After failing to elicit any reform from the uncooperative atheist, Being X sends young Tanya to another world. One of greater hardship in hopes the trials she will face will make her repent for her irreligiousness. However this world is one of many gods. One whom will soon open a gate to a world that the reincarnated soul remembers quite clearly.
A Young Woman's New Life as an Imperial Princess (Youjo Senki/Gate Jietai Crossover)
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Prologue
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Had this story on SpaceBattles. Thought to myself "might as well post it here to!"
Also, obligatory "A Young Woman" title for a youjo senki story is obligatory.
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The war was not going well by 1927.
Following the victory at Moskova and the Russy Federation's government fleeing beyond the Urals, the Kingdom of Idola finally joined the war on the Empire's side. Partly from seeing the way the wind was blowing, but mostly from promises of several of Francois's African colonies as spoils of war. However, unlike my first life's world's fascist counterpart, the Idolans fought competently across the African front.
Then came the entry of Akitsushima.
The Aki's watched the Reds flee behind the Urals, their primary industrial centers destroyed, armies scattered, and saw a chance to take Siberia. Following a successful battle and landing in the Transumar region they began a slow, but steady advance into the Russy Far-East. Additionally, they helped themselves to the undefended colonies of Alboin and the Franks across Asia.
All to end imperialism in Asia of course.
With the Albion's stuck on their island, Francois huddled together in some remote corner of their African holdings, and the Reds on the run, it seemed certain victory was inevitable.
Then the blunders started to happen.
First Akitsushima declared war on Cathy.
They claimed that the Cathy intelligence agency sabotaged several munitions factories and railway lines in Manchuria as a prelude to invading the Aki protectorate of Joseon. The fact that Cathy was in a state of civil war, its territories long since divided amongst various warlords, regional governors, and the Cathy government proper who were all too preoccupied fighting amongst themselves to launch an attack against foreign actors was never discussed. Nor was the fact Akisushima could not provide any evidence of the sabotage or troop build up for this invasion beyond 'trust us'. Sadly, this was enough for both the Empire and Idola to declare war on Cathy.
Not that big of an issue. Cathy was so far removed from the Russy and North African fronts that it was a moot point for the Empire.
Then Idola declared war on Magnum Rumeli: an amalgamation of the nations of Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, and Turkey of my first life. Idola cited ancestral territorial claims that dated back centuries and invaded when Rumeli refused to cede a third of its contiguous territory to Idola. Naturally, the Emperor declared war in support of his ally. Idolan troops seized the city of Tronia but failed to make any further headway into Rumeli proper; getting bogged down in the mountainous region of Hellas.
Then Iberia descended into complete civil war.
The incumbent republican government collapsed following a military coup. Seemingly overnight, every single ideological movement on the face of the world rose up and began fighting for supremacy. Monarchists, proto-fascists', communists, the incumbent junta, anarchists, syndicalists, ultra-nationalists, republicans, and a dizzying array of separatist groups name a few of the combatants. Thousands of people from across the world, volunteers from various world militaries, and common rabble alike flooded into Iberia to fight for their respective ideology.
The Emperor, knowing of the support Albion was sending to the republican movement, and after already committing troops to aid his ally in Hellas, along with our forces bogged down in Russy, of course sent forces to aid monarchists in the war.
And then, the Aki's, in retaliation for the US oil embargo for the invasion of Cathy, bombed the Unified States Far East Naval Squadron based in Manila Bay and struck out at all their holdings across the Pacific. And once more our wise Emperor decided that since the Empire was already fighting two superpowers why not a Third Superpower!
So there it was.
At war with Albion in addition to all its dominions and colonies, the remnants of the Francois in Africa, the Russy Federation, the Republic of Cathy, Magnum Rumeli, all the varying factions in the Iberian Civil War, and the Unified States. All the while, the Empire was suppressing resistance movements in metropolitan Francois and in the occupied territories of Russy.
Just thinking about it makes my stomach churn.
Even with the stream of resources coming in from our new conquests, our manpower is all but gone. Who cares if we have oil from the Caucuses for our tanks and airplanes if there is no one to crew them? And wheat from Ruthenia? Try getting that all back home with constant partisan attacks on collaborators and ambushing isolated patrols all across the east.
And with the US's entry into the war, there is no no feasible way for us to combat the enemy in production. No matter how many factories we seize or how many people we put to work in them we will always come up short.
Defeat is inevitable.
Oh, I have no doubt the war will drag on for a few more years. A decade even if we win every single engagement going forward with minimal losses. And I doubt the reality of the situation will set in for the General Staff for some time. But history has shown me that in this sort of warfare that the states who can more effectively marshal and direct their resources will emerge victorious. Suffice to say, fighting a war on multiple fronts that span the length of continents all the while you are using vast sums of manpower to garrison occupied territories is not an effective use of a state's resources.
But where was the famed "Argent Silver" in the Fatherland's time of need? The "Devil of the Rhine" who could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?
I was in the hospital. Not for any battlefield injury. No, it was far worse than that.
Somehow, someway, through no fault of my own, I contracted the Spanish Flu.
Sorry, the Iberian Flu. Probably contracted it from one of the volunteers who went over to Iberia. Or someone who was in contact with a volunteer from Iberia.
It wasn't an epidemic yet. No mass graves from fatalities. No overflowing hospitals yet. I was, seemingly, caught in the first wave. Hell. people didn't even realize what it really was yet. More than once did I have to order the doctor to treat me for influenza rather than the typhus treatments he kept prescribing me.
If there were any positives to contracting one of the most deadly diseases in human history early in its run, it was that medical supplies were not scarce yet and the disease in question has yet to mutate into far worse variants. While there weren't any antibiotics yet that could really treat something like this, the drugs needed to simply mitigate the worst effects while the body fought it off were available. The doctors gave me some strange glances for my demands for influenza treatments rather than medicine to treat my 'typhus'.
A week later, and I was already feeling better. My fever had broken, the chills stopped, and my cough was under control. I was still bedridden, throat still sore, and my migraine was still there. But overall, compared to the millions that I know will die from this, I was getting off comparatively lucky.
So here I was. Bedridden for the foreseeable future. Forget about going out to staff HQ, I could barely get out of my bed without my legs breaking under my own weight. I might be getting off relatively easy, but this was still a deadly disease. I'd like to think my recovery is very quick, but I still need my rest and fluids.
Wiess and Viktoriya sent letters every day about how the battalion was faring. I, in turn, sent my own back to them with either affirmations to what they were doing or correcting anything I saw that might be incorrect. It was clunky and troublesome, but better than no contact at all.
"Why do you insist on denying me?"
That voice! Being X!
My eyes shot open and scanned the room. All around me were the usual sounds of a hospital. Patients, doctors, orderliness, nurses, all going about their lives. Yet I was alone in the room.
"Even with the possibility of death, fighting a foe you cannot simply bludgeon away, you deny me."
From the corner of my eye I saw it. A single white bird sitting on the open window sill. Nothing of note to most. But for me, I glared at its unnatural eyes staring at me.
"In times of struggle and uncertainty, Man turns to faith to sustain itself," the bird's beak opened and Being X's voice echoed out. "War. Pestilence. Famine. Death. These are times when Man turns to the divine for answers; for salvation. Either for themselves or their loved ones. Yet you do not. Why?"
"Sounds like you need their suffering more than they need you" I spat back. My voice was hoarse and strained.
The bird shook its head. "Nothing of the sort," his voice was calm and patronizing. "This is merely an observation."
"Well you should have also observed when the Black Death covered Europe and people whipped themselves thinking that their show of 'faith' would cure them," I growled. "But all their 'faith' did was spread the plague even further. And lets not forget all the other supernatural nonsense attributed to illnesses across the world. All faith does is cause people to act irrationally in the face of catastrophe".
"What a horridly warped view of faith," Being X responded. Rather than from the bird, this time his voice came from a nurse who walked into the room. Her eyes glowed unnaturally as she looked at the clipboard at the front of her bed. "What good faith has inspired? A moral center? A common ground for discussion? The alms?"
"That's not faith, it's human nature," I countered, voice crackling from my raw throat. "Almost everything you just said is the result of human nature. Morals are nothing more than agreed upon limits to society collectively agrees with to stop self destructive tendencies. Such as not murdering each other in the street for insignificant reasons. And a common ground for dialogue can easily be created by economic co-dependency. Faith, by contrast, creates divisions more than anything else. Any problem humanity faces is resolved through our own ingenuity, by abstract divine figure."
Being X was quiet for a moment.
"I think I understand now."
I glared at his avatar, "do you?"
"Yes," he walked the nurse out of the room. His voice came again from the bird. "I see now that your continued apostasy was an error of my own design."
I did not like where this was going.
"I brought you to a place where I believed you would face great challenges and dangers. I made you a child without family, and thought my intervention brought you into a conflict unlike any you could have imagined in the hopes that this would be enough to acknowledge your own failings and ask for salvation. To thank me for showing you your own hubris."
How does that make any sense? He toy with my life, changed my body, made me languish in an orphanage in my formative years, then forced me into a war I wanted no part in, nearly died on several occasions, and he had the audacity to think I would thank him for it?
If I wasn't so weak, I'd get out of this bed and crush that damned bird with my bare hands!
"It was never your fault," he continued. "It was mine for not understanding. A horrid misunderstanding. But now I see what needs to be done."
Before I could question Being X on what he was babbling about, I saw the nurse return. A large syringe filled with an unknown liquid in hand.
"I see now that you require a greater test of humility to acknowledge your failings," the nurse flicked her forefinger against the needle as she locked the door behind her.
For the first time in years, I was filled with genuine terror as the nurse walked over to my bedside.
"This world's challenges and tribulations were not sufficient enough for you to reflect on your own, moral, failings. I shall do better this time."
The nurse braced her arm against my chest; the suddenness of the impact took all the air out of my lungs. In my weakened state, and the woman pressing her full weight down on me, there was little I could do other than bare my teeth and let loose a string of curses as loud as my crackling voice would allow.
The jostling of the locked door knob and quick knocks offered the slimmest glimmer of hope.
"For this time, shall send you to a truly wicked world," I felt the needle tip rest against my neck. No matter how far I craned my neck away, the needle followed.
"A world of unabashed wickedness and vice. Where violence reigns and false idols twist mortals to their whims."
The shouting from beyond the door grew louder. As did the banging and jostling. I could faintly hear the calls for help just beyond.
"It is a stagnant world. One where only a few have heard of My wonders and the salvation I offer. These pilgrims and faithful are martyred. Butchered like chattel by demons and monstrous creatures for knowing the Truth."
My fingers dipped into the exposed skin of the nurse's arm and dug deep. My nails drew blood, but in my weakened state I could not wretch the appendage off me. All I could do was scratch and swear at what was happening. My hysteria no doubt contributed to the increased foot activity from the hallways and the demands to open the door.
"In their hubris, one of these false gods will soon enable a Great Change to overtake these lands. During this Change, your actions will bring the word of God to the masses and free them from the poisoned words of these false idols. You shall shepherd them to Salvation."
I felt the tell tale prick of the needle breaking the skin on my neck. A let out a guttural scream as the liquid flowed into my veins.
"You shall be my Apostle in this new world. To spread my message. To smite all the demon gods that reside there. To smash their false idols."
I feel the insidious substance course through my very being. So cold that it burned my insides.
"Only overcoming this challenge will you reach your own salvation."
Everything after his last sentence became fuzzy. My breathing became more labored by the second.
The door burst apart with a flash of magic.
Gunshots rang out.
The possessed nurse fell over, her dress spotted red with her own blood as she was slid off me by a soldier. I could feel a hand running along the injection site on my neck.
I tried to tell them what happened, how that woman was possessed by something and she was as much a victim as myself, but the muscles in my jaw no longer listened to me.
Someone was yelling something at me. To stay up? I couldn't really tell anymore, everything was so muffled now.
A heavy weight came over my eyes, forcing them shut.
Then I felt nothing at all.
----
On August 16, 1927, the Empire lost one of its greatest heroes.
At 3:16 in the afternoon, Lt. Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff was assassinated.
While she was recovering from what would be later referred to as the Iberian Flu, a woman of Franquis decent entered her hospital room and poisoned the bedridden Degurechaff. The assassin, who disguised herself as a nurse, would later die of blood loss from bullet wounds.
A background check revealed the assailant to be thirty-seven year old Cecile Petain, a Francois woman who lost her brothers during the string of battles along the Rhine in the opening weeks of the War. How she was able to gain access to the war hero was the subject of further investigations.
The poison she used to end Degurechaff's life was never determined. Toxicology reports were inconclusive; reading that nothing but water was in her system or the needle that injected it in her. Fears of further assassinations using this new poison were unfounded as it was, seemingly, never used again. As if the toxin had been specifically made for the Lt Colonel alone.
A state funeral was held where Degurechaff was posthumously promoted to Brigadier General by order of the Kaiser himself. She would later be laid to rest at the Burn Military Cemetery with full honors.
In the years that followed the First Great War, after the Empire's defeat and its territorial fracturing as part of the Treaty of Verdun, numerous memorials and awards would be created in her honor. The 'Mithril Cross', the 'Silver Badge', and the 'Argent War Memorial for the Fallen' name are a few of the honors bestowed to her.
However it was the work of a young, and until then unknown, artist from the nascent Osterreich Federal State that would be forever remembered. A fantastical portrait of the late Degurechaff in the guise of a silver winged angel. Completed 1939, a little over a decade following her death, the painting now rests in the Burn National Museum of Art, and today stands as the most recognizable image of the late Tanya von Degurechaff in the world.
While a controversial figure in European circles, her image and legacy live on in the hearts and minds of Germania to this day.
-Excerpt from the New Amsterdam Times; "Remembering the Fallen of the First Great War" Published October 21, 1997.
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"Your majesty, the Empress is dead."
Emperor Molt Sol Augustus paused from his musings as the messengers' words rolled through his head. His wife had entered labor in the middle of the night. It was now midday, the sun reaching its zenith over the Imperial Capital of Sarada; its rays shining through the windows of his personal study. He had asked about her condition every so often in the morning, and had planned to pay a visit her in person when he finished his affairs at court today.
The Empire waits for no one, not even the Emperor.
"Complications in childbirth your majesty," the messenger saw Molt's silence as permission to continue.
'That much was obvious', Molt turned his attention from the documents detailing the latest rounds of talks with the guilds to address the man directly.
"And the babe?"
"A healthy girl, your majesty."
A girl?
Not the worst outcome. He already had three sons to keep a watchful eye on in the future. Another would simply be asking for a civil war upon his death.
But another daughter. That would allow him more flexibility in marriage agreements to bind his dynasty with another for the foreseeable future. And unlike young Pina, this girl would be the daughter for the Empress, not a mere concubine.
Yes, this was better in the long term.
"Where is she now?" Molt inquired.
"In the nursery, the midwives are seeing to her now your majesty."
'Not far then', Molt thought. 'I believe I shall see her now'.
He organized his desk before promptly standing up. Walking to the door, he motioned for his praetorians to follow.
Walking along the marble floors and general opulence of the Imperial Palace he passed through throngs of people who kept the affairs of the palace running. Servants. Vassals. Clerks. Guards. Serfs. Slaves. All who he passed paid him homage. Bows. Curtsies. Prostrations. All signs of subservience and submission to the man whom all in the Empire held fealty to.
As he came upon the nursery, he caught sight of his eldest sons Zorzal and Diabo along with a gaggle of maid servants and a collection of praetorians. While his second born looked saddened by the situation from the passing of his mother, Zorzal seemed inconsolable. Being consoled by the nearest maid as he cried into her dress.
Molt held his expression of disappointment back.
The damned boy was far too old to be weeping like a girl. Death comes for all eventually. If he wished to be emotional, he could have at least had the decency to bawl like a toddler in the seclusion of his own quarters rather than out in the open for the masses to gawk at.
What respect can he possibly command if the masses knew their ruler wept at the first sign of death?
If something as mundane as this is all it takes for him to lose his composure, Molt truly dreads the type of man he will grow up to be. Weak and spineless!
The Emperor regarded his second son with a curt nod, and ignored the weeping Zorzal and he entered the chamber.
The nursery was as opulent as any room in the palace. Clean marble floors. Luxury fabrics from the east were strewn across the room; they waved softly from a light breeze coming from the open windows. Light flooded in from the large glass panels on the ceiling and the openings to the side. Portraits of birds and young wolves hung from the walls. A large hearth billowed a warm fire.
At the center of the small room was a crib; flanked by another pair of praetorians. He recognized them as his former Empress's personal guards. They bowed as he walked to the crib.
Looking down he examined his newborn daughter for the first time. Given her silence, he almost thought that the girl had died on the walk over. But no. the girl was quite alive. Her pudgy form wriggled in the soft blankets below. She must have sensed his presence, because just a moment later, her eye locked with his.
From a simple look, he could tell this girl took more after him than her mother. Maybe it was the way the sunlight came in, but he saw something. Her eyes were a sharp blue just like his own. And as he looked at her, she gazed back at him. As if she was examining him as she was examining her.
She seems to be a sharp one, Molt concluded.
He looked over to the pair guarding her.
"Does she have a name yet?"
"Yes your majesty," the guard told him. "With her final breath, her majesty named her 'Tanya'."
"Tanya," the Emperor rolled the name off his tongue. A good enough name for a princess.
As if responding to her own name, the babe began to bawl and cry up a storm.
Molt laughed at the volume of her cries. Not a mute after all it seems. A fine set of lungs!
The emperor allowed himself a soft smile at the sight. It was strange. None of his other children had ever moved him in such a way as this hours old infant had. For whatever reason, he felt a connection to this child he felt with none of his other children.
"I want regular reports on her wellness," he informed the guards without taking his eyes off Tanya. "No fewer than two a day; once in the morning, once in the evening."
"Yes your majesty."
Not that he felt he needed reports. Molt was sure he'd be visiting her on a daily basis regardless. There was something special about this girl, he could feel it.
'Yes. I think there are great things in the future in store for you, Tanya Augustus.'
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Damn you Being X!
So, any good? Just an idea that popped into my head while reading a bunch of Gate fics and re reading some Tanya stuff.
Also, to clear up the timeline a little, right now it is 13 years before the Gate opens in Japan (not IRL Japan, GATE Japan). Of course, this world will deviate from canon as time moves on. So due to the effects of one angry salary man-turned WW1 Magical Girl , Japan "may" (no quotation marks are strong enough for this) not have such a one-sided conflict with the "pants on head retards" of the Saderan Empire.
Also, the artist from Not-Austria IS EXACTLY who you think it is.
Also, obligatory "A Young Woman" title for a youjo senki story is obligatory.
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The war was not going well by 1927.
Following the victory at Moskova and the Russy Federation's government fleeing beyond the Urals, the Kingdom of Idola finally joined the war on the Empire's side. Partly from seeing the way the wind was blowing, but mostly from promises of several of Francois's African colonies as spoils of war. However, unlike my first life's world's fascist counterpart, the Idolans fought competently across the African front.
Then came the entry of Akitsushima.
The Aki's watched the Reds flee behind the Urals, their primary industrial centers destroyed, armies scattered, and saw a chance to take Siberia. Following a successful battle and landing in the Transumar region they began a slow, but steady advance into the Russy Far-East. Additionally, they helped themselves to the undefended colonies of Alboin and the Franks across Asia.
All to end imperialism in Asia of course.
With the Albion's stuck on their island, Francois huddled together in some remote corner of their African holdings, and the Reds on the run, it seemed certain victory was inevitable.
Then the blunders started to happen.
First Akitsushima declared war on Cathy.
They claimed that the Cathy intelligence agency sabotaged several munitions factories and railway lines in Manchuria as a prelude to invading the Aki protectorate of Joseon. The fact that Cathy was in a state of civil war, its territories long since divided amongst various warlords, regional governors, and the Cathy government proper who were all too preoccupied fighting amongst themselves to launch an attack against foreign actors was never discussed. Nor was the fact Akisushima could not provide any evidence of the sabotage or troop build up for this invasion beyond 'trust us'. Sadly, this was enough for both the Empire and Idola to declare war on Cathy.
Not that big of an issue. Cathy was so far removed from the Russy and North African fronts that it was a moot point for the Empire.
Then Idola declared war on Magnum Rumeli: an amalgamation of the nations of Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, and Turkey of my first life. Idola cited ancestral territorial claims that dated back centuries and invaded when Rumeli refused to cede a third of its contiguous territory to Idola. Naturally, the Emperor declared war in support of his ally. Idolan troops seized the city of Tronia but failed to make any further headway into Rumeli proper; getting bogged down in the mountainous region of Hellas.
Then Iberia descended into complete civil war.
The incumbent republican government collapsed following a military coup. Seemingly overnight, every single ideological movement on the face of the world rose up and began fighting for supremacy. Monarchists, proto-fascists', communists, the incumbent junta, anarchists, syndicalists, ultra-nationalists, republicans, and a dizzying array of separatist groups name a few of the combatants. Thousands of people from across the world, volunteers from various world militaries, and common rabble alike flooded into Iberia to fight for their respective ideology.
The Emperor, knowing of the support Albion was sending to the republican movement, and after already committing troops to aid his ally in Hellas, along with our forces bogged down in Russy, of course sent forces to aid monarchists in the war.
And then, the Aki's, in retaliation for the US oil embargo for the invasion of Cathy, bombed the Unified States Far East Naval Squadron based in Manila Bay and struck out at all their holdings across the Pacific. And once more our wise Emperor decided that since the Empire was already fighting two superpowers why not a Third Superpower!
So there it was.
At war with Albion in addition to all its dominions and colonies, the remnants of the Francois in Africa, the Russy Federation, the Republic of Cathy, Magnum Rumeli, all the varying factions in the Iberian Civil War, and the Unified States. All the while, the Empire was suppressing resistance movements in metropolitan Francois and in the occupied territories of Russy.
Just thinking about it makes my stomach churn.
Even with the stream of resources coming in from our new conquests, our manpower is all but gone. Who cares if we have oil from the Caucuses for our tanks and airplanes if there is no one to crew them? And wheat from Ruthenia? Try getting that all back home with constant partisan attacks on collaborators and ambushing isolated patrols all across the east.
And with the US's entry into the war, there is no no feasible way for us to combat the enemy in production. No matter how many factories we seize or how many people we put to work in them we will always come up short.
Defeat is inevitable.
Oh, I have no doubt the war will drag on for a few more years. A decade even if we win every single engagement going forward with minimal losses. And I doubt the reality of the situation will set in for the General Staff for some time. But history has shown me that in this sort of warfare that the states who can more effectively marshal and direct their resources will emerge victorious. Suffice to say, fighting a war on multiple fronts that span the length of continents all the while you are using vast sums of manpower to garrison occupied territories is not an effective use of a state's resources.
But where was the famed "Argent Silver" in the Fatherland's time of need? The "Devil of the Rhine" who could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?
I was in the hospital. Not for any battlefield injury. No, it was far worse than that.
Somehow, someway, through no fault of my own, I contracted the Spanish Flu.
Sorry, the Iberian Flu. Probably contracted it from one of the volunteers who went over to Iberia. Or someone who was in contact with a volunteer from Iberia.
It wasn't an epidemic yet. No mass graves from fatalities. No overflowing hospitals yet. I was, seemingly, caught in the first wave. Hell. people didn't even realize what it really was yet. More than once did I have to order the doctor to treat me for influenza rather than the typhus treatments he kept prescribing me.
If there were any positives to contracting one of the most deadly diseases in human history early in its run, it was that medical supplies were not scarce yet and the disease in question has yet to mutate into far worse variants. While there weren't any antibiotics yet that could really treat something like this, the drugs needed to simply mitigate the worst effects while the body fought it off were available. The doctors gave me some strange glances for my demands for influenza treatments rather than medicine to treat my 'typhus'.
A week later, and I was already feeling better. My fever had broken, the chills stopped, and my cough was under control. I was still bedridden, throat still sore, and my migraine was still there. But overall, compared to the millions that I know will die from this, I was getting off comparatively lucky.
So here I was. Bedridden for the foreseeable future. Forget about going out to staff HQ, I could barely get out of my bed without my legs breaking under my own weight. I might be getting off relatively easy, but this was still a deadly disease. I'd like to think my recovery is very quick, but I still need my rest and fluids.
Wiess and Viktoriya sent letters every day about how the battalion was faring. I, in turn, sent my own back to them with either affirmations to what they were doing or correcting anything I saw that might be incorrect. It was clunky and troublesome, but better than no contact at all.
"Why do you insist on denying me?"
That voice! Being X!
My eyes shot open and scanned the room. All around me were the usual sounds of a hospital. Patients, doctors, orderliness, nurses, all going about their lives. Yet I was alone in the room.
"Even with the possibility of death, fighting a foe you cannot simply bludgeon away, you deny me."
From the corner of my eye I saw it. A single white bird sitting on the open window sill. Nothing of note to most. But for me, I glared at its unnatural eyes staring at me.
"In times of struggle and uncertainty, Man turns to faith to sustain itself," the bird's beak opened and Being X's voice echoed out. "War. Pestilence. Famine. Death. These are times when Man turns to the divine for answers; for salvation. Either for themselves or their loved ones. Yet you do not. Why?"
"Sounds like you need their suffering more than they need you" I spat back. My voice was hoarse and strained.
The bird shook its head. "Nothing of the sort," his voice was calm and patronizing. "This is merely an observation."
"Well you should have also observed when the Black Death covered Europe and people whipped themselves thinking that their show of 'faith' would cure them," I growled. "But all their 'faith' did was spread the plague even further. And lets not forget all the other supernatural nonsense attributed to illnesses across the world. All faith does is cause people to act irrationally in the face of catastrophe".
"What a horridly warped view of faith," Being X responded. Rather than from the bird, this time his voice came from a nurse who walked into the room. Her eyes glowed unnaturally as she looked at the clipboard at the front of her bed. "What good faith has inspired? A moral center? A common ground for discussion? The alms?"
"That's not faith, it's human nature," I countered, voice crackling from my raw throat. "Almost everything you just said is the result of human nature. Morals are nothing more than agreed upon limits to society collectively agrees with to stop self destructive tendencies. Such as not murdering each other in the street for insignificant reasons. And a common ground for dialogue can easily be created by economic co-dependency. Faith, by contrast, creates divisions more than anything else. Any problem humanity faces is resolved through our own ingenuity, by abstract divine figure."
Being X was quiet for a moment.
"I think I understand now."
I glared at his avatar, "do you?"
"Yes," he walked the nurse out of the room. His voice came again from the bird. "I see now that your continued apostasy was an error of my own design."
I did not like where this was going.
"I brought you to a place where I believed you would face great challenges and dangers. I made you a child without family, and thought my intervention brought you into a conflict unlike any you could have imagined in the hopes that this would be enough to acknowledge your own failings and ask for salvation. To thank me for showing you your own hubris."
How does that make any sense? He toy with my life, changed my body, made me languish in an orphanage in my formative years, then forced me into a war I wanted no part in, nearly died on several occasions, and he had the audacity to think I would thank him for it?
If I wasn't so weak, I'd get out of this bed and crush that damned bird with my bare hands!
"It was never your fault," he continued. "It was mine for not understanding. A horrid misunderstanding. But now I see what needs to be done."
Before I could question Being X on what he was babbling about, I saw the nurse return. A large syringe filled with an unknown liquid in hand.
"I see now that you require a greater test of humility to acknowledge your failings," the nurse flicked her forefinger against the needle as she locked the door behind her.
For the first time in years, I was filled with genuine terror as the nurse walked over to my bedside.
"This world's challenges and tribulations were not sufficient enough for you to reflect on your own, moral, failings. I shall do better this time."
The nurse braced her arm against my chest; the suddenness of the impact took all the air out of my lungs. In my weakened state, and the woman pressing her full weight down on me, there was little I could do other than bare my teeth and let loose a string of curses as loud as my crackling voice would allow.
The jostling of the locked door knob and quick knocks offered the slimmest glimmer of hope.
"For this time, shall send you to a truly wicked world," I felt the needle tip rest against my neck. No matter how far I craned my neck away, the needle followed.
"A world of unabashed wickedness and vice. Where violence reigns and false idols twist mortals to their whims."
The shouting from beyond the door grew louder. As did the banging and jostling. I could faintly hear the calls for help just beyond.
"It is a stagnant world. One where only a few have heard of My wonders and the salvation I offer. These pilgrims and faithful are martyred. Butchered like chattel by demons and monstrous creatures for knowing the Truth."
My fingers dipped into the exposed skin of the nurse's arm and dug deep. My nails drew blood, but in my weakened state I could not wretch the appendage off me. All I could do was scratch and swear at what was happening. My hysteria no doubt contributed to the increased foot activity from the hallways and the demands to open the door.
"In their hubris, one of these false gods will soon enable a Great Change to overtake these lands. During this Change, your actions will bring the word of God to the masses and free them from the poisoned words of these false idols. You shall shepherd them to Salvation."
I felt the tell tale prick of the needle breaking the skin on my neck. A let out a guttural scream as the liquid flowed into my veins.
"You shall be my Apostle in this new world. To spread my message. To smite all the demon gods that reside there. To smash their false idols."
I feel the insidious substance course through my very being. So cold that it burned my insides.
"Only overcoming this challenge will you reach your own salvation."
Everything after his last sentence became fuzzy. My breathing became more labored by the second.
The door burst apart with a flash of magic.
Gunshots rang out.
The possessed nurse fell over, her dress spotted red with her own blood as she was slid off me by a soldier. I could feel a hand running along the injection site on my neck.
I tried to tell them what happened, how that woman was possessed by something and she was as much a victim as myself, but the muscles in my jaw no longer listened to me.
Someone was yelling something at me. To stay up? I couldn't really tell anymore, everything was so muffled now.
A heavy weight came over my eyes, forcing them shut.
Then I felt nothing at all.
----
On August 16, 1927, the Empire lost one of its greatest heroes.
At 3:16 in the afternoon, Lt. Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff was assassinated.
While she was recovering from what would be later referred to as the Iberian Flu, a woman of Franquis decent entered her hospital room and poisoned the bedridden Degurechaff. The assassin, who disguised herself as a nurse, would later die of blood loss from bullet wounds.
A background check revealed the assailant to be thirty-seven year old Cecile Petain, a Francois woman who lost her brothers during the string of battles along the Rhine in the opening weeks of the War. How she was able to gain access to the war hero was the subject of further investigations.
