The Powterosian War (Book 5) (47 page)

“It’s hard to live up to such illustrious forbearers,” Saxthor said, “But I thank whatever powers that be that I have so many great antecedents and know of so many wonders they accomplished in serving their people.”

“I think it will be hard for your heirs to live up to your accomplishments, Majesty. I think your predecessors will receive you with open arms when the time comes for you to reunite with them.”

“Heirs… if I have heirs.”

“Your majesty must have heirs.”

“Yes, another state responsibility, and a dynastic one.”

“Where is Queen Dagmar?”

“She is consolidating her kingdom and merging the Sengenwhan and Prertstenian states under her rule. There is so much healing needed there. She promised to join me at the Imperial Ossenkosk Palace in Engwaniria before the coronation.”

“Then we must leave all the sooner, Majesty.”

With that the two men, so close in life yet so divided by birth, rode back to Helshian Court Palace. Dressed for the journey, the royal train left after the midday meal for Engwaniria and the Powterosian Empire.

Through the northeastern provinces subjects of the Powterosian Empire lined the roads, anxious to see and cheer Emperor Saxthor I, founder of the Calimon dynasty and new supreme lord of the empire. All along the route through the empire they acclaimed his brilliance in the conquest of Dreaddrac. The stories grew as to his unprecedented powers on Dreaddrac’s battlefield. They whispered about his alliance with the now fabled golden dragon, Yamma-Mirra Heedra the Good. At the crest of the hills surrounding the central imperial valley, Saxthor passed through the great fortress guarding the pass. From there, he looked down on the most regal city he’d ever seen or even imagined.

Engwaniria was the largest city on the continent. Seven imperial roads, each lined initially by gradually rising rampant lions, fanned out from the seven gates to the twenty-one provinces. The massive walls of the capital were of rarest chocolate granite with brilliant white granite towers. The fortresses over each of the seven gates rose like jewels in the crown of walls, their towers and spires only outdone by those of the gleaming white marble of Imperial Ossenkosk Palace at the city epicenter. Great pylons flanked the gates with carved and painted action scenes depicting the glories of the imperial past.

The palaces of the nobility that surrounded the imperial palace complex had blue tile roofs and lush gardens that made the white marble imperial palace complex glow in contrast. The dazzling gilded roof tiles of Ossenkosk Palace sparkled in the morning sunlight. The vision was awe inspiring.

The imperial party stood stunned at the sight before finally continuing down into the valley to the capital. The imperial generals, wanting to make a great welcome, had arranged the disposition of the imperial army along the road to the city during the night. The legions stood formally lining the road on both sides to the capital. As Saxthor passed in review, the troops raised their spears in a salute. Legion by legion they proclaimed, “Long live Emperor Saxthor I” as he passed.

A great throng met him outside the massive gates of his new imperial capital. His generals, Neuyokkasinian nobles, and the various royal representatives of the continent traveling with Saxthor marveled at the reception.

“How did I end up here?” Saxthor whispered to Memlatec.

The old wizard chuckled but said nothing, riding on with him. Saxthor could barely move through the throng. Soldiers had to rush forward and restrain the people. They jostled to get closer to touch the new emperor, apparently revered as superhuman.

The emperor rode slowly through the city, dazzled by the splendor of the spotless grand avenues festooned with garlands. Each palace was more magnificent than the one before it, as were the elegant costumes of the imperial subjects along the way.

At Ossenkosk Palace, the imperial chatra met him with the most noble of Saxthor’s new governors and ministers. They led him to the palace balcony where the court chamberlain introduced him to the throng assembled in the grand plaza before the palace. There Saxthor thanked his new subjects for the warm, enthusiastic reception. Then, the chatra led him through the grand formal reception rooms and halls of the imperial palace before showing him to the private palace apartments reserved for his personal use.

“I must assume there is to be a formal audience in the grand audience hall this afternoon,” Saxthor said to the chatra.

“It shall be as Your Imperial Majesty commands,” the chatra replied, bowing deeply on one knee.

A simple bow to show respect for the throne is sufficient,” Saxthor said. “Excessive servility serves no useful purpose and demeans our subjects.” He looked to Memlatec who gave the slightest of nods.

