Bagmen

            The king hid behind his throne from the attack, his guards had not only failed to stop the offenders, but they had opened the door for them. This was not an attack of force, it was one of intimidation, and the king knew he could not win.

            He was known as King Vinus XVII, but most of his loved ones referred to him by his birthname of Gron. Although as the years went on, the people who called him that became less and less. He was an old sack of bones with no family and no heirs, once he died, it was the end of his dynasty. The gods had cursed him with infertility and sent a plague upon his lands that took everyone that could have set upon the throne, the common and noble folks alike had begun to doubt his mandate from heaven. Now these Bagmen had made their decision clear.

            Face your end like a man. Gron remembered his father having said to him at one point, so he stood up, walked in front of his throne, and sat waiting for the Bagmen to come.

The Bagmen were the people who did not exist. When a state needed something done, but didn’t want to be attached to the deed, they called upon these people with no official ties and no sworn loyalties. They dealt in bribery, intimidation, destabilization, and even just straight up assassination. They were paid in bags of untraceable cash, no credit, no debt. But these were not just hired thugs, each Bagman served one country and one country alone, if that country were able to pay them at least. Gron even had a few of his own, not that they would help him in this situation.

The large doors at the far end of Gron’s throne room opened. At the other side of the long red carpet stood the two figures, and man and a woman. As they stepped closer and closer to him, he got a better look. They did not look distinctive in any way, if not for the current situation, he would never even notice them. Their purpose was to disappear into the crowd. But now they were all so visible, they were looking down at him as he slunk into his throne.

“Well then, what do you want from me?” Gron asked.

“The world is changing, I am sure you are aware of that,” said the man.

“Yes, this industrial revolution as they call it has increased my nation’s capabilities tenfold,” Gron said with a tinge of excitement. But he knew that was probably not the important factor for today.

“That is not all that has changed,” said the woman. “Around the world the people have been able to stand up, establish republics and democracies. You are one of only two major monarchies left. We cannot name our clients, but they would like for you to follow suit.”

“I know where you are from,” spat Gron. “That ambassador from Barlania has been on my ass for a while.”

“Then I am sure you know of the proposal,” the woman responded back. “You would remain the official head of state, you would be allowed to continue to live in this palace, and neither you nor your successors would have to do anything. Anything except be a rubber stamp on the laws passed by the new government. You would keep the luxuries of power without having to bear any of its responsibilities.”

“And what if I don’t want that either. And what is to stop me from making my de jure power de facto?”

“You know who we are, and you know your people are already on the edge,” said the man. “It would only take the lighting of a match to spark the fires of revolution. We might not even have to do a thing. So yes, you have choices.”

“Fine. How will we go about this?”

“You and your advisors can work that out together. Just keep in mind what we told you today.” That was the last thing the woman said before the two Bagmen left.

Gron had no choice but to comply, every word they had said was true. He would call a meeting of his advisors and work out a truce with the leaders of the rowdier rebel groups in his kingdom to establish a constitutional monarchy. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all, he would still live like a king, but all the bad things about it, the meetings, the decisions that affected hundreds of thousands of lives, they would all be someone else’s problem. But Gron hated this anyway, for he would be losing power, the thing he was addicted to, the thing he refused to share. He was above all, and all should submit to his will.

Later that same day, another Bagman arrived. Just one, and he was far kinder about asking to meet the king rather than demanding it. Although, Gron and everyone knew there was no choice.

“What do you want?” Gron asked sitting straight in his throne as the undistinctive man knelt before him.

“I heard what my fellow non-existent people want you to do, and I came to give you an alternative option,” the Bagman said in a silky voice.

“What is your idea?”

“Barlania is quite alone in its stanch anti-monarchist stance. Most of the modern republics are either neutral, or supportive of the old ways. We believe there might be a way for not only to keep the power you have now but gain even more.”

            “I’m listening,” Gron said. The Bagman smiled.