The poison she used to end Degurechaff's life was never determined. Toxicology reports were inconclusive; reading that nothing but water was in her system or the needle that injected it in her. Fears of further assassinations using this new poison were unfounded as it was, seemingly, never used again. As if the toxin had been specifically made for the Lt Colonel alone.
A state funeral was held where Degurechaff was posthumously promoted to Brigadier General by order of the Kaiser himself. She would later be laid to rest at the Burn Military Cemetery with full honors.
In the years that followed the First Great War, after the Empire's defeat and its territorial fracturing as part of the Treaty of Verdun, numerous memorials and awards would be created in her honor. The 'Mithril Cross', the 'Silver Badge', and the 'Argent War Memorial for the Fallen' name are a few of the honors bestowed to her.
However it was the work of a young, and until then unknown, artist from the nascent Osterreich Federal State that would be forever remembered. A fantastical portrait of the late Degurechaff in the guise of a silver winged angel. Completed 1939, a little over a decade following her death, the painting now rests in the Burn National Museum of Art, and today stands as the most recognizable image of the late Tanya von Degurechaff in the world.
While a controversial figure in European circles, her image and legacy live on in the hearts and minds of Germania to this day.
-Excerpt from the New Amsterdam Times; "Remembering the Fallen of the First Great War" Published October 21, 1997.
------
"Your majesty, the Empress is dead."
Emperor Molt Sol Augustus paused from his musings as the messengers' words rolled through his head. His wife had entered labor in the middle of the night. It was now midday, the sun reaching its zenith over the Imperial Capital of Sarada; its rays shining through the windows of his personal study. He had asked about her condition every so often in the morning, and had planned to pay a visit her in person when he finished his affairs at court today.
The Empire waits for no one, not even the Emperor.
"Complications in childbirth your majesty," the messenger saw Molt's silence as permission to continue.
'That much was obvious', Molt turned his attention from the documents detailing the latest rounds of talks with the guilds to address the man directly.
"And the babe?"
"A healthy girl, your majesty."
A girl?
Not the worst outcome. He already had three sons to keep a watchful eye on in the future. Another would simply be asking for a civil war upon his death.
But another daughter. That would allow him more flexibility in marriage agreements to bind his dynasty with another for the foreseeable future. And unlike young Pina, this girl would be the daughter for the Empress, not a mere concubine.
Yes, this was better in the long term.
"Where is she now?" Molt inquired.
"In the nursery, the midwives are seeing to her now your majesty."
'Not far then', Molt thought. 'I believe I shall see her now'.
He organized his desk before promptly standing up. Walking to the door, he motioned for his praetorians to follow.
Walking along the marble floors and general opulence of the Imperial Palace he passed through throngs of people who kept the affairs of the palace running. Servants. Vassals. Clerks. Guards. Serfs. Slaves. All who he passed paid him homage. Bows. Curtsies. Prostrations. All signs of subservience and submission to the man whom all in the Empire held fealty to.
As he came upon the nursery, he caught sight of his eldest sons Zorzal and Diabo along with a gaggle of maid servants and a collection of praetorians. While his second born looked saddened by the situation from the passing of his mother, Zorzal seemed inconsolable. Being consoled by the nearest maid as he cried into her dress.
Molt held his expression of disappointment back.
The damned boy was far too old to be weeping like a girl. Death comes for all eventually. If he wished to be emotional, he could have at least had the decency to bawl like a toddler in the seclusion of his own quarters rather than out in the open for the masses to gawk at.
What respect can he possibly command if the masses knew their ruler wept at the first sign of death?
If something as mundane as this is all it takes for him to lose his composure, Molt truly dreads the type of man he will grow up to be. Weak and spineless!
The Emperor regarded his second son with a curt nod, and ignored the weeping Zorzal and he entered the chamber.
The nursery was as opulent as any room in the palace. Clean marble floors. Luxury fabrics from the east were strewn across the room; they waved softly from a light breeze coming from the open windows. Light flooded in from the large glass panels on the ceiling and the openings to the side. Portraits of birds and young wolves hung from the walls. A large hearth billowed a warm fire.
At the center of the small room was a crib; flanked by another pair of praetorians. He recognized them as his former Empress's personal guards. They bowed as he walked to the crib.
Looking down he examined his newborn daughter for the first time. Given her silence, he almost thought that the girl had died on the walk over. But no. the girl was quite alive. Her pudgy form wriggled in the soft blankets below. She must have sensed his presence, because just a moment later, her eye locked with his.
From a simple look, he could tell this girl took more after him than her mother. Maybe it was the way the sunlight came in, but he saw something. Her eyes were a sharp blue just like his own. And as he looked at her, she gazed back at him. As if she was examining him as she was examining her.
She seems to be a sharp one, Molt concluded.
He looked over to the pair guarding her.
"Does she have a name yet?"
"Yes your majesty," the guard told him. "With her final breath, her majesty named her 'Tanya'."
"Tanya," the Emperor rolled the name off his tongue. A good enough name for a princess.
As if responding to her own name, the babe began to bawl and cry up a storm.
Molt laughed at the volume of her cries. Not a mute after all it seems. A fine set of lungs!
The emperor allowed himself a soft smile at the sight. It was strange. None of his other children had ever moved him in such a way as this hours old infant had. For whatever reason, he felt a connection to this child he felt with none of his other children.
"I want regular reports on her wellness," he informed the guards without taking his eyes off Tanya. "No fewer than two a day; once in the morning, once in the evening."
"Yes your majesty."
Not that he felt he needed reports. Molt was sure he'd be visiting her on a daily basis regardless. There was something special about this girl, he could feel it.
'Yes. I think there are great things in the future in store for you, Tanya Augustus.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Damn you Being X!
So, any good? Just an idea that popped into my head while reading a bunch of Gate fics and re reading some Tanya stuff.
Also, to clear up the timeline a little, right now it is 13 years before the Gate opens in Japan (not IRL Japan, GATE Japan). Of course, this world will deviate from canon as time moves on. So due to the effects of one angry salary man-turned WW1 Magical Girl , Japan "may" (no quotation marks are strong enough for this) not have such a one-sided conflict with the "pants on head retards" of the Saderan Empire.
Also, the artist from Not-Austria IS EXACTLY who you think it is.
A Young Princess - I
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
This all feels like some sort of sick joke.
In my first life, I was born into a stable middle class family. Nothing truly remarkable or noteworthy about me. No real struggle or hardship to speak of. Completely normal upbringing. I went to school, got good grades, achieved a position as head of HR at my place of employment. If it wasn't for that disgruntled former employee, I dare say I'd be even higher up the corporate ladder!
Then in my second life, I was thrown to the bottom rungs of society by the damned Being X. Parentless. Penniless. Living off the charity and good will given to an orphanage. I had no immediate prospects for advancement. Destined to a life of squalor and subpar living. Until it was found that I could be a mage. That sent me on my path to carve out a comfortable place for myself in the military establishment. A nice desk job is what I aimed for; a rear line position at worst.
Thanks to that damned Being X's involvement, I was bounced from frontline to frontline as the War spiraled out of control until I was ignobly killed, again. This time in a hospital bed!
From time to time I wondered if Being X had me reborn as an orphan on purpose or if I just happen to be an orphan due to the circumstances of my 'birth'. I flipped flopped between the two points in my spare time at the beginning. Being raised in humble beginnings sounds like the sort of thing a religious nut would think inspires charity and compassion later in life. Knowing the suffering and the poor and all that.
Of course it was equally likely he just threw me at the first woman who 'prayed' for a child and the chips fall where they fell for more mundane reasons.
Now?
Now I know he put me there on purpose!
If my first life was in the middle class, and my last one in the poorest rungs of society, this one-
"Princess, it's time to wake up."
-was an overcorrection.
Where I had once been Tanya von Degurechaff, Silver Wing and leader of the Salamanders, now I was Tanya Agustus, youngest daughter of Emperor Molt Sol Agustus of the Saderan Empire.
At first, given the aesthetics and apparel, I thought I had been sent back even further in time; perhaps as far back as the Roman era! But no, this was not Rome; in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. This was Saderan the nannies told me when they 'corrected' me years ago.
Of course none of these things meant anything to me at first. For all I knew, the "Empire" could have spanned the length and width of a single city with a small cluster of territories off in the distance; as was the fate of the Roman Empire of my world.
But when I examined a map for the first time, I realized that the Empire spanned an area the size of the old Mongolian Empire! From that map I noticed another thing, this was not my world.
Even the world of my last life was just an alteration of my first one. The continents were the same. Languages the same. Even continents retained their names; just different nations.
This world, Falmart according to the maps the Emperor showed me, was utterly alien., As were the non-human races, collectively referred to as demi-humans, who inhabited it alongside humans. They sound like they had been taken right out of some old role playing game; elves, birdmen, dragons, wolf-people, bunny warriors. It was almost hard to take seriously.
As if to solidify this fantasy world, there was also magic and a number of "gods" who oversaw the world.
Heh. More likely a collection of Being X's all squabbling with one another.
My eyes opened. I sat up in my oversized bed, squinting a bit as she opened the curtains allowing sunlight to flood into my spacious room. My eyes adjusted quickly to the light and I saw a mature woman sanding before my bedside.
The maid bowed to me. "Your highness, forgive the intrusion. But you requested to be awakened a quarter past dawn."
I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes, waving her off. "I remember, thank you Lysitha."
"Of course your Highness. I shall have a fresh set of clothes laid out for you and have the girls freshen up the room. Breakfast is being served in the royal dining room; his Majesty is also present at the moment."
Again I nodded, waving her off.
I slid out from under the sheets, my feet on the cool floor, and made my way to the door; clad in only my sleeping clothes.
As I walked out, I was dimly aware of other people wandering about my room; opening draws and cabinets, laying out fresh clothes, changing flowers from vases, putting fresh wood in the fireplace, refilling a pitcher of water on my nightstand.
As opposed to the other woman, these girls were no human but demi-humans. There was no shared race amongst them; one had cat ears and tail, another wolf ears but no tail, a third had patches of scaly skin along her arms like a chameleon, and so on. One thing they did share was their area. They were all far younger that the first woman. Their outfits were risque for a servant; a simple white dress that was a tad too short and a size too small for their bodies. The most notable feature I saw on them was the gold collars that hung tightly around their necks.
Slaves.
I held in a scowl at the sight of slaves; both those in my room and those who passed me in the hallways. At my sight, they bowed, prostrated themselves, anything to display a sign of utter and complete subservience. Whether it was for my sake or the pair of praetorians who shadowed my every step beyond my bedroom was irrelevant to me.
I will never get used to the concept of slavery.
It is an inefficient use of human resources. People who in an alternate life would be productive members of society being paid for their labor, then using their earnings to pay taxes and purchase goods in the common market, are now forever relegated to menial labor. As are their children and their children's children.
Sure, in a labor intensive agrarian society, as the Empire is, slavery can maintain productive activity; hard to compete with labor that was free after all. But it stifled competition, and by extension innovation. A free market encourages innovation by forcing competition and rewarding more efficient use of limited supplies. What's the incentive for the wealthy landowners to invest in creating a better plow so you can have your limited supply of paid laborers work more fields if you can just purchase a dozen more slaves?
But that was only the beginning of my distaste for the practice.
Worse than the potential economic losses from using slavery, there was the very real national security risk a massive slave population represented. Simply put, they are a knife constantly held in the nation's back. It handicaps a nation's capability to fully mobilize for war or marshal its full strength properly. After all, while men are sent out to fight the enemy, a sizable position needs to be kept on the homefront to prevent an uprising. Should they win the war, they bring slaves home, only exacerbating the problem of a spiteful indentured population; only now you may have military veterans from the defeated amongst their numbers.
And should the war turn against the state? The enemy invades its very borders. How many revolts would be incited at the mere mention of an approaching army? Even if the invading force had no intention of freeing a single person, the slaves would revolt simply to be free.
I simply could not understand why any state would allow the establishment of a population within its borders with nothing to lose, yet everything to gain, by revolting against the state? They have no avenue for social advancement, no legal protections, no real life expectancy to speak of in their current station by following the rule of law; but everything to gain by putting everything to the torch. What else can you expect from any rational person?
Depending on the scale of such a revolt, and its distance from centers of power, such an uprising could even organize itself. Weather the military or security apparatus of the state could put it down is up in the air.
In the Empire, the military seems well drilled and equipped for their current state of development. I doubt they would have trouble putting down an isolated revolt by slaves or force laborers who have no training; even if they were outnumbered. But even in defeat, the revolt can spitefully destroy economic assets like crops and livestock. Not even considering how any remnants of the revolt can easily turn to banditry, further exacerbating the situation in the long run.
That more or less summed up slavery; short term gains from forced labor at the cost of long term stagnation and curtailed economic potential.
Moments after finishing my all too frequent mental musings over this system, I arrived in the dining room.
As with most rooms in the palace, it was disgustingly opulent. Pillars of jade lined the walls. Great crystal chandeliers hung above the long dining table. Servants, both free and enslaved, stood along the periphery of the table; waiting for instructions. Additionally, several praetorians stood around the room, constantly eyeing every person within.
At the end of the long table, sitting before a gilded set of utensils and ink strewn papers, sat the Emperor; my father.
Looking up from his work, the man smiled at me. "Good morning Tanya," he welcomed me. He shifted several papers laid out before him as he ate. None of my other siblings usually ate breakfast with us. They had their own schedules they followed and ate at different times.
"Good morning father," I replied, taking my seat at the table; a plate and silverware were quickly placed before me.
When I was young, maybe two years old, I referred to the Emperor as 'your majesty' and 'sir'. I learned quickly that the Emperor enjoyed it when I referred to him in such familial terms; even in the presence of other people.
From all the books and information I had accumulated on feudal society in my prior lives, both fictional and historical, it appeared as if children were expected to refer to their parental figures, their lord's, in a detached and respectful way. Always thinking of the good of the family before the self.
Additionally, I remember that power plays within 'families' back in this era were far from uncommon. Sibling versus sibling. Fighting against the parents for inheritance. A slight here leading to a 'hunting accident' in the near future. In short, cutthroat dynastic politics. I had three brothers and one sister; all of whom are older than me. My saving grace, if I could call it that, was not just my position as the youngest child of five, but also my gender. Saderan was a patriarchal society; girls were not seen as a 'threat' in the political sense.
Until I could gain some sliver of influence that was solely my own, and not an extension of my family or my father, I had to play it safe.
So that was the role I played.
I always showed deference to the Emperor. Portraying myself as caring about the 'image' and 'prestige' of our bloodline. I just had to think back to how those CEO children should have acted. I also showed affection to my siblings. Listening to them. Complementing them. Encouraging them. Brown nosing in by another name, but it may just keep any dynastic spat from being directed at me.
Of course, I wasn't the only one who knew this. The servants of the palace for as long as I can remembered engaged in similar behavior. Hoping to gain the favor of a royal to improve their own station and standing. Now I can only speak for myself right now, and that evidence may be lacking due to my aforementioned age and gender, but I have seen some attempts by courtiers to flatter their way into my good graces.
Even during my private education, which began over a year ago, I choose to display 'average' intelligence to my instructors; not prodigal just average. Mostly correct questions followed by a few 'mistakes' on my part.
For my 'brilliance' they showered me with compliments, like I was 'truly his daughter' or other such praises. I don't know if they actually meant any of it. The math they showed me was very simple. Perhaps they merely wished to encourage my education by showing me how praiseworthy a good mind was?
I bet a more muted, if accurate, note of my education is handed to the Emperor. A more mundane report of how his child is average and my education is proceeding normally. Most assuredly welcome news for any parent who wants to be sure their children are not idiots, but nothing to celebrate over.
Regardless, I was careful to always take care for how I displayed myself. One false move, one mistake could ruin any favor I had curried with him; even at this young age.
"Are you ready for today?" He looked up from his papers and gave me a fatherly smile.
"Yes, I am," I replied. Today was the first day of my magical instruction.
When I learned this world had magic, I tried everything to manifest it. From what my tutors told me, it was a mixture of a strong will, vast knowledge, and luck, to be able to cast magic. So I tried. And tried. Eventually I did cast a spell of sorts, but not it the way I had hoped. I was cold one night, and accidentally 'willed' a chair in my room to catch fire to warm me up.
Instead of being punished for setting a fire, the Emperor asked if I wished to learn more about magic.
I accepted, of course. So a message was sent to Rondel, the magic center of the Empire, and a magical instructor was dispatched to evaluate my skills.
Honestly, this seems like some ironic joke.
I had always championed against nepotism of any kind. After all, how could an organization, or society, function to the best of its abilities if power was given for personal or familial connections rather than genuine capability? The answer was it could not. I did not approve of such actions in my first life. I saw far too many scandals caused by the children of CEO's and other executives mucking about with their parents money and position only to make a fool of themselves. And again in my second life, in Russy, I saw individuals in positions of power for no other reason than toeing the party line as the Red army fumbled and failed in nearly every engagement.
Yet here I was. Indulging in those very same luxurious accommodations and connections I railed against in previous lives.
It didn't make me wrong about nepotism; just made me a hypocrite.
We ate breakfast while exchanging small talk. How are my studies going? Am I having any problems? Do I need anything?
"Are you excited," he eventually inquired; finishing his dish.
"Yes," I answered. I decided to throw a bit of mock concern for his prestige in for good measure, "I only hope I don't disappoint you. Or embarrass you."
"Tanya" he admonished me. He got up and walked over to my side of the table, "If you do this, it should be because you want to learn, not because you think I want you to. Our family has never have had a mage grace its ranks; and the world shall not end if this generation is the same. Do you want to learn?"
Oh no, maybe I went a little too hard on the sappiness. "I do! I also want to make our family proud. I want to be the best mage the Empire has ever seen."
The Emperor laughed a bit, "quite the ambition you have there Tanya." He ruffled my hair, I had to keep my hand from slapping his hand away. "I have no doubt you will exceed your peers in every way."
Ah parental false hope. How I missed you from my last life. That warm fuzzy feeling when a parent tells their child that they can do 'anything' if they put their mind to it. Their lying of course. But it does encourage a child to push towards something rather than just lazing around; so I do understand the sentiment.
Regardless, this time I was very interested to see where my instruction would take me.
----
---
On my way to my magical tutor, after having changed into a fresh set of clothes 'fit' for someone from my station, crossing the vast outdoor grounds of the palace to reach the outer wing of the palace. The palace was not a single building but a collection of buildings connected by a crisscrossing walkway of stone paths and gardens. The grounds themselves stretched on in every direction. Guards, patrons, dignitaries, and nobles of all sorts congested in the walkways between buildings.
On the path, passing untold numbers of dignitaries, I was surprised by an unusual sight.
Marching around the palace gardens were a collection of young girls. Unlike most young girls I've had the pleasure of meeting, these girls did not wear dresses or skirts. They wore small chest plates atop a colorful array of shirts and shorts. They walked in a single file line, following an all to familiar burgundy haired girl, under the watchful eyes of an older man.
These children had drawn quite the crowd, guards, clerks, and servants alike gawked at them.
When the lead girl noticed me, I suppressed a groan as she broke formation with a flurry of apologies to her compatriots and rushed over to me.
"Tanya!" The redhead called out as she brought me into a tight hug; uncaring or more likely unaware of the discomfort her chest piece caused me.
"Pina...," was all I could get out as my sister tightened her hold. Say what you will, she had a tight grip for an eleven year old.
After a few seconds, she noticed what she was doing and released me. Her hand still rested on my shoulders.
"Sorry," she awkwardly laughed at her own prior actions.
I leaned over to look behind her to the troop of girls she left behind. "What are you doing?"
Pina smiled, " we're training."
"Training," I parotid.
"Yep," she nodded. "Training to be knights!"
I looked at the girls, then back to Pina. For as long as I knew her, Pina had never hid her desire to become a knight; even when she was my 'age'. Fighting for valor and honor. Slaying monsters. Saving the downtrodden and weary. It only got worse a year ago after she saw that play about the female knight. Since then, she managed to wrangle a number of her female retainers into indulging in her fantasies. They did these things periodically, walking around, marching, the play fighting.
She knew nothing of what a real battle was. There is no 'honor' in battle; only victory or defeat. And I found it ironic for a girl that has never once spoken up about the injustice of slavery to talk about 'saving' the downtrodden. Seemingly oblivious to the moral wrongs right in front of her.
Her training to be a knight was nothing more than a childish game for children with an overactive imagination.
Despite my opinion on the matter, Pina was a child. Give it a few years, and this phase will probably work itself out. Like most childish dreams.
"But don't you do that already?" I questioned her, subtly trying to wriggle out of her grasp.
She smiled brighter. "But this time is different! The Rose Order of Knights finally has an instructor." With a flair for the overdramatic, Pina gestured to the older man behind the trope of girls. "That is Grey Co Aldo, the Order's new Master-of-Arms! Under his watchful eyes and training, we're going to be a real order of knights."
As Pina went on about her 'Order', my mind wandered.
While my knowledge of medieval society might not be as encompassing as that of the modern era, I don't believe girls were even allowed to become knights. While under normal circumstances, as in she were a boy, then maybe. But in this clearly patriarchal society, even as fantastical as it was, there is no possible way I can see an order of female warriors being used in front line combat. Ignoring the physical differences between a woman and man, they would be in greater danger than a man should they ever be captured.
Societies like these are not gentle with prisoners; and I know it would be even less so for female prisoners. Even if she were a noble, and her fellow 'knights' of similar high birth, I doubt there would be any gentleness given to them by the average brigand.
Pina eventually broke my thoughts as she clasped her hands to mine, "-and so I wanted to ask you sister; do you want to be my squire after I'm knighted?"
"Eh," was all I could muster.
"I already promised Hamilton she was going to be my page," she continued. "But after I knight you, there are a bunch of things you could be. Maybe not Master-of-Arms, but you could be the Order's Quartermaster. You're already so good with numbers!"
"Pina-"
"No matter what you'd choose you'd still have to prove yourself. Just because you're my sister doesn't mean I'd knight you before I know you're ready. Being a knight is a big responsibility."
"Pina I-"
"If you proved yourself, I'd even make you my second in command. It'd be something out of a story-"
"Sister!" No matter how many years it's been, the word is still strange on my tongue. For both my prior lives I had no siblings. Sure, in my last one the sisters of the orphanage tried to instill a sense of family among the children, but that is something different.
This was a genuine family. I now had three brothers and Pina as my sole sister. At least, that I know of. The emperor had numerous concubines and could have had any number of children from them; hell Pina was the daughter of one such lady.
The only 'true' blood sibling I had was my eldest brother Zorzal, who has always been over protective of me since 'our' mother died birthing me. While he doesn't seem to be one of the brightest minds, he at least didn't follow that cliché of blaming me for his mother's death. So at least he's competent enough to not give into emotions that much.
'Though I can deal with him being a little less overbearing with his constant praises of my intelligence and 'cuteness' as he is so driven to call it.'
I returned my attention to Pina, pushing aside thoughts of overly clingy brother for another time.
"I don't want to be a knight."
That broke her stride. Her shoulders slumped a little. That energetic energy from before gone.
"Oh…" was all she replied with. While there were no tears, I had definitely taken the wind out of her sails.
I sighed, knowing I should probably say something uplifting to avoid any 'discomfort' between us.
"Sister," I repeated. "I know you are going to be a great knight one day." Debatable. "But that's not what I want to be."
Pina was quiet for a moment, thinking my words over. Then a smile. "I'm sorry I- If I came across-" she fumbled over her words. "I'm sorry if it felt like I was trying to pressure you. I've just been so excited that I found someone who actually thinks I- we can be knights."
"I know," what else was I to say?
"I guess I just thought…. Well, what do you want to be?" She changed her mind mid sentence about what she wanted to say.
"I don't know," I shook my head. And that was the truth. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself.
"Don't worry," Pina consoled me. "You'll figure it out eventually! You're the smartest person I know. I bet-"
"Forgive me princess," the man Pina had declared her 'knights' master-of-arms called out. "But you may speak with her highness after you complete your exercises for the day."
Pina turned to the man, "Yes Sir Grey!" She waved back to me as she ran back to the other girls. "Sorry Tanya! I have to go! I'll tell you all about it later."
I returned her wave. 'I don't even know what 'it' was' I thought as the line of girls, with my 'sister' back at the help, resumed their march.
The 'knights' left, and I resumed my walk to the outer wing.
I hadn't been exaggerating or lying to Pina when I told her I didn't know what I was going to do with myself.
My previous lives had been spent trying to achieve a comfortable position in society. Raising up the corporate ladder in the first one, and craving out a place for myself in the military for my second. But now? Now, by sheer virtue of my birth, I had achieved that lofty goal the moment I was born.
It honestly leaves me at a loss for what I was going to do.
Naturally, I knew Being X will inevitably muck things up for me. His whole 'time of great change' monologue still rang in my head. Given that this is a fantasy Roman Empire, 'change' could mean any number of things. Foreign invaders. Plague. Climate change. Rebellion. Nomadic migrations. Freak natural disasters. All of the above even.
Until I had a gauge of what this world actually was, beyond the obvious propaganda that I will no doubt be taught soo enough, I would hold off on committing to any one path.
Best to maintain flexibility in the face of uncertainty.
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AN: Oh my, I just realized I hadn't updated this version of A Young Woman's Third Life in over a year! Yikes!
Well, on the bright side I have quite the massive backlog.
In my first life, I was born into a stable middle class family. Nothing truly remarkable or noteworthy about me. No real struggle or hardship to speak of. Completely normal upbringing. I went to school, got good grades, achieved a position as head of HR at my place of employment. If it wasn't for that disgruntled former employee, I dare say I'd be even higher up the corporate ladder!
Then in my second life, I was thrown to the bottom rungs of society by the damned Being X. Parentless. Penniless. Living off the charity and good will given to an orphanage. I had no immediate prospects for advancement. Destined to a life of squalor and subpar living. Until it was found that I could be a mage. That sent me on my path to carve out a comfortable place for myself in the military establishment. A nice desk job is what I aimed for; a rear line position at worst.
Thanks to that damned Being X's involvement, I was bounced from frontline to frontline as the War spiraled out of control until I was ignobly killed, again. This time in a hospital bed!
From time to time I wondered if Being X had me reborn as an orphan on purpose or if I just happen to be an orphan due to the circumstances of my 'birth'. I flipped flopped between the two points in my spare time at the beginning. Being raised in humble beginnings sounds like the sort of thing a religious nut would think inspires charity and compassion later in life. Knowing the suffering and the poor and all that.
Of course it was equally likely he just threw me at the first woman who 'prayed' for a child and the chips fall where they fell for more mundane reasons.
Now?
Now I know he put me there on purpose!
If my first life was in the middle class, and my last one in the poorest rungs of society, this one-
"Princess, it's time to wake up."
-was an overcorrection.
Where I had once been Tanya von Degurechaff, Silver Wing and leader of the Salamanders, now I was Tanya Agustus, youngest daughter of Emperor Molt Sol Agustus of the Saderan Empire.
At first, given the aesthetics and apparel, I thought I had been sent back even further in time; perhaps as far back as the Roman era! But no, this was not Rome; in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. This was Saderan the nannies told me when they 'corrected' me years ago.
Of course none of these things meant anything to me at first. For all I knew, the "Empire" could have spanned the length and width of a single city with a small cluster of territories off in the distance; as was the fate of the Roman Empire of my world.
But when I examined a map for the first time, I realized that the Empire spanned an area the size of the old Mongolian Empire! From that map I noticed another thing, this was not my world.
Even the world of my last life was just an alteration of my first one. The continents were the same. Languages the same. Even continents retained their names; just different nations.
This world, Falmart according to the maps the Emperor showed me, was utterly alien., As were the non-human races, collectively referred to as demi-humans, who inhabited it alongside humans. They sound like they had been taken right out of some old role playing game; elves, birdmen, dragons, wolf-people, bunny warriors. It was almost hard to take seriously.
As if to solidify this fantasy world, there was also magic and a number of "gods" who oversaw the world.
Heh. More likely a collection of Being X's all squabbling with one another.
My eyes opened. I sat up in my oversized bed, squinting a bit as she opened the curtains allowing sunlight to flood into my spacious room. My eyes adjusted quickly to the light and I saw a mature woman sanding before my bedside.
The maid bowed to me. "Your highness, forgive the intrusion. But you requested to be awakened a quarter past dawn."
I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes, waving her off. "I remember, thank you Lysitha."
"Of course your Highness. I shall have a fresh set of clothes laid out for you and have the girls freshen up the room. Breakfast is being served in the royal dining room; his Majesty is also present at the moment."
Again I nodded, waving her off.
I slid out from under the sheets, my feet on the cool floor, and made my way to the door; clad in only my sleeping clothes.
As I walked out, I was dimly aware of other people wandering about my room; opening draws and cabinets, laying out fresh clothes, changing flowers from vases, putting fresh wood in the fireplace, refilling a pitcher of water on my nightstand.
As opposed to the other woman, these girls were no human but demi-humans. There was no shared race amongst them; one had cat ears and tail, another wolf ears but no tail, a third had patches of scaly skin along her arms like a chameleon, and so on. One thing they did share was their area. They were all far younger that the first woman. Their outfits were risque for a servant; a simple white dress that was a tad too short and a size too small for their bodies. The most notable feature I saw on them was the gold collars that hung tightly around their necks.
Slaves.
I held in a scowl at the sight of slaves; both those in my room and those who passed me in the hallways. At my sight, they bowed, prostrated themselves, anything to display a sign of utter and complete subservience. Whether it was for my sake or the pair of praetorians who shadowed my every step beyond my bedroom was irrelevant to me.
I will never get used to the concept of slavery.
It is an inefficient use of human resources. People who in an alternate life would be productive members of society being paid for their labor, then using their earnings to pay taxes and purchase goods in the common market, are now forever relegated to menial labor. As are their children and their children's children.
Sure, in a labor intensive agrarian society, as the Empire is, slavery can maintain productive activity; hard to compete with labor that was free after all. But it stifled competition, and by extension innovation. A free market encourages innovation by forcing competition and rewarding more efficient use of limited supplies. What's the incentive for the wealthy landowners to invest in creating a better plow so you can have your limited supply of paid laborers work more fields if you can just purchase a dozen more slaves?
But that was only the beginning of my distaste for the practice.
Worse than the potential economic losses from using slavery, there was the very real national security risk a massive slave population represented. Simply put, they are a knife constantly held in the nation's back. It handicaps a nation's capability to fully mobilize for war or marshal its full strength properly. After all, while men are sent out to fight the enemy, a sizable position needs to be kept on the homefront to prevent an uprising. Should they win the war, they bring slaves home, only exacerbating the problem of a spiteful indentured population; only now you may have military veterans from the defeated amongst their numbers.
