Empire of Avarice (3 page)

“You?”

“Yes, me. So you all owe me a favour. Including you,
little Amne. I’d like to have some of that repaid right now, in fact,” Mercos
ran his tongue over his lips. “I’d like to see what lies underneath all those
clothes.”

“You – you beast!” Amne gasped. “I’ll scream!”

Mercos sniggered. “And have people run here to find
you’re looting the empress’s clothes, and her not dead four hours? Oh, what a
ghoul you are!”

“Dead?” Amne gasped. “How is she dead?”

“What do you think?” Mercos sneered. “Two emperors
alive? Two empresses? Your father is a practical man. He’s had enough of the
civil wars, as have most of us. To have two alive would ensure it continues. So
you get rid of the others. Permanently. I agree with him. You think your father
and mother can just step into the role with no harm to anyone else? No, others
have to die. So, little one, are you going to slip those little pieces of
clothing off, or am I going to rip them from your – lovely young firm body?”

Amne was now more than a little scared. Mercos was
practically drooling and leaning over her. She shrank from his gaze, those hot
lust-filled eyes that were raping her right there.

 She was beginning to open her fingers, slowly,
reluctantly, when suddenly another voice was there, one she was familiar with.

“Ah, there you are Princess. Your father wishes for your
company in the audience chamber.”

Amne breathed out in relief and saw, over Mercos’
shoulder, Teduskis standing in the doorway. Mercos swung round, his face ugly. “Why
don’t you go away and leave us to finish our business, whoever you are?”

Teduskis strode into the room, his hard face
expressionless, but his eyes like flint. Amne had never seen him like this and
was rooted to the spot. Before she or Mercos could react, Teduskis’ right hand
was swinging up in a fist and it crashed full into the face of the palace guard
captain. Mercos’ head snapped back and he staggered a few steps before losing
his balance and sat down hard on the carpet. He put his hand to his now
bleeding lips and sat there, holding his face.

“Princess? Best get dressed quickly. I’ll watch this man
while you do.” Teduskis turned his back on Amne and glared at the bleeding
Mercos. “Try anything like that again, you weasel, and I’ll slice off what lies
between your legs and feed it to you. I don’t care who or what you are. Understand?”

Mercos looked up at Teduskis with pure hatred.

Amne was shocked. Teduskis had always been courteous,
funny, gentle. She’d never heard him speak like this to anyone before. Maybe
father was right. Teduskis had been with father in the army and his reputation
as a tough warrior had been surely a piece of fiction to tell to her and her
two younger brothers. But maybe it had been fact. She’d never believed it
before. But now? Maybe it was true. Hurriedly she slipped back into her normal
dress and as she hooked it over her shoulders, vowed to herself to have dresses
made for her that very sevenday. Already she felt shabby. As a princess, she
ought to look her best. She looked down at Mercos, who was examining the blood
on his hand with distaste. “If you ever speak to me like that again, I will
tell my father, no matter how important you think you are to our family. Favours
can be ignored, you know.”

Mercos growled, his already thickening lips making
whatever word or words he wanted to say unintelligible. Teduskis glared at him
one last time. “Palace guard, eh? Well go start guarding the palace. You didn’t
do a decent job for the last emperor, did you? But I doubt you’ve ever actually
had to do any proper guarding before; you’re just fit to parade around the
imperial piss-pot. You’re not proper soldiers. Give me half a day on the parade
ground with your pretty boys and they’ll be crying for their mammas.” With that
he followed Amne out of the chamber, leaving a fuming Mercos to get back to his
feet.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered thickly, and stomped
out of the chamber, heading for his quarters, his mind racing with thoughts of
vengeance.

Back in the audience chamber, Astiras Koros had returned
his two young sons to their mother and was once more waving to the crowd
outside. Shouts of delight wafted through the curtains into the chamber, and
the Empress sat on a couch with Argan who was rubbing his eyes. Rousa was once
more fussing over Istan who had reverted back to his habitual crying. “Best get
these two to bed,” the Empress said. “They’re tired, poor things. It’s been a
little too much.”

“Where am I going to sleep?” Argan asked. He was very
tired.

“Your new bed. Rousa, have you found where the sleeping
chambers are?”

The nurse shook her head. “But there’s a whole company
of servants hovering in the next chamber waiting to serve you.” Rousa smiled
evilly. “They’re scared half to death you’re going to order their execution!”

