on the platform. Hastily constructed there on La Rambla beneath the Columbus Monument just yesterday, it was a sparse structure: a frame only about a meter high bearing a wide, flat platform painted a matte black that threatened to sear his bare feet. Bound at the hands and ankles, he was joined by his fellow condemned and flanked by a handful of guards. The regal purples that adorned their caps and capes marked them as members of the new Legion, reported to be handpicked fanatics loyal to their liege and no other. He had never quite put very much stock into the rather exaggerated reputation they garnered, but there was no doubt to be a measure of truth to the matter.
At the head of the platform was La Provi herself, postured before a microphone stand. Behind her were a smattering of officials, including the Captain, whose resplendent ceremonial dress paled in comparison to hers. She wore a full plate harness, its dark finish seemed to devour the light while the intricate gold inlays reflected blinding rays that cut through the air. The crowd surrounded the platform, filling the street, stretching down the entire avenue, throngs even spilling out into the adjacent streets, heads poking out of windows. The roar had finally settled down from the peak when she had mounted the stage, and thus the speech began.
"Fellow countrymen, loyal subjects, and proud patriots, I stand before you today to deliver a message to all who would cling to the decadent and immoral regimes that have plagued our land for these past decades, to those who would reject the benevolent liberation of our people from ideologies that would see our souls crushed and ambitions shattered, to the fascists and the communists and all other traitors who would like nothing better than to enslave us under their oppressive economic yokes, enshrine their heathen values in our esteemed institutions, and tear down everything else that cannot be bastardised to suit their evil purposes.
"There are no words that could do justice to what I have to say to those who have betrayed our nation, the only statement that will suffice is a demonstration." She punctuated with a sweeping gesture towards the cluster of prisoners. Ignacio felt a sharp prod in his back as the guards muttered for them to move. Quickly, they were roughly herded into a line at the front of the platform. "These traitors have been found guilty of high treason and seditious conspiracy." She then turned and spoke to them, loudly enough for the microphone and moving grandly enough to be clearly seen on cameras he had not picked out in the formless crowd. "Submit before God and prepare to receive the Judgement of Providence as the punishment for your unforgivable crimes. I bestow upon you a final opportunity to seek His love and find salvation in His infinite grace," she finished, hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Her voice was low and pretty. He might have called it endearing if it was not delivering his death sentence.
As he stood there, the man standing to Ignacio's left faltered and threw himself down, blubbering cries of repentance. Perhaps he sincerely believed that might stay his execution, or perhaps more likely, he had simply finally broken. She watched him intently for a few moments before rattling off a practiced recitation of a prayer too quietly to hear. The instant a distinct "amen" passed her lips, she drew her sword. It was a long blade, not much shorter than her, wielded confidently in two gauntleted hands. Now more clearly in view, its form was quite simple but bore many intricate details, and borrowed the void-like finish that, on a weapon, felt as though it might devour ones soul as well as ones life. Its guard was a rendition of a raging flame in gold that the light made to seem like it was burning. The pommel, gold as well, was a faithful sculpture of a human skull. A morbid portent.
In two swift motions, she raised the blade up and brought it down over the now rather still figure. Its sharp edge struck true at the back of the neck, sending the head rolling as the body slumped over lifelessly. The crowd went wild as she swept her gaze across the rest of them before signalling the guards to bring them all to a bow on their knees. Ignacio, knowing he was next in line, craned his neck painfully to look his killer in the eyes as she took his life. She locked eyes with him as El Judici de La Providència came upon him. In that moment, he saw what was behind those eyes. Rather than the wanton glee he had expected, there was only conviction. It was then, in his final moments, that Ignacio fully understood how much worse things would get for Spain, and he fell into a yawning chasm of despair as the blade fell upon his neck. His blood would be a drop in the bucket compared to how much she would come to spill.
