before him. The usually immaculate desktop was covered in stacks of v-pads and mounds of paper, some tied with plastic strips or thread, others simply heaped together in a haphazard fashion. All were printed with the insignias of other races and delegates, as well as stamps labeling them “Critically Important,” “Top Priority”, or “Utmost Urgency”. Only a few had even been touched by the lion, and he hadn’t given any of them any real attention.
He knew what they were; bills from the other representatives pleading for a course of action in response to the betrayal of the Tigers. The few he had flipped through contained nothing surprising, just endless pages of arguments, evidence, and ideals that had been spouted hundreds of times before. Nothing worth the time or effort of his consideration, and in all frankness the pages he had read had threatened to bore him to sleep. And of course they all had a blank spot under their list of co-sponsors, lines which he knew were there for him to add his name.
The size of the pile was of no surprise to him. After all, he was a very important cat. Of all the representatives of the Leonid race, indeed in the whole Filian Senate, he was known as one of the most influential. And this power was also bolstered by an impressive fortune, with which he could afford the various extravagances laid around his office, or provide significant funding to movements and campaigns. A great number of people wanted him on their side, knowing that his word could potentially tip the balance of the political seesaw the planet now sat upon.
Frankly, Lukanol could have cared less about the other delegates or their bills. From his position, they were all fools, puppets of the government spouting pointless political jargon like idiotic parrots. And the bills they had sent him, he would rather burn to ashes and scatter on the wind than suffer through a single word. They took up energy he could not spare, and time he did not have, not to mention space on his desk. But he had a reputation to keep, and when the documents had arrived, he had made a big show of accepting them, promising he would look through them right away. He had an image to maintain, after all.
“What a pack of useless clowns,” he grumbled to himself. “As if I don’t already have enough to do.” He picked up one of the bills and snorted contemptuously. “Utmost urgency, my foot.” A flick of his wrist sent the offending packet into his recycling bin, and he smiled with satisfaction as the mechanics within reduced the papers to slivers. Still, a huge pile remained before him, its size positively daunting.
“Eh, it’s a start,” he mused, picking up a crystal flute sitting off to the side of his desk and setting it to his lips. He took a long draught, savoring the exotic flavor of the Nathili wine and enjoying the gentle fizzing against his tongue. “Not bad,” he admitted. “Considering it was made by dogs.” When his secretary had first brought in the wine, he had been put off by the Cunian label, but now he was finding himself growing quite fond of it. He made a mental note to have her stock his personal cooler with several bottles.
Pouring himself another glass, he watched the bubbles swirl within the rose-colored liquid before lifting it high. “A toast,” he said aloud, a broad grin spreading across his face. “To the start of our victory, and the realization of a plan.” With that, he tipped the contents down his throat and settled back into his chair.
To anyone observing, Galika’s good humor would have been disturbing in the face of the events transpiring around him. Tensions between the Filian races were escalating in leaps and bounds, hostilities higher than anyone could remember. Now the threat of a new war was hanging over the planet, fear that the peace they had preserved for a hundred years would give way to violence. And Galika could not have been happier. Not that he made a big show of celebration in public, of course. No, he would keep his reverie confined to the privacy of his office; to the rest of the world, he seemed calm and aloof, as if he barely noticed the troubles that surrounded him.
This stoicism struck many as troubling, especially considering the lion’s normally confrontational demeanor and penchant for aggressive actions. Others, primarily the more disillusioned and inexperienced, took it as indecision, and had quickly made attempts to convince him of their cause for peace. This, of course, was the reason for the mountains of papers before him. Anyone who had dealt with Lukanol before greatly doubted that he would take any of them to heart.
They were right, though none of them could have guessed the true reason. Galika was not suffering from any sort of indecision; he knew where he stood on current matters, and that was on the side of war and reactivation of the Filian Military. And despite appearances, he was far from idle. Indeed, he had been very busy over the past several months, though no-one had any notion of it.
Truthfully, this whole conflict was both his hope and his idea, all part of a grand scheme that he had been brooding on long before he had ever set foot in office. It was a plan two decades in the making, one that was even now becoming a reality.
Galika was the son of a proud warrior lineage; all Lukanols were known for their prowess in battle, as well as their fiery tempers and violent temperament. Galika had inherited these same traits, though to a greater extent than most. His experiences growing up had further fueled his lust for combat, as in his early childhood he spent many nights listening to the stories of his grandfather, Bakira, who had served as a General during the Rival War. These tales captivated the young lion, and he began to idolize conflict and battle at an early age.
Another driving force in Lukanol’s life- and his plans- was an overriding disdain for races other than his own. This contempt was fostered by his parents. As long as he could remember, they had told him that all lions carried within their veins the blood of royalty, dating back to a time hundreds of years in Filius’ past. They were not entirely wrong; Filius had not always been a Republic of the people. In its dawning era it had been a monarchy, ruled by Leonid family dynasties until their eventual downfall. The notion that he may have had royal ancestors inflated Galika’s ego, and influenced his interactions with other children. He would dominate in all activities, demanding the attention and respect of all around him so that many of his classmates would go out of their way to avoid him. Any children who were not of Leonid descent were ignored unless they could prove they were worth his time.
This prejudicial pride only grew stronger with age, extending not only to those of other races, but on members of his own who enjoyed their company. By middle school, he had severed ties with any friends who did not share his views, and avoided contact with any non-Leonid whenever possible. Of course, such actions earned him a great deal of criticism, and he was viewed by many as arrogant and hatefully racist, but he never paid such labels any mind. His pride was kept intact, and to him the opinions of others meant nothing.
His college years, however, were when the wheels were truly set in motion. Galika’s studies in law included a course on the ancient history of his world, and during one late night of research he came across a document that would change his view on everything. It was a copy of a tablet from the last days of the Leonid Dynasties, and buried amidst the myriad dates and figures was the name of the final king, Methikoda Lukonil, whose last name was the original spelling of his own. A check into his ancestral tree proved his suspicions; the last of the kings had been a Lukanol, and therefore one of his own forerunners.
The very next day, while he was still brooding over his discovery, he found himself in a class discussion on equal racial rights. And at that moment, he felt something inside of his mind snap. The words of his professor seemed to fade away, replaced with a powerful realization. His ancestors had been kings, ruling over his world and maintaining order, but they had been betrayed by the other peoples of Filius. The other peoples of this world were far worse than he had thought; they were traitors, mutineers and rebels that had brought his ancestors to ruin, and replaced their noble rule with a weak and corrupt system. He was born to be a king, but now he found himself trapped in the stagnation of bureaucracy. He had been denied his rightful place in the world, and the other races were all to blame.
The change in his behavior was immediate and frightening. It went