“Now why would they think that?” the Empress asked. “Silly
lot; let’s start organising them!”

As the woman and children left via an adjoining door to
the next chamber, the door to the passageway opened and Amne came in, her face
flushed. Teduskis followed her in, noting the arrangement of the room and the
fact there were no guards. He tutted to himself. Things would have to change.

“Father?” Amne called out.

“Here,” Astiras replied, looking through the curtains. He
saw his only daughter and smiled. Then he saw her look and switched to
Teduskis. “What happened?”

“Mercos, that creature,” Teduskis said, then halted,
waiting for Amne to say something, if she wished to.

“Well, Amne?” Astiras demanded.

“It’s nothing, father, really. Teduskis taught him a
lesson in manners.”

Astiras looked at Teduskis who mimed a punch. The
Emperor smiled slightly and nodded, then wagged a finger at his faithful
retainer. “Go get yourself fed and to bed. Tomorrow we plan.”

“Your majesty.” Teduskis bowed, then left.

“Amne, are you going to tell me what Mercos did?”
Astiras asked, guiding her out onto the balcony.

Amne went to say something, then gasped as the sight of
thousands of people came into view, all holding torches or candles. Whatever
she had been about to say was instantly forgotten as the spectacle took her
breath away. Some recognised who she was, or who she probably was, and cheers
floated up to her. Astiras grinned. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Wave to them, they’re
expecting something like that.”

She did and applause could be heard. “They’re clapping
me!”

“Of course. You’re a princess; you represent the future.
They want a future. We must give them a future, Amne. They will be looking to
us to provide them with hope that we will survive.”

“But surely we will, father!”

“Who would have thought ten years ago we would be in
this position with enemies east and west, wild canines at our door? The door is
rotten and crumbling. We must repair the damage and quickly. They want us to
lead them out of this dark era. So many times others have stood where we are
now, and promised much. They delivered nothing but disappointment and failure. We
must not do the same, or I fear we will be the last to stand here as rulers of
an empire.”

Amne didn’t know what to say. Normally her father kept
his own counsel, but perhaps it was the emotion of the moment that opened him up
to her. “Father – you will save the empire, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” he smiled reassuringly. “With a
little help from my family, of course. That includes you, Amne. We must appear
united to everyone; we must work together towards the same end. You, my
precious daughter, must marry a supporter of our family and produce strong sons
to continue the work I am beginning.”

Amne said nothing; she was overwhelmed.

“Your brothers too, must work hard. They will need to be
strong warriors, leaders of men, visionaries for the future. If we are to
return to the glory days, then we will have to fight for it, and I fear as yet
we are not ready for that. But we need to tell these people here that we are
strong and united, and so I don’t want you or your brothers bringing this
family into disgrace, you understand?”

“Yes, father,” Amne said dutifully. Was she going to be
married off soon? Was this what it meant to be a princess? She was hoping to
marry one of the number of sons of wealthy families who had already courted
her. She hadn’t chosen which one as yet. But whoever it was, would be, like
her, from a noble family, so she was sure her father would approve. But what
had he just said? A supporter. Surely a noble too, for no commoner would be
allowed to marry a princess! She would have to think on that some more, and
maybe ask her mother.

The empress breezed back into the chamber. “That’s the
two youngsters taken care of,” she said, joining the other two on the balcony. “They’re
tucked into their beds. Each has a servant to make sure all is warm and
comfortable and a chamber maid to clean out the rooms in the morning.”

“Isbel, that creature Mercos has been – making
inappropriate moves towards Amne here.”

Empress Isbel frowned and looked at her daughter. “What
happened?”

Amne sighed, and gave her mother the briefest of
explanations, missing out what she thought her mother and father didn’t need to
know. Isbel pursed her lips and looked at her husband. “Well, Astiras, what are
you going to do about it? I’m not going to have someone here using
inappropriate behaviour towards my daughter!”

“I’ll deal with it,” Astiras promised, waving again at
the crowd. He was getting tired. It was well past the midnight watch. Time to
retire to bed.

“Astiras, you are emperor now. Nothing can be denied
you.”

“Isbel, I said I’d deal with it.” Her husband looked at
her square in the face. “Tomorrow. Now, I need some sleep because there’s an
awful lot of planning that needs to be done, and it needs to be done tomorrow
morning. There’s no time to waste.”