Saxthor bathed, barely ate from among the most elaborate delicacies presented for his indulgence and rested from his travels. In midafternoon, the court assembled, filling the opulent grand audience hall for the emperor’s address from the throne.

“All grievances between Neuyokkasin and the empire are declared null and void,” Saxthor announced. “All military combatants are formally granted clemency and pardoned from charges against Neuyokkasin excepting charges of murder. The imperial treasury shall give grants to all those made widows and orphans by the wars. All provinces will receive equal treatment with no retaliation for supporting the war. Individual grievances shall be addressed by courts set up to explicitly resolve such issues under our new dynasty’s rule.”

With the fears of the imperial state put to rest, Saxthor adjourned the audience and retired to his apartments with Memlatec, the imperial chatra, and several of the senior generals. There, he arranged to meet with those officers the next morning to finalize the demobilization of the legions. The generals withdrew from the conference visibly relieved.

“We must reorganize the imperial government. You, my lord chatra, are to present a proposal to increase efficiency and eliminate wastefulness. We will eliminate duplicate offices so that the government serves the people better. The proposal must reduce the annual expenses by ten percent initially. We think there has been too much of the treasury paid to imperial whims and not enough to the betterment of the empire. We will want reports from all the imperial governors as to their identification of corruption, inefficiencies, and problems. Each issue will come with suggestions for resolving those issues. We’re not looking for whining. We want problems identified and functional solutions recommended. We will review these proposals in two months’ time. Set the court calendar for those reviews.”

“So let it be written; so let it be done,” the chatra said. He again bowed and left with the court scribe to issue the orders to the government officials.

“Well, what do you think, Memlatec?”

“I think the wizards of old chose well in selecting Your Imperial Majesty to wield the power of the Crown of Yensupov.”

With Belnik and the imperial stewards fighting over who’d assist him, they undid the large clasps that held the fifty five pounds of imperial robes, badges of orders, and elaborate state chains to free the emperor.

“On pain of death, don’t touch the crown,” Belnik warned a steward who reaching for it. “None but he that can wear it can touch it.” The wide-eyed steward backed away.

Saxthor took the Crown of Yensupov from his head, studied the sparking treasure, and returned it to the unassuming copper chest where it rested when not in use.

“How could the wizards of old have known of me in the future? How could they know who was to succeed to the crown’s power? How could they know who would link and amplify the best of human characteristics stored in Yamma-Mirra Heedra?” Saxthor rolled the dragon ring on his finger enjoying the warmth of the celestial blue crystal and the texture of the minute gold dragon scales.

“Each person has an individual energy resonance. You alone resonate in sympathy with the planet’s energy gradients. It was yours that was the perfect alignment with those of the crown’s jewels and Yamma-Mirra Heedra. That perfect resonance was the key that unlocked their powers for you, their master.”

“Well then, emperor I am and I’ll endeavor to be a good ruler. I’ll promote trade and agriculture throughout the empire, crush corruption, and limit greed so that all prosper in the new peace.”

“I think you will make the best of emperors. Remember, power corrupts; be on guard.”

Saxthor smiled at his great mentor. Then his face saddened.

“You’re thinking of Queen Dagmar?” Memlatec asked.

“Yes, she promised to be here in time for the coronation, but she has so much to do to rebuild Sengenwha and Prertsten.”

“She’ll be here, though life may not grant you all your dreams.” Memlatec patted his protégé on the shoulder and quietly slipped out of the apartment.

* * *

Queen Dagmar did indeed come galloping down the imperial road to Engwaniria just two days before Saxthor’s coronation as emperor. Elegantly robed in a royal riding habit, she was more beautiful than imaginable to Saxthor, who watched her approaching. He had posted sentries along the imperial road to send word at once of her coming, when they spotted her. He’d received that confirmation the night before and stood on the balcony of the highest tower, watching for her. Her radiant, long, black hair flew in the wind over the royal blue cape, flapping over her white riding outfit with gold sash. She rode at the head of her escort dressed in deep blue uniforms brandishing their gold embellished shields with battle scene decorations. An imperial escort led the way honoring her.

