Enlightened Empire
Chapter 1 : *Truth counts for nothing in the face of destiny*, Corco thought as his s.h.i.+vering ha

*Truth counts for nothing in the face of destiny*, Corco thought as his s.h.i.+vering hands dropped the flakes of poison into the cup, creating a ripple in the wine.

His preparations completed, he picked up the cup and moved it to his lips. Halfway there, he stopped again, as he realized his folly. He couldn't possibly know how effective the dried Palegra.s.s would be. Maybe its essence would need time to spread throughout the wine first, maybe his haste would only cause him hours of suffering, rather than the quick release he was seeking. After all, he had no prior experience when it came to suicide. If it was up to him, he would rather not have to resort to the knife.

Thus, Corco put the cup back down and got up from the shabby bed he could call his for the night. Even though he didn't feel stiff, Corco stretched out his back with a long sigh. Perhaps he had been aching from the slog which had been his life. With another look over to the nightstand, he once again saw the last cup of wine he would ever drink sit on the wobbly table by the bed. A table and a bed, that was all he had been given in the small hotel room he lived in for the night. On top of the table, he found a candle next to the wine, to scare the night away and, behind them, the letter he had left behind. He fought the tremble in his fingers as he picked up the paper and began to check his final message to his friends once again, just to make sure.

To whoever finds this,

I am sorry, for I have taken the easy way out.

I was born with more than most, yet the World chose to take everything from me.

My mother taken by the northern lords of Medala.

My land taken by my brothers.

My future taken by the G.o.ds of Arcavia.

My last home taken by the Duke of Balit.

I tried to provide for those under my wing, but failed. Against the course of my life, the World has formed a stream of injustice and I do not have the means to fight it any longer. If any of you make it back home, tell father that I understand. That sometimes, best intentions are not enough and that sometimes, there is no choice in life.

I believe that I have been cursed. So long as you stay in my company, nothing good will come to you. Only ruin will follow.

Which is why I will leave you here. Thank you for staying to the end. I did not deserve friends as true as you.

In deep deference, with grat.i.tude,

Corcopaca t.i.tu Primu Pluritac, heir to the silver crown and lord of the Argu

Laqhis.

Corco put the letter back down and thought back to his last few tumultuous years. His father had sent him here, to this strange continent, to be the connection between his own Medala Empire and the kingdoms of the foreigners, thus making himself indispensable to the empire's officials.

Things didn't go as planned. Once he had arrived here, no one would acknowledge his ident.i.ty. At that point the crown prince of Medala was certain: He had been sent into exile by his own family. However, after two years of work, he had replaced his old family with a new one. Still, even this joy wouldn't last. After his master's death, his new home had been taken just like his old one, by those with more power than himself.

It had been two years since his arrival on these sh.o.r.es. Just two years to have everything taken from him. He felt responsible to the ones who had remained by his side. Even more so, he felt responsible to his master's heir. Yet more than ever, he felt his impotence in front of the powerful, his own inability to master his fate. At this point, they were only left with a few coins and a few bottles of the old Fastgrade's favorite wine.

*Right, the wine!*

Corco picked the poisoned cup back up again. This time there were no more excuses. This time he was sure the wine would do its work.

"Well then, good night," he muttered as he brought the goblet to his lips.

Corco wondered if he would see his past again once he drank the deadly liquid. He had heard the stories: Life's reflection. Some said that just before death, they would see their whole life flash before their eyes. As he looked out of the open window into the dark night, he just hoped it wouldn't last too long. Suddenly, the window changed its form. While it squashed down into smaller and smaller size, the black turned to white as the opening became brighter and brighter, until it had almost completely turned white. Fascinated, he stared into the strange window, to read the letters which were displayed there. Wait, window? This was his PC-monitor, of course.

__________________________

As if pulled by strings, he looked around and took inventory of what had been his life for the past few years. The chaotic mess of an apartment all around him, the empty bottles and pizza boxes as well as the worn clothes spoke of his desolation. Over time, the flickering window in his front had become his only friend. Thus, he stared back at the chat log, in a vain search for comfort.

[u on dude]

[Yeah, still here.]

[so what you doin]

[You know how in the time travelly, tech vs magic kingdom building stories the MC always knows way too much about chemistry and s.h.i.+t?]

[yeah ]

[im more intop xianxia]

[So I've been compiling a list of various technologies, policies etc. you could use to turn an old society into a modern one and kinda going through wiki and s.h.i.+t for each one.]

[lol]

[Think about it: Back before the enlightenment, the world was divided up neatly. The highborn got everything and the lowborn got nothing. The entire system was built for their benefit. Then we had a bunch of neat revolutions over freedom and such, but did anything really change? Who led those uprisings? Who paid for them? In the 18th century or so, the wealthy divided up the world again. And this time, they built a system for their benefit instead. Just imagine. What kind of paradise could be created if we could go back, with everything we know today, and do things right this time.]

[you got way too much time duide]

[If I didn't, I wouldn't be here on a weekday at 3 AM.]

[nice that ur here.

make me feel good about myself lol]

[So I read an article recently about receding social mobility. I know that the whole communist thing was kinda bulls.h.i.+t, but maybe Marx was on to something about the distribution of wealth stuff.]

[?]

[At least he is no more of a sci-fi novelist bulls.h.i.+tter than Friedman.]

[lol wat u talkin about]

[...gotta go. bye]

Exhausted from the one-sided discussion, he turned to look back into his room. At this point, the mess didn't matter any more. This place, together with everything else, would soon be taken anyways. All of his possessions, stolen by his own family, just because his uncle knew a few important people he didn't. There wasn't much he could do, but he wouldn't bow down to those in power. To reach his goals, he would simply have to give up more than most. He could never change the world at large, but at least this one time, he would beat the system. He looked over at the papers from the bank, at the ma.s.sive loan he had taken out, before his gaze turned down to the bottle of pills in his hand.

"One after every meal, huh? I guess taking them before isn't so bad if I take 30 all at once.

"Hope you'll like my will, uncle. The company and the debt, or neither. Your move, a.s.shole. "

He held the pills in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other. Right after he had thrown the pills into his opened mouth, he put the brandy to his lips. Gotta wash it down with something

*Well then, good night.*

__________________________

At last, Corco awoke from the memories which had not been his. The prince didn't know how long he had sat there, but his lips were still stuck on the deadly cup.

"f.u.c.k!" With a curse, he threw the object of his terror into the corner of the room. Palegra.s.s? What had he almost swallowed just now? 'Spread the essence throughout the wine'? What the f.u.c.k did that even mean? As he tried to organize the mess in his head, two lives turned into one. Without focus he looked down into the puddle of poison wine that slowly spread along the wooden floor boards.

Long after the wine had dried and the sun had come up, he stood back up from his bed. At last, he was no longer lost. At last, he had the tools to change destiny itself.