Peril of the Crown, page 17
“Eminence?”
Nevarus smiled. “I am the emperor, am I not?”
“You are, Eminence.”
“See that they are brought to me here, at the Palace.” He hesitated momentarily. “On second thought, have them brought to me at the Victory Fountain.”
“But they are not ready!”
“I shall be the judge of that. Now go fetch them. I expect them this very day.”
Janek swallowed. “Might I enquire when, precisely, you wish to see them?”
“I shall meet with them right after my midday meal.” He paused. “Janek, you look like you’re about to faint. Surely what I ask is a simple matter?”
“It shall be as you desire, Your Eminence. Might I ask who else would be in attendance?”
“No one of import. You’ll be there, as will some of my personal guards, but I’ll leave it up to you to select the most trustworthy individuals.”
“I’m not sure I understand the implications, Eminence.”
Nevarus let out a sigh. “I do not wish any of what transpires to be passed on to the members of my court. It’s enough that I’m followed around night and day by soldiers. Can’t I at least have some privacy?”
“Of course, Eminence.” Janek bowed. “With your permission, I shall make all the necessary arrangements.”
The emperor turned back to the window. A light dusting of snow covered the gardens, but the sun was already breaking through the clouds. Soon, the warmth of spring would return, and then he would take the steps necessary to reassert his authority.
He pondered his current circumstances. He’d inherited the position of emperor as his father had. They all bowed and scraped before him, but he wasn’t so dim that he couldn’t figure out what they were doing. Halvaria had once been an empire under the direct control of a true emperor. He was determined to see that status restored.
* * *
“Now?” said Arnim. “You can’t be serious?”
“I’m afraid I am left with little choice,” replied Janek. “He wishes to see you and Lady Nicole this very day.”
“Why the sudden change of plans?”
The servant shrugged. “His Eminence can be fickle on occasion.”
“Are we to be brought in chains?” asked Nikki.
“Of course not. His Eminence would never deign to be in the presence of a prisoner. You are to be considered his guests.”
“Guests who are not allowed to wander around freely. To my mind, that makes us prisoners.”
“Your confinement is for your own protection, my lady. Were you allowed to walk freely through the Palace, those you encounter within its halls might see you as an enemy of the empire.”
“And where are we to meet His Eminence?”
“Outside, by the Victory Fountain,” replied Janek. “I expect you’ll wish to wear warm clothing; there is a chill in the air.”
“What do you think, Arnim?”
“Let’s go and meet an emperor, shall we?” He strode over to the wardrobe and pulled forth a long cloak, holding it out for his wife.
Janek watched impatiently, his foot tapping the floor in irritation. Once cloaked, Nikki turned to her husband and helped him on with one.
“Lead on, Janek,” said Arnim. “Let’s not keep your emperor waiting.”
“By all means, my lord.” The servant turned, then knocked on the door. It was opened by one of the five Imperial guards standing outside the room, all bedecked in the golden armour favoured for ceremonial occasions.
“Strange,” said Nikki. “They remind me of the Hearth Guard of Ironcliff, only taller.”
“And not as impressive,” added her husband.
“This way,” snapped Janek, then led them down the corridor.
* * *
Eventually, they exited the building and entered the vast gardens behind the Imperial Palace. Though snow remained on the ground, it was easy to imagine how they might look in full summer bloom.
Some two hundred paces from the Palace stood an immense fountain, topped by a winged Human with a wreath upon his head, holding a sword in one hand and a bolt of lightning in the other. More impressive was the individual sitting on the fountain's edge, dipping his fingers in the water.
The riot of green and gold he wore gave him an almost Elven quality. Four golden-clad warriors stood at a respectful distance, their eyes glued to the new arrivals.
At the sound of their approaching footsteps, the emperor turned. “Ah, Lord Arnim, Lady Nikki. I’m so glad you could see me.”
“We could hardly refuse,” replied Nikki, offering a bow.
Arnim merely nodded his head. “Eminence.”
“You Mercerians are a fascinating folk. What do you know of your history?”
“We are descendants of mercenaries,” replied Arnim, “but you knew that already.”
“That and so much more. We are not so different, you and I. We are both from warrior cultures. Are you aware of our shared past?”
“I can’t say that I am.”
Nevarus smiled. “I thought as much. Your forebearers were, as you said, mercenaries. What you don’t know is that Halvaria employed them.”
“To what end?”
“Why, to fight. What else do mercenaries do? It was relatively early in our history and a period of great conflict. We often employed mercenaries to help subjugate our enemies.”
“What happened?”
“Your ancestors turned on us, forcing us to take drastic action and hunt them down before they could do damage to the empire. A large group fled west to Zefara, the very same port you came in through. They commandeered ships and forced their crews to carry them west to the land that was then known as Terengaria. The rest, I assume, you know. I tell you this not out of any animosity but to acknowledge our shared history.”
“What is it you want?” asked Nikki.