The Engwan princess imperial, supposed widow of Saxthor’s brother, Augusteros, also watched her riding to the city from her window in the ladies quarters of the palace.

When Dagmar dismounted in the palace courtyard, Saxthor was there to greet her. He held her to him, not ever wanting to release his love. She embraced him also, but then he sensed some restraint and let her go. He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her into the palace. She retired to her guest quarters to rest and change.

Saxthor paced his reception room, waiting to meet with her again. A knock came at his door. “Who is it?”

“Majesty, it is I, Princess Tottiana. May I speak with you?”

“Enter, Princess.”

Tottiana swept into the room, her dark red hair, swept up in a swirl, crowned her delicate features. The fine semi-transparent gown replete with endless ripples flowed over her amply developed bodice as revealed by strands of fine gold crisscrossing her torso. Golden sandals flashed below the train of her gown. Her most outstanding features were her deep brown eyes that pierced Saxthor. “Majesty, you have avoided seeing me since your arrival, and now I see you dote on Queen Dagmar. Courtiers have told me of your infatuation with this queen. She does seem beautiful.”

“With all due respect, Princess, my personal affairs are not for discussion.”

“Majesty, I must beg your indulgence. While you may love this queen, you must marry me!”

Saxthor stumbled back at the blunt outburst.

“What can you mean? You are my brother’s widow, Princess.”

“There was never any consummation of the marriage, Majesty. My father married me to your brother to give us claim to the Neuyokkasinian throne. It was a marriage of state.”

“State marriage or not, it was a marriage, Princess.”

Tottiana stiffened. She looked down at the floor and then flashed back to Saxthor, her features cold. “Your Majesty must marry me to solidify your claim to the throne. Otherwise the nobles may well become disillusioned with your usurpation and find another claimant to the throne. They may make me marry such an individual and thus legitimizing his claim to the throne.”

“Your Highness is threatening me.”

“I’m merely the imperial princess out of favor, bumped from my place in the imperial succession. Who am I to threaten the emperor?”

“Your point is valid, but such a scenario could only succeed if your highness were to agree to play a part in such a plot.”

“As your majesty wishes,” Tottiana said. She bowed. “Have I your permission to withdraw?”

“You may withdraw, Princess.”

Leaving, Tottiana looked back at Saxthor. “If you marry this Queen Dagmar, not only will you alienate your imperial nobles, but you will sow the seeds of discord with King Grekenbach. He will then be the only monarch on the peninsula beyond your control.” She left, closing the door, whose click boomed with the reality of what she said.

*

Later that day, Dagmar met privately with Saxthor and after tender embraces that instantly renewed old feelings, Saxthor told Dagmar what the princess had said.

“You know she is right, Saxthor,” Dagmar said. “I knew it, too, when I heard the imperial army proclaimed you emperor. We never anticipated that.”

Saxthor stared at Dagmar. She thrust the reality of the situation between them, which she saw, and he had refused to see.

“Saxthor, I must marry King Grekenbach,” Dagmar said bluntly. Her face dropped. “We are no longer creatures of our own will. Our lives are now governed by our respective states, thrones neither of us expected to become heirs to.”

“Dagmar, how can you say this? You and I have loved each other since we first saw each other in your daring escape from the Sekcmet Palace a lifetime ago. I can love no other. I know you love me.”

Dagmar hugged Saxthor; he was trembling. She felt warm in his arms, but then pushed away from him.

“You know it’s true Saxthor. You must marry the imperial princess to bind the old with the new. I must marry Grekenbach to give peace and stability to the peninsula. If I were to marry you, we’d be seen as usurpers here. My people would think I was forced to give into the power of the kingdom’s oldest enemy, and King Grekenbach, though your friend now, would eventually come to suspect your power surrounding him is a threat.”

“I can love no other, Dagmar.”

“Nor I Saxthor, but we must now marry for state reasons. We must bring peace to our peoples. Over time they will come to accept each other but for now we must marry for the good of all.”

“And sacrifice ourselves in the process?”

“We were both born to royal dynasties. We’ve been bred and raised to know our state responsibilities as greater than our personal wishes. That is the price of monarchy.”