And should the war turn against the state? The enemy invades its very borders. How many revolts would be incited at the mere mention of an approaching army? Even if the invading force had no intention of freeing a single person, the slaves would revolt simply to be free.
I simply could not understand why any state would allow the establishment of a population within its borders with nothing to lose, yet everything to gain, by revolting against the state? They have no avenue for social advancement, no legal protections, no real life expectancy to speak of in their current station by following the rule of law; but everything to gain by putting everything to the torch. What else can you expect from any rational person?
Depending on the scale of such a revolt, and its distance from centers of power, such an uprising could even organize itself. Weather the military or security apparatus of the state could put it down is up in the air.
In the Empire, the military seems well drilled and equipped for their current state of development. I doubt they would have trouble putting down an isolated revolt by slaves or force laborers who have no training; even if they were outnumbered. But even in defeat, the revolt can spitefully destroy economic assets like crops and livestock. Not even considering how any remnants of the revolt can easily turn to banditry, further exacerbating the situation in the long run.
That more or less summed up slavery; short term gains from forced labor at the cost of long term stagnation and curtailed economic potential.
Moments after finishing my all too frequent mental musings over this system, I arrived in the dining room.
As with most rooms in the palace, it was disgustingly opulent. Pillars of jade lined the walls. Great crystal chandeliers hung above the long dining table. Servants, both free and enslaved, stood along the periphery of the table; waiting for instructions. Additionally, several praetorians stood around the room, constantly eyeing every person within.
At the end of the long table, sitting before a gilded set of utensils and ink strewn papers, sat the Emperor; my father.
Looking up from his work, the man smiled at me. "Good morning Tanya," he welcomed me. He shifted several papers laid out before him as he ate. None of my other siblings usually ate breakfast with us. They had their own schedules they followed and ate at different times.
"Good morning father," I replied, taking my seat at the table; a plate and silverware were quickly placed before me.
When I was young, maybe two years old, I referred to the Emperor as 'your majesty' and 'sir'. I learned quickly that the Emperor enjoyed it when I referred to him in such familial terms; even in the presence of other people.
From all the books and information I had accumulated on feudal society in my prior lives, both fictional and historical, it appeared as if children were expected to refer to their parental figures, their lord's, in a detached and respectful way. Always thinking of the good of the family before the self.
Additionally, I remember that power plays within 'families' back in this era were far from uncommon. Sibling versus sibling. Fighting against the parents for inheritance. A slight here leading to a 'hunting accident' in the near future. In short, cutthroat dynastic politics. I had three brothers and one sister; all of whom are older than me. My saving grace, if I could call it that, was not just my position as the youngest child of five, but also my gender. Saderan was a patriarchal society; girls were not seen as a 'threat' in the political sense.
Until I could gain some sliver of influence that was solely my own, and not an extension of my family or my father, I had to play it safe.
So that was the role I played.
I always showed deference to the Emperor. Portraying myself as caring about the 'image' and 'prestige' of our bloodline. I just had to think back to how those CEO children should have acted. I also showed affection to my siblings. Listening to them. Complementing them. Encouraging them. Brown nosing in by another name, but it may just keep any dynastic spat from being directed at me.
Of course, I wasn't the only one who knew this. The servants of the palace for as long as I can remembered engaged in similar behavior. Hoping to gain the favor of a royal to improve their own station and standing. Now I can only speak for myself right now, and that evidence may be lacking due to my aforementioned age and gender, but I have seen some attempts by courtiers to flatter their way into my good graces.
Even during my private education, which began over a year ago, I choose to display 'average' intelligence to my instructors; not prodigal just average. Mostly correct questions followed by a few 'mistakes' on my part.
For my 'brilliance' they showered me with compliments, like I was 'truly his daughter' or other such praises. I don't know if they actually meant any of it. The math they showed me was very simple. Perhaps they merely wished to encourage my education by showing me how praiseworthy a good mind was?
I bet a more muted, if accurate, note of my education is handed to the Emperor. A more mundane report of how his child is average and my education is proceeding normally. Most assuredly welcome news for any parent who wants to be sure their children are not idiots, but nothing to celebrate over.
Regardless, I was careful to always take care for how I displayed myself. One false move, one mistake could ruin any favor I had curried with him; even at this young age.
"Are you ready for today?" He looked up from his papers and gave me a fatherly smile.
"Yes, I am," I replied. Today was the first day of my magical instruction.
When I learned this world had magic, I tried everything to manifest it. From what my tutors told me, it was a mixture of a strong will, vast knowledge, and luck, to be able to cast magic. So I tried. And tried. Eventually I did cast a spell of sorts, but not it the way I had hoped. I was cold one night, and accidentally 'willed' a chair in my room to catch fire to warm me up.
Instead of being punished for setting a fire, the Emperor asked if I wished to learn more about magic.
I accepted, of course. So a message was sent to Rondel, the magic center of the Empire, and a magical instructor was dispatched to evaluate my skills.
Honestly, this seems like some ironic joke.
I had always championed against nepotism of any kind. After all, how could an organization, or society, function to the best of its abilities if power was given for personal or familial connections rather than genuine capability? The answer was it could not. I did not approve of such actions in my first life. I saw far too many scandals caused by the children of CEO's and other executives mucking about with their parents money and position only to make a fool of themselves. And again in my second life, in Russy, I saw individuals in positions of power for no other reason than toeing the party line as the Red army fumbled and failed in nearly every engagement.
Yet here I was. Indulging in those very same luxurious accommodations and connections I railed against in previous lives.
It didn't make me wrong about nepotism; just made me a hypocrite.
We ate breakfast while exchanging small talk. How are my studies going? Am I having any problems? Do I need anything?
"Are you excited," he eventually inquired; finishing his dish.
"Yes," I answered. I decided to throw a bit of mock concern for his prestige in for good measure, "I only hope I don't disappoint you. Or embarrass you."
"Tanya" he admonished me. He got up and walked over to my side of the table, "If you do this, it should be because you want to learn, not because you think I want you to. Our family has never have had a mage grace its ranks; and the world shall not end if this generation is the same. Do you want to learn?"
Oh no, maybe I went a little too hard on the sappiness. "I do! I also want to make our family proud. I want to be the best mage the Empire has ever seen."
The Emperor laughed a bit, "quite the ambition you have there Tanya." He ruffled my hair, I had to keep my hand from slapping his hand away. "I have no doubt you will exceed your peers in every way."
Ah parental false hope. How I missed you from my last life. That warm fuzzy feeling when a parent tells their child that they can do 'anything' if they put their mind to it. Their lying of course. But it does encourage a child to push towards something rather than just lazing around; so I do understand the sentiment.
Regardless, this time I was very interested to see where my instruction would take me.
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---
On my way to my magical tutor, after having changed into a fresh set of clothes 'fit' for someone from my station, crossing the vast outdoor grounds of the palace to reach the outer wing of the palace. The palace was not a single building but a collection of buildings connected by a crisscrossing walkway of stone paths and gardens. The grounds themselves stretched on in every direction. Guards, patrons, dignitaries, and nobles of all sorts congested in the walkways between buildings.
On the path, passing untold numbers of dignitaries, I was surprised by an unusual sight.
Marching around the palace gardens were a collection of young girls. Unlike most young girls I've had the pleasure of meeting, these girls did not wear dresses or skirts. They wore small chest plates atop a colorful array of shirts and shorts. They walked in a single file line, following an all to familiar burgundy haired girl, under the watchful eyes of an older man.
These children had drawn quite the crowd, guards, clerks, and servants alike gawked at them.
When the lead girl noticed me, I suppressed a groan as she broke formation with a flurry of apologies to her compatriots and rushed over to me.
"Tanya!" The redhead called out as she brought me into a tight hug; uncaring or more likely unaware of the discomfort her chest piece caused me.
"Pina...," was all I could get out as my sister tightened her hold. Say what you will, she had a tight grip for an eleven year old.
After a few seconds, she noticed what she was doing and released me. Her hand still rested on my shoulders.
"Sorry," she awkwardly laughed at her own prior actions.
I leaned over to look behind her to the troop of girls she left behind. "What are you doing?"
Pina smiled, " we're training."
"Training," I parotid.
"Yep," she nodded. "Training to be knights!"
I looked at the girls, then back to Pina. For as long as I knew her, Pina had never hid her desire to become a knight; even when she was my 'age'. Fighting for valor and honor. Slaying monsters. Saving the downtrodden and weary. It only got worse a year ago after she saw that play about the female knight. Since then, she managed to wrangle a number of her female retainers into indulging in her fantasies. They did these things periodically, walking around, marching, the play fighting.
She knew nothing of what a real battle was. There is no 'honor' in battle; only victory or defeat. And I found it ironic for a girl that has never once spoken up about the injustice of slavery to talk about 'saving' the downtrodden. Seemingly oblivious to the moral wrongs right in front of her.
Her training to be a knight was nothing more than a childish game for children with an overactive imagination.
Despite my opinion on the matter, Pina was a child. Give it a few years, and this phase will probably work itself out. Like most childish dreams.
"But don't you do that already?" I questioned her, subtly trying to wriggle out of her grasp.
She smiled brighter. "But this time is different! The Rose Order of Knights finally has an instructor." With a flair for the overdramatic, Pina gestured to the older man behind the trope of girls. "That is Grey Co Aldo, the Order's new Master-of-Arms! Under his watchful eyes and training, we're going to be a real order of knights."
As Pina went on about her 'Order', my mind wandered.
While my knowledge of medieval society might not be as encompassing as that of the modern era, I don't believe girls were even allowed to become knights. While under normal circumstances, as in she were a boy, then maybe. But in this clearly patriarchal society, even as fantastical as it was, there is no possible way I can see an order of female warriors being used in front line combat. Ignoring the physical differences between a woman and man, they would be in greater danger than a man should they ever be captured.
Societies like these are not gentle with prisoners; and I know it would be even less so for female prisoners. Even if she were a noble, and her fellow 'knights' of similar high birth, I doubt there would be any gentleness given to them by the average brigand.
Pina eventually broke my thoughts as she clasped her hands to mine, "-and so I wanted to ask you sister; do you want to be my squire after I'm knighted?"
"Eh," was all I could muster.
"I already promised Hamilton she was going to be my page," she continued. "But after I knight you, there are a bunch of things you could be. Maybe not Master-of-Arms, but you could be the Order's Quartermaster. You're already so good with numbers!"
"Pina-"
"No matter what you'd choose you'd still have to prove yourself. Just because you're my sister doesn't mean I'd knight you before I know you're ready. Being a knight is a big responsibility."
"Pina I-"
"If you proved yourself, I'd even make you my second in command. It'd be something out of a story-"
"Sister!" No matter how many years it's been, the word is still strange on my tongue. For both my prior lives I had no siblings. Sure, in my last one the sisters of the orphanage tried to instill a sense of family among the children, but that is something different.
This was a genuine family. I now had three brothers and Pina as my sole sister. At least, that I know of. The emperor had numerous concubines and could have had any number of children from them; hell Pina was the daughter of one such lady.
The only 'true' blood sibling I had was my eldest brother Zorzal, who has always been over protective of me since 'our' mother died birthing me. While he doesn't seem to be one of the brightest minds, he at least didn't follow that cliché of blaming me for his mother's death. So at least he's competent enough to not give into emotions that much.
'Though I can deal with him being a little less overbearing with his constant praises of my intelligence and 'cuteness' as he is so driven to call it.'
I returned my attention to Pina, pushing aside thoughts of overly clingy brother for another time.
"I don't want to be a knight."
That broke her stride. Her shoulders slumped a little. That energetic energy from before gone.
"Oh…" was all she replied with. While there were no tears, I had definitely taken the wind out of her sails.
I sighed, knowing I should probably say something uplifting to avoid any 'discomfort' between us.
"Sister," I repeated. "I know you are going to be a great knight one day." Debatable. "But that's not what I want to be."
Pina was quiet for a moment, thinking my words over. Then a smile. "I'm sorry I- If I came across-" she fumbled over her words. "I'm sorry if it felt like I was trying to pressure you. I've just been so excited that I found someone who actually thinks I- we can be knights."
"I know," what else was I to say?
"I guess I just thought…. Well, what do you want to be?" She changed her mind mid sentence about what she wanted to say.
"I don't know," I shook my head. And that was the truth. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself.
"Don't worry," Pina consoled me. "You'll figure it out eventually! You're the smartest person I know. I bet-"
"Forgive me princess," the man Pina had declared her 'knights' master-of-arms called out. "But you may speak with her highness after you complete your exercises for the day."
Pina turned to the man, "Yes Sir Grey!" She waved back to me as she ran back to the other girls. "Sorry Tanya! I have to go! I'll tell you all about it later."
I returned her wave. 'I don't even know what 'it' was' I thought as the line of girls, with my 'sister' back at the help, resumed their march.
The 'knights' left, and I resumed my walk to the outer wing.
I hadn't been exaggerating or lying to Pina when I told her I didn't know what I was going to do with myself.
My previous lives had been spent trying to achieve a comfortable position in society. Raising up the corporate ladder in the first one, and craving out a place for myself in the military for my second. But now? Now, by sheer virtue of my birth, I had achieved that lofty goal the moment I was born.
It honestly leaves me at a loss for what I was going to do.
Naturally, I knew Being X will inevitably muck things up for me. His whole 'time of great change' monologue still rang in my head. Given that this is a fantasy Roman Empire, 'change' could mean any number of things. Foreign invaders. Plague. Climate change. Rebellion. Nomadic migrations. Freak natural disasters. All of the above even.
Until I had a gauge of what this world actually was, beyond the obvious propaganda that I will no doubt be taught soo enough, I would hold off on committing to any one path.
Best to maintain flexibility in the face of uncertainty.
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AN: Oh my, I just realized I hadn't updated this version of A Young Woman's Third Life in over a year! Yikes!
Well, on the bright side I have quite the massive backlog.
Peace in our time - What became of Earth after the Great War?
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Aftermath of the Great War
Central Europe
Following the signing of the Treaty of Parisii, Francois seizing several western territories, and accepting full guilt for all the suffering and devastation of the Great War, The Empire was split into six separate nations.
The North Germanian Federation
The West Germanian Confederation
The South Germanian Union
The Grand Duchy of Marienburg
The United Provinces of Lothringia
The Ostrriech Federal State
Each state varies in stability and functionality by design. For example, the North Germanian Federation is the largest of the Germanian successor states and was saddled with the largest share of the crippling war reparations forced upon the Empire prior to its dissolvement. By contrast, the West Germanian Confederation was given the lion's share of the Empire's industrial heartland, but was formed with a purposefully weak central government so it could never marshal its resources effectively against the Francois Republic. Each successor state had similar quirks to varying degrees of severity.
Beyond being shattered it is hoped that, divided as they are, the Germanian people will never again threaten the peace and stability of Europe.
Southern Europe/North Africa
Beyond war reparations, the Kingdom of Ildoa lost both Sardinia and Sicily to Francois occupation and had her north African colonies being seized by Albion and Francois. Radicalism is rampant in Ildoan politics and a deep sense of anger is being fermented by extremists parties who campaign on platform of uniting all "Greater Ildoa's" territories.
Hispania has descended into a Warlord period with numerous cliques and warlords vying for complete control of the nation. Her colonies were also seized by Albion and Francois under the pretense of offering the colonies "Stewardship" until a "legitimate government" can establish itself.
Balkans
Most of the Empire's Balkan territories were consolidated into the multiethnic United Kingdom of Illyria. The only two territories that were not are Albanon, which formed its own independent kingdom, and Carpathia which was ceded to Dacia to create the Danubian Union of Dacia-Carpathia.
Magna Rumeli grumbles that it received no territorial gains from the war despite being attacked by Ildoa.
Eastern Europe
The Empire's eastern territories, along with several Russy provinces, were consolidated into the Federal Slavic Union of Zapadoslavia, a federal union of Slavic states. The Baltic nation of Leituva was also incorporated due to historic Polan claims to the region.
The Empire of Russy (Tsardom of Russy) was reestablished following the communist retreat beyond the Urals. Though claiming dominion over all Russy, the current Tsar controls only the European portion of the Empire. The rest is split between the American backed Russy Commonwealth, who administer the former Akitsushima occupied portions of Russy prior to her capitulation, and the rump communist Russy Federation still active in the Stepp.
Bizarrely, one Russy military official broke from the Federation and used his personal forces to establish a personal fiefdom within Cathy's frontier territory of Mungu called Zheltorossiya. What this madman has planned from his seat in the Stepp is anyone's guess.
Asia
Finally, following the end of The Great War, Akitushima was stripped of her mainland holdings in Cathy and Joseon, and has been subjected to an American occupation. Though the Emperor was allowed to keep his ceremonial position, real power rests in the hands of Military Governor Arthur McDouglas, dubbed by the people he now administers as the "Gaijin Shogun".
Conclusion
The Great War was the single most devastating conflict in modern history. With millions dead and tens of millions left destitute, the victorious allied powers came together following the Treaty of Parisii to create an international body that would stop conflicts before they began: the Community of Nations. It is hoped that with the creation of this international forum that there shall truly be peace in our time.
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AN: Just a little superfluous world building fluff. Learned how to use a map editor to make maps for other fics, so I thought I might as well flex my skills!
Central Europe
Following the signing of the Treaty of Parisii, Francois seizing several western territories, and accepting full guilt for all the suffering and devastation of the Great War, The Empire was split into six separate nations.
The North Germanian Federation
The West Germanian Confederation
The South Germanian Union
The Grand Duchy of Marienburg
The United Provinces of Lothringia
The Ostrriech Federal State
Each state varies in stability and functionality by design. For example, the North Germanian Federation is the largest of the Germanian successor states and was saddled with the largest share of the crippling war reparations forced upon the Empire prior to its dissolvement. By contrast, the West Germanian Confederation was given the lion's share of the Empire's industrial heartland, but was formed with a purposefully weak central government so it could never marshal its resources effectively against the Francois Republic. Each successor state had similar quirks to varying degrees of severity.
Beyond being shattered it is hoped that, divided as they are, the Germanian people will never again threaten the peace and stability of Europe.
Southern Europe/North Africa
Beyond war reparations, the Kingdom of Ildoa lost both Sardinia and Sicily to Francois occupation and had her north African colonies being seized by Albion and Francois. Radicalism is rampant in Ildoan politics and a deep sense of anger is being fermented by extremists parties who campaign on platform of uniting all "Greater Ildoa's" territories.
Hispania has descended into a Warlord period with numerous cliques and warlords vying for complete control of the nation. Her colonies were also seized by Albion and Francois under the pretense of offering the colonies "Stewardship" until a "legitimate government" can establish itself.
Balkans
Most of the Empire's Balkan territories were consolidated into the multiethnic United Kingdom of Illyria. The only two territories that were not are Albanon, which formed its own independent kingdom, and Carpathia which was ceded to Dacia to create the Danubian Union of Dacia-Carpathia.
Magna Rumeli grumbles that it received no territorial gains from the war despite being attacked by Ildoa.
Eastern Europe
The Empire's eastern territories, along with several Russy provinces, were consolidated into the Federal Slavic Union of Zapadoslavia, a federal union of Slavic states. The Baltic nation of Leituva was also incorporated due to historic Polan claims to the region.
The Empire of Russy (Tsardom of Russy) was reestablished following the communist retreat beyond the Urals. Though claiming dominion over all Russy, the current Tsar controls only the European portion of the Empire. The rest is split between the American backed Russy Commonwealth, who administer the former Akitsushima occupied portions of Russy prior to her capitulation, and the rump communist Russy Federation still active in the Stepp.
Bizarrely, one Russy military official broke from the Federation and used his personal forces to establish a personal fiefdom within Cathy's frontier territory of Mungu called Zheltorossiya. What this madman has planned from his seat in the Stepp is anyone's guess.
Asia
Finally, following the end of The Great War, Akitushima was stripped of her mainland holdings in Cathy and Joseon, and has been subjected to an American occupation. Though the Emperor was allowed to keep his ceremonial position, real power rests in the hands of Military Governor Arthur McDouglas, dubbed by the people he now administers as the "Gaijin Shogun".
Conclusion
The Great War was the single most devastating conflict in modern history. With millions dead and tens of millions left destitute, the victorious allied powers came together following the Treaty of Parisii to create an international body that would stop conflicts before they began: the Community of Nations. It is hoped that with the creation of this international forum that there shall truly be peace in our time.
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AN: Just a little superfluous world building fluff. Learned how to use a map editor to make maps for other fics, so I thought I might as well flex my skills!
A Young Princess - II
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
As expected, my magical potential was quite large. Over the past year under Arch Mage Fandrel Lo Sistra's guidance, I have been slowly harnessing the magical power that was so integral to my second life.
I admit. It's been harder than I initially anticipated. Not in terms of mana or magical power, the Arch Mage assured me I had more than enough required. I had the raw power, but none of the finesse I was so accustomed to from my past life. The difficulty I was facing now is a direct result of what had once been the core of my powers; a computation orb.
Or more accurately, the lack of one.
In that life, computation orbs were incorrectly believed to be foci for mages to harness their power and project it out in a useful way by the general public. Like a wand or a staff that bearded, pointy hat wearing, wizards used in fantasy stories. That without these orbs, a mage could not use their power. This was incorrect. While orbs are a foci of a sort, technically anything capable of holding and releasing magic is a foci. From a simple handled knife to a rifle.
No. The primary use of an orb was not to channel magic but to, as the name implies, computate it. A mage 'pushes' their mana into the orb in a specific way and the orb 'computate' it into a spell. It's more complicated than that of course. A dozen or more factors and details are involved. Like the intensity of the mana pushed in can greatly alter the effects of a spell. Or even if a mage were to push their mana into two different orbs the exact same way the orbs may have been designed to read said mana as completely separate spells.
Magic without an orb is difficult at the best of times. Technically, any spell a mage can do with an orb can also be done without one. The catch is that the mage must then calculate all the little variables that makes the spell work in their head. In that sense, the mage's mind was the first 'computation orb'. Given enough time, the brain can compute and create just about any type of spell a mage would need.
And that's the problem. Time.
On the battlefield, even a split second's delay can be the difference between life and death.
The orb's greatest achievement was its library of 'pre-installed' spells. A machine may not be as creative as the human mind, unable to account for every single variable, but it can store a hundred generalized solutions to a hundred general problems.
It's akin to a cheat book to magic.
But for me, in my current situation, it felt more like a crutch that was taken from me as I descended a flight of stairs.
"Careful, your Highness," the Arch Mage cautioned. "The flames must not breath too much air, lest they grow beyond your control."
I dutifully nodded as I held the open flame between my two hands.
Say what you will about the technology level of this land, it's mages were talented enough to perform feats of magic without the aid of modern computation technology. I'm certain that this was because of the heavy foundation of theory they placed on their mages. And the pace of it was beyond intense. Even for me, with my developed mind and college education, I found it difficult to keep up with some of the theory at points.
My best guess for why the magical education is so intense is that it probably has to do with what age I am. Young children can absorb new concepts like sponges to water. I'm certain that at some point, the mages here realized this and decided to cram as much foundational knowledge and theory into this short developmental window as they could to produce superior mages. I honestly do not want to imagine the failure rate.
But the trade off is undeniable. Mages like Fandrel theoretically have far more flexibility and magical capability than any mage from Germania would have; as they would not be limited by the set number of spells on any given computation orb.
Of course, quantity is its own quality. For every one mage produced in the Sadaran Empire, the Germanian Empire could churn out a thousand. At that point, even if each Sadaran mage was worth hundreds of Germanian mages, and not taking into account modern firearms, sheer numbers would eventually win the day.
But back to the matter at hand.
Following months of theory work, I was instructed in a series of exercises to demonstrate my understanding of said theory. As with all the exercises, they appear simple, but hide a clever twist.
My current one is no exception. I must take a flame from one brazier and walk it to another on the opposite side of the room. A simple 'A' to 'B' path with no obstructions of any kind.
The catch?
Not only was it timed, a little hourglass of sand in the corner next to the Arch Mage detailed my time limit. But the flames were also required to be carried by hand. No by a torch or another instrument.
By Hand.
It was easy to conjure fire; just ignite the air.
It was a completely different thing to keep a fire going, between my bare hands, and make sure it does not go out or get too large as I walk across a room. The sensation is like holding a small ball coated in fine sheen of oil. Too little or too much pressure will cause the ball to slip from my hands.
Or in this case: the fire will either fizzle out as not enough air is being fed into it to the flames to keep it going, or too much air is being fed and fire will flare up.
I've found the 'walk' to be the easiest part of the exercise. The actual difficulty came from 'picking up' the open flame in the first place. I had to trap an open flame between my hands and keep it burning.
Honestly, I was of two minds about this exercise. On one hand, it was effective at teaching control. Simply not burning yourself was enough incentive to keep a student from making the same mistake multiple times. On the other, it seemed a tad barbaric to use the possibility of being burned to 'correct' failure. But to be fair, given the societal level I was living in a simple burn that could be healed was hardly the worst form of punishment for failure.
After a minute of slow, deliberate, steps, I made it to the other side and dropped the fire in the unlit brazier. I took a deep breath as I felt my head ache from the exercise. The exercise was more mentally exhausting than physical.
"Good your Highness," the mage complimented my work. I sensed the flames from the brazier behind me get snuffed out in a gust of hot air. Turning around, I found Fandrel standing there with his hand extended. A smaller hour glass in his hand than the previous one he used.
"Now let us see if you can perform the exercise again in a shorter time frame."
I'm pretty sure that even in my last life, this form of training would have been seen as a bit much to do without a computation orb. If Francois or Albion had instructors like Fandrel for their aerial mages, my own mages would have faced far stiffer resistance than we did.
Sighing, I prepared myself once again.
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"I am nearing the end of what I can teach her, your Majesty."
Molt frowned at the Arch Mage's words. For the past year, the Arch Mage had instructed his daughter on the higher mysteries of magic. By all accounts, the progress she was making was exceptional. Not only was she the first Augustus to be a mage, it would seem as if she was to also be a powerful one at that.
And every so often, Molt would summon the Mage to his personal study to discuss in detail Tanya's progress.
"I was under the impression that I had requested the Academy to send one of their greatest instructors to facilitate my daughter's education on magical matters. It has been but a single year." He let the statement sink in for a moment, leaning back into his chair. "You mean to tell me that an Arch Mage is incapable of teaching after little more than a year's time?"
If Fandel was intimidated by the Emperor, he hid it well. The man was ancient, perhaps twice as old as Molt. He came across as the type of man who achieved their status from work rather than by nepotism; a rare breed of man in the Capital.
"Not in the sense you are thinking, Your Majesty," he explained, his expression betrayed no emotion. "Specifically, I am not incapable of teaching her more. But I am running out of material to teach her that I have available to me at the moment."
"Explain," Molt gestured for the man to elaborate.
"Simply put, your Majesty, I arrived here with the expectation of instructing a young girl in the higher mysteries of magic. I did not, however, expect to be instructing an avatar of the Twins themselves."
Molt shifted some parchment around his desk, picking up a recent report the mage had written about his daughter's progress.
"I remember reading you mention something of the sort. Ah here, you mention my daughter as the 'living embodiment of Ral and Elange themselves'."
The mage nodded, "and I wholly stand by my words."
"I'll be frank with you Arch Mage," the Emperor put the page back with the pile. "I had assumed you were speaking in hyperbole when you made that comment."
"I have been teaching for longer than you have sat upon your throne, your Majesty," the elderly mage began. "I have seen the entire spectrum of minds that youths have to offer. I have seen both the peaks and the valleys. The geniuses and the idiots. And know that I swear on all the Gods above that I have never seen a child as unique as her Highness. She is, by far, the most gifted child I have ever taught."
"And yet," the Emperor cut in. "you are not capable of teaching her any more."
"It is a matter of materials and instruments, your Majesty; not of desire or capabilities" Fandrel pushed back. "I brought with me enough educational material to last me five years; four if she was even a fraction as gifted as you implied to the Academy."
"But you only lasted a year," Molt finished the mage's statement; pointedly ignoring the offhand remark towards his words.
"No, I lasted less than a year," the mage corrected. "Nine months to be precise. Since then, I have been having her Highness perform exercises that older students would need at least half a year to progress through properly. She mastered them in half that time."
"Then what is it you are asking for Arch Mage?" the Emperor was growing tired of the constant back and forth. "She is brilliant, but you cannot teach her anymore. Is that what you are saying?"
"I want to bring her to Rondel," the Mage brusquely stated. "With the resources and instruction of the Academy, I have no doubt that your daughter will quickly ascend the ranks of the Academy. If she advances and comprehends the material at the Academy with the same speed and vigor as she did here, I believe that she will easily end up becoming the youngest Master Mage in the history of-"
"No", Molt put a stop to the man's speech.
"N-No?"
"No," the Emperor repeated. It would be the height of foolishness to allow his youngest child so far from the capital. Especially to a city he had little direct influence over. And he refused to let his child be unknowingly influenced by an outside actor.
It was a Free City in the Empire; with its own degree of self governance, autonomy, and militia forces. Not counting the collection of mages and sorcerers within its walls. He doubted that the mages of Rondel would accept a garrison of legionaries or a contingent of praetorians within their walls; their pride would demand they resist.
However, the solution to this issue of material and equipment is simple to Molt.
"Anything that is needed to further my daughter's education will be brought here. Paid for by the royal treasury."
"Your Majesty, would it not be simpler to allow her Highness to attend the Academy? If it's publicity you are worried about, an arrangement can be made to have her attend under an alias to-"
"Good day, Arch Mage. I look forward to reading and hearing more of my daughter's progress," Molt ended the conversation.
With a quick gesture, the praetorians escorted the man out of his study.
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The one thing no one seemingly ever talks about in the fairytales of princess and kingdoms is the gilded cage of the royals and nobles live in.
It dawned on me that I had never actually walked in Sadara proper.
Frowning, I shut the book I was reading on magical channeling that Fandrel recently assigned me and walked over to my bedroom's window. Thanks to the elevation of the Palace in relation to the city, my line of sight extended across the entire city.
Like any medieval city, wealth and power was concentrated at the center of the city. In Sadara's case this was Sadara Hill, where the Imperial Palace was located and from where the city derives its name. As you move further from the Hill, the amount of wealth, and even general safety, decreases. At the city limits I could see the telltale signs of sprawl and a red light district.