Amne kept her head bowed. She just wished they’d change
the subject. They might find out about her rummaging through the dead empress’s
clothes and that would be to her shame if that was discovered. She gave her
excuses and left abruptly, saying she was tired.

Isbel watched her go, then touched her husband on the
arm. “Astiras, I don’t want anything to upset our new home.”

The emperor took both her hands and looked her in the
eyes. “You said I was emperor and that nothing could be denied me, yes?”

“Yes,” Isbel agreed.

“Then,” Astiras grabbed her suddenly, picked her up, and
as she gasped in shock, swung her over his shoulder. “You will deny me nothing
this night! To bed!”

“Put me down!” she exclaimed, kicking her legs futilely.

Astiras grunted, got used to her weight – he’d not
picked her up in years – then strode purposefully to the door, clenching his
stomach muscles. She was heavier than he remembered. Best not to mention that,
he decided. “Deny me nothing, woman. I am emperor!” he hollered, his voice
reverberating down the corridors as he strode towards the imperial bed chamber.
Servants on duty stopped in amazement at the sight, and the empress’s legs
flailing, her flesh on show. Hurriedly the servants looked away. Incredibly,
she began giggling.

“I thought we needed sleep,” she said, breathlessly.

“Later, woman,” Astiras replied. “Now I’m on campaign. Prepare
for conquest!”

Laughing, the two vanished into their chamber.

The next morning both emperor and empress looked in good
spirits, albeit a little tired. Amne deliberately avoided looking at them; she
was ashamed of their behaviour. She would request a chamber suite further away
from them if this was how they were going to carry on. She could hardly sleep a
wink. And at their age too! Argan and Istan were busy eating away, oblivious to
everything except what was being presented on their plates. Amne couldn’t
believe what was being offered; it was more than she had ever seen, and this
was just breakfast!

It passed fairly quickly, for the emperor was in a hurry
and dismissed the waiters and dining room staff as soon as they had eaten their
fill. The two young boys were taken to the imperial nursery for tuition or
amusement, depending on whether it was Argan or Istan. The empress excused
herself and made for the office suite within the palace, wishing to look at the
accounts and stock. Frendicus had declared the accounts were ready for
inspection. Astiras nodded gratefully at his wife, but she was much better with
figures and numbers than he would ever be; he was a soldier first and foremost.
That afternoon he was due to be crowned emperor at the High Temple, just across
the square from the palace. He knew what he had to do there, having attended
the last three coronations as a member of the nobility.

This morning, it was planning time. Amne stood up. “What
about me, father?”

Astiras leaned on his elbows and looked at her closely. She
was twenty, smooth skinned, had long fair hair, clear blue eyes, a delicate
upturned nose, small mouth but with firm full lips and even white teeth. She
was the sort of woman that either evoked jealousy or love. And sometimes,
Astiras acknowledged, they went hand in hand. “As a member of the imperial
family, you have stature. I have a mission for you, Amne, but I want you to
attend the first imperial council I’m about to hold downstairs in the meeting
chamber. You’re just to listen, but you will answer any questions that are put
to you, if you wish to answer them. Alright?”

“Yes, father. What should I wear?”

“You and your clothes!” Astiras grunted. Teduskis had
told him a much more in depth account of the Mercos incident that morning
before breakfast. “Wear what you have. I’m going to have a tailor attend you
this evening after the coronation. For the coronation you’ll wear that long
white dress you got for your eighteenth birthday. It’s easily your best.”

“Oh, yes, father!” Amne smiled.

The meeting chamber was on the ground floor of the
palace, a large square room with chairs and couches arranged around the edge
which was higher than the central area. The central part of the room was
sunken, reached by four steps that went all the way round the room. In the
middle of the sunken area stood a square table and around this were arranged
twelve leather chairs. On the table was etched a map, a map of what had once
been the extent of the empire and the surrounding nations in the days when the
map had been carved. The room had no windows, being in the centre of the huge
palace, and placed all around the walls, were images of all the emperors of the
past, painted beautifully by the artists of the various ages. Torches flickered
from iron wall brackets, illuminating the chamber, and a particularly bright
source of light moved imperceptibly above the table, a large iron chandelier
adorned with over fifty candles. No wax dripped down onto the table, however,
for each candle was seated in a wide cup. The entire thing was suspended from
the ceiling by an enormous chain. The smell of the candles permeated the
chamber, just like it did in the temples of the Empire.

