Mallory managed to avoid smiling as she lingered behind the warlord and his guards.  The entourage ascended the marble steps of what had been the community building, and the crowd on the grounds cheered as their presumed leader, clothes tattered and stained, turned to face them.

Scattered columns of smoke rose behind and to the left of the gleeful hordes while the stench of burned fabric and leather and flesh lingered in the air.  The warlord raised his arms, but it was more likely the guards drawing their swords that encouraged the rabble to soften their roars.

Mallory took her place behind and to one side of the cluster, standing unnoticed by the throng, but able to observe them.

Their perceived liberator’s shout burst over the assembly like a cannon shot.  “Freedom!”

They erupted the word back at him, but sporadically and discordant, making the outburst garbled.  Some of them were probably also slurring.  She’d seen to it that the Ambrosia she developed months ago flowed freely to the populace just before their uprising.

“Today belongs to you!”  The warlord clenched his raised hands into fists.  “And you deserve this celebration!”

The crowd roared its agreement.  He would have to keep his speech short, but since Mallory informed him he couldn’t have any Ambrosia until after making the announcement, he was motivated to remain brief.

“So celebrate to the fullest!  Celebrate in all the ways you were never allowed to before, because now you are free!  Free to do whatever you want, whenever you want!”

The throng cheered again.  Revelries had already started commencing within pockets of it, involving gluttony and copulating and other self-indulgences.  They would be too distracted to pay much attention to what he had to say next.

Distraction had always been her ally.  During her perfection of the Ambrosia, Mallory had slipped samples to a selected few, and she also whispered how their desires were stymied by the Traditions of the Elders.

How dare these decrepit suppressors stand on the shoulders of their ancestors and decree how society should conduct itself?  Didn’t they understand that their advanced ages made them senile instead of wise?  And didn’t this lack of understanding prove their senility?

Her whispers, spoken out loud by those who listened to her, convinced others who sampled the Ambrosia.  Their arguments became a shout.  The Elders, and a few of the others who still clung to tradition, attempted to illustrate why the complainers were wrong.  But now they were silenced.

Mallory suppressed a smile again as she glanced at the columns of smoke.

“Now that we’ve swept aside those who stood in our way, we are free to practice our own beliefs on top of their ashes!”  The warlord lowered his hands and slammed a fist into his palm.  “And as your king I will take care of all your freedoms!”

More cheers.  Nobody seemed to notice what he really said.

“We will be the freest society to ever walk in this valley because there will be no more differences among us!  Everybody will be the same because I, your king, have given you this freedom!”

Their festivities were probably producing more of the cheers than his words, but the self-appointed king nodded to his guards.  They sheathed their swords as he raised his hands again.

Even he was unaware that she had appointed him that title.

“Now let us begin the celebration of a lifetime!”

The horde roared its approval and debaucheries proceeded in earnest.  As the king turned toward her, the guards sauntered into the crowd.  They believed it was his orders they were following, and knew they wouldn’t get any Ambrosia until after they returned with as much wealth as they could pilfer from the populace … who in this state could be easily persuaded they were giving up their goods by their own free will.

Everybody would be the same, now, which meant somebody had to look after the material goods that made them different.

The new king held out as his hands as he stood before her.  “You know what I want.”

She reached inside the pocket of her coat, and withdrew a small bottle that she dropped into his palms.  She’d already measured out the amount of Ambrosia he was allowed to have.

Mallory finally allowed herself to smile.  “You deserve every bit of what’s coming to you.”

He grinned like a toddler with a stick of candy and darted into the horde to join in their revelries.  She turned away and strolled toward the entrance of the future palace.  The approach of a young man, eyes glistening with eagerness, made her wary.

“Pardon me, madam.”  At least he was still capable of exhibiting manners.  “I work for the new Indulgence Academy, and wanted some information for the pamphlet we’ll send out to our victorious community.”

Ah, one of the lackeys.  Still, the fact he wasn’t drugged out of his mind already meant he might be a bit too inquisitive.  She would be wise to keep an eye on him.

Mallory offered an indulgent smile.  “The king has any information you want.”

“Yes, I know.”  He nodded.  “But I did notice you with him, so I wondered if you were going to be part of his cabinet.”

“No.”  She belonged in the shadows, after all, and didn’t want him possibly exposing her to daylight.  Eventually these idiots would start realizing what they’d given up, and might lash out to regain what they’d lost.  As long as she controlled the Ambrosia, she controlled the people.  The less they knew about her, the better.  “I’m just another spectator.”

“Is there any role you’ll play?”

“Oh, I’m just a servant lass.”  Mallory took a step, but then hesitated and glanced back at him.  As long as everybody was blind to her schemes, she could probably indulge in a bit of proclaiming the power she truly possessed.  “I merely serve as the king’s one good eye.”

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Here is my submission this round to #BlogBattle, and the word this month is Unaware.  And if you want to know what else is going on, be sure to check out the other contributions!