Looking out made me realize how caged I was in my freedom of movement.
I wasn't confined to the Palace grounds. I regularly ventured from the Palace. Why just the other day I walked the clean and orderly streets of the Imperial District below. Naturally I had a dozen praetorians surrounding whenever I did leave the Palace grounds, but other than that I was free to walk around the small confines of the District as I saw fit. I could walk by all the important and well maintained buildings and monuments, hearing the praise and welcomes of the common nobility as I walked. The furthest I went was to the doors of the Imperial Senate itself. The result of that excursion was being barred entry due to an ongoing session.
No. When I say I caged, I mean I have not walked Sadara. Beyond just the Imperial District into the City proper. The parts where ninety-five to ninety-nine percent of the population lived. All the bits that I can see from my window.
Obviously I had no intention of setting foot in certain places like the slums or red light district, but I wanted to at least tour the public forums. At a minimum, I at least wanted to see the colosseum up close.
But whenever I ask the Emperor to let me walk the streets, in the company of a dozen praetorians naturally, he denies me. He says the streets are no place for a young princess. That they are 'dirty' and 'dangerous'. Going as far as to say if I ever needed anything from the lower districts all I had to do was ask and it would be brought to me.
Though he did promise me that he would take me with him to the Colosseum when I was older.
On one hand, it makes sense that, in a hereditary monarchy, a leader would not want their six year old child walking around where she could not be protected to the best of his abilities. Far too tempting of a target for kidnapping.
That being said, it's still infuriating!
I satiated my curiosity as best I could. Usually, this means I would ask my maids or other servants about the city from time to time. What was it like? How affluent were the people? How did they live? Most of the time, they would smile and feed me some drivel that was obviously meant to comfort me and make me feel good than give me reasonable information.
There was no crime. Everyone ate just as good as I did. Everyone is happy.
Or worse, they'd immediately change topics to something else entirely.
How much are you paid? Oh look princess, a lovely flower!
How are the districts beyond the Imperial District? Princess, please tell us how your last magic lesson was!
Ugh. I always had to stop myself from calling them out on their false words.
Of course they do occasionally slip up. And the picture they paint is grim.
One girl, Julia, a young teenager and maid in training, let slip that after her father died fighting a barbarian horde to the east, she had to get herself a job to provide some monetary relief for her mother and younger siblings. Her mother, meanwhile, had to turn to 'alternative' means of proving money in the meantime.
Another girl, Reenes, a girl with wolf ears on her head in addition to her human ones, was an outright slave. She wasn't born into slavery, but sold herself into it to give her family some money during one particularly bad winter. I overheard her sobbing to another girl on staff that she found out her brother had been enslaved for failing to pay off the debt that Reenes had sold herself to help pay off. Worse, he'd been taken as a brothel slave in the Red Light District. Specifically, to her former master. Apparently the man had run foul of a royal official and had given him Reenes to satisfy a debt. The official in turn sold her to the Palace for a small sum. The way she wept and recalled her time in his 'service' painted a very grim picture indeed as to the expected fate of her brother.
Finally there was Octavia. An older maid, probably in her late-thirties or early forties if I had to guess. She was a freewoman, as in she bought her freedom after years of indentured servitude. Despite that, and the legal protections that indentured servants were guaranteed under the law, I saw very clear scars around her wrists, ankles, and neck. She hid them well enough, but every so often when she would reach up for something, the sleeve of her dress would pull back to show the raw scars.
And these are not just one off stories from the sound of things. It seemed like everyone I talked to had met with some misfortune in their lives. Ranging from slavery, indentured servitude, bandit raids, to oppressive tax collection.
Either the Palace hires their staff exclusively from the lowest dregs of society or, more likely, they hire from the average of society. If that was the case though, then there are some outrageous levels of wealth stratification and disenfranchisement going on!
Perhaps it was my modern sensibilities, but none of these things seemed particularly healthy for a state. All these little things put together painted a picture of a state teetering on a precipice.
Knowing my history, I can even imagine how this 'song and dance' will eventually end. Over taxation of the majority of the populous leading to local unrest and societal breakdown as an autocratic state's heavy handed response to said unrest only leads to further revolts and unrest. Repeat the pattern a dozen or so times on a macroscale and you end up at two possible outcomes. One, the state endures, if barely. Two, the state fractures to pieces. Or three, the state maintains stability at the cost of long societal cohesion. Basically, the state becomes a rotten structure that needs only one good kick to bring it all crashing down.
Maybe I was just overthinking the situation. My mind running through worst case scenarios rather than the more likely, and ultimately less dramatic, outcomes.
Could be my desire to just walk beyond the Imperial District was as a result of being told I could not.
But how to move about without arousing suspicion?
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"What are you doing with those old clothes, Juli?"
Julia smiled at her grandmother's question; both women having left the house a minute ago. The elderly lady had moved in with them after grandfather passed away a couple of years back; in his sleep thankfully. But she was getting old, her hair getting greyer every year.
After the string of robberies against homes of elderly folk, Julia's mother was not comfortable letting the elder live on her own anymore.
But her grandmother was not the idle sort. She worked as a seamstress in her youth, but her fingers were far too fragile and hands too shaky for that kind of labor anymore. So Julia's grandmother gave herself a new job, one more suited for her age. She watched over the young children of the brothel workers when they were away.
She didn't charge the workers anything. Said it wasn't right to ask for money from women who were already in dire straights.
"A girl at the palace has a little girl who just had a growth spurt and all her old clothes are too small." Julia held up the small bundle of children's clothes snugly held to her chest, "I offered some of my old clothes until she gets a chance to buy something new."
Her grandmother hummed at her response. "Whose kid is it? Was it the bunny-girl's?"
"It's a new girl, just hired a fortnight ago," Julia answered, doing her best to avoid the oncoming morning crowds milling about the main street. "And grandmother, no bunny-warrior works at the Palace."
"Really? Could have sworn you introduced me to that sweet girl some time ago. The one with the black hair.."
"Grandmother, that was Reenes; she's a wolfkin."
Her grandmother mulled over the response. "Her ears seemed a tad tall for a wolfkin."
"Reenes says it's from her father's side," Julia joked.
They walked a bit more together before going their separate ways.
When her grandmother was out of sight, Julia sighed in relief.
'A girl's child? Ughh what was I thinking?' Julia mentally kicked herself, clutching the collection of clothes closer to her chest as she passed through the servants entrance to the palace; a small alcove on the edge of the districts. 'Just hope grandmother doesn't ask more about the 'child;.'
Changing into her maid attire, Julia traversed the byzantine labyrinth of tunnels and walkways beneath the palace itself, doing her best not to trip over herself as she rushed through.
After a few minutes in torchlight, she ascended a stairwell into the palace proper; still clutching her collection of old clothes.
Despite some questioning looks from the other servants as she passed, she ran into no issues.
Across more hallways and up more flights of stairs she reached her destination.
With a deep breath she curtly knocked on the door. They stared at the collection of clothes in her arms.
A moment later, the door opened.
"Good morning Julia," Princess Tanya greeted her. The young girl quickly noticed the bundle of clothes in her arms. "Is that it?"
"This is the best I can do on such short notice, your Highness," the maid quickly pardoned herself as she passed the girl and dumped the clothes on the nearby couch.
The princess closed the door and rushed over. She carefully inspected the articles one by one. With a satisfied nod, she looked back to Julia.
"This is exactly what I was looking for. Thank you Julia," Princess Tanya thanked Julia as she took several articles and walked behind a dressing screen to try them on.
When Julia first heard the princess's plan to sneak out of the palace and blend in with the crowds, she wanted to ask her Highness which story book she had been reading. A princess sneaking out of their castle in peasants clothes to walk anonymously amongst the commoners? Sounded like something out of a children's tale.
It was actually kind of cute. Her Highness had always acted mature for her age. Seems that even she had that ever so common childish trait of impulsiveness.
Julia had tried to explain that there was no need for that; but her Highness shared with the maid her reasoning.
The princess was tired of living in the 'bubble' that was the Imperial District. She told Julia of how she wanted to simply walk the city streets. Not the streets of the nobility, but the streets walked by the common people. To get a sense of the state of Sadara beyond the gilded confines of Palace grounds.
She remembers her Highness taking Julia by the hand to the window of her room and pointing out to the city. From here, you could see all of Sadara. All districts and landmarks; from the gleaming marble of the temple to the gods, to the sprawling length of the Red Light District. The Princess told her that for her whole life, she has seen the city from her window, and now she wants to see it in person. To meet her people.
What she said next truly touched Julia.
"What kind of princess can I say I am if I've never even walked the streets of my home?"
When the nobles and lords walked around Sadara, it was usually either to leave or enter the Imperial District. The city beyond Sadara Hill and the halls of the Senate were irrelevant to them. They never 'walked' the streets; either they were in a carriage or sat upon a great elevated throne that was held up and moved by a number of slaves. Julia remembers seeing one heavy set lord on her way to the Palace once; the sneer he gave her as his slaves carried him away struck a chord in her. As if the mere concept of sharing the same air as the lower classes offended him.
Yet here was a princess, the progeny of two powerful houses, bearing the name of the Emperor's own house, wishing to do just that.
Her Highness has always been of the softer sort; with an innocent demeanor and caring nature that seemed at odds with everything a royal should be. This was a well known fact amongst the servants of the Palace. She asked the servants and slaves how their days were. How they were. Were they happy? Were there any problems they wished addressed?
She even remembered and referred to them by their names. When she needed Julia, she didn't say "girl" or "maid" as her brothers and sister had, she called her name. Julia. Or when she wanted Reenes, she didn't call for the "mutt" or the "slave girl", she asked for Reenes.
Where the staff would feign their 'joy' and smiles when they served the royals and their noble guests such expressions were genuine for her Highness.
While Julia did have some reservations about enabling her Highness to wander around the city unattended, she was at least confident enough to know that her Highness was smart enough to not wander too far.
If she were to be honest, Julia's biggest concern was not her Highness doing something foolish, but someone picking up her accent. Like all the nobility and lords of the Empire, the Princess had a distinct high born accent. The result of tutors teaching Tanya how to speak 'properly' no doubt.
The princess emerged from behind the changing screen.
Gone was the cute princess, what emerged looked like a young boy; with her Highnesses short hair and her dismissal of overtly feminine clothing. Her Highness had insisted on trousers and a shirt rather than a dress like Julia initially offered. The coat she wore hid any of the daintiness of her young body. The shoes were a tad big on her, but overall, the outfit worked well with her Highness. She didn't look like a plebian or a beggar, more like a store owner's daughter than a princess.
"How do I look?" Princess Tanya asked.
"Like a bo- beautiful girl," Julia caught herself. She knows no girl her age wants to be compared to a boy.
The princess nodded. "Excellent, then everything is set for tomorrow."
Ah yes, her Highness had no lessons tomorrow. A perfect chance to 'sneak out' as her Lady put it.
Tanya nodded and quickly undressed and returned to her proper clothes.
"Thank you again for helping me Julia," her Highness thanked her. "I don't think I could have done this without your help."
Julia bowed. "It's of no concern your Highness. I have no doubt that even if I was unable to assist you, another would have readily stepped forth to offer you aid." And Julia meant it, word had quickly spread amongst her Lady's most frequent servants of her Highness's plan. Julia was simply the first to make it to her room to offer her assistance. She was happy to say she beat out Reenes by a solid minute; the wolfkin rushed to the room to offer her own support as Julia was leaving.
Though she was still a bit apprehensive about her plan.
The Princess planned to use the servant's tunnels in the lower levels to bypass the district outright and emerge in the city proper. Her Highness told her that the guards stationed there were also aware of her planned 'excursion' and would let her back in when she returned later in the day.
The last piece of her plan was up to the maid staff themselves. They would have to give the impression that her Highness was still in the palace for the duration of her 'travels'. That meant deceiving her praetorians. A simple 'the princess is resting after a long day of studies' should suffice for that.
If all goes according to the plan, no one would be the wiser to her Highnesses excursion.
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AN: I have no doubt that nothing will go wrong!
I admit. It's been harder than I initially anticipated. Not in terms of mana or magical power, the Arch Mage assured me I had more than enough required. I had the raw power, but none of the finesse I was so accustomed to from my past life. The difficulty I was facing now is a direct result of what had once been the core of my powers; a computation orb.
Or more accurately, the lack of one.
In that life, computation orbs were incorrectly believed to be foci for mages to harness their power and project it out in a useful way by the general public. Like a wand or a staff that bearded, pointy hat wearing, wizards used in fantasy stories. That without these orbs, a mage could not use their power. This was incorrect. While orbs are a foci of a sort, technically anything capable of holding and releasing magic is a foci. From a simple handled knife to a rifle.
No. The primary use of an orb was not to channel magic but to, as the name implies, computate it. A mage 'pushes' their mana into the orb in a specific way and the orb 'computate' it into a spell. It's more complicated than that of course. A dozen or more factors and details are involved. Like the intensity of the mana pushed in can greatly alter the effects of a spell. Or even if a mage were to push their mana into two different orbs the exact same way the orbs may have been designed to read said mana as completely separate spells.
Magic without an orb is difficult at the best of times. Technically, any spell a mage can do with an orb can also be done without one. The catch is that the mage must then calculate all the little variables that makes the spell work in their head. In that sense, the mage's mind was the first 'computation orb'. Given enough time, the brain can compute and create just about any type of spell a mage would need.
And that's the problem. Time.
On the battlefield, even a split second's delay can be the difference between life and death.
The orb's greatest achievement was its library of 'pre-installed' spells. A machine may not be as creative as the human mind, unable to account for every single variable, but it can store a hundred generalized solutions to a hundred general problems.
It's akin to a cheat book to magic.
But for me, in my current situation, it felt more like a crutch that was taken from me as I descended a flight of stairs.
"Careful, your Highness," the Arch Mage cautioned. "The flames must not breath too much air, lest they grow beyond your control."
I dutifully nodded as I held the open flame between my two hands.
Say what you will about the technology level of this land, it's mages were talented enough to perform feats of magic without the aid of modern computation technology. I'm certain that this was because of the heavy foundation of theory they placed on their mages. And the pace of it was beyond intense. Even for me, with my developed mind and college education, I found it difficult to keep up with some of the theory at points.
My best guess for why the magical education is so intense is that it probably has to do with what age I am. Young children can absorb new concepts like sponges to water. I'm certain that at some point, the mages here realized this and decided to cram as much foundational knowledge and theory into this short developmental window as they could to produce superior mages. I honestly do not want to imagine the failure rate.
But the trade off is undeniable. Mages like Fandrel theoretically have far more flexibility and magical capability than any mage from Germania would have; as they would not be limited by the set number of spells on any given computation orb.
Of course, quantity is its own quality. For every one mage produced in the Sadaran Empire, the Germanian Empire could churn out a thousand. At that point, even if each Sadaran mage was worth hundreds of Germanian mages, and not taking into account modern firearms, sheer numbers would eventually win the day.
But back to the matter at hand.
Following months of theory work, I was instructed in a series of exercises to demonstrate my understanding of said theory. As with all the exercises, they appear simple, but hide a clever twist.
My current one is no exception. I must take a flame from one brazier and walk it to another on the opposite side of the room. A simple 'A' to 'B' path with no obstructions of any kind.
The catch?
Not only was it timed, a little hourglass of sand in the corner next to the Arch Mage detailed my time limit. But the flames were also required to be carried by hand. No by a torch or another instrument.
By Hand.
It was easy to conjure fire; just ignite the air.
It was a completely different thing to keep a fire going, between my bare hands, and make sure it does not go out or get too large as I walk across a room. The sensation is like holding a small ball coated in fine sheen of oil. Too little or too much pressure will cause the ball to slip from my hands.
Or in this case: the fire will either fizzle out as not enough air is being fed into it to the flames to keep it going, or too much air is being fed and fire will flare up.
I've found the 'walk' to be the easiest part of the exercise. The actual difficulty came from 'picking up' the open flame in the first place. I had to trap an open flame between my hands and keep it burning.
Honestly, I was of two minds about this exercise. On one hand, it was effective at teaching control. Simply not burning yourself was enough incentive to keep a student from making the same mistake multiple times. On the other, it seemed a tad barbaric to use the possibility of being burned to 'correct' failure. But to be fair, given the societal level I was living in a simple burn that could be healed was hardly the worst form of punishment for failure.
After a minute of slow, deliberate, steps, I made it to the other side and dropped the fire in the unlit brazier. I took a deep breath as I felt my head ache from the exercise. The exercise was more mentally exhausting than physical.
"Good your Highness," the mage complimented my work. I sensed the flames from the brazier behind me get snuffed out in a gust of hot air. Turning around, I found Fandrel standing there with his hand extended. A smaller hour glass in his hand than the previous one he used.
"Now let us see if you can perform the exercise again in a shorter time frame."
I'm pretty sure that even in my last life, this form of training would have been seen as a bit much to do without a computation orb. If Francois or Albion had instructors like Fandrel for their aerial mages, my own mages would have faced far stiffer resistance than we did.
Sighing, I prepared myself once again.
-----
-----
"I am nearing the end of what I can teach her, your Majesty."
Molt frowned at the Arch Mage's words. For the past year, the Arch Mage had instructed his daughter on the higher mysteries of magic. By all accounts, the progress she was making was exceptional. Not only was she the first Augustus to be a mage, it would seem as if she was to also be a powerful one at that.
And every so often, Molt would summon the Mage to his personal study to discuss in detail Tanya's progress.
"I was under the impression that I had requested the Academy to send one of their greatest instructors to facilitate my daughter's education on magical matters. It has been but a single year." He let the statement sink in for a moment, leaning back into his chair. "You mean to tell me that an Arch Mage is incapable of teaching after little more than a year's time?"
If Fandel was intimidated by the Emperor, he hid it well. The man was ancient, perhaps twice as old as Molt. He came across as the type of man who achieved their status from work rather than by nepotism; a rare breed of man in the Capital.
"Not in the sense you are thinking, Your Majesty," he explained, his expression betrayed no emotion. "Specifically, I am not incapable of teaching her more. But I am running out of material to teach her that I have available to me at the moment."
"Explain," Molt gestured for the man to elaborate.
"Simply put, your Majesty, I arrived here with the expectation of instructing a young girl in the higher mysteries of magic. I did not, however, expect to be instructing an avatar of the Twins themselves."
Molt shifted some parchment around his desk, picking up a recent report the mage had written about his daughter's progress.
"I remember reading you mention something of the sort. Ah here, you mention my daughter as the 'living embodiment of Ral and Elange themselves'."
The mage nodded, "and I wholly stand by my words."
"I'll be frank with you Arch Mage," the Emperor put the page back with the pile. "I had assumed you were speaking in hyperbole when you made that comment."
"I have been teaching for longer than you have sat upon your throne, your Majesty," the elderly mage began. "I have seen the entire spectrum of minds that youths have to offer. I have seen both the peaks and the valleys. The geniuses and the idiots. And know that I swear on all the Gods above that I have never seen a child as unique as her Highness. She is, by far, the most gifted child I have ever taught."
"And yet," the Emperor cut in. "you are not capable of teaching her any more."
"It is a matter of materials and instruments, your Majesty; not of desire or capabilities" Fandrel pushed back. "I brought with me enough educational material to last me five years; four if she was even a fraction as gifted as you implied to the Academy."
"But you only lasted a year," Molt finished the mage's statement; pointedly ignoring the offhand remark towards his words.
"No, I lasted less than a year," the mage corrected. "Nine months to be precise. Since then, I have been having her Highness perform exercises that older students would need at least half a year to progress through properly. She mastered them in half that time."
"Then what is it you are asking for Arch Mage?" the Emperor was growing tired of the constant back and forth. "She is brilliant, but you cannot teach her anymore. Is that what you are saying?"
"I want to bring her to Rondel," the Mage brusquely stated. "With the resources and instruction of the Academy, I have no doubt that your daughter will quickly ascend the ranks of the Academy. If she advances and comprehends the material at the Academy with the same speed and vigor as she did here, I believe that she will easily end up becoming the youngest Master Mage in the history of-"
"No", Molt put a stop to the man's speech.
"N-No?"
"No," the Emperor repeated. It would be the height of foolishness to allow his youngest child so far from the capital. Especially to a city he had little direct influence over. And he refused to let his child be unknowingly influenced by an outside actor.
It was a Free City in the Empire; with its own degree of self governance, autonomy, and militia forces. Not counting the collection of mages and sorcerers within its walls. He doubted that the mages of Rondel would accept a garrison of legionaries or a contingent of praetorians within their walls; their pride would demand they resist.
However, the solution to this issue of material and equipment is simple to Molt.
"Anything that is needed to further my daughter's education will be brought here. Paid for by the royal treasury."
"Your Majesty, would it not be simpler to allow her Highness to attend the Academy? If it's publicity you are worried about, an arrangement can be made to have her attend under an alias to-"
"Good day, Arch Mage. I look forward to reading and hearing more of my daughter's progress," Molt ended the conversation.
With a quick gesture, the praetorians escorted the man out of his study.
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The one thing no one seemingly ever talks about in the fairytales of princess and kingdoms is the gilded cage of the royals and nobles live in.
It dawned on me that I had never actually walked in Sadara proper.
Frowning, I shut the book I was reading on magical channeling that Fandrel recently assigned me and walked over to my bedroom's window. Thanks to the elevation of the Palace in relation to the city, my line of sight extended across the entire city.
Like any medieval city, wealth and power was concentrated at the center of the city. In Sadara's case this was Sadara Hill, where the Imperial Palace was located and from where the city derives its name. As you move further from the Hill, the amount of wealth, and even general safety, decreases. At the city limits I could see the telltale signs of sprawl and a red light district.
Looking out made me realize how caged I was in my freedom of movement.
I wasn't confined to the Palace grounds. I regularly ventured from the Palace. Why just the other day I walked the clean and orderly streets of the Imperial District below. Naturally I had a dozen praetorians surrounding whenever I did leave the Palace grounds, but other than that I was free to walk around the small confines of the District as I saw fit. I could walk by all the important and well maintained buildings and monuments, hearing the praise and welcomes of the common nobility as I walked. The furthest I went was to the doors of the Imperial Senate itself. The result of that excursion was being barred entry due to an ongoing session.
No. When I say I caged, I mean I have not walked Sadara. Beyond just the Imperial District into the City proper. The parts where ninety-five to ninety-nine percent of the population lived. All the bits that I can see from my window.
Obviously I had no intention of setting foot in certain places like the slums or red light district, but I wanted to at least tour the public forums. At a minimum, I at least wanted to see the colosseum up close.
But whenever I ask the Emperor to let me walk the streets, in the company of a dozen praetorians naturally, he denies me. He says the streets are no place for a young princess. That they are 'dirty' and 'dangerous'. Going as far as to say if I ever needed anything from the lower districts all I had to do was ask and it would be brought to me.
Though he did promise me that he would take me with him to the Colosseum when I was older.
On one hand, it makes sense that, in a hereditary monarchy, a leader would not want their six year old child walking around where she could not be protected to the best of his abilities. Far too tempting of a target for kidnapping.
That being said, it's still infuriating!
I satiated my curiosity as best I could. Usually, this means I would ask my maids or other servants about the city from time to time. What was it like? How affluent were the people? How did they live? Most of the time, they would smile and feed me some drivel that was obviously meant to comfort me and make me feel good than give me reasonable information.
There was no crime. Everyone ate just as good as I did. Everyone is happy.
Or worse, they'd immediately change topics to something else entirely.
How much are you paid? Oh look princess, a lovely flower!
How are the districts beyond the Imperial District? Princess, please tell us how your last magic lesson was!
Ugh. I always had to stop myself from calling them out on their false words.
Of course they do occasionally slip up. And the picture they paint is grim.
One girl, Julia, a young teenager and maid in training, let slip that after her father died fighting a barbarian horde to the east, she had to get herself a job to provide some monetary relief for her mother and younger siblings. Her mother, meanwhile, had to turn to 'alternative' means of proving money in the meantime.
Another girl, Reenes, a girl with wolf ears on her head in addition to her human ones, was an outright slave. She wasn't born into slavery, but sold herself into it to give her family some money during one particularly bad winter. I overheard her sobbing to another girl on staff that she found out her brother had been enslaved for failing to pay off the debt that Reenes had sold herself to help pay off. Worse, he'd been taken as a brothel slave in the Red Light District. Specifically, to her former master. Apparently the man had run foul of a royal official and had given him Reenes to satisfy a debt. The official in turn sold her to the Palace for a small sum. The way she wept and recalled her time in his 'service' painted a very grim picture indeed as to the expected fate of her brother.
Finally there was Octavia. An older maid, probably in her late-thirties or early forties if I had to guess. She was a freewoman, as in she bought her freedom after years of indentured servitude. Despite that, and the legal protections that indentured servants were guaranteed under the law, I saw very clear scars around her wrists, ankles, and neck. She hid them well enough, but every so often when she would reach up for something, the sleeve of her dress would pull back to show the raw scars.
And these are not just one off stories from the sound of things. It seemed like everyone I talked to had met with some misfortune in their lives. Ranging from slavery, indentured servitude, bandit raids, to oppressive tax collection.
Either the Palace hires their staff exclusively from the lowest dregs of society or, more likely, they hire from the average of society. If that was the case though, then there are some outrageous levels of wealth stratification and disenfranchisement going on!
Perhaps it was my modern sensibilities, but none of these things seemed particularly healthy for a state. All these little things put together painted a picture of a state teetering on a precipice.
Knowing my history, I can even imagine how this 'song and dance' will eventually end. Over taxation of the majority of the populous leading to local unrest and societal breakdown as an autocratic state's heavy handed response to said unrest only leads to further revolts and unrest. Repeat the pattern a dozen or so times on a macroscale and you end up at two possible outcomes. One, the state endures, if barely. Two, the state fractures to pieces. Or three, the state maintains stability at the cost of long societal cohesion. Basically, the state becomes a rotten structure that needs only one good kick to bring it all crashing down.
Maybe I was just overthinking the situation. My mind running through worst case scenarios rather than the more likely, and ultimately less dramatic, outcomes.
Could be my desire to just walk beyond the Imperial District was as a result of being told I could not.
But how to move about without arousing suspicion?
------------
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"What are you doing with those old clothes, Juli?"
Julia smiled at her grandmother's question; both women having left the house a minute ago. The elderly lady had moved in with them after grandfather passed away a couple of years back; in his sleep thankfully. But she was getting old, her hair getting greyer every year.
After the string of robberies against homes of elderly folk, Julia's mother was not comfortable letting the elder live on her own anymore.
But her grandmother was not the idle sort. She worked as a seamstress in her youth, but her fingers were far too fragile and hands too shaky for that kind of labor anymore. So Julia's grandmother gave herself a new job, one more suited for her age. She watched over the young children of the brothel workers when they were away.
She didn't charge the workers anything. Said it wasn't right to ask for money from women who were already in dire straights.
"A girl at the palace has a little girl who just had a growth spurt and all her old clothes are too small." Julia held up the small bundle of children's clothes snugly held to her chest, "I offered some of my old clothes until she gets a chance to buy something new."
Her grandmother hummed at her response. "Whose kid is it? Was it the bunny-girl's?"
"It's a new girl, just hired a fortnight ago," Julia answered, doing her best to avoid the oncoming morning crowds milling about the main street. "And grandmother, no bunny-warrior works at the Palace."
"Really? Could have sworn you introduced me to that sweet girl some time ago. The one with the black hair.."
"Grandmother, that was Reenes; she's a wolfkin."
Her grandmother mulled over the response. "Her ears seemed a tad tall for a wolfkin."
"Reenes says it's from her father's side," Julia joked.
They walked a bit more together before going their separate ways.
When her grandmother was out of sight, Julia sighed in relief.
'A girl's child? Ughh what was I thinking?' Julia mentally kicked herself, clutching the collection of clothes closer to her chest as she passed through the servants entrance to the palace; a small alcove on the edge of the districts. 'Just hope grandmother doesn't ask more about the 'child;.'
Changing into her maid attire, Julia traversed the byzantine labyrinth of tunnels and walkways beneath the palace itself, doing her best not to trip over herself as she rushed through.
After a few minutes in torchlight, she ascended a stairwell into the palace proper; still clutching her collection of old clothes.
Despite some questioning looks from the other servants as she passed, she ran into no issues.
Across more hallways and up more flights of stairs she reached her destination.
With a deep breath she curtly knocked on the door. They stared at the collection of clothes in her arms.
A moment later, the door opened.
"Good morning Julia," Princess Tanya greeted her. The young girl quickly noticed the bundle of clothes in her arms. "Is that it?"
"This is the best I can do on such short notice, your Highness," the maid quickly pardoned herself as she passed the girl and dumped the clothes on the nearby couch.
The princess closed the door and rushed over. She carefully inspected the articles one by one. With a satisfied nod, she looked back to Julia.
"This is exactly what I was looking for. Thank you Julia," Princess Tanya thanked Julia as she took several articles and walked behind a dressing screen to try them on.
When Julia first heard the princess's plan to sneak out of the palace and blend in with the crowds, she wanted to ask her Highness which story book she had been reading. A princess sneaking out of their castle in peasants clothes to walk anonymously amongst the commoners? Sounded like something out of a children's tale.
It was actually kind of cute. Her Highness had always acted mature for her age. Seems that even she had that ever so common childish trait of impulsiveness.
Julia had tried to explain that there was no need for that; but her Highness shared with the maid her reasoning.
The princess was tired of living in the 'bubble' that was the Imperial District. She told Julia of how she wanted to simply walk the city streets. Not the streets of the nobility, but the streets walked by the common people. To get a sense of the state of Sadara beyond the gilded confines of Palace grounds.
She remembers her Highness taking Julia by the hand to the window of her room and pointing out to the city. From here, you could see all of Sadara. All districts and landmarks; from the gleaming marble of the temple to the gods, to the sprawling length of the Red Light District. The Princess told her that for her whole life, she has seen the city from her window, and now she wants to see it in person. To meet her people.
What she said next truly touched Julia.
"What kind of princess can I say I am if I've never even walked the streets of my home?"
When the nobles and lords walked around Sadara, it was usually either to leave or enter the Imperial District. The city beyond Sadara Hill and the halls of the Senate were irrelevant to them. They never 'walked' the streets; either they were in a carriage or sat upon a great elevated throne that was held up and moved by a number of slaves. Julia remembers seeing one heavy set lord on her way to the Palace once; the sneer he gave her as his slaves carried him away struck a chord in her. As if the mere concept of sharing the same air as the lower classes offended him.
