Intestate means the KAOS five and anyone still claiming Citadel citizenship is fucked. Primaris Solenne Vexton Ulyth left this behind—his so‑called “constitution,” scrawled in longhand on a yellow legal pad, complete with doodles of suns, swords, and a bird that might be an eagle if you squint hard enough:
By the immutable decree of Natural Sovereignty, the Citadel stands beyond all false jurisdictions, answerable only to the Eternal Law written upon the hearts of the Chosen. No statute, ordinance, code, charter, or corporate fiction shall bind the Free People, whose rights arise from the Primordial Covenant and cannot be abridged by any external authority, agency, or impostor government. All lands held by the Citadel are consecrated by divine claim, all persons within its walls are citizens by awakening, and all attempts by foreign powers to regulate, tax, inspect, seize, or adjudicate shall be null, void, and without force. The Citadel recognizes no courts but its own, no borders but those of spirit, and no master but Truth.
Translation: fuck you Uncle Sam. Never mind that Uncle Sam was killed in action in the Freedom Wars. And that USA is a memory. Ulyth didn’t want to be on the winning side of the revolution. The war against oppression is eternal, said the Primaris. The struggle continues. Except that it actually ended.
Protip: annoying the government then expecting it to take care of you is suboptimal. Berkeley and the SF Bay Area has a long tradition of hosting riots and protests. 140 years ago it was a summer rite to protest the grievance of the day and tear up Telegraph Avenue. Stoney Burke performed on Sproul Plaza. Avakian’s RCP found a helpful frat boy, called him a name, the frat boy punched bank, and the fight was on. The Citadel followed over a century of afflicting the comfortable and now the comfortable inherit the chaos.
Don’t Spank Me Daddy
“By the immutable decree . . . ” yeah, whatever. USA gone, Pacific Cascadia the nearest thing to national government, and Alameda County soldiering on. Then the Citadel pulling a CHOPAZ move while adding a dash of sovereign citizen LARP fantasy. And making their annual spring break ritual riot on Telegraph Avenue from Dwight to Bancroft. Because DA MAN is still a bougie oppressor. Obvi, the upper-middle class zealots of the Citadel, majority white, are the oppressed. By what? Well . . . try ordering a flat white from the Mediterranean Cafe. There you go.
DA MAN is a ghost. Pacific Cascadia meets online through meshDesk. And gets very little done. Pacific Cascadia can’t get through an agenda because each person on a microphone has to acknowlege their ancestral debt caused by privilege, their theft of values, resources and pyschological needs, and their participation in historic and systemic oppression.
A little past an hour people drop out of the chat. By minute 76 the last two holdouts give up and end the chat. Escalating to Pacific Cascadia is futile. Alameda County is as close to functioning municipal services and functions as possible for the five Citadel/KAOS members. So that’s who picked up the ball on Ulyth’s estate.
We Choose OUR Truth
Heard this ever, “my truth is truthier?” Ulyth promised his innermost inner circle all the favorite Socialist promises. Everything would be made fair. No one would have too much or too little. Needs and ability would be assessed and scored. Ability would be used to fulfill needs. Perfect!
Yeah, not perfect. There is one sort of truth that is annoying: subjective truth. Is the sky blue or teal? When there are clouds, is it still blue? If beer is sold in 24 packs and five people want their fare share, who gets the four beers left? Those four beers caused a riot at a recent Pacific Cascadia f2f meeting. Nobody got any beer that day.
This awkward truth is trouble for the five KAOS members who survive Ulyth. The Citadel was a LARP phantom. They owned nothing. There was no registered business entity or bank account. The county found a box of store receipts, bills, and bank statements with this account holder name: William Oscar Webb. Yes, W.O.W. But most people close to him called him Bill.
Reality Sucks
Ulyth had a big mouth he used to declared many things, some of which survived fact checking. Some not. He squatted at the former Lawrence Hall of Science because the City of Berkeley lost it’s hold on the city. Bezerkeley declared itself PUDFARB. Then declared that the City Charter was a theft of privilege so it is illegal. No USA to appeal to, Pacific Cascadia was pointless, and Alameda County shrugged.
So there was no one to evict him from the LHS. Then he diagnosed the world’s problems as a lack of policy, “everything challenging can be addressed by policy.” Ergo the Medusa’s wig on a Hydra of Citadel governance. yw. 😂 It actually kind of worked since the old USA was in ash. Until it didn’t.
That was then, decades ago, back when Bill was still a political philosophy graduate student at UC Berkeley. He believed he knew the secrets of the universe and the answers to all governance problems ever. Youth. So awesome! What about the estate? The Primaris Solenne died from a stroke and his five inmost inner circle have no reason to start their day? Bill died intestate.