Standing in the gloom of the outer reaches of the
chamber were members of the palace guard, each holding the symbol of their
unit, the volgar, a wicked looking multi-bladed weapon atop a pole the height
of a man. It was ceremonial, yes, but it could also be used as a fearsome
weapon. Many a cavalryman had been brought off his charger by the volgar. But
these days the only unit who still used it were the palace guard, and they had
not seen proper action for centuries. They had been relegated to ceremonial
duties now, guarding the palace. However, the sight of an armoured man wielding
the volgar had been enough to stop anyone from thinking of taking them on.

Mercos was there, his lips swollen and scabbed, and he
was scowling, particularly at Teduskis who was standing next to the emperor. Princess
Amne was seated on his other side, watching as the heavily built and warlike
men filed in and were shown their seats by the major domo, Pepil.

“Friends, nobles,” Astiras began, standing with both
fists planted on the table top, “welcome to the first Imperial Council of my
reign. May there be many more,” he added, a smile catching his lips.

The men seated around the table grinned or chuckled. All
had been supporters of Astiras and had gained much by his victory. So far all
they had was prestige, but surely rewards would soon be forthcoming.

Astiras nodded to his daughter. “Most of you will
already know my daughter, but for those who don’t, this is my only daughter and
second child, Amne. She is here at my request, for she needs to know our
strategy and what we plan for the empire. She will be undertaking a diplomatic
mission shortly, and an overview of our situation would be to her advantage.” He
smiled, looking down at her.

Amne smiled back, her face pale. To be sure, she was a
little apprehensive at the responsibility her father was throwing at her, but
she was damned if she would show that to these men.

“So,” Astiras sighed deeply, “to matters in hand. We had
to act yesterday after I heard of the disgraceful betrayal to the army my late
predecessor was about to enact. It was the final act of cowardice by a man
unfit to be emperor, and it left us with no choice but to act there and then.” He
looked up at Mercos, standing close to the door. “The Captain here allowed us
access into the palace, agreeing it was time to get rid of him. It was a
particularly brave act of loyalty to the empire, and I for one thank him.” He
bowed once to Mercos who looked surprised. The rest of the assembly, except
Amne, applauded him. Mercos even had the grace to look embarrassed and bowed,
something only a few moments before he would never have thought he’d do.

Amne felt a kick on her leg and looked up at her father
who glanced at her, his left eye widened a moment before returning to its
normal size. Amne, not a stupid woman, hastily applauded too, although she felt
anything but joy.

Astiras cleared his throat, immediately gaining
everyone’s attention. “My predecessor was about to confirm the independence of
Bragal, thus spitting on the graves of all the brave men who have already sold
their lives to the empire in trying to keep that province ours.” Some of those
present gasped in shock. Only a few had known of the intention, and Astiras,
being Governor of Bragal, had been informed by a palace flunky by letter,
realising that it was something akin to a dismissal from the post. Astiras had
exploded in fury and had decided there and then to take power himself. All the
emperors since the military disaster in the west ten years back had been
useless, and he had decided he’d be better than any of them had ever been.

A quick bribe to Mercos; a forced entry into the inner
chambers of the palace; the deaths of two utterly unimportant people who had
made the mistake of trying to prevent Astiras from gaining entry into the inner
chambers, and then he was there, facing the shaking emperor, his blade dripping
with blood. Astiras recalled the conversation clearly.

“You would surrender Bragal to rebels? After all the
efforts to keep Bragal within our grasp? Have you lost your mind?” Astiras had
faced the emperor, breathing heavily, steeling himself to do the unthinkable:
regicide. As a noble and a faithful servant to the imperial cause, it had been
something drummed into him from an early age to loyally serve the emperor,
whoever it may be.

“It has cost us too many lives, General Astiras,” the
emperor had explained, his hands flapping in the air in some kind of
conciliatory gesture. “The empire cannot afford the losses and to maintain our
borders as they are now. We must withdraw.”

“With Lodria up in arms too? The army has to suppress
the uprising there. Do you intend surrendering Lodria too? Then after that,
what? You will be emperor of nothing!”

“There is nothing that can be done, Astiras. The army
has limits.”