Yet here was a princess, the progeny of two powerful houses, bearing the name of the Emperor's own house, wishing to do just that.
Her Highness has always been of the softer sort; with an innocent demeanor and caring nature that seemed at odds with everything a royal should be. This was a well known fact amongst the servants of the Palace. She asked the servants and slaves how their days were. How they were. Were they happy? Were there any problems they wished addressed?
She even remembered and referred to them by their names. When she needed Julia, she didn't say "girl" or "maid" as her brothers and sister had, she called her name. Julia. Or when she wanted Reenes, she didn't call for the "mutt" or the "slave girl", she asked for Reenes.
Where the staff would feign their 'joy' and smiles when they served the royals and their noble guests such expressions were genuine for her Highness.
While Julia did have some reservations about enabling her Highness to wander around the city unattended, she was at least confident enough to know that her Highness was smart enough to not wander too far.
If she were to be honest, Julia's biggest concern was not her Highness doing something foolish, but someone picking up her accent. Like all the nobility and lords of the Empire, the Princess had a distinct high born accent. The result of tutors teaching Tanya how to speak 'properly' no doubt.
The princess emerged from behind the changing screen.
Gone was the cute princess, what emerged looked like a young boy; with her Highnesses short hair and her dismissal of overtly feminine clothing. Her Highness had insisted on trousers and a shirt rather than a dress like Julia initially offered. The coat she wore hid any of the daintiness of her young body. The shoes were a tad big on her, but overall, the outfit worked well with her Highness. She didn't look like a plebian or a beggar, more like a store owner's daughter than a princess.
"How do I look?" Princess Tanya asked.
"Like a bo- beautiful girl," Julia caught herself. She knows no girl her age wants to be compared to a boy.
The princess nodded. "Excellent, then everything is set for tomorrow."
Ah yes, her Highness had no lessons tomorrow. A perfect chance to 'sneak out' as her Lady put it.
Tanya nodded and quickly undressed and returned to her proper clothes.
"Thank you again for helping me Julia," her Highness thanked her. "I don't think I could have done this without your help."
Julia bowed. "It's of no concern your Highness. I have no doubt that even if I was unable to assist you, another would have readily stepped forth to offer you aid." And Julia meant it, word had quickly spread amongst her Lady's most frequent servants of her Highness's plan. Julia was simply the first to make it to her room to offer her assistance. She was happy to say she beat out Reenes by a solid minute; the wolfkin rushed to the room to offer her own support as Julia was leaving.
Though she was still a bit apprehensive about her plan.
The Princess planned to use the servant's tunnels in the lower levels to bypass the district outright and emerge in the city proper. Her Highness told her that the guards stationed there were also aware of her planned 'excursion' and would let her back in when she returned later in the day.
The last piece of her plan was up to the maid staff themselves. They would have to give the impression that her Highness was still in the palace for the duration of her 'travels'. That meant deceiving her praetorians. A simple 'the princess is resting after a long day of studies' should suffice for that.
If all goes according to the plan, no one would be the wiser to her Highnesses excursion.
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AN: I have no doubt that nothing will go wrong!
A Young Princess - III
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
When I first learned of this servant's entrance, I had to bite my lip to keep myself from snidely remarking the first thing that came to my mind.
Specifically, whose bright idea was it to put a tunnel under the city's defenses and right into the heart of the center of power?
Why have walls at all then if you have a straight path into your government buildings?
The issue was not so much the fact there was a tunnel, but that knowledge of it was so widely known!
The Reichstag in Brun had a similar addition to allow the ministers and government officials to evacuate the building in times of emergency. The difference is that in Germania's case, the passages entrances and exits were SECRET! Only officials with the highest clearance, and soldiers tasked with guarding them, knew exactly where the tunnels opened into the city proper.
But here? There is a fucking plaque on the side of a building in the neighboring district that read "Jade Palace Servants Entrance"! Why not just paint giant arrows from the city gates to this place with a banner overhead greeting any would be assassins!
But now that I had some time to think it over and having mulled it over in my head a bit, I realize that it was not as simple as my knee jerk reaction thought it was.
The servants' tunnel was less a 'tunnel' and more a 'maze'. There were very few points of note or directions along the length of it. Dead ends were common if you were not careful or not familiar with the layout. The paths themselves were long and winding. They almost never stayed even leveled, and almost always at a slight elevation. And at its widest extent, there was enough room for two people to walk side by side; even then their shoulders would scrape up against the smooth stone walls.
Now I can see that, given the technological limits of this world, this is far less the idiotic back door I thought it was.
Even without my prior life's military education, I can deduce multiple ways to make a trek up these steps a nightmare for any attacking force.
Without knowing if caving in the tunnel would compromise the Palace's foundations in some way, the simplest thing to do would be to pour oil or some type of lubricant down the steps. Given the upward nature of the trek, the smooth stones used in its construction, and the ever so slight angle the steps were at, any ascent up the would not be as simple as it might seem. It would be almost comical to watch invading soldiers try and fail to walk up the steps only to slip and slide crashing down to the bottom; taking any compatriots behind them down for the trip.
Of course, the lubricants used could also be flammable in nature for those instances where the attackers do manage to make progress. One torch later, and the defenders will not have to worry about invaders anymore.
Fire has always been one of those aspects of nature that man, no matter how advanced he gets, it will inspire fear in the masses. The sight of the charred fallen that any attacker must step over or crush beneath their feet should be enough to weaken the morale of any attacker.
But that thinking was for another time.
For now, I awkwardly shifted the clothes I was wearing, being careful to not dislodge the knife I have snuggly in my pockets.
While more comfortable to move around in than the dresses and other feminine wear that I was garbed in daily, that comfort of movement came at the cost of the fabric quality. Perhaps I was just growing soft, or perhaps I have gotten a bit too use to opulent luxury, but the fabric on these clothes felt off. Like a wire brush's fibers rubbing against my skin. It didn't hurt, but it was annoying; since I felt the sensation after ever step I took.
Maybe I have grown soft.
Or maybe I am just overthinking it. After all, the methods used to make these borrowed clothes, and the clothes I was given at the orphanage in my last life, are separated by over a millennium.
I should probably ask for some custom clothes made for me. Something I can move around in easily, but made with better fabrics.
Eh, I'll worry about that later.
For now, the city!
And I was impressed and disappointed in equal measures.
On one hand, it was a fantastical city with fantastical elements. In my short walked I have seen no less than two different horse-like creatures being used to pull wagons. One looked like a horse sized mammoth, while the other was some oversized crocodile thing with six legs.
Additionally, I have seen no less than a dozen different humanoid races walking alongside regular humans on my trek so far. Goat people with little subby horns on their foreheads and reversed jointed hoofed legs. Avian looking bird-people with feathers along their arms and claws for fingers. A man with a horn long the ridge of his nose. Lizard people, with green scales and sharp teeth. Even a Tolkien esque dwarf hammering away at an anvil.
Then again, that last one could have just been a man afflicted with dwarfism….
The streets were also cleaner than I expected. Thought that could have been some bias on my part; I had assumed the city beyond the affluent areas would just be filled with filth and grime. Workers constantly swept back and forth along the main avenues and roads in a seemingly never-ending war to keep them clean. But the further I got from the center of power, the less urgent this war seemed to be; with large piles of trash sequestered in alleyways waiting to be picked up.
I also found the amount of graffiti grew steadily the further I walked.
As did the explicitness of both the art and words written to accompany them.
All this cleaning did nothing for the stench that hung in the air. My nose scrunched up at the first whiff of it. I even resigned myself to breathing through my mouth due to the foulness of the air. One of the benefits of living in a palace upon a hill I suppose is being free of this stench.
But to be fair, with all these people milling about in the hot sun, in the relatively confined spaces of a city, with all the beasts of burden that pulled carts and the waste they left, it was a wonder it didn't smell worse.
I could only imagine the stench if Saderan culture lacked a practice of regular bathing.
----
----
Another hour later, and I had to plop myself down to rest on a small stairwell.
I was nearing the end of my body's strength. My muscles were sore, and I was drenched in sweat. And still, I have yet to reach the Colosseum, the whole point of this excursion. Partially my fault. I had refused to go too far off the main roads in fear of becoming lost in the maze-like side streets and alleyways. No matter how curious I was, there was no point in exploring if I lost my way.
Despite myself, I knew I would have to turn around in short order. The sun was now high, and the summer heat was making any further trek unbearable to my unaccustomed frame.
The crier held out his hand expectantly to a boy standing below his podium; said servant took the tablet and handed him another to read.
"A slave woman from the household of the Honorable Senator Marcus Pal Albus, has gone missing," his voice boomed over the crowds. With every gesture he made, to emphasize his words, the fatty folds on his face and arms jiggled. Even the fat on his throat moved about as he spoke. "Stolen or absconded. She is a demi-human of elven descent, with hair the color of spun gold, and eyes like sapphires. A generous reward to the citizen, or citizens, who returns her to her lawful owner."
As with the first tablet, he dropped his current one and reached for the next placard held out for him. His eyes scanned over the words before continuing.
"In honor of Grand-Prince Aeteor's arrival to the Capitol, the far flung Principality, and vassal state of the Empire, has arranged for a banquet to be held in the grand forum one week from today. Festivities begin at noon. All citizens are encouraged, if able, to attend. Freemen, actors, and unwashed tradesmen are not welcome! No disorder will be tolerated!"
He paused for effect, and to take a deep breath, before moving onto the next topic.
"News from the northern provinces! The barbarian horde of Heathcliff Blood-Axe has sacked the Temple to the water Goddess Azuras! Nothing sacred nor holy was spared their vandalism. The barbarians smashed the icons and images of the Goddess, defiled the holy women in the most debase of manners before taking them to their long ships, and raised an altar to their dark God upon the smoldering ruins as they departed. In response to this barbarism, Governor Allus Az Pullo has raised his legions and marches to confront the northern horde along the banks of the Frozen Sea! All Citizens are urged to make offerings to the Gods for a swift victory against the barbaric horde!"
I heard about that the other day when I was walking to my magic lessons. Lots of murmurings at court after that was announced. Again, this is a moment where the upper class got a much more detailed account of the whole ordeal about the governor's response and how basically his whole career was riding on him pushing back the inclusion.
The crier picked up the last tablet in the hands of his servant.
"And finally, this week's bread to the citizens of the capitol is provided for by the Cisalpine Guild of Millers. The Guild of Millers uses only the finest grain in their bread. True Saderan bread, for true Saderans."
Apparently, product placement and advertising were concepts that transcended time and space.
Just as I was standing up to continue my little trek, someone called out to me.
"You!"
To my left I saw a heavy-set man, who I assume to be a merchant, leering at me.
"Fuck off boy," he demanded.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't need your kind scaring away customers," he elaborated. "So fuck off."
"My 'kind'," my response spat forth before I realized what I was saying.
"Yeah, the kind who don't buy nothing, but run off with something when I'm busy," the man against gestured away from his stall.
But then I saw them.
Two cloaked figures approached us; obviously drawn by the man's constant yelling. They blended into the crowds, but my experiences from the War gave me a healthy sense self preservation and awareness of my surroundings; even Being X couldn't take those away. I am sure I would have never picked them up otherwise.
The figures almost glided around the crowd, no pushing or shoving, as they approached. Almost silent. Swords clearly at their sides. Some kind of secret police?
"Are you ignoring me you little shit!" I was thrown to the ground by a strong shove from the man.
I got back to my feet relatively quickly, Mummerings in the crowd grew at the sight. This was escalating too quickly.
And the figures were just about-
"There you are grandson."
A hand landed on my shoulder.
Turning around, I saw an older looking man in loose fitting robes. His face was spotted with age and balding. Winkles creased across his weathered skin.
I did not need to deal with a daughtering old man in addition to all this nonsense!
"This one's yours?" the merchant cocked a brow and looked at the two of us.
"My daughter's actually," the old man explained. "But you know how boys get, take your eye off them for a second and then they're off on their own little adventure."
"I-"
"And I told you not to run off like that," he cut me off before I could even protest. When he looked down to me, I noticed that his smile, while grandfatherly, had an edge to it; as did his voice. While he seemed cordial and affectionate, there was something off. His grip tightened for a split second as he pulled me close.
"But-"
"Now, now, none of that," he bent down to my level. When our eyes met, I saw a sharpness in them. Not the sort of eyes a man who is losing his mind would have. "I think it's about time we left."
Then it hit me. This is not some doddering old man who had mistaken me for his grandson. He knew exactly what he was doing.
But what was he doing? Getting a kid out of danger by pretending to be their guardian? Or was this some kidnaping scheme in disguise?
So what to do? Deny I knew this man and throw myself at the mercy of the merchant and the cloaked pair of secret police that stood ready to scoop me up, or do I take the out that I was given; without the guarantee that it was genuine.
My hand wandered to the small knife strapped to my leg, just beneath my trousers. I subconsciously wanted to just feel that it was still there. That I had some means of defending myself in the worst-case scenario.
"I'm sorry grandfather," I replied to the man, doing my best to sound as 'guilty' as possible. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Fortune favors the bold. An appropriate sentiment to hold in a fantasy Rome.
"Oh there's no trouble," he played along. "You just need to remember that I'm no longer the young man I once was."
Before the merchant could interrupt my 'apology' the elder's wrinkled hand , rough with callouses, clasped mine
"Come along now your mother is no doubt worried sick about you," he pulled me away from the stall, down the road.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the two cloaked men move in and grab the merchant; dragging him off into an alleyway. I did not hear any screams or loud noises as I was led around the corner so I could only guess what was happening to him. Given my previous experience in dealing with the Red's NKVD, I could hazard a guess that the man will soon be wishing he was given just a beating.
After a few minutes of walking, towards the Imperial Quarter going by the landmarks, the man abruptly let go of my hand.
Looking over, I saw a completely different man then the one who 'saved' me. His hunched over form straighten up, and the small limp he had vanished. And his sharp eyes borrowed into me.
'So, he was genuine then. I suppose appropriate thanks are in order.'
"Thank you I-"
"What were you doing there girl?" the man interrupted me. Gone was a soft, grandfatherly tone he had shown to the merchant. He was still soft spoken, but his tone had an edge to it now that was not there a minutes ago.
"I'm sorry?" My mind was racing at all the possibilities of what he was saying.
"While I may not be a noble myself," he continued. "I do know that most noble women don't dare leave the Imperial Quarter unless they are being carried in a lint and surrounded by a dozen retainers and attendants. Less leave their homes unattended. Fewer still would in the guise of a commoner. And do I even need to mention your age?"
"I'm sorry sir, I don't understand what your talking about," I played dumb, trying to buy time to formulate a proper response.
He sighed. "You might be able to conceal your accent for most of the populace, but I have worked long enough with the nobility to understand the lilts in their tones; no matter how well suppressed it might be. So please do me the decency of dispensing with the veneer of ignorance."
"I could just be a servant who was taught to speak like this," I replied I in a circumspect manner, no longer trying to keep my accent under wraps. I remembered an offhand comment made by Julia once. "Nobles do like it when their servants talk properly."
"That they do," he conceded. "But what they like even more, is when their servants are silent and demure. And you," his eyes gave me a once over, "are seemingly neither."
Damnit.
Then again, he has not tried anything. Yet I reminded myself. And the way we were walking, it was brining us closer and closer to the more 'safe' areas of the city. Every step made it seem less and less likely this was some overly elaborate kidnaping job. Especially since he sniffed out that I was a noble and, therefore, a very lucrative ransom. What would a child of the Emperor go for?
So, I decided to put all my cards on the table.
"So it was just my voice and body language then?"
"Not exactly," he scratched his chin. "Had this been either the early morning or evening, I could easily have written you off as a servant that was off duty. But that cageyness in your eyes, the constant scanning of the environment for threats, a tension in your frame, it all gave me the impression that you felt as if you did not belong. Or more accurately, you were afraid of being found out."
Shit. That is actually pretty accurate to how I felt in that situation.
"And if I wasn't a noble," I dropped the pretense of my situation being otherwise. "You would have just left me to those people? The men in cloaks or the merchant I mean."
"No," shaking his head. "I still, would have helped you. Good deeds and all that."
"So simple altruism then?"
"Good things occur to those who do good deeds," he shrugged at my question. "At least that's what some of the priests say. Maybe there is a grain of truth in their words. Who can say?"
"That's not an answer," I countered.
"And yet that is all I shall say on the matter. You were in need, I helped. That is all there is to it. Though I must ask, what are you doing out on the streets like this?" He inquired, gesturing to Julia's clothes. "I doubt your running for your life given you seem to be content returning to your gilded life," noting the closing distance to the walls of the Imperial Quarter. "So, what is it? Curious to see how the plebeians live? Or are you trying to see the boy you are swooning over, whose low station makes your love forbidden?"
I held back a gaging sound on the last point, even as he chuckled at his own words.
"A different reason all together," I quickly dismissed the notion of being in 'forbidden love'. "All I wanted to do was see the Colosseum."
"So, a wanderlust for adventure?"
"Not adventure, just curious. I it out my window every day and thought to myself 'why not see it in person'."
"And," he urged me to continue.
"And I didn't," I admitted. "Instead, I got accosted by a merchant for simply sitting near his stall and was saved by a very curious old man who asks a far too many questions."
My barb made him smile, "fair enough. Though if I may be so bold, the next time you decide to galivant across the city, instead of playing a mummer's game as a pauper why don't we walk to the Colosseum together? I can always do with a good walk."
"You're certainly bold," I commented. "Even ignoring the implications of an older man wishing to spend time alone with a young girl, we don't even know each other's names."
"I'm insulted by the insinuation," he didn't sound insulted. "In any case, I am quite incapable of doing what you are presuming for two reasons."
"Which are?"
"Firstly, I am a record keeper of some renown," he said proudly. "Why would I risk everything by forcing myself upon a noble, when I can purchase as many bed warmers as I want?"
The way he said that sent a small shiver down my spine.
"And secondly," he carried on. "The point is moot, given I was cut decades ago."
"Cut," I repeated. "As in castrated?"
"Pillar and stones," he added as if commenting on the weather and not body mutilation.
"Why?"
"Now who is asking far too many questions," he chuckled.
I bit the inside of my cheek, realizing he was right. Here I was commenting on his nosiness while also probing deep into his life.
"You are right about one thing," the older man noted. "We have yet to be properly introduced."
Stopping in the middle of the street, arms in the sleeves of his robes, he gave me a short bow.
"I am Gaius Rax, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady…."
"Tana," I replied with the first thing that came to me and gave him a small bow of my own. No matter how enjoyable this conversation was, I was definitely not going to use my real name.
"Lady Tana…."
"Just Tana," I firmly told him. "No offense but-"
"No, no, I understand," he commented, he gestured to the side. "However I feel this is where we must part ways."
Looking to where he was gesturing, I saw small building nestled between a small, upscale, market area very close to the wall that separated Imperial Quarter from the rest of the city. A small, gold, plaque rested beside the door: Record Keeping it read.
"My place of work," he said. "Should you ever wish to take up my offer to tour the city, please do not hesitate to drop by. I trust you know the way back to whence you came?"
I nodded.
"Then off you go," he gave an exaggerated shooing gesture. "Best to return home before your lord father notices your absence."
As the man- Gaius walked into his abode, I could only think of how strange he was. Helping a noble yet asking for nothing in return; not that I had much on me to give in thanks, but still. And he was interesting to talk to. None of the badgering or the constant pampering I was subjected to on a daily basis due to my birth.
Walking away, still wary of the odd cloaked individual along the road back to the servant's entrance, I could only think how I probably would take him up on that offer in the near future.
--
--
Gaius never considered himself a devout man. Truth be told, he was never that pious of a man either. In his youth he had more pressing matters see to than scripture. Sure, he said the payers under his breath on holy days, and had an icon hidden somewhere in his bedroom, but he was never a devout follower. He never had a problem giving offerings to the various Gods when prompted, even as dozens martyred themselves for not doing something in front of a statue.
Fools. A few words spoken before a statue was no more binding than if they were sworn to a pair of shoes.
When Emperor Altus cracked down on followers of the One God, his life changed very little. He watched as priests of the One were burned on their books or thrown into the many fighting pits with nothing but a prayer book as a weapon.
It was probably meant as a cruel joke to force a priest to use the words of their own faith to protect themselves from their opponents armed with steel. But Gaius knew from personal experience that some payer books were quite thick and hit with the same force as a well sized rock if properly used. And if you hit someone on the head with a rock enough times, they will die.
But that was a lifetime ago….
Even with Emperor Molt's hands off approach to Monotheists, so long as they kept their worship out of sight and did not agitate against the other Gods, it was still a horribly difficult stigma to overcome if labeled as such.
Not that he advertised his faith.
He was a bad monotheist. He never raised his voice in defense of others who were being sent to the pyres, nor did he shelter those who ran from the hounds. All he did was watch.
'Even still.'
This morning, he experienced…something that he still cannot properly explain.
He had just woken up, freshen himself up with a slash of cold water, put on his comfortable robes to read a book when he noticed a stay leaf land on another book of his.
Blown in from open window no doubt.
The book in question was an old, stained, thing. Ratty with age, and missing pages. Honestly, simply leaving it out on his desk, where any could see it, was a risk in and of itself. But sentimentality was a force even he had to bow before. It did save his life after all; just not in the way one would assume it would.
But when his finger touched the stained cover, to brush away the leaf, light blinded him, and a voice echoed in his head:
"Go to the market, the Empress awaits."
And then all was normal, ignoring his racing heart and his sore ass as he hit the floor. He remembers tepidly touching the book again, as if fearing the sensation would happen again. Yet nothing did. He was alone in his room, as always.
To him, the situation was simple: he was going insane.
That was the only thing he could rationalize to himself as he gathered the book and tossed it back into recesses of his closet. Hearing and seeing things that were not there was one of the earliest signs of a sickness of the mind.
Gaius has no idea what compelled him to go for an afternoon stroll. Was it a desire for fresh air? Maybe he just wanted to know for certain that he was crazy; hearing things in his mind that were not real.
When he arrived at a market, he was not greeted by any guards or attendants carrying a lint, but a girl arguing with a merchant; and two of the Emperor's Eyes moving in to gag them both for disturbing the peace no doubt.
He could have just watched and let it all happen; as he has done so many times before.
And yet….
Well…..
After simply talking to her, he could tell there was something different about her. She was far smarter than a girl her age should be keeping up with him quip for quip. It felt more like he was talking to a scholar rather than a child. Her eyes had a certain hardness to them. Like she was judging everything around her. As if the way the world was looked wrong to her.
And when young Tana, or whoever she truly was, walked off back whence she came, he knew there was far more to that message in his mind than simply the beginnings of insanity.
Returning to his room, he fished the book out of the closet once more.
This whole experience remined him of a simple phrase that has been passed down since antiquity. Words that were uttered when the One first spoke to the masses. A phrase that has been repeated ever since. And now it seemed more appropriate than ever before.
Deus Lo Vult indeed.
---------------------------------------
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AN: Suprisingly, the city still stands!
And what do you know, it seems Being X isn't unknown to the people of this world. Probably nothing to worry about.......
Explanation for why this is important for those not in the know about Gate: They are a bunch of assholes who actively stifle technological development and treat the world as their personal zoo/garden. Some are better then others, but they are all problematic in their own ways. Anyone who doesn't play their game and dance to their wishes gets axed by their Apostles, immortal super powered demi gods who wander the world, fulfilling their gods wishes and will become gods themselves after 1000 years of service.
As for Being X: think of Being X as analogous to Christianity/Judaism in the IRL Roman Empire.
And finally yes that is a HBO Rome reference with the crier if you caught it. The best minor of the show character who eventually became little more then a mouth piece for the Guild of Millers and "True Roman Bread, for True Romans".
Specifically, whose bright idea was it to put a tunnel under the city's defenses and right into the heart of the center of power?
Why have walls at all then if you have a straight path into your government buildings?
The issue was not so much the fact there was a tunnel, but that knowledge of it was so widely known!
The Reichstag in Brun had a similar addition to allow the ministers and government officials to evacuate the building in times of emergency. The difference is that in Germania's case, the passages entrances and exits were SECRET! Only officials with the highest clearance, and soldiers tasked with guarding them, knew exactly where the tunnels opened into the city proper.
But here? There is a fucking plaque on the side of a building in the neighboring district that read "Jade Palace Servants Entrance"! Why not just paint giant arrows from the city gates to this place with a banner overhead greeting any would be assassins!
But now that I had some time to think it over and having mulled it over in my head a bit, I realize that it was not as simple as my knee jerk reaction thought it was.
The servants' tunnel was less a 'tunnel' and more a 'maze'. There were very few points of note or directions along the length of it. Dead ends were common if you were not careful or not familiar with the layout. The paths themselves were long and winding. They almost never stayed even leveled, and almost always at a slight elevation. And at its widest extent, there was enough room for two people to walk side by side; even then their shoulders would scrape up against the smooth stone walls.
Now I can see that, given the technological limits of this world, this is far less the idiotic back door I thought it was.
Even without my prior life's military education, I can deduce multiple ways to make a trek up these steps a nightmare for any attacking force.
Without knowing if caving in the tunnel would compromise the Palace's foundations in some way, the simplest thing to do would be to pour oil or some type of lubricant down the steps. Given the upward nature of the trek, the smooth stones used in its construction, and the ever so slight angle the steps were at, any ascent up the would not be as simple as it might seem. It would be almost comical to watch invading soldiers try and fail to walk up the steps only to slip and slide crashing down to the bottom; taking any compatriots behind them down for the trip.
Of course, the lubricants used could also be flammable in nature for those instances where the attackers do manage to make progress. One torch later, and the defenders will not have to worry about invaders anymore.
Fire has always been one of those aspects of nature that man, no matter how advanced he gets, it will inspire fear in the masses. The sight of the charred fallen that any attacker must step over or crush beneath their feet should be enough to weaken the morale of any attacker.
But that thinking was for another time.
For now, I awkwardly shifted the clothes I was wearing, being careful to not dislodge the knife I have snuggly in my pockets.
While more comfortable to move around in than the dresses and other feminine wear that I was garbed in daily, that comfort of movement came at the cost of the fabric quality. Perhaps I was just growing soft, or perhaps I have gotten a bit too use to opulent luxury, but the fabric on these clothes felt off. Like a wire brush's fibers rubbing against my skin. It didn't hurt, but it was annoying; since I felt the sensation after ever step I took.
Maybe I have grown soft.
Or maybe I am just overthinking it. After all, the methods used to make these borrowed clothes, and the clothes I was given at the orphanage in my last life, are separated by over a millennium.
I should probably ask for some custom clothes made for me. Something I can move around in easily, but made with better fabrics.
Eh, I'll worry about that later.
For now, the city!
And I was impressed and disappointed in equal measures.
On one hand, it was a fantastical city with fantastical elements. In my short walked I have seen no less than two different horse-like creatures being used to pull wagons. One looked like a horse sized mammoth, while the other was some oversized crocodile thing with six legs.
Additionally, I have seen no less than a dozen different humanoid races walking alongside regular humans on my trek so far. Goat people with little subby horns on their foreheads and reversed jointed hoofed legs. Avian looking bird-people with feathers along their arms and claws for fingers. A man with a horn long the ridge of his nose. Lizard people, with green scales and sharp teeth. Even a Tolkien esque dwarf hammering away at an anvil.
Then again, that last one could have just been a man afflicted with dwarfism….
The streets were also cleaner than I expected. Thought that could have been some bias on my part; I had assumed the city beyond the affluent areas would just be filled with filth and grime. Workers constantly swept back and forth along the main avenues and roads in a seemingly never-ending war to keep them clean. But the further I got from the center of power, the less urgent this war seemed to be; with large piles of trash sequestered in alleyways waiting to be picked up.
I also found the amount of graffiti grew steadily the further I walked.
As did the explicitness of both the art and words written to accompany them.
All this cleaning did nothing for the stench that hung in the air. My nose scrunched up at the first whiff of it. I even resigned myself to breathing through my mouth due to the foulness of the air. One of the benefits of living in a palace upon a hill I suppose is being free of this stench.
But to be fair, with all these people milling about in the hot sun, in the relatively confined spaces of a city, with all the beasts of burden that pulled carts and the waste they left, it was a wonder it didn't smell worse.
I could only imagine the stench if Saderan culture lacked a practice of regular bathing.
----
----
Another hour later, and I had to plop myself down to rest on a small stairwell.
I was nearing the end of my body's strength. My muscles were sore, and I was drenched in sweat. And still, I have yet to reach the Colosseum, the whole point of this excursion. Partially my fault. I had refused to go too far off the main roads in fear of becoming lost in the maze-like side streets and alleyways. No matter how curious I was, there was no point in exploring if I lost my way.
Despite myself, I knew I would have to turn around in short order. The sun was now high, and the summer heat was making any further trek unbearable to my unaccustomed frame.
The crier held out his hand expectantly to a boy standing below his podium; said servant took the tablet and handed him another to read.
"A slave woman from the household of the Honorable Senator Marcus Pal Albus, has gone missing," his voice boomed over the crowds. With every gesture he made, to emphasize his words, the fatty folds on his face and arms jiggled. Even the fat on his throat moved about as he spoke. "Stolen or absconded. She is a demi-human of elven descent, with hair the color of spun gold, and eyes like sapphires. A generous reward to the citizen, or citizens, who returns her to her lawful owner."
As with the first tablet, he dropped his current one and reached for the next placard held out for him. His eyes scanned over the words before continuing.
"In honor of Grand-Prince Aeteor's arrival to the Capitol, the far flung Principality, and vassal state of the Empire, has arranged for a banquet to be held in the grand forum one week from today. Festivities begin at noon. All citizens are encouraged, if able, to attend. Freemen, actors, and unwashed tradesmen are not welcome! No disorder will be tolerated!"
He paused for effect, and to take a deep breath, before moving onto the next topic.
"News from the northern provinces! The barbarian horde of Heathcliff Blood-Axe has sacked the Temple to the water Goddess Azuras! Nothing sacred nor holy was spared their vandalism. The barbarians smashed the icons and images of the Goddess, defiled the holy women in the most debase of manners before taking them to their long ships, and raised an altar to their dark God upon the smoldering ruins as they departed. In response to this barbarism, Governor Allus Az Pullo has raised his legions and marches to confront the northern horde along the banks of the Frozen Sea! All Citizens are urged to make offerings to the Gods for a swift victory against the barbaric horde!"
