Bad to the Throne, page 27
part #15 of The Good Guys Series
“I don’t like going to balls.”
“I’m going to leave the room now, because any joke I make about that would be woefully inappropriate, and I’m trying to be better.”
And so I left.
70
The Senate was the same as it always was. In some ways, there was a comfort to that. I said hi to Danald, who gave me the barest of head nods as he passed by. I couldn’t tell if he resented me for ‘tricking’ him or if he just didn’t care in the slightest about me and was annoyed he had to do one extra spot of movement because I’d greeted him.
All my chairs were arranged nicely. I sat down delicately in one of them, ready to hurry up and wait.
The other lords and ladies of the realm trickled in, all early, but also all trying to be the last to arrive. It was a ridiculous bit of power play, and, like virtually all the power games the senators played, it was pointless. Because the true power, at least in the Senate at that moment, lay with the chamberlain. And once the chamberlain was no longer the source of power, it would be an Emperor. It would never be these asshats. I think they both ignored that fact and resented it.
I used the time to people watch and think through the potential candidates another time. I watched them as they moved through the crowd, doing a little political chatting as they entered. And I noted how they left me alone.
Nadya Glaton thought I was in her corner, which was mostly true. If I had to pick someone who’d committed to running, I’d pick her, although I still had some serious reservations about her ability to handle that level of power and leadership. She was young, inexperienced, and didn’t seem to have enough self-confidence to believe in herself over the shitty advisors and sycophants who would be all over her as soon as the crown hit her head.
Katja Baeder was a piece of work. I knew something crazy had to be going on in the background with her. Otherwise, how would she, a lowly count, have managed to get to the point where she could handle putting herself forward as a viable candidate for Emperor? But no one seemed to know her secret. She was most definitely still distancing herself from me.
Lodbrook was the most conservative choice, right? He had relatively staid thoughts about what to do with the Empire. But I wasn’t sure I agreed with said staid thoughts. He wanted to reign the Empire in, which could very well mean letting go of newly conquered lands. Which could very well include Coggeshall. So a vote for him was a bit at odds with the continued existence of Coggeshall. Although, I mused, if I wanted to get Coggeshall out of the Empire, Lodbrook becoming Emperor could be a good thing. But would I even want that?
Edgemond was an asshole. I didn’t know if there was anything wrong with him besides that fact he was an entitled prat. But I didn’t like him as an archduke, and I couldn’t imagine that more power would do anything to make him any better. No way I would vote for him. And I think he knew it. He’d made an enemy out of me, and he was fine with that. And so was I.
The princess was out, even now. I didn’t want to vote for her if I could help it, because I thought there was something seriously wrong with the girl. Or, if not wrong, then something had fundamentally shifted with her in the time since we’d actually spoken. And until I had a better grasp of what her cult was trying to do, even voting for her with the idea that she had no chance of winning was a bad idea.
There were no great options. Sitting there, thinking about what I’d do and who I’d vote for, I tried to think about what Eliza would do in my place. And when that didn’t work — when I found myself thinking she’d somehow manage to get her father’s name on the ballot — I thought about her butt. And after that, I thought about what Skeld would do. And that helped a little.
71
The chamberlain took her position, and everyone understood what was about to happen. We didn’t need to go through the whole process of her telling us we’d get demerits if we didn’t shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. Or, you know, the civilized version of that where they don’t use the word fuck, but do take an extra thousand words to get the same thing mostly across. Everyone got to their seats and settled down, which made me happy because I wanted to get this first, and likely pointless, vote out of the way as quickly as possible. I wanted to get my meeting on with the princess’s cult recruiter.
I wondered what would happen if I was late.
It’s not like I could call and let the dude know I was running behind, that he’d have to hold off on brainwashing me until later in the day.
The chamberlain rapped her gavel, interrupting my little reverie. Even though the room was basically silent, she said, “Quiet down, quiet down.”
No one pointed out that we were already quiet.
“This session of the seven hundred and eighth meeting is called to order,” she said firmly.
Her voice was loud, but she wasn’t yelling. She was just authoritative.
“Does anyone have new business to bring before the Senate today?”
The same guy who’d stood up and called for a vote the previous day, stood up and called for a vote on that morning.
“State your name,” the chamberlain said.
“I am Lord Khaelin of County Khaelin,” the man replied.
“The Senate recognizes Lord Khaelin. What new business have you?”
“I call for the meeting of the Senate to vote for the next Emperor.”
Now, while yesterday there had been a sort of communal groan at that, today there seemed to be a sense of excitement. A palpable, ‘Are we really going to do it? Are we really going to find out who’s going to be the next Emperor?’ vibe.
And because I kind of had this mischievous streak, and because I wanted to get out of there, I stood and waited to be recognized.
“The Senate recognizes the Duke of Coggeshall.”
“Yeah, I second the vote. Let’s, let’s do this.”
“The vote has been seconded. This, the Seven Hundred and Eighth meeting of the Senate and will vote for the ascendancy of an individual to the Eighty Seventh throne of the Empire of Glaton. Commence voting.”