“I know the limits of the army. The civil wars have
sapped its energy and manpower, but it’s still capable of keeping Bragal. We
need Bragal. The loss of the manpower would cripple us! What of the lives lost
in the fight there? Have you no sense of loyalty to them? They died for this
empire, and you would betray them because you are a frightened, little man! There
is a contract between the army and the emperor, don’t you know?”

“What contract is that, Astiras? I do not know of any –
contract!”

Astiras stepped closer, his face twisted with fury. “Not
a literal one, but a moral one. Have you not the insight to realise this? The
emperor commands the army, and the army follows his commands, but in turn they
expect him to look after them, to make sure they can win wars they fight for
him and the empire. But you, no, you don’t believe in that, do you? You send
men to die in a province hundreds of leagues from their homes and loved ones. You
have no intention of bringing them a victory. You break this contract without a
moment’s thought. You cold-hearted monster, you don’t deserve to rule!”

“Astiras – wait…..”

But there was no further discussion. Astiras had screwed
his courage and rage to a peak and thrust forward, his blade slicing deep into
the emperor who had doubled up and had fallen sideways to the floor. He had
stood over the corpse for a little while, not really seeing the dead man at his
feet, but the corpses in the snows of Bragal, men who had answered the empire’s
call to arms in a glorious war to keep the province theirs. Just as it seemed
they had turned the corner, word had come that the old fool in the palace had
lost his nerve. It wasn’t just the emperor’s idea; there had been others in the
shadows, working against the empire or for their factions, once again putting
their family or faction ahead of the good of the empire. They would have to be
rooted out and destroyed too.

Astiras nodded to himself, bringing himself back to the present.
“Yes, Bragal was about to be given away.”

“What of the army there, your majesty?” one of the
seated men asked.

“Withdrawn to the Frasian border and dismissed! Not only
did the fool pull them back, but in a cost-saving exercise he disbanded their companies!
I was too late in intercepting that message from the palace, but I’m damned if
I’m going to allow Bragal to break away. I’m going to train up an army here and
personally lead it to Zofela, the Bragal capital. I’ll string up all those
rebellious bastards from the fortress walls and impose martial law on them
until they see the benefits of imperial rule again!”

The men thumped the table in agreement. Amne was shocked
at her father’s vehemence. “But what of the people of Bragal?”

“They have long been in the empire; there’s no reason
for them to go alone. In any event, on their southern border is Mazag, and the
moment Bragal declares independence, they become ripe for the picking. The only
reason Mazag has not invaded Bragal up to now is because we still lay claim to
it. The moment we give it up, Bragal will be invaded by Mazag and they won’t
play as nicely as we have these past five years. Well, I’m not going to play
nicely. You, Amne, do have a task connected to this. I want you to go to their fortress
at Branak in the mountains, and negotiate an alliance with us. Use your charm,
Amne. You’ve been educated in court etiquette, so you will know how to conduct
yourself. Their governor is their Prince Lamak. He has the full authority of
the Mazag King. Can you please do this for me? You’ll accompany me as far as
the Bragal border, then you will go your own way with your ambassadorial party.
Ambassadors are respected everywhere, unless they’re with an army.”

“Yes, father.” Inside she was feeling sick. What an
insane mission! Travelling through Bragal, a lawless region, full of bandits
and murderers! Was her father mad?

“Good girl, Amne. My thanks. Now, to the rest of the
empire.” He swept his hand to the west. There, the land was shown to rise into mountains
on the far side. But closer to the eastern edge there was a coastal plain by a
sea that stood almost in the centre of the map. It was around this sea that the
empire was built. Astiras pointed to a city not far from the capital. “Niake,
just about our only possession left in the west. Under the governorship of Evas
Extonos, a man who cares little for who sits on the throne; he follows the
empire loyally. So whatever I command, he’ll follow dutifully. He can be relied
on to be a steady man, and by the gods we need men like that now! Thankfully we
have no immediate worries for Niake.”

“What of the Tybar tribes? I doubt it’ll be long before
they’re once again pushing east into our lands.” The speaker was a man in long
white clothes tucked in at the waist and wearing calf length leather boots. He
looked like, and in fact was, a warrior.

“You’re right, Pandris. It’s thanks to the Tybar we find
ourselves in the precarious position we are in today. Ever since they beat us
in that terrible battle ten years ago they’ve been gobbling up our former
territory there piece by piece. We retreat no longer, but we need to be able to
fight them with a chance of winning. So far we’ve lost because we’ve refused to
change the way we fight. We must change now!”