I heard about that the other day when I was walking to my magic lessons. Lots of murmurings at court after that was announced. Again, this is a moment where the upper class got a much more detailed account of the whole ordeal about the governor's response and how basically his whole career was riding on him pushing back the inclusion.
The crier picked up the last tablet in the hands of his servant.
"And finally, this week's bread to the citizens of the capitol is provided for by the Cisalpine Guild of Millers. The Guild of Millers uses only the finest grain in their bread. True Saderan bread, for true Saderans."
Apparently, product placement and advertising were concepts that transcended time and space.
Just as I was standing up to continue my little trek, someone called out to me.
"You!"
To my left I saw a heavy-set man, who I assume to be a merchant, leering at me.
"Fuck off boy," he demanded.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't need your kind scaring away customers," he elaborated. "So fuck off."
"My 'kind'," my response spat forth before I realized what I was saying.
"Yeah, the kind who don't buy nothing, but run off with something when I'm busy," the man against gestured away from his stall.
But then I saw them.
Two cloaked figures approached us; obviously drawn by the man's constant yelling. They blended into the crowds, but my experiences from the War gave me a healthy sense self preservation and awareness of my surroundings; even Being X couldn't take those away. I am sure I would have never picked them up otherwise.
The figures almost glided around the crowd, no pushing or shoving, as they approached. Almost silent. Swords clearly at their sides. Some kind of secret police?
"Are you ignoring me you little shit!" I was thrown to the ground by a strong shove from the man.
I got back to my feet relatively quickly, Mummerings in the crowd grew at the sight. This was escalating too quickly.
And the figures were just about-
"There you are grandson."
A hand landed on my shoulder.
Turning around, I saw an older looking man in loose fitting robes. His face was spotted with age and balding. Winkles creased across his weathered skin.
I did not need to deal with a daughtering old man in addition to all this nonsense!
"This one's yours?" the merchant cocked a brow and looked at the two of us.
"My daughter's actually," the old man explained. "But you know how boys get, take your eye off them for a second and then they're off on their own little adventure."
"I-"
"And I told you not to run off like that," he cut me off before I could even protest. When he looked down to me, I noticed that his smile, while grandfatherly, had an edge to it; as did his voice. While he seemed cordial and affectionate, there was something off. His grip tightened for a split second as he pulled me close.
"But-"
"Now, now, none of that," he bent down to my level. When our eyes met, I saw a sharpness in them. Not the sort of eyes a man who is losing his mind would have. "I think it's about time we left."
Then it hit me. This is not some doddering old man who had mistaken me for his grandson. He knew exactly what he was doing.
But what was he doing? Getting a kid out of danger by pretending to be their guardian? Or was this some kidnaping scheme in disguise?
So what to do? Deny I knew this man and throw myself at the mercy of the merchant and the cloaked pair of secret police that stood ready to scoop me up, or do I take the out that I was given; without the guarantee that it was genuine.
My hand wandered to the small knife strapped to my leg, just beneath my trousers. I subconsciously wanted to just feel that it was still there. That I had some means of defending myself in the worst-case scenario.
"I'm sorry grandfather," I replied to the man, doing my best to sound as 'guilty' as possible. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Fortune favors the bold. An appropriate sentiment to hold in a fantasy Rome.
"Oh there's no trouble," he played along. "You just need to remember that I'm no longer the young man I once was."
Before the merchant could interrupt my 'apology' the elder's wrinkled hand , rough with callouses, clasped mine
"Come along now your mother is no doubt worried sick about you," he pulled me away from the stall, down the road.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed the two cloaked men move in and grab the merchant; dragging him off into an alleyway. I did not hear any screams or loud noises as I was led around the corner so I could only guess what was happening to him. Given my previous experience in dealing with the Red's NKVD, I could hazard a guess that the man will soon be wishing he was given just a beating.
After a few minutes of walking, towards the Imperial Quarter going by the landmarks, the man abruptly let go of my hand.
Looking over, I saw a completely different man then the one who 'saved' me. His hunched over form straighten up, and the small limp he had vanished. And his sharp eyes borrowed into me.
'So, he was genuine then. I suppose appropriate thanks are in order.'
"Thank you I-"
"What were you doing there girl?" the man interrupted me. Gone was a soft, grandfatherly tone he had shown to the merchant. He was still soft spoken, but his tone had an edge to it now that was not there a minutes ago.
"I'm sorry?" My mind was racing at all the possibilities of what he was saying.
"While I may not be a noble myself," he continued. "I do know that most noble women don't dare leave the Imperial Quarter unless they are being carried in a lint and surrounded by a dozen retainers and attendants. Less leave their homes unattended. Fewer still would in the guise of a commoner. And do I even need to mention your age?"
"I'm sorry sir, I don't understand what your talking about," I played dumb, trying to buy time to formulate a proper response.
He sighed. "You might be able to conceal your accent for most of the populace, but I have worked long enough with the nobility to understand the lilts in their tones; no matter how well suppressed it might be. So please do me the decency of dispensing with the veneer of ignorance."
"I could just be a servant who was taught to speak like this," I replied I in a circumspect manner, no longer trying to keep my accent under wraps. I remembered an offhand comment made by Julia once. "Nobles do like it when their servants talk properly."
"That they do," he conceded. "But what they like even more, is when their servants are silent and demure. And you," his eyes gave me a once over, "are seemingly neither."
Damnit.
Then again, he has not tried anything. Yet I reminded myself. And the way we were walking, it was brining us closer and closer to the more 'safe' areas of the city. Every step made it seem less and less likely this was some overly elaborate kidnaping job. Especially since he sniffed out that I was a noble and, therefore, a very lucrative ransom. What would a child of the Emperor go for?
So, I decided to put all my cards on the table.
"So it was just my voice and body language then?"
"Not exactly," he scratched his chin. "Had this been either the early morning or evening, I could easily have written you off as a servant that was off duty. But that cageyness in your eyes, the constant scanning of the environment for threats, a tension in your frame, it all gave me the impression that you felt as if you did not belong. Or more accurately, you were afraid of being found out."
Shit. That is actually pretty accurate to how I felt in that situation.
"And if I wasn't a noble," I dropped the pretense of my situation being otherwise. "You would have just left me to those people? The men in cloaks or the merchant I mean."
"No," shaking his head. "I still, would have helped you. Good deeds and all that."
"So simple altruism then?"
"Good things occur to those who do good deeds," he shrugged at my question. "At least that's what some of the priests say. Maybe there is a grain of truth in their words. Who can say?"
"That's not an answer," I countered.
"And yet that is all I shall say on the matter. You were in need, I helped. That is all there is to it. Though I must ask, what are you doing out on the streets like this?" He inquired, gesturing to Julia's clothes. "I doubt your running for your life given you seem to be content returning to your gilded life," noting the closing distance to the walls of the Imperial Quarter. "So, what is it? Curious to see how the plebeians live? Or are you trying to see the boy you are swooning over, whose low station makes your love forbidden?"
I held back a gaging sound on the last point, even as he chuckled at his own words.
"A different reason all together," I quickly dismissed the notion of being in 'forbidden love'. "All I wanted to do was see the Colosseum."
"So, a wanderlust for adventure?"
"Not adventure, just curious. I it out my window every day and thought to myself 'why not see it in person'."
"And," he urged me to continue.
"And I didn't," I admitted. "Instead, I got accosted by a merchant for simply sitting near his stall and was saved by a very curious old man who asks a far too many questions."
My barb made him smile, "fair enough. Though if I may be so bold, the next time you decide to galivant across the city, instead of playing a mummer's game as a pauper why don't we walk to the Colosseum together? I can always do with a good walk."
"You're certainly bold," I commented. "Even ignoring the implications of an older man wishing to spend time alone with a young girl, we don't even know each other's names."
"I'm insulted by the insinuation," he didn't sound insulted. "In any case, I am quite incapable of doing what you are presuming for two reasons."
"Which are?"
"Firstly, I am a record keeper of some renown," he said proudly. "Why would I risk everything by forcing myself upon a noble, when I can purchase as many bed warmers as I want?"
The way he said that sent a small shiver down my spine.
"And secondly," he carried on. "The point is moot, given I was cut decades ago."
"Cut," I repeated. "As in castrated?"
"Pillar and stones," he added as if commenting on the weather and not body mutilation.
"Why?"
"Now who is asking far too many questions," he chuckled.
I bit the inside of my cheek, realizing he was right. Here I was commenting on his nosiness while also probing deep into his life.
"You are right about one thing," the older man noted. "We have yet to be properly introduced."
Stopping in the middle of the street, arms in the sleeves of his robes, he gave me a short bow.
"I am Gaius Rax, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady…."
"Tana," I replied with the first thing that came to me and gave him a small bow of my own. No matter how enjoyable this conversation was, I was definitely not going to use my real name.
"Lady Tana…."
"Just Tana," I firmly told him. "No offense but-"
"No, no, I understand," he commented, he gestured to the side. "However I feel this is where we must part ways."
Looking to where he was gesturing, I saw small building nestled between a small, upscale, market area very close to the wall that separated Imperial Quarter from the rest of the city. A small, gold, plaque rested beside the door: Record Keeping it read.
"My place of work," he said. "Should you ever wish to take up my offer to tour the city, please do not hesitate to drop by. I trust you know the way back to whence you came?"
I nodded.
"Then off you go," he gave an exaggerated shooing gesture. "Best to return home before your lord father notices your absence."
As the man- Gaius walked into his abode, I could only think of how strange he was. Helping a noble yet asking for nothing in return; not that I had much on me to give in thanks, but still. And he was interesting to talk to. None of the badgering or the constant pampering I was subjected to on a daily basis due to my birth.
Walking away, still wary of the odd cloaked individual along the road back to the servant's entrance, I could only think how I probably would take him up on that offer in the near future.
--
--
Gaius never considered himself a devout man. Truth be told, he was never that pious of a man either. In his youth he had more pressing matters see to than scripture. Sure, he said the payers under his breath on holy days, and had an icon hidden somewhere in his bedroom, but he was never a devout follower. He never had a problem giving offerings to the various Gods when prompted, even as dozens martyred themselves for not doing something in front of a statue.
Fools. A few words spoken before a statue was no more binding than if they were sworn to a pair of shoes.
When Emperor Altus cracked down on followers of the One God, his life changed very little. He watched as priests of the One were burned on their books or thrown into the many fighting pits with nothing but a prayer book as a weapon.
It was probably meant as a cruel joke to force a priest to use the words of their own faith to protect themselves from their opponents armed with steel. But Gaius knew from personal experience that some payer books were quite thick and hit with the same force as a well sized rock if properly used. And if you hit someone on the head with a rock enough times, they will die.
But that was a lifetime ago….
Even with Emperor Molt's hands off approach to Monotheists, so long as they kept their worship out of sight and did not agitate against the other Gods, it was still a horribly difficult stigma to overcome if labeled as such.
Not that he advertised his faith.
He was a bad monotheist. He never raised his voice in defense of others who were being sent to the pyres, nor did he shelter those who ran from the hounds. All he did was watch.
'Even still.'
This morning, he experienced…something that he still cannot properly explain.
He had just woken up, freshen himself up with a slash of cold water, put on his comfortable robes to read a book when he noticed a stay leaf land on another book of his.
Blown in from open window no doubt.
The book in question was an old, stained, thing. Ratty with age, and missing pages. Honestly, simply leaving it out on his desk, where any could see it, was a risk in and of itself. But sentimentality was a force even he had to bow before. It did save his life after all; just not in the way one would assume it would.
But when his finger touched the stained cover, to brush away the leaf, light blinded him, and a voice echoed in his head:
"Go to the market, the Empress awaits."
And then all was normal, ignoring his racing heart and his sore ass as he hit the floor. He remembers tepidly touching the book again, as if fearing the sensation would happen again. Yet nothing did. He was alone in his room, as always.
To him, the situation was simple: he was going insane.
That was the only thing he could rationalize to himself as he gathered the book and tossed it back into recesses of his closet. Hearing and seeing things that were not there was one of the earliest signs of a sickness of the mind.
Gaius has no idea what compelled him to go for an afternoon stroll. Was it a desire for fresh air? Maybe he just wanted to know for certain that he was crazy; hearing things in his mind that were not real.
When he arrived at a market, he was not greeted by any guards or attendants carrying a lint, but a girl arguing with a merchant; and two of the Emperor's Eyes moving in to gag them both for disturbing the peace no doubt.
He could have just watched and let it all happen; as he has done so many times before.
And yet….
Well…..
After simply talking to her, he could tell there was something different about her. She was far smarter than a girl her age should be keeping up with him quip for quip. It felt more like he was talking to a scholar rather than a child. Her eyes had a certain hardness to them. Like she was judging everything around her. As if the way the world was looked wrong to her.
And when young Tana, or whoever she truly was, walked off back whence she came, he knew there was far more to that message in his mind than simply the beginnings of insanity.
Returning to his room, he fished the book out of the closet once more.
This whole experience remined him of a simple phrase that has been passed down since antiquity. Words that were uttered when the One first spoke to the masses. A phrase that has been repeated ever since. And now it seemed more appropriate than ever before.
Deus Lo Vult indeed.
---------------------------------------
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AN: Suprisingly, the city still stands!
And what do you know, it seems Being X isn't unknown to the people of this world. Probably nothing to worry about.......
Explanation for why this is important for those not in the know about Gate: They are a bunch of assholes who actively stifle technological development and treat the world as their personal zoo/garden. Some are better then others, but they are all problematic in their own ways. Anyone who doesn't play their game and dance to their wishes gets axed by their Apostles, immortal super powered demi gods who wander the world, fulfilling their gods wishes and will become gods themselves after 1000 years of service.
As for Being X: think of Being X as analogous to Christianity/Judaism in the IRL Roman Empire.
And finally yes that is a HBO Rome reference with the crier if you caught it. The best minor of the show character who eventually became little more then a mouth piece for the Guild of Millers and "True Roman Bread, for True Romans".
A Young Princess - IV
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
When they occurred, the odd family dinner tended to be a strange affair.
Most of the time, our schedules don't really line up all that well for a family meal. The Emperor mostly took his meals in his personal study, too busy with the affairs of state to leave things alone for even a this short amount of time.
Meanwhile, my brothers Zorzal, Kati, and Diabo always had their own things going on that never really lined up with one another. Whether it was Zorzal's revelry with his friends, Kati's political meetings, or Diabo's things, all of them had their own schedules. Made even more complicated by the fact that each of them owned their own homes, though calling them villas or mansions would be more appropriate given the scale of their respective residences.
On a side tangent, I will never understand why Diabo has his own mansion when he's only fifteen years old. The Emperor said it was because 'he is a grown man now'. I suppose standards of maturity and adulthood are different here; and it's not like Diabo don't have an army of servants and clerks to manage everything for him.
Maybe my bemoaning is a tad hypocritical given my past exploits as a prepubescent leading a military unit, or maybe I'm just a hint jealous of not having my own luxurious mansion to call my own. Who could say?
While on the other end of the age range, there was Pina and I; both of us too young to live on our own. One would think that I would be used to dining with Pina given our proximity to one another, but Pina is…Pina. The girl wakes up at the crack of dawn to train with her friends/retainers/handmaidens as knights, then does her usual schooling during the day, before going back to training until dusk. By the time it's time for dinner, Pina is too exhausted after all the training to want to do anything other than bathe and sleep.
I can't fault her work ethic, and even now inclined to believe that this 'knight' thing isn't just a phase she's going through. Pina has been at this for two years already; and while some of her compatriots have quit, most of them have stuck to the drills and physical conditioning. I've even observed them on occupation. In the afternoon, because even though I wake up early in the morning it's not early enough to catch the morning drills, I can usually find Pina leading a line of other noble girls and boys marching about or practicing swordsmanship.
Yet somehow, by some herculean effort (or the Emperor demanding it) all of us are sitting at the same dinner table for the first time in months.
And then it became apparent why we didn't have family dinners…
"-because I'm actually doing something important, rather than wasting all my time with drunken revelry and whatever debauch hedonism you engage in in the evening," Kati sneered from his end of the table.
"At least I'm not some girl who shrieks at the first sight of a little blood!" Zorzal's fumed, his fist coming down next to my glass, making me reach out to keep it from spilling as the table shook.
…is because anytime Zorzal and Kati are put in the same location, it will always end in some altercation between the two. They are complete opposites, whose personalities seemingly cannot stand to even be in the other's presence. It's not even major things that can start one of these screaming sessions, even the most mundane thing can set either of them off on one another. I don't even remember why this evening's argument started, I was too busy trying to ignore it, but I think it was Zorzal challenging Kati's masculinity and it just spiraled out from there to a general argument about their "obvious" failings.
Everyone did their best to enjoy their meals despite the two arguing, which was easier said than done give the volume of the argument. Pina kept her eyes glued to her dish, she visibly shook every time the pair raised their voices to insult or degrade one another. Diabo watched on with morbid curiosity, almost seeing this as some form of entertainment that came with dinner. The Emperor occasionally looked up from his plate, but betrayed no expression as to his feelings on the alteration going on. And for me, Zorzal always sat next to me during meals, so I was constantly wincing as he acted akin to some petulant child with a chip on his shoulder all the while he smashed his fist into the table like a gorilla.
Even the staff wanted nothing to do with this. Beyond our personal retainers that had to stay by our sides through the meal, the various servants that placed and collected dishes seemed to scurry faster as the arguments grew more heated; but I could see a head creep through the doorway to the kitchens to hear what was going on every now and then.
And it always came back to the same point: who would be a better crown prince.
While I kept it to myself Kati was the superior choice in my opinion.
Kati was everything a hereditary ruler would want in their progeny; handsome, quick witted, intelligent, firm, gregarious, and diligent. I knew from some off hand mentions from my run in's with Gaius, who I meet with semi-regularly when need to sneak away from the palace for some fresh air or after I grow tired of being constantly nannied by an army of servants, was that Kati was a rising star in the political sphere. While not a true actor in state affairs, due to his youth and inexperience, his noble birth gave him plenty of opportunities to 'meet and greet' with those who could act in his interests. And while young, his intelligence and adaptability made him less of a puppet that could be used to advance political actions and more of a player in his own right.
By contrast, Zorzal was…Zorzal.
Yes, my brother was objectively attractive in that muscular sort of way, and his charisma always made him the center of attention at parties, but that was it. He lacked every other quality that made a good ruler. He was quick to anger, stubborn as a mule, put more emphasis on short term gains that long term investments, held contempt for academics, along with the concept of academia as a whole, and he had a bad habit of thinking that because he was a royal that the laws didn't apply to him.
Why just last week, I watched Zorzal and his cronies take an entire store's inventory without compensation. He had dragged me out of my studies for some 'fresh air' as he called it. Just the two of us, he said; ignoring the small army of attendants and guards that silently followed us. I suppose the break did do me some good, but it was nothing compared to the embarrassment I felt when Zorzal decided to 'requisition' an entire restaurant's food stores for his personal home; beef, beer, wine, and everything else his retainers could carry.
Pretty sure Zorzal was even eyeing up the slave girls who served patrons for his own 'evening amusement' but decided against after I reminded him of my presence with him.
When I asked him if he was going to provide compensation for the goods, he smiled and ruffled my hair. He told me that "serving us was their payment", let out a lighthearted chuckle, and led me onwards to resume our walk.
I can barely recall anytime, in any of my past lives, where I had felt more embarrassed to be seen with another person. Such blatant, and unapologetic, disregard for even appearance of modesty made me feel like everyone was judging me to be in the same mold as him.
Later that same day, I used what little money the Emperor gives me as an allowance to try and pay off the items that Zorzal took. Not in person, mind you. I sent Julia and Rennes out to do the replaying in my stead; with a note apologizing for my brother's earlier actions and kindly asking them to tell the two maids if the amount provided was sufficient to cover his 'costs' should what was provided not be enough.
I never did hear back from the restaurant, but the two maids assured me that the owner was overjoyed with what was given so I assume everything is fine.
So, like I said, Kati is the superior choice between himself and Zorzal. Honestly, a part of me is convinced that the Emperor is privately seething at Zorzal since he had a perfect side by side example of what could have been.
"Of course, I'm not as use to blood as you are. A consequence of not going on frivolous hunts for boars and virgins with your 'retainers' I suppose" the bookish prince rolled his eyes at Zorzal's accusation.
With a snarl, Zrozal stood up from his seat and glared at our brother. "If you think your so much better than me then why don't we fight it out; here and now!"
"And what exactly would that prove?" He didn't raise to the challenge.
"That you're actually a man!"
Kati sighed, "I'm not going to fight you, Brother."
"Because you know you'll lose."
"Absolutely," Kati shook his head at Zorzal's antics. "I've never doubted your strength. You are physically stronger than me. Perhaps it's the Gods way of compensating your utter lack of tact or subtlety."
"Wipe that damned smirk of your face bastard!" Zorzal roared, again his fists smashing down on the table a bit too close to my plate for comfort. "You wouldn't be so smug with me if I had your boy-toy castrated you submissive-"
"Enough!"
The princes quickly looked to our unamused Father.
"Since the two of you have seemingly had your fill of dinner," the Emperor looks at the still filled plates of the two; the pair too busy arguing to eat. "I give the two of you leave to return to your homes."
The subtext was obvious; even to Zorzal.
Kati quickly stood up, gave the Emperor a respectful bow, and walked out without further fuss; with his retainers fallowing close behind.
Zorzal meanwhile-
"Father, why aren't you-"
"I said," the Emperor glared at Zorzal, annoyance clear in his eyes. "I give you leave to return home."
"It was his fault! It's always his-"
"Do not make me repeat myself a third time, boy," the Emperor almost growled at him, daring him to speak out of turn again.
Zorzal for his credit did not raise his voice again. He huffed and stormed out; seemingly throwing every door he passes wide open enough for the handles to smash against the walls and shoving into every person he crossed as he marched out like a petulant child. Zorzal's own collection of servants followed his path of annoyance and petulance.
The Emperor sighed as the last of them filtered out; muttering a string of curses under his breath.
The rest of the meal continued in blissful silence.
"Tanya," the Emperor spoke up after some time had passed, with the main course having been taken away and replaced with little cakes.
"Yes Father?" I replied.
He gave me a soft smile, "how would you like to make some new friends?"
--
--
As my eight-birthday neared, the Emperor has decided that it was time for me to interact with my peers; namely other noble children.
A gathering, meeting, 'playdate' even had been arranged with several prominent noble children that were in the city at the time.
A part of me went into this thinking this would be a very different kind of situation. One where I would be cut loose into something akin to a societal piranha tank. A collection of young girls from powerful families play fighting with one another via vocal barbs and jabs. Taking note of any weaknesses they could find and exploit them to the best of their, young, abilities. A dress out of season, a hair out of place, shoes not fine enough, eating food in a barbaric manner, failing to speak properly, and so on. Little things that these children's parents would have taught them by now.
I thought I was going to either the center of some game of who can be the greatest sycophant to the princess or be on the constant defense as they looked for any chink in my 'armor' to make themselves seem better in some arbitrary way.
Of course, on the flip side, this could be my chance to get an 'in' with other noble families. If I played my cards right, I could leave a very favorable impression. The image of an intelligence, well cultured, princess who, while not a puppet to be used, has no real ambitions above her station. In essence, a non-threatening mix of contentment, yet still aware enough to make any attempt to subvert me to another's goals not worth it in a time commitment sense.
So I did what I always do when faced with an challenge; I prepared to the best of my abilities for any outcome.
The first step was to know what I was going to be dealing with. A simple enough task, given that these girls were selected by the Emperor himself all I had to do was ask him to provide their names.
Selene Syagrius, Myui Formal, Zaynab Zabba, and Sherry Tyueli.
From what little research I could do, given the lack of a centralized database of any kind to work with, I realized this was far more a daunting meeting than I initially realized. Each one of these girls was a member of an extremely powerful family.
Myui Formal, daughter of the Count of Italica; a chief exporter in agriculture. Though nowhere near the size of a proper metropolis, the fertile lands held within the domain and its place on the Imperial Highway made this region hold a disproportionate amount of influence in political matters.
Sherry Tyueli, daughter of the influential Senator Tyueli. While they held no province or large-scale lands beyond the occasional vineyard and mine, they held a great deal of sway in the Senate.
While impressive, it was the next two were the real daunting ones of the quartet.
Zaynab Zabba, daughter to the Mage-Lord of the Client City State of Zeinab along the norther coasts of the Western Desert. From what I read, the place is basically a mageocracy headed by a clique of hydromancers who maintain and control the city's supply of fresh water. Zeinab itself is a city zigzagged by large canals and dotted by a dizzying number of fountains that provide the people of the city with a constant supply of free water. While the book I read on the matter seems to dismiss the entirety of the city as bland and poor, I would beg to differ. There are many ways to display wealth. Some people use gold, others build massive canals filled with to the brim with water and construct massive fountains that continuously provide fresh water to citizens in a region of the world where it only rains one or two times a year.
And finally, the one of the quartet who concerns me the most: Selene Syagrius. The only daughter of Clovis Syagrius, hailing from the southwestern region of Soissons. Adding to the gravity of the situation is that the Syagrus family are descendants of first emperor, Emperor Aegidius Syagrius.
From what basic research I've done, the Syagrius family founded Sadera and ruled the Empire for the first century and a half of its existence. At some point the Imperial dynasty changed when the son of the last Syagrius emperor gave the crown to the Senate to enthrone a new dynasty; the Metellus family.
I have yet to find a single, impartial, telling of why the change happened. But if I read between the lines correctly, it looks like someone had a bone to pick with the family since the last six Syagrius Emperors succeeded each other within the time span of a single year. Six emperors in one year? Well, that's not fishy at all. And the first Metellus Emperor ascended to the throne within a day of the Syagrius son's abdication; who just happened to also be the most influential Senator of his era?
There was coincidence, and then there was this.
The son of the last emperor probably knew his odds of living past the next few months wasn't all that high, so he just gave up the crown to keep his life. Or maybe he threatened to go down kicking and screaming by using his personal forces to siege out the capitol itself unless he was given a territory to rule. So, he was given Soissons; the then border region of the Empire.
We'll never know I suppose. Not that it matters since the Syagrius family seemingly got the last laugh. Move forward a few centuries, and now Soissons is so massive it consist of three separate provinces, Soissons Superior, Soissons Inferior, and Soissons Ulterior. All three ruled by a single governor, Clovis Syagrius, giving the family a massive amount of power and influence in Imperial politics. And given the past history of holding the imperial title, I can easily say that she will be the greatest challenge in this meeting.
So given all the research I've done, I am confident in the results of this meeting of scions.
--
--
I was wrong.
"Princess, your hair is so pretty! What do you do to get it to shine like that?"
"And it's so smooth too. I wish mine was like that. My maids have to brush it for such a long time in the morning to get it like this."
I was so wrong.
"You could do what I do and just have them tie it a bit, Sherry."
"You think it would look good for me?"
"Of course, it will!"
I did not plan for this….
I planned for some back-and-forth political battle between scions of powerful families. Sure, I wasn't expecting the best thought out or articulated arguments given their relative ages. I even remember telling myself to go 'easy' on them due to their relative ages, but also preparing for any unplanned for genius to be in my midst.
But this? Brunch under a gazebo in the palace gardens, with girls who acted like….this? I gave a quick look at the menagerie around me. Four girls sitting at a round table with tiny snacks on slightly less small plates with cups of sweet tea.
The dark hair, amber eyed, tan skinned Zaynab who boasted of her swimming prowess and talked about how she was just learning water magic; whose minutely tipped ears spoke to an inhuman ancestry.
Selene Syagrius, a redhead tomboy whose expressive green eyes seemed to bubble with energy and emotion; especially when she lamented how her mother keeps buying her 'annoying' dresses that end up torn due to her active lifestyle.
Myui Formal, an orange haired girl, two years all our junior, who babbled how she was so nervous before coming here and was worried about making a fool of herself before us.
And Shery, the light brown twin-tailed daughter of a senator who acted overly excited on the most minute of things.
They talked about dresses, cute animals, funny books, how each other's hair is done, subjects they struggled with their tutors, and told stories of their homes. They acted like…girls.
So no, I had not prepared for this at all.
"Princess, are you okay?" Sherry asked.
"Yeah, are you okay?" Selene repeated Sherry's question; the redhead placing her hand on the arm of my lounge chair. "Is it too hot out for you? We can go inside if you want."
"No…No I'm fine," I gave the quartet a smile to ease their concern for me. "I was just thinking about something else."
"Well if you're sure," Sherry shrugged. "Just let us know and we can head on in if you want."
"I don't think it's that hot," Zaynab quipped while nibbling on a small muffin. "It's actually a bit chilly out today."
"But don't you live in a hot place, so anywhere else would be cooler?" Selene brought up, with a quite Myui nodded in the background.
"More like everywhere else is cold, and I live in a normal place," the desert girl countered.
"No way! Deserts are super hot!"
"Nope, its everywhere else that is cold."
As the banter between normal temperature ranges between the girl's homes escalated, then devolved into a large fit of cankerous laughter where they agreed to disagree, I was left with a single thought of how utterly out of my depth I was right now. It was almost enough to make me pray for something to get me out of this completely alien situation.
Almost.
------------------------------------------------------
AN: So yeah, not much plot, just good old fluff and world building.
I had to improvise with Kati's personality due to there being little to no information on him other than him being killed by Molt scared Zorzal so much that he "pretended to be a fool" ever since.
As for the other girls Tanya was with in Molt's arranged "playdate", both Selene and Zaynab are OCs; both to flush out some world building stuff and to set the stage for future events.
Especially the Syagrius family. A family whose wealth and power is leagues above every other noble family (maybe even a distant second to the Imperial Royal Family), who own three provinces to their name, AND can trace their line back to the founder of the Empire? Yep, probably never going to come up ever again. Especially if a power vacuum is created.
Nope.
Will never hear from them again. [Wink]
And for anyone who is curious when the GATE will finally open: I have it set to open 13 years after Tanya was born (reborn) and she is about to turn 8. Meaning 5 years to go in story time.
Most of the time, our schedules don't really line up all that well for a family meal. The Emperor mostly took his meals in his personal study, too busy with the affairs of state to leave things alone for even a this short amount of time.
Meanwhile, my brothers Zorzal, Kati, and Diabo always had their own things going on that never really lined up with one another. Whether it was Zorzal's revelry with his friends, Kati's political meetings, or Diabo's things, all of them had their own schedules. Made even more complicated by the fact that each of them owned their own homes, though calling them villas or mansions would be more appropriate given the scale of their respective residences.