“You are very direct,” replied Nevarus. “I find that refreshing.” He looked skyward. “What I desire,” he said at last, “is for Merceria to join us.”
“Join you?”
“Why not? Are you not a warrior culture like us? Imagine what we could achieve by combining our forces?”
“Did you not think to extend this invitation before launching an all-out war on our allies?”
“I’ll admit mistakes were made. It’s what comes from giving my advisors too much freedom. However, I am sincere in my invitation to fight side by side with the Humans of your land.”
“Humans?” said Nikki. “What about the other races within our borders: the Orcs, Elves, and Dwarves?”
Nevarus flinched. “The Orcs are a savage race, and the Elves have all but disappeared from the forests of Eiddenwerthe. As for the Dwarves, they can stay, providing they remain in their mountain homes.”
“Have you ever met an Orc?”
The emperor stared back, unable to formulate an answer.
Janek stepped forward. “You must not speak thus to His Eminence.”
“No,” said Nevarus. “It is a fair question. I have not, in truth, met one of the green-skinned folk, but I have read accounts of their savage practices.”
“Which practices would those be?”
“The execution of prisoners and the eating of Human flesh.”
“They do not eat Human flesh,” said Nikki. “And as for the execution of prisoners, they do that as a mercy.”
“A mercy?”
“Healers are rarely part of a hunting party. They see execution as preferable to a slow and agonizing death.”
“It is death, regardless.”
“This only happens when their shamans cannot treat the wounded.”
“I’ve walked amongst them,” added Arnim, “and always found them an honourable people, more so than we Humans.”
“That has not been our experience,” replied Nevarus. “They are particularly resistant to our rule in the south, where our borders expand into the southern continent.”
“Would you not resist if your empire was threatened?”
“I suppose I would.” The emperor smiled. “I like you two. You challenge me.”
“Let me go one step further,” continued Nikki. “Have you ever tried to learn about these southern Orcs?”
“That is an excellent question. Janek, inform my advisors I wish to know everything we have concerning the greenskins.” He hesitated. “Or rather, the Orcs. Elves, too, for that matter.” The emperor returned his focus to Arnim. “We assumed the Elves were extinct until we discovered they still lived within your borders.”
“And the Dwarves?” asked Arnim.
“We’ve had some run-ins with the mountain folk in past years. They are stubborn to the extreme, and we found them unpleasant to be around.”
“Likely because you were trying to take away their land.”
“Admittedly, we were, but they should know better than to build mines in our territory.”
“Your territory?” said Nikki. “The Dwarves are one of the Elder Races, and they haven’t built a new colony for centuries. Are you suggesting otherwise?”
Nevarus shrugged. “What can I say? We are destined to rule over all of Eiddenwerthe. They must be eliminated if they do not submit to our reign.”
“Is that the fate awaiting Merceria?”
The emperor stared back at a loss for words. The idea that a god like him could be outwitted in such a manner was beyond his comprehension. The silence dragged on, and then Nevarus nodded. “You make me think, which is commendable, but I have had enough for today. You can take them away, Janek. We shall meet again once I’ve had time to consider their words.”
Their escort turned around, indicating it was time to leave. Janek nodded, and then they marched off, Arnim and Nikki in the middle.
“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” said Arnim.
“I can’t say his proposal was much of a surprise. Join us or die? What kind of an offer was that?”
“From what we’ve seen, I’m guessing he lives a very sheltered life.”
“And?” pressed Nikki.
“He has some unusual ideas of what the outside world is like. He honestly believes he’s destined to rule all of Eiddenwerthe.”
“But he is,” said Janek. “It was foretold long ago.”
“That Nevarus would rule over all the known lands?”
“Not him personally, but the emperor, most certainly.”
“How long ago?” asked Arnim.
“It has been foretold since the first days of the empire.”
“And have none resisted his efforts?”
“Many tried,” said Janek, “but we conquered them all in the end.”
“Just not the Orcs in the south?” asked Nikki.
“I wouldn’t care to comment. I have no expertise in such matters.”
“What do you actually know about the lands to the south?”
“It is a great wilderness where dangers lurk that one can only imagine.”
“Then why go there?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If the land is nothing but wilderness, what is the empire’s interest in it?”
“I cannot answer that,” replied the servant, “but the Marshal of the South has his hands full dealing with it. Three legions are employed in that region at all times.” He slowed. “You must understand that the empire is immense. You could place all the Petty Kingdoms within our borders and still have leftover space. It wasn’t always that way, but a kingdom should be willing to go to war to preserve what it holds most dear. Isn’t that what you Mercerians do?”
“How would you know that?” asked Arnim. “You are a servant, not a military advisor.”
“True, but I am one of the few servants the emperor trusts. As such, I attend all his meetings, though I am seldom noticed.”
“I wonder,” said Nikki, “does he truly believe it’s his destiny to rule over all of Eiddenwerthe?”
“Yes. This is the closest we’ve been in a thousand years to fulfilling our dream.”
“And then what happens?”
“I beg your pardon?” replied Janek.
