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The sun was fading over Larwen, the capital city of Elsor. Elsor was now the richest city in the country, it served as a home for politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. Tall beautiful brick buildings filled the city. There was an abundance of black and gold flags everywhere, the colors surrounding the new national icon. Lady Volar stood on the balcony looking over the streets below. Soldiers in blue uniforms marched around on full alert; rumors of an attack were abundant. Their boots echoed loud enough for her to hear on the top floor of the chancellery.  She admired the steam arising from the factory ahead in the distance - a sign that workers were hard at building war supplies.  

   Lady Volar could feel his eyes looking her up and down from behind. The minister of propaganda did not hide the secret he loved Volar’s ass. He was a handsome man with slick black hair, perfect teeth, and well spoken, thus being appointed to his current position. Gobeph was the Chancellor’s most trusted confidant. 

  “Beautiful view, is it not?” Gobeph asked, smugly. 

  “My backside, or the city?” Volar turned around to find Gobeph standing with the aid of his walking stick and sporting a sly smile across his face.  She readjusted her top hat and straightened the glass over her eye.

  “Well, I’m sure if I had your vision madam, I would be able to see as much of the city as you, with your new spectacle,” Gobeph’s smile faded, “The chancellor is certain there will be an attack today.”

  “Who would dare, with such heavy military presence here?” Volar asked, as she stroked the metallic dragonfly attached to the back of her arm. 

  “Our intelligence indicates, someone in this building has been providing our enemies with information,” Gobeph snarled. He could not imagine anyone being so treacherous, especially against the chancellor after what he had done for the country.    

  Volar drew Gobeph’s attention elsewhere. She played with the gold heart shaped locket that dangled from a chain around her neck. 

  Gobeph cleared his throat, “The chancellor wants to see you.”

  Volar sighed, “Very well, I must not keep him waiting.”

  She entered the chancellor’s office, crawling with his personal guards. The man politely nodded to her, and then dismissed his minister of propaganda.  Chancellor Halin Siler mused over documents sitting on his desk; all of which were warnings of attacks on the capital. The loss of his right arm was corrected with first a mechanical arm; then in recent years, his top surgeon replaced the arm with a revolutionary machine gun. 

 Volar noted at least ten guards spread out strategically covering all angles they were tense. Only someone with a lot of guts would ever threaten the capital. They gripped their rifles ready for action at any moment. The office was luxurious; it was fitted with gold ornaments, paintings, clocks, immaculate wooden furniture, and different types of guns were fitted to the walls.

  Siler scratched the beard that covered his chin, as he contemplated his next moves against the enemy; the Democratic armies of the south. 

  “Volar, how are you my dear?” he asked, pretending to notice her for the first time. 

  “Worried, my Chancellor,” she said, with innocent eyes.

  The chancellor held his gun arm out, while one of his subordinates oiled it, “There is no need to worry. The traitor will be finished soon and the great battle shall begin with our victory. Our people shall rule the North, South, East, and West with pride. All that remains is the democratic scum in the South,” his subordinate finished oiling the machine gun arm and the Chancellor admired it, as though it were the most precious item he had ever seen.  

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