On a side tangent, I will never understand why Diabo has his own mansion when he's only fifteen years old. The Emperor said it was because 'he is a grown man now'. I suppose standards of maturity and adulthood are different here; and it's not like Diabo don't have an army of servants and clerks to manage everything for him.
Maybe my bemoaning is a tad hypocritical given my past exploits as a prepubescent leading a military unit, or maybe I'm just a hint jealous of not having my own luxurious mansion to call my own. Who could say?
While on the other end of the age range, there was Pina and I; both of us too young to live on our own. One would think that I would be used to dining with Pina given our proximity to one another, but Pina is…Pina. The girl wakes up at the crack of dawn to train with her friends/retainers/handmaidens as knights, then does her usual schooling during the day, before going back to training until dusk. By the time it's time for dinner, Pina is too exhausted after all the training to want to do anything other than bathe and sleep.
I can't fault her work ethic, and even now inclined to believe that this 'knight' thing isn't just a phase she's going through. Pina has been at this for two years already; and while some of her compatriots have quit, most of them have stuck to the drills and physical conditioning. I've even observed them on occupation. In the afternoon, because even though I wake up early in the morning it's not early enough to catch the morning drills, I can usually find Pina leading a line of other noble girls and boys marching about or practicing swordsmanship.
Yet somehow, by some herculean effort (or the Emperor demanding it) all of us are sitting at the same dinner table for the first time in months.
And then it became apparent why we didn't have family dinners…
"-because I'm actually doing something important, rather than wasting all my time with drunken revelry and whatever debauch hedonism you engage in in the evening," Kati sneered from his end of the table.
"At least I'm not some girl who shrieks at the first sight of a little blood!" Zorzal's fumed, his fist coming down next to my glass, making me reach out to keep it from spilling as the table shook.
…is because anytime Zorzal and Kati are put in the same location, it will always end in some altercation between the two. They are complete opposites, whose personalities seemingly cannot stand to even be in the other's presence. It's not even major things that can start one of these screaming sessions, even the most mundane thing can set either of them off on one another. I don't even remember why this evening's argument started, I was too busy trying to ignore it, but I think it was Zorzal challenging Kati's masculinity and it just spiraled out from there to a general argument about their "obvious" failings.
Everyone did their best to enjoy their meals despite the two arguing, which was easier said than done give the volume of the argument. Pina kept her eyes glued to her dish, she visibly shook every time the pair raised their voices to insult or degrade one another. Diabo watched on with morbid curiosity, almost seeing this as some form of entertainment that came with dinner. The Emperor occasionally looked up from his plate, but betrayed no expression as to his feelings on the alteration going on. And for me, Zorzal always sat next to me during meals, so I was constantly wincing as he acted akin to some petulant child with a chip on his shoulder all the while he smashed his fist into the table like a gorilla.
Even the staff wanted nothing to do with this. Beyond our personal retainers that had to stay by our sides through the meal, the various servants that placed and collected dishes seemed to scurry faster as the arguments grew more heated; but I could see a head creep through the doorway to the kitchens to hear what was going on every now and then.
And it always came back to the same point: who would be a better crown prince.
While I kept it to myself Kati was the superior choice in my opinion.
Kati was everything a hereditary ruler would want in their progeny; handsome, quick witted, intelligent, firm, gregarious, and diligent. I knew from some off hand mentions from my run in's with Gaius, who I meet with semi-regularly when need to sneak away from the palace for some fresh air or after I grow tired of being constantly nannied by an army of servants, was that Kati was a rising star in the political sphere. While not a true actor in state affairs, due to his youth and inexperience, his noble birth gave him plenty of opportunities to 'meet and greet' with those who could act in his interests. And while young, his intelligence and adaptability made him less of a puppet that could be used to advance political actions and more of a player in his own right.
By contrast, Zorzal was…Zorzal.
Yes, my brother was objectively attractive in that muscular sort of way, and his charisma always made him the center of attention at parties, but that was it. He lacked every other quality that made a good ruler. He was quick to anger, stubborn as a mule, put more emphasis on short term gains that long term investments, held contempt for academics, along with the concept of academia as a whole, and he had a bad habit of thinking that because he was a royal that the laws didn't apply to him.
Why just last week, I watched Zorzal and his cronies take an entire store's inventory without compensation. He had dragged me out of my studies for some 'fresh air' as he called it. Just the two of us, he said; ignoring the small army of attendants and guards that silently followed us. I suppose the break did do me some good, but it was nothing compared to the embarrassment I felt when Zorzal decided to 'requisition' an entire restaurant's food stores for his personal home; beef, beer, wine, and everything else his retainers could carry.
Pretty sure Zorzal was even eyeing up the slave girls who served patrons for his own 'evening amusement' but decided against after I reminded him of my presence with him.
When I asked him if he was going to provide compensation for the goods, he smiled and ruffled my hair. He told me that "serving us was their payment", let out a lighthearted chuckle, and led me onwards to resume our walk.
I can barely recall anytime, in any of my past lives, where I had felt more embarrassed to be seen with another person. Such blatant, and unapologetic, disregard for even appearance of modesty made me feel like everyone was judging me to be in the same mold as him.
Later that same day, I used what little money the Emperor gives me as an allowance to try and pay off the items that Zorzal took. Not in person, mind you. I sent Julia and Rennes out to do the replaying in my stead; with a note apologizing for my brother's earlier actions and kindly asking them to tell the two maids if the amount provided was sufficient to cover his 'costs' should what was provided not be enough.
I never did hear back from the restaurant, but the two maids assured me that the owner was overjoyed with what was given so I assume everything is fine.
So, like I said, Kati is the superior choice between himself and Zorzal. Honestly, a part of me is convinced that the Emperor is privately seething at Zorzal since he had a perfect side by side example of what could have been.
"Of course, I'm not as use to blood as you are. A consequence of not going on frivolous hunts for boars and virgins with your 'retainers' I suppose" the bookish prince rolled his eyes at Zorzal's accusation.
With a snarl, Zrozal stood up from his seat and glared at our brother. "If you think your so much better than me then why don't we fight it out; here and now!"
"And what exactly would that prove?" He didn't raise to the challenge.
"That you're actually a man!"
Kati sighed, "I'm not going to fight you, Brother."
"Because you know you'll lose."
"Absolutely," Kati shook his head at Zorzal's antics. "I've never doubted your strength. You are physically stronger than me. Perhaps it's the Gods way of compensating your utter lack of tact or subtlety."
"Wipe that damned smirk of your face bastard!" Zorzal roared, again his fists smashing down on the table a bit too close to my plate for comfort. "You wouldn't be so smug with me if I had your boy-toy castrated you submissive-"
"Enough!"
The princes quickly looked to our unamused Father.
"Since the two of you have seemingly had your fill of dinner," the Emperor looks at the still filled plates of the two; the pair too busy arguing to eat. "I give the two of you leave to return to your homes."
The subtext was obvious; even to Zorzal.
Kati quickly stood up, gave the Emperor a respectful bow, and walked out without further fuss; with his retainers fallowing close behind.
Zorzal meanwhile-
"Father, why aren't you-"
"I said," the Emperor glared at Zorzal, annoyance clear in his eyes. "I give you leave to return home."
"It was his fault! It's always his-"
"Do not make me repeat myself a third time, boy," the Emperor almost growled at him, daring him to speak out of turn again.
Zorzal for his credit did not raise his voice again. He huffed and stormed out; seemingly throwing every door he passes wide open enough for the handles to smash against the walls and shoving into every person he crossed as he marched out like a petulant child. Zorzal's own collection of servants followed his path of annoyance and petulance.
The Emperor sighed as the last of them filtered out; muttering a string of curses under his breath.
The rest of the meal continued in blissful silence.
"Tanya," the Emperor spoke up after some time had passed, with the main course having been taken away and replaced with little cakes.
"Yes Father?" I replied.
He gave me a soft smile, "how would you like to make some new friends?"
--
--
As my eight-birthday neared, the Emperor has decided that it was time for me to interact with my peers; namely other noble children.
A gathering, meeting, 'playdate' even had been arranged with several prominent noble children that were in the city at the time.
A part of me went into this thinking this would be a very different kind of situation. One where I would be cut loose into something akin to a societal piranha tank. A collection of young girls from powerful families play fighting with one another via vocal barbs and jabs. Taking note of any weaknesses they could find and exploit them to the best of their, young, abilities. A dress out of season, a hair out of place, shoes not fine enough, eating food in a barbaric manner, failing to speak properly, and so on. Little things that these children's parents would have taught them by now.
I thought I was going to either the center of some game of who can be the greatest sycophant to the princess or be on the constant defense as they looked for any chink in my 'armor' to make themselves seem better in some arbitrary way.
Of course, on the flip side, this could be my chance to get an 'in' with other noble families. If I played my cards right, I could leave a very favorable impression. The image of an intelligence, well cultured, princess who, while not a puppet to be used, has no real ambitions above her station. In essence, a non-threatening mix of contentment, yet still aware enough to make any attempt to subvert me to another's goals not worth it in a time commitment sense.
So I did what I always do when faced with an challenge; I prepared to the best of my abilities for any outcome.
The first step was to know what I was going to be dealing with. A simple enough task, given that these girls were selected by the Emperor himself all I had to do was ask him to provide their names.
Selene Syagrius, Myui Formal, Zaynab Zabba, and Sherry Tyueli.
From what little research I could do, given the lack of a centralized database of any kind to work with, I realized this was far more a daunting meeting than I initially realized. Each one of these girls was a member of an extremely powerful family.
Myui Formal, daughter of the Count of Italica; a chief exporter in agriculture. Though nowhere near the size of a proper metropolis, the fertile lands held within the domain and its place on the Imperial Highway made this region hold a disproportionate amount of influence in political matters.
Sherry Tyueli, daughter of the influential Senator Tyueli. While they held no province or large-scale lands beyond the occasional vineyard and mine, they held a great deal of sway in the Senate.
While impressive, it was the next two were the real daunting ones of the quartet.
Zaynab Zabba, daughter to the Mage-Lord of the Client City State of Zeinab along the norther coasts of the Western Desert. From what I read, the place is basically a mageocracy headed by a clique of hydromancers who maintain and control the city's supply of fresh water. Zeinab itself is a city zigzagged by large canals and dotted by a dizzying number of fountains that provide the people of the city with a constant supply of free water. While the book I read on the matter seems to dismiss the entirety of the city as bland and poor, I would beg to differ. There are many ways to display wealth. Some people use gold, others build massive canals filled with to the brim with water and construct massive fountains that continuously provide fresh water to citizens in a region of the world where it only rains one or two times a year.
And finally, the one of the quartet who concerns me the most: Selene Syagrius. The only daughter of Clovis Syagrius, hailing from the southwestern region of Soissons. Adding to the gravity of the situation is that the Syagrus family are descendants of first emperor, Emperor Aegidius Syagrius.
From what basic research I've done, the Syagrius family founded Sadera and ruled the Empire for the first century and a half of its existence. At some point the Imperial dynasty changed when the son of the last Syagrius emperor gave the crown to the Senate to enthrone a new dynasty; the Metellus family.
I have yet to find a single, impartial, telling of why the change happened. But if I read between the lines correctly, it looks like someone had a bone to pick with the family since the last six Syagrius Emperors succeeded each other within the time span of a single year. Six emperors in one year? Well, that's not fishy at all. And the first Metellus Emperor ascended to the throne within a day of the Syagrius son's abdication; who just happened to also be the most influential Senator of his era?
There was coincidence, and then there was this.
The son of the last emperor probably knew his odds of living past the next few months wasn't all that high, so he just gave up the crown to keep his life. Or maybe he threatened to go down kicking and screaming by using his personal forces to siege out the capitol itself unless he was given a territory to rule. So, he was given Soissons; the then border region of the Empire.
We'll never know I suppose. Not that it matters since the Syagrius family seemingly got the last laugh. Move forward a few centuries, and now Soissons is so massive it consist of three separate provinces, Soissons Superior, Soissons Inferior, and Soissons Ulterior. All three ruled by a single governor, Clovis Syagrius, giving the family a massive amount of power and influence in Imperial politics. And given the past history of holding the imperial title, I can easily say that she will be the greatest challenge in this meeting.
So given all the research I've done, I am confident in the results of this meeting of scions.
--
--
I was wrong.
"Princess, your hair is so pretty! What do you do to get it to shine like that?"
"And it's so smooth too. I wish mine was like that. My maids have to brush it for such a long time in the morning to get it like this."
I was so wrong.
"You could do what I do and just have them tie it a bit, Sherry."
"You think it would look good for me?"
"Of course, it will!"
I did not plan for this….
I planned for some back-and-forth political battle between scions of powerful families. Sure, I wasn't expecting the best thought out or articulated arguments given their relative ages. I even remember telling myself to go 'easy' on them due to their relative ages, but also preparing for any unplanned for genius to be in my midst.
But this? Brunch under a gazebo in the palace gardens, with girls who acted like….this? I gave a quick look at the menagerie around me. Four girls sitting at a round table with tiny snacks on slightly less small plates with cups of sweet tea.
The dark hair, amber eyed, tan skinned Zaynab who boasted of her swimming prowess and talked about how she was just learning water magic; whose minutely tipped ears spoke to an inhuman ancestry.
Selene Syagrius, a redhead tomboy whose expressive green eyes seemed to bubble with energy and emotion; especially when she lamented how her mother keeps buying her 'annoying' dresses that end up torn due to her active lifestyle.
Myui Formal, an orange haired girl, two years all our junior, who babbled how she was so nervous before coming here and was worried about making a fool of herself before us.
And Shery, the light brown twin-tailed daughter of a senator who acted overly excited on the most minute of things.
They talked about dresses, cute animals, funny books, how each other's hair is done, subjects they struggled with their tutors, and told stories of their homes. They acted like…girls.
So no, I had not prepared for this at all.
"Princess, are you okay?" Sherry asked.
"Yeah, are you okay?" Selene repeated Sherry's question; the redhead placing her hand on the arm of my lounge chair. "Is it too hot out for you? We can go inside if you want."
"No…No I'm fine," I gave the quartet a smile to ease their concern for me. "I was just thinking about something else."
"Well if you're sure," Sherry shrugged. "Just let us know and we can head on in if you want."
"I don't think it's that hot," Zaynab quipped while nibbling on a small muffin. "It's actually a bit chilly out today."
"But don't you live in a hot place, so anywhere else would be cooler?" Selene brought up, with a quite Myui nodded in the background.
"More like everywhere else is cold, and I live in a normal place," the desert girl countered.
"No way! Deserts are super hot!"
"Nope, its everywhere else that is cold."
As the banter between normal temperature ranges between the girl's homes escalated, then devolved into a large fit of cankerous laughter where they agreed to disagree, I was left with a single thought of how utterly out of my depth I was right now. It was almost enough to make me pray for something to get me out of this completely alien situation.
Almost.
------------------------------------------------------
AN: So yeah, not much plot, just good old fluff and world building.
I had to improvise with Kati's personality due to there being little to no information on him other than him being killed by Molt scared Zorzal so much that he "pretended to be a fool" ever since.
As for the other girls Tanya was with in Molt's arranged "playdate", both Selene and Zaynab are OCs; both to flush out some world building stuff and to set the stage for future events.
Especially the Syagrius family. A family whose wealth and power is leagues above every other noble family (maybe even a distant second to the Imperial Royal Family), who own three provinces to their name, AND can trace their line back to the founder of the Empire? Yep, probably never going to come up ever again. Especially if a power vacuum is created.
Nope.
Will never hear from them again. [Wink]
And for anyone who is curious when the GATE will finally open: I have it set to open 13 years after Tanya was born (reborn) and she is about to turn 8. Meaning 5 years to go in story time.
Princess Tanya looking art I found
A Young Princess - V
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
As the months came and went, I was further socialized with my "peers". Children who talked and dithered about childish things. Dresses, operas, toys, and other inconsequential things. Though I should count myself lucky that these girls have yet to enter their "boy" phases! Ugh. I can just tolerate the talk about cute ponies and the childish teasing they do with one another; if they were to talk about boys, I am certain I would simply jump out the window to get away from them (a window on the first floor).
I don't hold that against them, they're kids! Of course, they're going to be childish. And while I know intellectually that holding them to my standard of maturity and intelligence is blatantly unfair given they don't have the knowledge of two prior lives to call upon, I cant help but find the whole arrangement tiring. Every day I spend no less then three hours in some group tutoring session. Separate from my magical training under Master Fandrel, these classes are to teach necessary skills that a noble should know. Some of the subjects I can deal with, literacy, math, geography, history, a dash of basic philosophy. Understandable subjects to teach given the current era.
As for the other subjects, the ones I've been told are "integral" to being a "proper lady"…well…
All I will say on the issue is that I am glad the tomboy Selene is in attendee to these classes, otherwise I have no doubt I would be the objective worst in those damned "etiquette" classes.
And now that I've had some time to acclimate to them, the girls that is, I have come to realize a sad truth. These girls aren't here to be my friends, or more accurately that is not the primary reason they are here: these kids are hostages. Oh, they might live in opulent conditions within the Imperial Quarter, have servants wait on their every need, but that doesn't change the circumstances of their stay. They live in metaphorical cages. Gilded cages where they want for nothing, but cages none the less; never too far from the Emperor's knives should their families act out.
Sherry Tyulei, daughter of a senator who holds great sway among certain political circles.
Zaynab Zabba, child of the ruler of a client state of the empire.
Miyu Formal, the daughter of Count Formal, ruler of one of the Empire's most important agricultural regions.
And last, but certainly not least, Selene Syagrius. Where do I even begin with her family? They are descendants of the first imperial dynasty, hold vast swaths of economically productive territory, and most worryingly have large reserves of manpower and material to wage war.
Each family is powerful. Each one can cause quite the headache if they wished to revolt against the Emperor. They would fail (maybe not the Syagrius family if they can draw out a conflict and force a white peace), but it would cost the Empire in both time and resources. With threats on nearly every boarder, some being of the Empire's own making, internal divisions can quickly balloon into something far nastier. With close family in knife range, these powerful people may think twice before raising their flags in open revolt, or be more inclined to supporting the current regime since their relatives would also be in peril should Sadera be put under siege.
On one hand, it makes a certain kind of sense. In an era (or its fantasy equivalent) where power flows along dynastic lines, it makes sense that holding a powerful family's children will ensure a great deal of obedience. There is also the added benefit that by raising and socializing said hostage (or guest as they might refer to them as) to a future member of the ruling class, they may be less likely to revolt given preestablished ties of friendship or acquaintanceship.
But on the other hand, I can't help but find the whole dynamic a tad distasteful. Now I am not so soft as to say that certain actions are "off the table" when it comes to preserving a nation's stability and integrity, but I can't help but find the possibility of this backfiring unnerving. Just because you put two kids together and tell them to be friends does not mean they will. Children will be children, and they can be spiteful to a fault at times. Spite can fester into intense dislike, or even hate, and lead to rowdy subordinates than compliant ones. Worse, since they know the rulers (or at least some of the ruling class) they gain an insight into their thought processes, what makes them tick or what buttons to push to get a reaction.
To my mind, despite how common they might be in this sort of era, these arrangements carry far to much risk for my liking. A problem with wholly hereditary rulership I suppose. You might be able to groom the next head of government with the correct line of education, but you're also stuck with them if they prove lacking. Monarchs can certainly have a place in a modern society, so long as that place is with their hands firmly off the controls of government. While I'd like to throw the whole institution of monarchy under the proverbial bus, even I can tell that my simmering dismissal is coming from my frustration with the actions of Germania's Kaiser then a standard Japanese or British styled constitutional monarch.
A though for another time I suppose.
--
--
"Damn it boy, you spelled the names wrong on this one as well."
"I- I'm sorry Master, I didn't know."
"I know that you didn't know, since you made the mistake."
"If you'll give me a minute, I will-"
"Just leave it- Leave it I said! I'll finish the papers myself, just get me some fresh ink and paper. They're in the back, behind the lock box"
"Sorry Master. I mean, yes Master."
"And remember to wash your hands, I don't want your fingerprints on everything…again."
"Yes, Master Rax!" I watched out of the corner of my eye as the boy rush out of Gaius's cramped workspace to the storage area in the back.
When I manage to get away (escape) the little circle of children that has formed around me, and seemingly clung to my hip, I took it upon myself to meet up with Gaius Rax on occasion as the months passed; slipping out of the palace in the same commoner clothes Julia lent me. I didn't have any real schedule or preplanned timing on my meeting, I simply showed up when I wanted to; but I was always sure the guards knew what I looked like to let me back in. Now that would be one hell of a problem if I was stuck out here!
I should probably get those guards something. They are risking their jobs, and perhaps their lives, to let me walk around unattended. But whenever I try and give them money, they decline, say their just "doing their job". They're hardly doing it if they're letting me out, but I understand the principle of the statement. Maybe when I get old enough to have my own property, I'll probably request they serve me and give them a higher starting wage as an unspoken thank you for their efforts.
The experience of talking with someone who has no idea who you are is relaxing in a way you don't really understand until you've been waited on, and babied, to the extent I have been over the years. As far as I am concerned, each second of freedom is worth its weight in gold (assuming you could weigh time)!
But back to Gaius, I've found he's actually quite the interesting man to talk to. While I do admit he is probably trying to find out who I really am based on my responses and inflections on issues, he is at least considerate enough to be upfront about it. More than I can say to most things in the capitol. These excursions also give me a peak into the life of the "common man"; as much as a literate, eunuch, record keeper could be included within the majority demographics of the nation.
"He's getting better," Gaius spoke aloud, breaking my train of thought. "I've seen grown men, five times his age, struggle with things he's picked up."
"Every time I come in here, it seems like you're frustrated that he's doing something wrong," I quip back.
"Oh that?" referring to his previous words, "He just struggles with the little things. Dote his "I"s, crossing his "T"s, not getting his fingers all caked in ink so that parchment doesn't look like some spotted abomination. He's got a long way to go, but he is improving; of that I have no doubt."
Soft footsteps alerted us that the boy had returned, holding a fresh stack of paper and a small bottle of ink.
"Master," he announced his return, holding out the items he took from the back; his eyes low to the grown in deference. The boy, Remus, was a demi-human; specifically, a "wolf-kin" like Reenes. He looked no different from a black-haired human adolescent, with exception to his heterochromatic blue-brown eyes, slightly elongated canines, a dog-like tail at the base of his spine, and had an additional pair of wolf ears on the top of his head.
When I first met the kid, the boy was a wreck. Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with this newly bought slave who was slightly older than I was. A gaunt, pale boy with dark rings under his eyes, and visible bruising across his body. When I inquired about him to Gaius, the man said he bought the boy for fifty soruda at the markets. Of course, he had to haggle the merchant down from one denari owing to Remus's age, physical condition, and lack of education.
"I'm not so proud as to admit I'm not as spry as I use to be," Gaius admitted at the time when I asked why he now owned a slave. "I might be fine now but give it a decade, or two if I'm lucky, and I'll start slowing down. Remus is an investment for my own future."
Even eight and a half years on, I still cannot wrap by head around the concept that human life can be bartered about like a sack of potatoes or cattle. While I am not so driven by emotion as to admit life is "priceless" or "invaluable", military leaders have always used a cost-benefit analysis to determine how many lives should be "spent" to "buy" victory. Naturally, good leaders, or at the bare minimum competent ones, will attempt to spend as few lives as possible to achieve their goals.
That being said, I will argue to the end of my days that free will is an important aspect of life. Self-determination, within reason, is a concept I have always argued for and will always champion. The limit to that being when one knowingly binds oneself to a contract or structure where all the requirements and expectations have been laid bare for all to see. A person can't just enter an agreement, whose stipulations and expectations were laid out in a clear and concise manner, then complain about the being hamstrung by said agreement later. This also applies to laws, even if a person doesn't like a law they are not free to break it then rail against the courts for imposing penalties upon them.
The freedom I believe in is freedom for a person to choose for themselves what they wish to do. Once you take away someone's freedom to choose for themselves, be they good or bad choices, then you cross the line into something I will never agree with. Self-determination, it's as simple as that.
Then again, maybe I am identifying a little too much with the concept of individuals being forced into labors they do not wish to by an authority claiming to be a higher power above them?
Food for thought regardless.
"Very good," Giaus thanked the wolf-kin, placing the things on his desk. "I don't need you for the moment, so go up to your room and re-read the passages we looked over last night. Take note of anything you have trouble with so we can work on that later. I'll call you if you are needed."
"Yes, Master Rax," the boy bowed, his ears drooping across his head from the weight of gravity. He made one short glace at me, our eyes meeting briefly, before he quickly sprinted up the stairwell to his (I assume) room.
"Boys will be boys I suppose," the eunuch chuckled to himself as he shifted papers around.
"Pardon?" I questioned. Not that I didn't understand the phrase, being a former man myself. I will admit I got into a few rambunctious acts myself when I was his age (in my first life) where all my mother would say to the affected party was that I was "just being a boy". Maybe standards are a bit stricter here?
"Oh nothing, nothing," he waived off his own comment. "But back to what you were saying, you mentioned feeling like a caged bird?"
"To a degree, yes," I picked up where I left off, before Rax went about chastising Remus about his grammar. "Not only do I have to deal with all those girl's incessant chatting about this fashion or other things that I care so little about I can barely fake my interest, but I feel as if I am hitting a literal brick wall in my magical studies."
"Didn't you say your magical tutor had promised to give you something new to teeth on?"
"And I am still waiting," I gave an exacerbated sigh.
"Have you considered that he might be purposefully slowing your magical education so you can focus on your more mundane subjects?" Rax raised an eyebrow.
"He said he wasn't when I asked him about it," I shot down that conspiracy theory. Admittedly, that was also the first thing that came to my head. But everyone in the palace, from the Emperor, to the other girls, to even the staff, know I am far ahead of my fellow 'classmates' in nearly every regard; the sole exception is etiquette.
Again, thank you Selene for being there.
My best guess was that Fandrel was desperately trying to get more material from Rondel since he probably came here under the assumption that I would not be a good mage to begin with. Even if it was the Emperor himself who sent for him, I have no doubt that my skills were greatly exaggerated; exaggerations that Master Fandrel no doubt caught onto.
Given the circumstances, how the Emperor was bound to overhype the first magic user in his family, it's likely Fandrel only brought the minimum amount of teaching material with him assuming I would hold only a basic skill in the art. But now that I've breezed through all the introductory material he had on hand, he's scrambling to get more material from the Academy he has in Rondel. This has left me in an awkward place, where I am forced to repeat the same basic exercises over and over again without anything new to add to it. It was frustraiting.
"Well, have you considered practicing on your own?" Gaius proposed.
"On my own?" I repeated his question.
"Isn't that what mages do? Practice their craft until they find something interesting? Experiment and the like?"
I hold in a chuckle, "it's a tad more complicated then that."
"If that's so, then take it from me, Miss Tana," Gaius leaned in. "It's far easier to ask for permission that to ask for forgiveness. And doubt there is something you've wanted to try for some time now."
I sigh, pinching the ridge of my nose. Gaius wasn't wrong. There was one think I REALLY wanted to do. Or more accurately, something a wanted to experience again. I wanted to soar across the skies once more. The unbridled freedom of flying, of feeling the wind bellow as I flew at high speeds was…something I need back in my life.
I want to fly again.
I had held back due to a thousand and one excuses I fed myself even as they answered themselves. But as time has worn on, I've grown more and more impatient. Yes, I knew that Fandrel had no reason to suspect that I am an above average mage who is living their third life now, but I just felt so constrained!
Of course, I learned from firsthand experience in basic training that flying without a computation orb is difficult at best. The best, they told us raw recruits, we can do without an orb, or some kind of medium, was float or glide. The mechanics around it was basically use magic to reduce your own mass, then use bursts of mana to propel yourself forward. It's horribly inefficient in terms of mana consumption, and unlike an orb that will keep draining mana for a flight spell, if the mage stops thinking about it for even a second, they will come crashing down to Earth; probably break every bone in their body on impact. If they managed to catch themselves, and redo the mass reduction spell, that would do nothing since they still have the kinetic energy from their fall to deal with.
Overall, it was taught to be a last resort type of spell to be used like a parachute; reduce your mass then blast mana beneath you to slow your fall.
"Oh dear, I know that sort of expression when I see it," Gaius absently noted my expressions. "Should I inform the fire brigades ahead of time, or shall we simply keep this our little surprise for the denizes of the Imperial Quarter?"
"I'm not going to set anything on fire" again, I mentally noted. No need to feed that damn smirk of his.
I left his office earlier then I usually would, I had things to prepare.
I could feel that this man is a horrible influence on me.
--
--
"- and I simply cannot believe the audacity of the boy!"
When Molt was a young lad, his father told him he would never understand how heavy the crown was until he wore it. At the time, Molt didn't understand how the world truly worked. He was short sighted and stupid. The Emperor is the Emperor, he explained to his father with all the logic a boy of ten could muster, that was all was needed to obey him. His father laughed, put a hand upon his head, and told him one day he would know.
If only the world were as simple as he though it was back then…
But now?
Now Molt was stuck with a man he'd sooner have drawn and quartered then be in the same room with him for any extended period of time.
Clovis Syargius. Or as he loved to introduce himself as, Clovis Syagius, Governor of Soissons, Breaker of Barbarians, Patron of the Arts and Natural Sciences, Blood of the First Dragon, and Master of the West by the Grace of the Gods.
But more importantly, as far as Molt was concerned, the most dangerous man in the Empire.
A few years Molt's senior, Clovis Syagrius was the head of the second most powerful family in the Empire. While the disparity between their houses was as vast as the ocean itself, Clovis was still a powerful man. He had three hereditary provinces to his name, some of the wealthiest in the Empire, with a fourth province on the cusp of being established and commanded no fewer than ten legions with an unknown number of auxilia.
Oh, he carried himself like a flamboyant, foppish, noble, garbed in bright reds and golds, with precious stones and metals adorning his form, but Molt knew this for the ruse it was. The gems that made him look like an opulent noble were all enchanted with protective wards and powerful magic; a benefit for being a "patron of the natural sciences".
That's what they call it when you have a small cloven of hedge mages in your city who produce magical good without having to go through Rondel or its Academy.
The most mysterious part of the ensamble was his cane. While he had no limp, Molt had never once seen Syagrius anywhere without that ivory cane with that blood red gem on the top. Molt's own mages had long informed him that it was also enchanted; but cautioned that it was to a far greater degree than the rest of his apparel. But the enchanted gear was not his primary means of defense. No, that honor when to his personal bodyguard.