“What happens once you’ve conquered all the known lands?”
“We rule over them, and all shall be at peace.”
“I highly doubt that,” said Arnim.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your empire survives by expansion. Stop growing, and you’ll soon find yourselves becoming stagnant. Were you successful in this campaign to conquer the Petty Kingdoms, you’d likely begin fighting each other. The emperor said it himself—you’re a warlike culture. Without war, your legions have no purpose.”
“We conquer to survive.”
“You’re already large enough that no one can threaten you, so why not sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labour?”
“Because the law of nature is that the strong rule the weak. If we do not constantly demonstrate our strength, another realm would soon try to replace us. Is that not true of your home?”
“I’ll admit we’re a warlike people,” said Arnim, “but we’ve taken great strides towards bringing peace to our region.”
“Through conquest, no doubt.”
“No,” said Nikki, “through diplomacy. For the most part, we’ve attempted to aid our traditional enemies rather than invade them. It hasn’t always worked, but our successes far outweigh our failures.”
“But if you revealed a weakness, how many of those old enemies would resurface?”
“Our queen counts our success by the number of our allies, not enemies.”
“Yet your lands will soon be under the rule of our emperor.”
“I would not be so fast to count your victory,” said Arnim. “Your empire may be vast, but that merely stretches your legions over a large area. One spark of rebellion and the whole thing comes crashing down all around you.”
Eighteen
The Duke
Spring 968 MC
The warm westerly breeze was a pleasant respite from the chilly winds that were the hallmark of the winter season. Beverly slowed Lightning, taking in the massive estate they headed towards.
“This place looks larger than the Palace at Wincaster.”
“Perhaps in terms of ground area,” said Aubrey, “but it appears to be a single floor.”
“The duke’s estate is legendary,” offered Sir Owen. “They say it’s one of the most expensive Royal residences in all the Petty Kingdoms.”
“Royal?” said Aldwin. “I thought he was only a duke?”
“He might as well be a king, considering the size of his lands. Erlingen is one of the larger Petty Kingdoms.”
“Then why doesn’t he call himself one?”
“I have no idea.”
They passed through the impressive gate, which had been thrown open to admit visitors. The guards standing nearby watched with intense interest but made no move to stop them.
“We’re not the only ones here today,” said Aubrey, pointing at all the carriages.
“They belong to the barons,” replied Owen. “If I remember correctly, the duke celebrates the anniversary of his coronation this time every year.”
“I thought we were coming here just to meet him.”
The knight shrugged. “Can’t he do both? He’s a busy man, especially with the empire breathing down his neck.”
“It’ll only get worse,” said Beverly. “The snow is disappearing so fast the roads will soon be clear, which can only help the empire’s progress. I fear the duke needs to march if he hopes to stop them from crossing his borders.”
“Ah, you came. How delightful.” A mailed knight in a brown surcoat bearing a white axe, the symbol of Saint Mathew, waved from atop the steps. It took them a moment to realize it was Brother Cyric, for he’d forgone his usual brown cassock. “His Grace, the Duke, is preparing to address everyone. These fellows will take your horses, and then I’ll show you the way.”
They all dismounted, passed the reins to the stable hands, and then followed the Temple Knight into the building.
“This is quite the place,” said Aldwin, marvelling at the extravagant décor. “The duke must be wealthy indeed.”
“He is,” replied Cyric, “or at least his father was. Lord Alain is said to be less extravagant than his predecessor.”
“Why is that?”
“I believe it was his mother’s influence. She was originally from Andover.”
“Is the duchess here tonight?” asked Aubrey.
“Oh, Alain's mother died some years ago under questionable circumstances, which led to a war.”
“Questionable?”
“She drowned out in the river when her boat capsized.”
“She couldn’t swim?”
“Not in courtly attire, I’m afraid.”
“How did that lead to a war?”
“Lord Deiter took a mistress from Reinwick,” explained Cyric, “the woman who now holds the title of duchess. There were accusations that he arranged the death of Alain’s mother to marry his mistress. As you can imagine, that didn’t sit well with the court of Andover.”
“And how does the current duke feel about the entire affair?”
“In a word—bitter. He banished his father’s second wife from court, with a stipend involved; he’s not completely heartless to her plight, but he has no desire to be in her company.”
They entered a large ballroom packed with nobles, warriors, and even members of the Church. His Grace, the Duke, was at one end, standing on a set of stairs to allow him to look out over his subjects.
“He’s not as young as I imagined,” said Beverly. “From your description, I expected a younger man.”
“You must remember,” replied Cyric, “his father ruled for many years.”
“Did he have any other children from his second wife?”
“I’m afraid not,” added Owen. “His Grace came up short in that regard. It’s why he wanted to get rid of his first wife.”
“She bore him a son.”
“She did,” agreed Cyric, “his only one, but a single heir can often be problematic in the Petty Kingdoms, especially with rampant disease. Most rulers prefer two or three, then marry off the spares once their eldest continues the line.”