At the head of the platform was La Provi herself, postured before a microphone stand. Behind her were a smattering of officials, including the Captain, whose resplendent ceremonial dress paled in comparison to hers. She wore a full plate harness, its dark finish seemed to devour the light while the intricate gold inlays reflected blinding rays that cut through the air. The crowd surrounded the platform, filling the street, stretching down the entire avenue, throngs even spilling out into the adjacent streets, heads poking out of windows. The roar had finally settled down from the peak when she had mounted the stage, and thus the speech began.
"Fellow countrymen, loyal subjects, and proud patriots, I stand before you today to deliver a message to all who would cling to the decadent and immoral regimes that have plagued our land for these past decades, to those who would reject the benevolent liberation of our people from ideologies that would see our souls crushed and ambitions shattered, to the fascists and the communists and all other traitors who would like nothing better than to enslave us under their oppressive economic yokes, enshrine their heathen values in our esteemed institutions, and tear down everything else that cannot be bastardised to suit their evil purposes.
"There are no words that could do justice to what I have to say to those who have betrayed our nation, the only statement that will suffice is a demonstration." She punctuated with a sweeping gesture towards the cluster of prisoners. Ignacio felt a sharp prod in his back as the guards muttered for them to move. Quickly, they were roughly herded into a line at the front of the platform. "These traitors have been found guilty of high treason and seditious conspiracy." She then turned and spoke to them, loudly enough for the microphone and moving grandly enough to be clearly seen on cameras he had not picked out in the formless crowd. "Submit before God and prepare to receive the Judgement of Providence as the punishment for your unforgivable crimes. I bestow upon you a final opportunity to seek His love and find salvation in His infinite grace," she finished, hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Her voice was low and pretty. He might have called it endearing if it was not delivering his death sentence.
As he stood there, the man standing to Ignacio's left faltered and threw himself down, blubbering cries of repentance. Perhaps he sincerely believed that might stay his execution, or perhaps more likely, he had simply finally broken. She watched him intently for a few moments before rattling off a practiced recitation of a prayer too quietly to hear. The instant a distinct "amen" passed her lips, she drew her sword. It was a long blade, not much shorter than her, wielded confidently in two gauntleted hands. Now more clearly in view, its form was quite simple but bore many intricate details, and borrowed the void-like finish that, on a weapon, felt as though it might devour ones soul as well as ones life. Its guard was a rendition of a raging flame in gold that the light made to seem like it was burning. The pommel, gold as well, was a faithful sculpture of a human skull. A morbid portent.
In two swift motions, she raised the blade up and brought it down over the now rather still figure. Its sharp edge struck true at the back of the neck, sending the head rolling as the body slumped over lifelessly. The crowd went wild as she swept her gaze across the rest of them before signalling the guards to bring them all to a bow on their knees. Ignacio, knowing he was next in line, craned his neck painfully to look his killer in the eyes as she took his life. She locked eyes with him as El Judici de La Providència came upon him. In that moment, he saw what was behind those eyes. Rather than the wanton glee he had expected, there was only conviction. It was then, in his final moments, that Ignacio fully understood how much worse things would get for Spain, and he fell into a yawning chasm of despair as the blade fell upon his neck. His blood would be a drop in the bucket compared to how much she would come to spill.
Last edited by Avalanche on 21 Jun 2020, 11:25, edited 1 time in total.
Re: The Judgement of Providence
Holy Instruments of a Divine Will placed with Trust great and Care immense,
into the Clean hands Free of Sin borne by a Maiden;
Vessels most Pure, Untainted by Doubt and Unsullied by Vanity;
And They Shall Know No Fear, and Nothing Shall Stay Their Feet, by His Word.
All who Stand in Our Path will Bow lest they Face Their Wrath,
and Meet their Fate upon the Field of Battle, where Her Army marches forth,
Riding on Their Wings: Her Angels of Death, Loyally crushing Our Foes.
In the Name of Providence, We Fight to Bring the Light forth,
so that We may See the Day Break after this Long and Dark Night.