Cheers erupted in the gallery.
I just stood there, wondering how this would go down. Did we all raise hands? Everybody close their eyes and put their thumbs up? How did it work?
Then I saw someone coming around handing out cards and a colorful orange crayon or wax stick to the Senators, or placing them upon empty chairs. And on those cards were the names of the individuals who had already announced their candidacies, nicely written out. There were also other names, one of which was Valamir Glaton, High Prince of Glaton. People who I assume seemed like viable alternatives. My name was not on there. I didn’t care because I didn’t want it to be on there. One less problem to be irritated about. There was also a spot where you could write who you would like to vote for.
Because this was just the way it was done, I was given the one card for my chair, and then I had to get up and collect all nineteen other cards. And then I had to sit there and fill out all twenty of my cards with my pastel, which wasn’t exactly great for writing anything, but did a fantastic job of coloring in boxes.
When I’d finished, I sat there, again feeling like an idiot because I didn’t know what to do. I looked around to see what others were doing. Everyone was holding onto their cards face down, so no one could see what they had written. There was still some conferencing going on, some very low talking. The chamberlain didn’t seem to mind, but every once in a while she glanced at the man to her left, who had an hourglass sitting in front of him. It was a small one though, so it was difficult to really see the time that was passing.
As soon as the last grain of the sand fell, he placed his hand on the chamberlain’s arm and nodded. She rapped on the gavel and announced that cards would be collected in one minute. Everyone went back to their seats and hurriedly scribbled with the orange pastels.
After the one minute mark, the same person went around and collected all the cards and all the colored markers and pastels. They were all brought up and dumped into a large velvet bag, like what Santa has. Then they swirled around the bag to mix up the cards. And then we went through them, one at a time.
The man on the left would reach into the bag and call out a vote.
“One vote for Archduke Edgmond!” He yelled, which caused a ripple of applause. Like, we’re talking like golf levels of appreciation.
A little more commotion happened in the gallery as each vote came up. People clearly making their pleasure or displeasure of the vote known. After about twenty votes had been read, there was a pretty even split between Edgmond, Bader, and the other one. No votes for any of the Glatons yet. But there was one vote for yours truly: Montana, Duke of Coggesall, Hero of the Empire.
Which wasn’t even from me — I wouldn’t have bothered to write all that shit out. And also I wouldn’t have voted for myself, because I didn’t want the fucking job. And if I voted for myself, I knew that would turn into me somehow getting the damn job.
When my name came up, there was a furor amongst the Senators, which then spread to the gallery. The chamberlain decided she’d had enough, and she put in place what was known as closed voting. Which is only Senators got to be there. Which meant the Princess and her posse had to vacate the premises. Because even though she was a Princess, she didn’t have a vote in the Senate. So she couldn’t see how she was doing. Which I thought was funny. Obviously she had allies in there. But also she hadn’t gotten any votes yet of the initial twenty called out.
Valamir seemed unbothered by the whole thing. In fact, Valamir had his eyes closed, his arms crossed, and his feet outstretched, like he was sleeping. But I didn’t believe it for a second. It all felt like an act.
We continued reading the votes out, one at a time. Let me tell you, reading out one hundred and twenty one names takes a long time. Because it wasn’t just the reading out, it was the picking up, the reading it quietly first, then out loud, then marking down the vote in the official tally book and then putting the vote carefully in its new place. I felt like it would’ve been way more efficient to sort them all out first, and then be like, ‘Oh hey, look: we’ve got forty votes for Dave, but only twenty votes for Timmy over there.’ But no. One at a time, with the whole title read every time, and then the pause for applause. It was excruciating.
But I began to see the politics behind it. Every time there was a vote for Valamir — of which there were a few — the man read out, ‘His Royal Highness Valamir Glaton, High Prince of Glaton. They didn’t list out all the titles — that’d be ridiculous. But they said everything that was on the card, so you got to hear that Archduke Edgmond was really only ‘Archduke Edgmond, Count of wherever the fuck.’ He didn’t have much. He’d probably been given the Archdukedom solely as a way to boost his chances of becoming Emperor.
I had the feeling his family was going to be clawing that title back and giving it to the elder Edgmond if and when this jackass didn’t win the throne. Which, you know, I got. It was all a fucking game.
I kept an eye on the clock. It was taking forever and it seemed very possible I’d be late for my park date.
And then, it was over. One hundred twenty one names called out. And because I hadn’t been paying attention, I had to wait as the chamberlain paused to check the tally to find out who won. I’ll spare you the surprise — nobody got a majority of votes. Fourteen votes went to Katya Baeder. Montana of Coggeshall, surprise, surprise, got two. I thought that was pretty cool. High Prince Valamir got four votes. Also impressive for a man who said he didn’t want the throne, and would refuse it if it was given to him.
Edgemond came the next closest with twenty three votes. It was clear that Nadya and Regina had split the Glaton vote, with Nadia getting thirty three votes, and the princess getting an even thirty. So maybe if there hadn’t been two Glatons in there, one would have gotten a majority.
