The Emperor of Krazzeeny
In Krazzeeny, appearances were believed.
They called him Emperor.
He was fully dressed.
In Krazzeeny, appearance was loyalty.
The Emperor stood before his people—
gold catching light from every angle,
as if value could be multiplied by reflection.
The crowd responded on cue.
Signs rose—
Go Hugh.
Hugh Jass Wins the Day.
We ♥ Jass.
Beside him, Hugh Jass smiled—
already in agreement.
«“We will blockade the blockade.
Hugh Jass will help.”»
Applause came quickly.
It did not linger.
People didn’t care what the words meant.
They simply submitted.
The Emperor lifted his hand again.
The crowd answered again.
At the edge of the square,
three visitors stood without moving.
They wore no gold.
They carried no signs.
They did not join.
They watched.
Beyond the square, three towers rose above the city—
each marked for direction.
One leaned.
One held.
One had already given way.
At their peaks, the needles moved without agreement—
spinning, never pointing true north.
No one seemed to notice.
The Emperor spoke once more.
The crowd held—
then released.
They called him Emperor.
No one corrected it.
