Richard stared down at his fake hand, which had replaced his right one when a piece of shrapnel had pierced it and gotten stuck in right cheek. He had kept his right eye, but his mouth had issues moving to some degree now. Richard had the use of most of his mouth, but he still did look awkward when he spoke.
“It’s strange how you are spoken to by so many after death, it’s almost worrisome and sometimes feels sacrilegious.” He went on “Everyone seems to miss you still after all this time and even more wish you were here still to lead us. I don’t know if you ever had any children, but you were like a father to the Emperor. I feel like if you had not left to from your own country, you would be next in line for the crown.”
He sighed and loaded his rifle, thinking over what it would be like when he actually became Emperor. He breathed in and pressed the button on his music player.
“It doesn’t matter, I have more to be king.” High Prince Richard finished “I will make you proud, so help me God.
He sat off to the side of the runway on a bench. They should be here by now, they were at least an hour late and his patience was drying out. After ICE had fallen apart and one too many republics turned cold, Richard had effectively lost his faith in outsiders. The Third Han War seemed to be another inevitable victory, paved in the blood of many. He opened his eyes and heard the sound of the jet touching the runway, as it opened up he gestured to the others and they played what was soon to be the national anthem. He stood up and crossed his hand over his chest. His knuckles rested between his shoulder and his neck. Richard knew without looking down that his elbow was pointed at his hip as it should be. He softly whispered along with the song, which was everything he believed after the moralities of war. The future was coming and all the enemy had left to do was die, he prayed at night that the enemy would never really run out. What could become of a warrior people with nothing to fight?