The old guy, Archduke Lodbrook only got eleven votes. I guess no one really got behind his whole, ‘Let’s just cut our losses and corral the Empire back down,’ spiel. Not even his own house, because that would mean he got at least twenty votes…
There were four people who got single votes. Mostly people I didn’t know, but I think were jokes, because there were a few chuckles when those names were announced. My favorite was the one that was for “Daniel Robarson, my neighbor down the street.” Everybody looked back at the mayor of Glaton at that point, and he gave a little wave.
I’m not exactly sure why he claimed the joke, because he didn’t have to. It was all secret — nobody was going to know which direction he had voted in. But maybe it was more important to him that people remembered he had a vote.
“This, the first vote of the meeting is as thus,” the chamberlain said, and she read out the count one more time. “These orange votes are entered into the record. They are available to be seen, and may be verified by any member of the Senate at any time.”
Then they put them in a nice wood box. The helper man across took one of the orange pastels and used basically the entire thing to color the top of the box. Then he lifted it up, and a worker took it and set it on the floor in front of the dais. It was very clear that a vote had happened, and that the vote was now secure in that box.
The chamberlain gave her gavel a twirl, pounded it and said, “That bit of business is concluded for this session. Is there any new business that needs to be spoken about before this session of the Senate?”
Nobody moved. I think everybody was itching to get out and talk, strategize, see who was going to make what promises to move votes around.
“No new business, then?” the Chamberlain said. “Is there old business that needs to be addressed?”
The secretary of the Senate made a show of flipping through their book. We all knew the answer.
“There is no old business that needs addressing,” the Secretary said.
“With no new business and no old business, the session of the Senate is adjourned. It will resume tomorrow.”
Crack!
Everybody was up like they’d heard a gunshot, and headed for the exits. Again, nobody was saying a damn thing and there was no provision against it. We were now free to move about the cabin. But nobody wanted to talk. Not there, not then.
I saw Valamir. He looked, well, not pleased but satisfied. Because now the cards were on the table and we had an idea of where the power was. And if I had to bet about what was about to happen, it was that the old man would formally drop out, and everyone would maneuver to get his votes on their team. He was the obvious first lynchpin.
I was struck that the Glatons had serious power. Which I guess was kind of obvious — the whole Empire was named after them and all. But there would be a lot of pressure in the Glaton household about how to handle this. I knew Regina would be putting the screws to Nadya to drop out and support her.
And my guess was that Valamir would try to sway people to vote for Nadya. While doing what he could to make sure that the screws being turned by the princess weren’t effecting Nadya. And maybe also trying to get some screws going in the princess to get her to drop out. Which meant he’d pressure Clyde and me to get to the bottom of the cult even sooner.
All of that from that I got from one glance at Valamir. I felt kind of proud of doing all that mental gymnastics in one moment. Which is why I didn’t notice when I walked into a chair and fell right over onto the floor, face-first.
Gotta love a universe that keeps a man humble.
72
The area directly outside the Senate was buzzing, but I slipped through the crowd without anyone snagging me to schmooze. Valamir, who was caught in a group of people that included the princess, gave me a meaningful look, either asking for help to get out or to let me know he wanted to talk to me. But I just waved at him and let the crowd push me away. I got into a waiting carriage and headed the fuck out of there.
Eliza had apparently won the prize of leaving Valamir’s compound, and was waiting for me. Two burly, somewhat furry creatures that looked a hell of a lot like new Skeld sat on either side of her, armed to the teeth.
“Hello,” I said.
“These are my escorts,” Eliza said. “Cade and Bassianus.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
They gave me a nod, and then returned their attention to the windows and everything happening outside.
“Any troubles?” I asked.
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“What is it you want to ask me?”
“Nothing, I was just making conversation. And checking on you.”
“I am capable of getting a carriage and delivering your goods to you.”
“I can see that.”
“Any troubles?” she asked me.
“Um, no?”
“Good.”
“Is there something you want to ask me?”
“No, I’m also making conversation.”
“You have boring conversations,” Cade said, half under his breath.
“This is a top-tier one for us,” I replied.
Cade smiled, which was not a pretty sight since it revealed a lot of big, scary teeth.
“That’s not true,” Eliza corrected. “He’s just being weird.”
“That could be true.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Or am I just dropping you off?”
“Just dropping me off, sorry.”
She sighed, frowned, and looked out the window at the passing city.
73
Wendell park was glorious. A rich, Irish soap commercial green amidst the gray stone of the city, with huge trees, an expanse of shrubberies, and bursts of flowers that made me stop in my tracks. I’ve never thought of myself as a flower stan, but there were just so many, and in such a variety.
Walking along the crushed stone pathways that wound through the park, I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, reaching for some measure of peace. The sounds of the city, though not as pervasive as they’d been back in the old world, were still a lot, and I’d become more attuned to the noise of nature. The park wasn’t a complete reprieve, but it was enough to take the edge off.