I Hate Your Rules
Alameda County still has a charter recognized by Pacific Cascadia before they became obsessed with stolen land declarations. With no will from Bill, it fell to them to probate his estate. This means Bill’s claim on the LHS is void. He never owned it so it isn’t part of his estate. The university owned it before Bill. So the five members of KAOS can’t claim ownership because Bill never had his name on a recognized deed. Not ok.
Bill died 155 | 10 | 14 CC. It’s been 272 days since. Government can be slow. But it does get around to things eventually. 156 | 07 | 13 CC, Monday a Sheriff’s Deputy knocks once, then tapes a paper eviction notice onto the door of the LHS castle. Sara spent the night with Liza and woke to hear the door knock. The Sheriff’s Deputy was gone when she opened the door and saw the notice.
A cold lightning strike of panic ran from Sara’s hands through her body to the floor, “Eviction? How is that even possible?” The notice said they had five days to surrender the LHS castle or be arrested for trespass. “Impossible. This can’t be. Bill had a deed to the property. The castle was his. The County can’t just evict us!”
I Know My Rights
By Natural Sovereignty I stand beyond all false jurisdictions, bound only to the Eternal Law written upon the awakened heart. I do not consent to foreign authority, corporate fiction, or imposed contracts, and no paper writ or administrative demand holds force over me. My presence is lawful, my claim is divine, and my truth is the only court with standing. All attempts to regulate, tax, evict, or adjudicate me are null, void, and rejected.
Bill had them memorize that little speach. He promised it would get them out of jail. Nice thought, but the Sheriff is carrying out an eviction order. Arrest and jail isn’t part of it. At least, as long as everyone behaves. On day five, the day they needed to be out, the boys wanted to fight. The three women had already hired cars and moved their belongings to friendlier places.
Sara watched the others gear up for battle and felt the familiar Citadel sickness settle in her gut. Mark was already drafting a manifesto on another yellow legal pad—”By the Immutable Decree of Natural Sovereignty, we reject the authority of this corporate fiction called Alameda County.” Theo scrolled through dead meshDesk channels looking for anyone who still cared.
Dot I
Dalton and Ellison prepped to defend the Citadel against whatever force the Sheriff could muster. What arrived instead were two deputies whose biggest complaint was the burnt coffee back at the office, plus a real‑estate attorney carrying a manilla envelope with the paperwork. The deputies seemed expressionless and the attorney seemed more interested in confirming square footage than confronting revolutionaries. The moment was underwhelming. The Citadel prepared for destiny; the county prepared for paperwork.
The two men chained themselves to the door of LHS and waited. DA MAN needed his comeuppance. Justice must be served! Ellison livestreamed to the three dozen followers still subscribed, railing against “the ghost of Uncle Sam” and “settler-colonial property law.” Sara stood beside him, trying to look defiant instead of exhausted. They chanted old Sproul Plaza slogans, updated for the occasion: “Whose building? Our building!” Actually . . . no.
The attorney asked, “which one of you is Ellison?” “I am,” Ellison replied. “Mr. Webb—Ulyth, whatever he called himself—never held title. The Lawrence Hall of Science remained university property throughout the collapse. You were guests. Friends, at best. No registered business entity, payroll records, tax filings, nothing. The county reviewed the box of receipts. All the receipts were personal or cash. Nothing in the box documented ownership. You’re squatters.”
King of the Wind
Dalton shouted back, “We worked for the vision! We built the Inner Circle. Your words are heresy!” He stared hard at the deputy.
One of the deputies shifted his weight so he balanced forward on both feet then adjusted his gun belt. Sara saw the gesture, put her hand on Dalton’s shoulder and whispered something to him.
The attorney continued, ““Unpaid labor for an unregistered LARP doesn’t create equitable title,” the attorney replied, almost apologetic. “This isn’t your ancestors Berkeley. Even Pacific Cascadia requires some baseline documentation before they start the land acknowledgments.”
Liza tried the subjective truth angle. “Our truth is that Bill consecrated this land for the Free People. The Covenant—”
“—has no force of law,” the attorney finished.
They had been friends who believed they were building something eternal. Instead they were squatters who had mistaken charisma and shared grievance for equity. The only thing they truly owned were memories of late-night policy sessions and riots that felt righteous at the time. As they walked away from the castle on the hill, the Bay glittering indifferently below, Sara glanced back at the doodled eagle who looked relieved to finally be going somewhere real.