As fire crews arrive to put out the fires at the cathedral, they are amazed to find the medieval structure completely intact. While every building around it is on fire to at least some degree, the cathedral is completely free of the flames. Civilians fleeing the area tell the fire crews that they saw a strange man standing in front of the cathedral, waving his arms towards the walls of flames surrounding the cathedral and seemingly keeping the fire away from the structure. When the crews arrived in front of the cathedral, they found nobody, and they attributed the rumors to hallucinations caused by the extreme heat. Once that was dealt with, they turned their attention to putting out the fires, not noticing a man with an out of place business suit walking among the fleeing civilians, who also did not notice him.
---
((All Private))
Empress Maria Luisa de Trastsmara (nee Leon) was in her private study in the palace when several guards burst into the room.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “I heard gunfire and shouting outside.”
“There’s a large riot going on in downtown,” said Sanchez, “Your father and son have both been attacked by rioters and are in critical condition.”
“What?!” shouted Maria Luisa. “What about my husband?”
“He is still at the country estate, last we checked,” said Sanchez, “We have tried contacting him, but we can’t reach him. As for you, we have orders to keep you within the palace until the riots die down.”
“I have to do something,” said Maria Luisa, “I can’t just sit here and let Valencia burn.”
“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” said Sanchez, “After the Prime Minister and the Crown Prince were both attacked, we can’t risk endangering you. The attempted assassination of your father destabilized the entire situation, and the attack on your son means that you may also be a target since you’re another member of the royal family.”
“Can I see them?” asked Maria Luisa.
“They are being held in a secure facility, where doctors are attending to them,” said Sanchez, “Nobody knows where exactly, to ensure their safety.”
“Then escort me to the balcony,” said Maria Luisa, “As the most senior member of the royal family in Valencia and not incapacitated, I must speak on behalf of my husband and son.”
“I must advise against it,” said Sanchez, “Your father felt the same way, and he was shot right in front of Parliament.”
“Then double my bodyguard,” said Maria Luisa, “Increase police presence in the crowd. Make sure nobody can shoot me. But I am speaking to the people, and you will help me. That is an order from a royal.”
Sanchez hesitated. “Follow me,” he finally said.
---
They made their way to the balcony, where Maria Luisa looked down on the crowd that had gathered around the palace, kept at a respectable distance from the gates by the police. While it wasn’t as large as the crowds that rioted in front of Parliament earlier that day, it was still one of the largest crowds that hadn’t dispersed yet. Perhaps the Empress could do something about it.
Upon seeing the Empress appear, the crowd mostly died down and looked up at her.
“People of Hispania,” she said, “The last few hours have been rough for all of us. Many Hispanians are injured or dead, and much of Valencia has been burned or looted. I have not been spared anguish. My father, your Prime Minister, was shot just hours ago in front of Parliament and is in critical condition. The Crown Prince, my own son, has been assaulted by a band of brigands and is in severe condition.”
Some gasps came up from the crowd as she said that, with many civilians breaking down in tears at the news.
“Yes, it is a lot to comprehend,” said Maria Luisa, “Let me ask you a question: what would it take for the more belligerent of you to stop rioting and go home to your families? How much is far enough? Is attempting to kill the Prime Minister and the Crown Prince acceptable? What do you even hope to accomplish with their deaths? Would killing all nobles lead to a freer and fairer Hispania? If so, then kill me where I stand! Kill me, if it leads to progress!”
Nobody dared to even flinch, at which point Maria Luisa smiled. “I want to say this,” she said, pronouncing each word slowly, “Enough is enough.”
“Surely, many of you have legitimate grievances, and only some violent hooligans are responsible for what happened to my father and son; I have also heard that many citizens helped pull my father to safety and detain his would-be assassin, and they are heroes. But enough Hispanians have been hurt or killed today. Many families will have to grieve about the loss of a father or son in the coming few weeks. Many people have lost their homes and businesses. Nobody else should have to suffer the loss of a father or son. Please, end this violence. End this riot. We can better accomplish things in a civil and peaceful manner, through nonviolent conversation and debating in the government. As many MPs have probably said, we have just passed a law granting all of you here the vote. You can elect your representatives to Parliament, where they can represent your interests. It is a much more civilized way befitting of us Hispanians than killing each other like the African savages.
Show your fellow countrymen that you are honorable and civil people instead of violent rabble like many—I will not name anybody—claim that you are. Show them that you deserve to be a Hispanian as much as they are. We must show each other a better path. Violence will only lead to more violence in the future. We must come together as a unified Hispanian people and begin rebuilding our capital and our society. Thank you.”
As soon as she finished, she turned and disappeared back into the palace, not bothering to see what happened to the crowd. Her guards followed closely behind her, while the police and more guards continued to surround the palace, keeping away the crowd.
Once she was back in her study, she turned to Sanchez. “Inform the commanders of I Corps that with the Crown Prince incapacitated and the Emperor unable to be reached, I am the most senior member of the immediate royal family and will be assuming emergency command of the military until the Emperor returns,” she said, “They are authorized to send a tenth of their divisions into the city on a purely peacekeeping mission. They will assist local authorities in maintaining order in Valencia and ensuring no further riots occur. They not authorized to use lethal force unless it is completely necessary. The remainder of I Corps shall continue with its current mission of preventing the riot from spreading outside Valencia.”
((If possible, I will order troops deployed in Valencia on a purely peacekeeping mission, meaning they will only use lethal force in self-defense.))
---
The guards and civilians hauled the unconscious Prime Minister into the hospital (which ironically had been established under a healthcare law that Fernando himself introduced) and lay him out on a table, prepping him for surgery. Surgeons took scalpels, forceps, and saws out of pots filled with boiling water, “sterilized” and ready to go. As the civilians and guardsmen watched, they operated on Fernando, cutting into the wound and pulling out the bullet, which they dropped with a clatter on a nearby tray. Next came the hard part: closing the wound and hoping the Prime Minister didn’t lose too much blood. A surgeon dexterously sewed the ripped flesh back together, while other doctors maintained pressure on him to reduce blood loss and others prepared bandages.
“Trial…Joan…repay…” Fernando muttered under his breath. “Save…Constantinople …”
His head lolled to the side as he exhaled. It didn’t look like he was still breathing.
“We’re losing him!” shouted a doctor. “Quickly!”
But it was no use. One by one, the doctors felt and saw Fernando’s blood flow drop before ceasing altogether. His once steady heart stopped beating. His eyes clouded over. Fernando de Leon was dead.
The doctors stepped back, in shock over their failure. A wail went up from the small crowd of civilians in attendance, as some of the men started crying. Everybody took off their hats and bowed their heads, trying to comprehend the unthinkable. Their Prime Minister was dead. He had been a fighter for most of his life, but in the end he met his end at the hands of a fellow Hispanian citizen, not an enemy combatant.
Just when it seemed that things were over, one man stepped forward from the crowd. He was dressed in a strange business suit with a necktie, which was quite rare and not fashionable. The guards moved to stop him.
The man held up his hand. “Please,” he said with a not-quite-German accent, “I am a friend of the Prime Minister. I want to pay my last respects to him.”
“This is not the place to do it,” said a doctor, “He has not been prepared for a funeral yet.”
“He won’t be needing one,” said the man.
“What are you talking about?” said the doctor. “He’s dead.”
Dismissing the doctor’s comments, the man walked to Fernando’s side and held his hands over his chest wound.
“You know, I never expected to be here,” said the man, “I was busy fighting another war. I had allies there that I had to help. But I found myself here, with no way to get back. I apologize for meeting you again under these conditions. Consider this a favor you don’t have to repay.”
Glowing waves of white energy flowed from his hands into the wound, and the torn flesh began repairing itself. Dried blood vanished, and dirt and dust fled the wound as blood vessels and muscles linked back up with each other. After the internal damage had been healed, the skin zipped up, leaving only a faint scar where the bullet had entered.
Fernando immediately sat up, inhaling deeply and quickly as he looked around him. “What…where am I?” he demanded.
The civilians, guards, and doctors in the room were all too shocked by what they had just seen to answer him.
“Madre de Dios,” muttered one doctor, making the sign of the cross, “It’s a miracle.”
“Who…who are you?” said a guard.
“I’m a friend,” said the man, making his way to the door, “That’s all you need to know.”
The crowd pursued him to the door as he exited the hospital, but when they emerged outside, they found nobody there. The man had vanished.
“Uh, hello?” said Fernando. “Is somebody going to help me? Because I have no idea what just happened to me.”
---
At another hospital, the Crown Prince lay on a bed, with several doctors watching over him. While his condition was not as grave as Fernando’s, it was still very serious.
The man appeared at the door to the hospital, where he was stopped by a guard.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve closed this hospital to all visitors,” said the guard, “You’ll have to leave now or we’ll arrest you.”
“You don’t understand,” said the man, “I have to see the Crown Prince.”
The guard recoiled, obviously caught off-guard. “Who told you he was here?” he said. “He’s not here, in case you’re wondering.”
The man snapped his fingers. “I’m a friend of his,” he said, “Please, it’s urgent.”
“He’s in no condition to—okay, fine,” he said, opening the door and ushering him inside.
The man made his way to the Prince’s room, where another two guards tried to stop him. He simply snapped his fingers again, and they stood aside as he walked inside. Making his way to the Prince’s side, he tapped him on the shoulder, healing his most severe injuries in an instant but still leaving his scars intact.
“You must live,” he whispered into the Crown Prince’s ear, “Hispania needs you.”
Then he walked out of the hospital and disappeared into the crowds of Valencia. To the guards he had affected, they soon came to their senses and carried out their duties again, forgetting what had just happened.
((In case you don’t know, he’s a character from my megacampaign who (mostly accidentally) crosses over into other AARs and does good stuff. As you can see, he’s quite overpowered, so I promise I won’t overuse him if I decide to introduce him again in later ICs. I hope what I did here was acceptable. Would make for some interesting dialogue in the next few ICs.))
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. It is another matter for the Crown Prince though, who could only be healed in such a way by our gracious GM.