The Emperor gave a sideways to George, Clovis's monster of a man who stood a pace behind where the Governor was seated. The man was a two-meter-tall giant, armed with a sword that was more a claymore than a mere blade and clad in a suit of glistening dragon scaled armor. With his body concealed in armor, and his helm obscuring anything but a pair of sharp golden eyes, rumors of what exactly this man was were rampant in some circles. Was he a dwarf giant, as redundant as the phrase was? Was he a demi-human? An orc or oger who was 'trained' to be civilized? Perhaps the giant was a not a man, but a construct of stitched together corpses powered by some form of black magic?
The truth of the matter, as his own agents have attested, is quite mundane. The man was indeed human, or at least looked human enough to not be considered a half breed. According to his men; he was simply a freak of nature, who's body was covered in some ritualistic scaring and tattoos that stood as a hold over from his primative background.
The story his agents had gathered went something like this: George was a barbarian from the far west that came into Syagrius's service a few years ago. Supposedly, he killed a dragon that was burning farmlands along the western territories. Sygarius brought the man to court as a trophy of sorts and gave him some honors. Yet on the eve of these festivities, the man's role as a bodyguard came into being. The giant had uncovered a plot to kill the governor and stood between Syagrius and a haryo assassin's blade.
Upon the creature's corpse, they found documents detailing a plot to kill not merely the governor, but his entire family; along with a list of collaborators and the location of other haryo in Soissons.
Syagrius responded with swift brutality. Safehouses were raided, collaborators in court were tortured to death, suspected informants hung from city walls, hamlets and villages who unknowingly harbored haryo were razed and had their populations enslaved. When word reached Clovis, from his new faithful bodyguard, of haryo influence within his own forces Syagrius decimated his own legions and purged their leadership. The man even got some of Molt's own agents in the crossfire of his crackdowns.
But when all was said and done, hundreds lay dead, but Clovis's power was more secured then ever; and the giant, George the Dragon Slayer, has stood beside his liege ever since.
Molt almost wishes the assassin had succeeded. If the entire Syagrius bloodline was dealt with, he could take the provinces and give them to his loyalists. The instability it may cause would be troublesome in the short term, but it would have his dynasty a terrible number of headaches in the future.
Such as the one he was experiencing now.
"The sheer audacity, Your Majesty." Clovis continued his rant. "You've given him a roof over his head, food from your table, tutors to teach him letters, and a future of comfort that few can ever dream of. And this is how he repays your generosity? Treason? I knew then and there, no matter how honeyed his words may be, he was a man without a shred of honor; a potential kinslayer even! The type of person no decent person should abide. And so, I took it upon myself to bring this horrid bit of new to you."
Molt had to keep himself from rolling his eyes as he listened to Clovis spin his tale. Beneath the man's friendly exterior, was the cold heart of a brutal tyrant who simply lacked power to enforce his will.
"This is a serious accusation," Molt finally replied. "I do hope you have some evidence that goes beyond a single conversation that only you and your personal retainers can attest to?"
"But of course, you Majesty," Syagrius motioned to his guard. The praetorian guards relexify reached for their blades as the giant took several steps forward. Anticlimactically, the Dragon Slayer placed several papers upon the Emperor's desk. "These are the letters in which he sought to turn me a traitor with pretty words and empty promises."
The Emperor brought the letter up to give the illusion of inspecting them, but didn't have to read a single word to tell this was his hand writing. The boy's tutors always went on and on about how refined his penmanship was.
If Kati wished to rebel, he would need Syagrius's support to even have a chance at victory.
Gods damn that boy.
"While I cannot say one way or the other if your accusations treason are true," Molt calmly lied. "The evidence shown does warrant a more in-depth investigation into the prince's activities. If this threat proves to be genuine, then you have my sincerest gratitude for uncovering this conspiracy Lord Syagrius."
"Your Majesty, please do not lower yourself to thank me. I am but a mere servant to the Empire, I merely did what honor demanded of me," the sheer sincerity in Clovis's voice almost made Molt believe he was genuine.
Almost.
--
--
Sometime later, after numerous other halfhearted pleasantries were exchanged and Syagrius and his guard were seen out, Molt was left in a conundrum.
Alone, with only his closest guards and trusted retainer beside him, Molt's thoughts drifted back to his father's words.
"So, it's treason then?" Molt wearily asked Marcus, his most trusted retainer and minster, his eyes not leaving the slip of paper Clovis left.
"Your Majesty?" the retainer replied, not understanding the question.
"How many of these did you say were intercepted?" Molt questioned, not caring to clarify his previous comment to the minister.
"Fifteen that we knew of, Your Majesty," Marcus quickly replied, giving the note a quick glance. "Sixteen now, I suppose. And the Eyes did caution that more could have slipped their notice."
"'It is impossible to be in every room' indeed," the Emperor quoted a prior report from his agents on the matter of these letters. "What a disaster."
The truth of the matter was that Molt had known of Kati's treason for some time. Nothing occurs within the walls of this city without him becoming aware; especially when it involved members of his family. He knew of Zorzal's abuses, Diabo's insecurities, Pina's gallivanting, Tanya's excursions, and yes even Kati's treasonous actions. The boy may be subtle, but he was hardly inconspicuous. Even without his Eyes trailing him, a simple observation of his actions at court gatherings was enough to caste the eye of suspicion upon him.
Kati's first mistake was associating himself with senators who are vocal opponents to Molt's polices.
His second mistake was approaching nobles who openly questioned Molt's authority over their lands.
His third, and final, mistake were these letters; most of which were intercepted. Sadly, for Kati's sake, not all of them.
The boy was too ambitious and smart for his own good. If he had just kept his head down and simply accepted his place in the succession, he could easily be made a senator or even a governor. But the boy had too much of his mother in him; a "simple" life would not satiate his pride.
A part of him respected Kati for that in a way; in an objective sense. It was only right for one to try and rise above their station and take charge of their life. In practice, Molt wished that Kati would have used that drive to carve out a place for himself rather than plot to usurp his throne.
Molt's initial plan to deal with Kati was to confront the boy and quietly deal with him. No public condemnation as that would only lead to questions of Molt's capabilities if it became public knowledge that his stepson was able to plot to overthrow him within his own palace. He would instead "reward" Kati with some position of prestige on the furthest reaches of the Empire; maybe something in the far east where cities get sacked as often as day turns to night. If Molt was lucky, the boy would be killed by some stray arrow and that would be that. Kati would go down as a tragic hero, a prince who died for his Empire.
But now that Syagrius knew, and had no doubt told his allies in the Senate, Molt simply could not sweep this issue under the proverbial rug. If Molt didn't openly punish the boy, or as openly as court would accept, Clovis and his ilk would come out of the woodworks and decry Molt as both weak and a hypocrite due to the Emperor's prior actions against treasonous elements in his court. And if Molt delayed his response? Then Syagrius would no doubt introduce his evidence to the Senate and cast Kati to their mercies, and receive praise not only from his loyalists, but also from Molt's own sycophants who were oblivious to the clock and dagger nature of all this and genuinely believe a plot against him was just uncovered.
But this whole fiasco brings up another issue his must face; succession.
Zorzal was his heir, but he was also a damned fool who cared more about gallivanting with his friends and abusing slave girls to be trusted with any real power. He'd probably bankrupt the empire within a year with Colosseum games if the words from his tutors was anything to go by.
And while Diabo had a better head on his shoulders, he lacked any sort of backbone to stand his ground when facing pushback of any sort. He seemingly wants to clothe himself in false praise, regardless of what he needs to do to receive it.
Neither were worthy of inheriting his crown.
What a damned mess…
If worst came to worst, Molt was hold onto power until grandsons came of age. Maybe one of them would have a better head on their shoulders then their fathers.
He still has to deal with Kati quickly, less that brat do something unpredictable like-
"…your Majesty," Marcus mumbled aloud. "I…ugh.."
"Yes, Marcus, what is it?" Molt replied, still trying to nurse his headache.
"The…uh…" Marcus seemingly scrambled to find the right words. "Princess is…just outside the window."
Which one… ah yes, Tanya. Did come back from her little 'excursion' in quite the rush and organized an impromptu snack in the royal garden's just beyond with her friends. He was honestly happy at the news; for as brilliant as she was, his youngest was too shy for her own good. Maybe all that prancing about as a commoner was giving her a bit more self-confidence? His agents did note she does walk with a bit of a spring in her step when she-
"Please, Your Majesty," Marcus repeated more urgently. "She is just beyond the window."
Molt saw that his retainer was pointing behind him and saw the other guards also staring as well. The Emperor rolled his eyes at the dramatics. If they were acting like this, Tanya was probably doing some magic trick to amaze her friends that seemingly also dumbfounded his own circle.
He turned to see what all the fuss was about, "yes, yes, my daughter is one of the greatest mages of our time, but what can be so-"
And then he saw it.
Tanya, his little girl, was just outside the window to his study.
On the seventh floor of the palace….
She wore something akin to those commoner rags his agents told him she wore. There was some kind of magical aura around her if the light that outlined her form was anything to go by. A hand rested along the arch of the windowsill from the outside, as if holding herself up from the force of gravity. Tanya noticed him looking at her. Her blue eyes, that seemed to hold a brighter shade of blue than normal, blinked.
Without breaking eye contact, Tanya let go of the stone outside and began to fall. His heart sank, but this feeling was only momentary, for she did not fall to the earth like a brick. She floated down; slowly, as if sinking to the bottom of a pool of water.
After half a minute, with the Emperor opening the window of his study to crane his neck down to watch, her feet touched solid ground once more. The aura around her vanished, and the other children raced to her side. The servants, guards, retainers, and beyond stared at the princess with astonishment as they tried to process what kind of magic they had just witnessed with their own eyes.
As Molt heard bits and pieces of their astonishment and praise from far below, all he could feel was the onset of yet another headache.
-------------
-------------
AN: So yeah, Tanya can fly (float/glide)! Huzza for progress!
I don't hold that against them, they're kids! Of course, they're going to be childish. And while I know intellectually that holding them to my standard of maturity and intelligence is blatantly unfair given they don't have the knowledge of two prior lives to call upon, I cant help but find the whole arrangement tiring. Every day I spend no less then three hours in some group tutoring session. Separate from my magical training under Master Fandrel, these classes are to teach necessary skills that a noble should know. Some of the subjects I can deal with, literacy, math, geography, history, a dash of basic philosophy. Understandable subjects to teach given the current era.
As for the other subjects, the ones I've been told are "integral" to being a "proper lady"…well…
All I will say on the issue is that I am glad the tomboy Selene is in attendee to these classes, otherwise I have no doubt I would be the objective worst in those damned "etiquette" classes.
And now that I've had some time to acclimate to them, the girls that is, I have come to realize a sad truth. These girls aren't here to be my friends, or more accurately that is not the primary reason they are here: these kids are hostages. Oh, they might live in opulent conditions within the Imperial Quarter, have servants wait on their every need, but that doesn't change the circumstances of their stay. They live in metaphorical cages. Gilded cages where they want for nothing, but cages none the less; never too far from the Emperor's knives should their families act out.
Sherry Tyulei, daughter of a senator who holds great sway among certain political circles.
Zaynab Zabba, child of the ruler of a client state of the empire.
Miyu Formal, the daughter of Count Formal, ruler of one of the Empire's most important agricultural regions.
And last, but certainly not least, Selene Syagrius. Where do I even begin with her family? They are descendants of the first imperial dynasty, hold vast swaths of economically productive territory, and most worryingly have large reserves of manpower and material to wage war.
Each family is powerful. Each one can cause quite the headache if they wished to revolt against the Emperor. They would fail (maybe not the Syagrius family if they can draw out a conflict and force a white peace), but it would cost the Empire in both time and resources. With threats on nearly every boarder, some being of the Empire's own making, internal divisions can quickly balloon into something far nastier. With close family in knife range, these powerful people may think twice before raising their flags in open revolt, or be more inclined to supporting the current regime since their relatives would also be in peril should Sadera be put under siege.
On one hand, it makes a certain kind of sense. In an era (or its fantasy equivalent) where power flows along dynastic lines, it makes sense that holding a powerful family's children will ensure a great deal of obedience. There is also the added benefit that by raising and socializing said hostage (or guest as they might refer to them as) to a future member of the ruling class, they may be less likely to revolt given preestablished ties of friendship or acquaintanceship.
But on the other hand, I can't help but find the whole dynamic a tad distasteful. Now I am not so soft as to say that certain actions are "off the table" when it comes to preserving a nation's stability and integrity, but I can't help but find the possibility of this backfiring unnerving. Just because you put two kids together and tell them to be friends does not mean they will. Children will be children, and they can be spiteful to a fault at times. Spite can fester into intense dislike, or even hate, and lead to rowdy subordinates than compliant ones. Worse, since they know the rulers (or at least some of the ruling class) they gain an insight into their thought processes, what makes them tick or what buttons to push to get a reaction.
To my mind, despite how common they might be in this sort of era, these arrangements carry far to much risk for my liking. A problem with wholly hereditary rulership I suppose. You might be able to groom the next head of government with the correct line of education, but you're also stuck with them if they prove lacking. Monarchs can certainly have a place in a modern society, so long as that place is with their hands firmly off the controls of government. While I'd like to throw the whole institution of monarchy under the proverbial bus, even I can tell that my simmering dismissal is coming from my frustration with the actions of Germania's Kaiser then a standard Japanese or British styled constitutional monarch.
A though for another time I suppose.
--
--
"Damn it boy, you spelled the names wrong on this one as well."
"I- I'm sorry Master, I didn't know."
"I know that you didn't know, since you made the mistake."
"If you'll give me a minute, I will-"
"Just leave it- Leave it I said! I'll finish the papers myself, just get me some fresh ink and paper. They're in the back, behind the lock box"
"Sorry Master. I mean, yes Master."
"And remember to wash your hands, I don't want your fingerprints on everything…again."
"Yes, Master Rax!" I watched out of the corner of my eye as the boy rush out of Gaius's cramped workspace to the storage area in the back.
When I manage to get away (escape) the little circle of children that has formed around me, and seemingly clung to my hip, I took it upon myself to meet up with Gaius Rax on occasion as the months passed; slipping out of the palace in the same commoner clothes Julia lent me. I didn't have any real schedule or preplanned timing on my meeting, I simply showed up when I wanted to; but I was always sure the guards knew what I looked like to let me back in. Now that would be one hell of a problem if I was stuck out here!
I should probably get those guards something. They are risking their jobs, and perhaps their lives, to let me walk around unattended. But whenever I try and give them money, they decline, say their just "doing their job". They're hardly doing it if they're letting me out, but I understand the principle of the statement. Maybe when I get old enough to have my own property, I'll probably request they serve me and give them a higher starting wage as an unspoken thank you for their efforts.
The experience of talking with someone who has no idea who you are is relaxing in a way you don't really understand until you've been waited on, and babied, to the extent I have been over the years. As far as I am concerned, each second of freedom is worth its weight in gold (assuming you could weigh time)!
But back to Gaius, I've found he's actually quite the interesting man to talk to. While I do admit he is probably trying to find out who I really am based on my responses and inflections on issues, he is at least considerate enough to be upfront about it. More than I can say to most things in the capitol. These excursions also give me a peak into the life of the "common man"; as much as a literate, eunuch, record keeper could be included within the majority demographics of the nation.
"He's getting better," Gaius spoke aloud, breaking my train of thought. "I've seen grown men, five times his age, struggle with things he's picked up."
"Every time I come in here, it seems like you're frustrated that he's doing something wrong," I quip back.
"Oh that?" referring to his previous words, "He just struggles with the little things. Dote his "I"s, crossing his "T"s, not getting his fingers all caked in ink so that parchment doesn't look like some spotted abomination. He's got a long way to go, but he is improving; of that I have no doubt."
Soft footsteps alerted us that the boy had returned, holding a fresh stack of paper and a small bottle of ink.
"Master," he announced his return, holding out the items he took from the back; his eyes low to the grown in deference. The boy, Remus, was a demi-human; specifically, a "wolf-kin" like Reenes. He looked no different from a black-haired human adolescent, with exception to his heterochromatic blue-brown eyes, slightly elongated canines, a dog-like tail at the base of his spine, and had an additional pair of wolf ears on the top of his head.
When I first met the kid, the boy was a wreck. Imagine my surprise when I came face to face with this newly bought slave who was slightly older than I was. A gaunt, pale boy with dark rings under his eyes, and visible bruising across his body. When I inquired about him to Gaius, the man said he bought the boy for fifty soruda at the markets. Of course, he had to haggle the merchant down from one denari owing to Remus's age, physical condition, and lack of education.
"I'm not so proud as to admit I'm not as spry as I use to be," Gaius admitted at the time when I asked why he now owned a slave. "I might be fine now but give it a decade, or two if I'm lucky, and I'll start slowing down. Remus is an investment for my own future."
Even eight and a half years on, I still cannot wrap by head around the concept that human life can be bartered about like a sack of potatoes or cattle. While I am not so driven by emotion as to admit life is "priceless" or "invaluable", military leaders have always used a cost-benefit analysis to determine how many lives should be "spent" to "buy" victory. Naturally, good leaders, or at the bare minimum competent ones, will attempt to spend as few lives as possible to achieve their goals.
That being said, I will argue to the end of my days that free will is an important aspect of life. Self-determination, within reason, is a concept I have always argued for and will always champion. The limit to that being when one knowingly binds oneself to a contract or structure where all the requirements and expectations have been laid bare for all to see. A person can't just enter an agreement, whose stipulations and expectations were laid out in a clear and concise manner, then complain about the being hamstrung by said agreement later. This also applies to laws, even if a person doesn't like a law they are not free to break it then rail against the courts for imposing penalties upon them.
The freedom I believe in is freedom for a person to choose for themselves what they wish to do. Once you take away someone's freedom to choose for themselves, be they good or bad choices, then you cross the line into something I will never agree with. Self-determination, it's as simple as that.
Then again, maybe I am identifying a little too much with the concept of individuals being forced into labors they do not wish to by an authority claiming to be a higher power above them?
Food for thought regardless.
"Very good," Giaus thanked the wolf-kin, placing the things on his desk. "I don't need you for the moment, so go up to your room and re-read the passages we looked over last night. Take note of anything you have trouble with so we can work on that later. I'll call you if you are needed."
"Yes, Master Rax," the boy bowed, his ears drooping across his head from the weight of gravity. He made one short glace at me, our eyes meeting briefly, before he quickly sprinted up the stairwell to his (I assume) room.
"Boys will be boys I suppose," the eunuch chuckled to himself as he shifted papers around.
"Pardon?" I questioned. Not that I didn't understand the phrase, being a former man myself. I will admit I got into a few rambunctious acts myself when I was his age (in my first life) where all my mother would say to the affected party was that I was "just being a boy". Maybe standards are a bit stricter here?
"Oh nothing, nothing," he waived off his own comment. "But back to what you were saying, you mentioned feeling like a caged bird?"
"To a degree, yes," I picked up where I left off, before Rax went about chastising Remus about his grammar. "Not only do I have to deal with all those girl's incessant chatting about this fashion or other things that I care so little about I can barely fake my interest, but I feel as if I am hitting a literal brick wall in my magical studies."
"Didn't you say your magical tutor had promised to give you something new to teeth on?"
"And I am still waiting," I gave an exacerbated sigh.
"Have you considered that he might be purposefully slowing your magical education so you can focus on your more mundane subjects?" Rax raised an eyebrow.
"He said he wasn't when I asked him about it," I shot down that conspiracy theory. Admittedly, that was also the first thing that came to my head. But everyone in the palace, from the Emperor, to the other girls, to even the staff, know I am far ahead of my fellow 'classmates' in nearly every regard; the sole exception is etiquette.
Again, thank you Selene for being there.
My best guess was that Fandrel was desperately trying to get more material from Rondel since he probably came here under the assumption that I would not be a good mage to begin with. Even if it was the Emperor himself who sent for him, I have no doubt that my skills were greatly exaggerated; exaggerations that Master Fandrel no doubt caught onto.
Given the circumstances, how the Emperor was bound to overhype the first magic user in his family, it's likely Fandrel only brought the minimum amount of teaching material with him assuming I would hold only a basic skill in the art. But now that I've breezed through all the introductory material he had on hand, he's scrambling to get more material from the Academy he has in Rondel. This has left me in an awkward place, where I am forced to repeat the same basic exercises over and over again without anything new to add to it. It was frustraiting.
"Well, have you considered practicing on your own?" Gaius proposed.
"On my own?" I repeated his question.
"Isn't that what mages do? Practice their craft until they find something interesting? Experiment and the like?"
I hold in a chuckle, "it's a tad more complicated then that."
"If that's so, then take it from me, Miss Tana," Gaius leaned in. "It's far easier to ask for permission that to ask for forgiveness. And doubt there is something you've wanted to try for some time now."
I sigh, pinching the ridge of my nose. Gaius wasn't wrong. There was one think I REALLY wanted to do. Or more accurately, something a wanted to experience again. I wanted to soar across the skies once more. The unbridled freedom of flying, of feeling the wind bellow as I flew at high speeds was…something I need back in my life.
I want to fly again.
I had held back due to a thousand and one excuses I fed myself even as they answered themselves. But as time has worn on, I've grown more and more impatient. Yes, I knew that Fandrel had no reason to suspect that I am an above average mage who is living their third life now, but I just felt so constrained!
Of course, I learned from firsthand experience in basic training that flying without a computation orb is difficult at best. The best, they told us raw recruits, we can do without an orb, or some kind of medium, was float or glide. The mechanics around it was basically use magic to reduce your own mass, then use bursts of mana to propel yourself forward. It's horribly inefficient in terms of mana consumption, and unlike an orb that will keep draining mana for a flight spell, if the mage stops thinking about it for even a second, they will come crashing down to Earth; probably break every bone in their body on impact. If they managed to catch themselves, and redo the mass reduction spell, that would do nothing since they still have the kinetic energy from their fall to deal with.
Overall, it was taught to be a last resort type of spell to be used like a parachute; reduce your mass then blast mana beneath you to slow your fall.
"Oh dear, I know that sort of expression when I see it," Gaius absently noted my expressions. "Should I inform the fire brigades ahead of time, or shall we simply keep this our little surprise for the denizes of the Imperial Quarter?"
"I'm not going to set anything on fire" again, I mentally noted. No need to feed that damn smirk of his.
I left his office earlier then I usually would, I had things to prepare.
I could feel that this man is a horrible influence on me.
--
--
"- and I simply cannot believe the audacity of the boy!"
When Molt was a young lad, his father told him he would never understand how heavy the crown was until he wore it. At the time, Molt didn't understand how the world truly worked. He was short sighted and stupid. The Emperor is the Emperor, he explained to his father with all the logic a boy of ten could muster, that was all was needed to obey him. His father laughed, put a hand upon his head, and told him one day he would know.
If only the world were as simple as he though it was back then…
But now?
Now Molt was stuck with a man he'd sooner have drawn and quartered then be in the same room with him for any extended period of time.
Clovis Syargius. Or as he loved to introduce himself as, Clovis Syagius, Governor of Soissons, Breaker of Barbarians, Patron of the Arts and Natural Sciences, Blood of the First Dragon, and Master of the West by the Grace of the Gods.
But more importantly, as far as Molt was concerned, the most dangerous man in the Empire.
A few years Molt's senior, Clovis Syagrius was the head of the second most powerful family in the Empire. While the disparity between their houses was as vast as the ocean itself, Clovis was still a powerful man. He had three hereditary provinces to his name, some of the wealthiest in the Empire, with a fourth province on the cusp of being established and commanded no fewer than ten legions with an unknown number of auxilia.
Oh, he carried himself like a flamboyant, foppish, noble, garbed in bright reds and golds, with precious stones and metals adorning his form, but Molt knew this for the ruse it was. The gems that made him look like an opulent noble were all enchanted with protective wards and powerful magic; a benefit for being a "patron of the natural sciences".
That's what they call it when you have a small cloven of hedge mages in your city who produce magical good without having to go through Rondel or its Academy.
The most mysterious part of the ensamble was his cane. While he had no limp, Molt had never once seen Syagrius anywhere without that ivory cane with that blood red gem on the top. Molt's own mages had long informed him that it was also enchanted; but cautioned that it was to a far greater degree than the rest of his apparel. But the enchanted gear was not his primary means of defense. No, that honor when to his personal bodyguard.
The Emperor gave a sideways to George, Clovis's monster of a man who stood a pace behind where the Governor was seated. The man was a two-meter-tall giant, armed with a sword that was more a claymore than a mere blade and clad in a suit of glistening dragon scaled armor. With his body concealed in armor, and his helm obscuring anything but a pair of sharp golden eyes, rumors of what exactly this man was were rampant in some circles. Was he a dwarf giant, as redundant as the phrase was? Was he a demi-human? An orc or oger who was 'trained' to be civilized? Perhaps the giant was a not a man, but a construct of stitched together corpses powered by some form of black magic?
The truth of the matter, as his own agents have attested, is quite mundane. The man was indeed human, or at least looked human enough to not be considered a half breed. According to his men; he was simply a freak of nature, who's body was covered in some ritualistic scaring and tattoos that stood as a hold over from his primative background.
The story his agents had gathered went something like this: George was a barbarian from the far west that came into Syagrius's service a few years ago. Supposedly, he killed a dragon that was burning farmlands along the western territories. Sygarius brought the man to court as a trophy of sorts and gave him some honors. Yet on the eve of these festivities, the man's role as a bodyguard came into being. The giant had uncovered a plot to kill the governor and stood between Syagrius and a haryo assassin's blade.
Upon the creature's corpse, they found documents detailing a plot to kill not merely the governor, but his entire family; along with a list of collaborators and the location of other haryo in Soissons.
Syagrius responded with swift brutality. Safehouses were raided, collaborators in court were tortured to death, suspected informants hung from city walls, hamlets and villages who unknowingly harbored haryo were razed and had their populations enslaved. When word reached Clovis, from his new faithful bodyguard, of haryo influence within his own forces Syagrius decimated his own legions and purged their leadership. The man even got some of Molt's own agents in the crossfire of his crackdowns.
But when all was said and done, hundreds lay dead, but Clovis's power was more secured then ever; and the giant, George the Dragon Slayer, has stood beside his liege ever since.
Molt almost wishes the assassin had succeeded. If the entire Syagrius bloodline was dealt with, he could take the provinces and give them to his loyalists. The instability it may cause would be troublesome in the short term, but it would have his dynasty a terrible number of headaches in the future.
Such as the one he was experiencing now.
"The sheer audacity, Your Majesty." Clovis continued his rant. "You've given him a roof over his head, food from your table, tutors to teach him letters, and a future of comfort that few can ever dream of. And this is how he repays your generosity? Treason? I knew then and there, no matter how honeyed his words may be, he was a man without a shred of honor; a potential kinslayer even! The type of person no decent person should abide. And so, I took it upon myself to bring this horrid bit of new to you."
Molt had to keep himself from rolling his eyes as he listened to Clovis spin his tale. Beneath the man's friendly exterior, was the cold heart of a brutal tyrant who simply lacked power to enforce his will.
"This is a serious accusation," Molt finally replied. "I do hope you have some evidence that goes beyond a single conversation that only you and your personal retainers can attest to?"
"But of course, you Majesty," Syagrius motioned to his guard. The praetorian guards relexify reached for their blades as the giant took several steps forward. Anticlimactically, the Dragon Slayer placed several papers upon the Emperor's desk. "These are the letters in which he sought to turn me a traitor with pretty words and empty promises."
The Emperor brought the letter up to give the illusion of inspecting them, but didn't have to read a single word to tell this was his hand writing. The boy's tutors always went on and on about how refined his penmanship was.
If Kati wished to rebel, he would need Syagrius's support to even have a chance at victory.
Gods damn that boy.
"While I cannot say one way or the other if your accusations treason are true," Molt calmly lied. "The evidence shown does warrant a more in-depth investigation into the prince's activities. If this threat proves to be genuine, then you have my sincerest gratitude for uncovering this conspiracy Lord Syagrius."
"Your Majesty, please do not lower yourself to thank me. I am but a mere servant to the Empire, I merely did what honor demanded of me," the sheer sincerity in Clovis's voice almost made Molt believe he was genuine.
Almost.
--
--
Sometime later, after numerous other halfhearted pleasantries were exchanged and Syagrius and his guard were seen out, Molt was left in a conundrum.
Alone, with only his closest guards and trusted retainer beside him, Molt's thoughts drifted back to his father's words.
"So, it's treason then?" Molt wearily asked Marcus, his most trusted retainer and minster, his eyes not leaving the slip of paper Clovis left.
"Your Majesty?" the retainer replied, not understanding the question.
"How many of these did you say were intercepted?" Molt questioned, not caring to clarify his previous comment to the minister.
"Fifteen that we knew of, Your Majesty," Marcus quickly replied, giving the note a quick glance. "Sixteen now, I suppose. And the Eyes did caution that more could have slipped their notice."
"'It is impossible to be in every room' indeed," the Emperor quoted a prior report from his agents on the matter of these letters. "What a disaster."
The truth of the matter was that Molt had known of Kati's treason for some time. Nothing occurs within the walls of this city without him becoming aware; especially when it involved members of his family. He knew of Zorzal's abuses, Diabo's insecurities, Pina's gallivanting, Tanya's excursions, and yes even Kati's treasonous actions. The boy may be subtle, but he was hardly inconspicuous. Even without his Eyes trailing him, a simple observation of his actions at court gatherings was enough to caste the eye of suspicion upon him.
Kati's first mistake was associating himself with senators who are vocal opponents to Molt's polices.
His second mistake was approaching nobles who openly questioned Molt's authority over their lands.
His third, and final, mistake were these letters; most of which were intercepted. Sadly, for Kati's sake, not all of them.
The boy was too ambitious and smart for his own good. If he had just kept his head down and simply accepted his place in the succession, he could easily be made a senator or even a governor. But the boy had too much of his mother in him; a "simple" life would not satiate his pride.
A part of him respected Kati for that in a way; in an objective sense. It was only right for one to try and rise above their station and take charge of their life. In practice, Molt wished that Kati would have used that drive to carve out a place for himself rather than plot to usurp his throne.
Molt's initial plan to deal with Kati was to confront the boy and quietly deal with him. No public condemnation as that would only lead to questions of Molt's capabilities if it became public knowledge that his stepson was able to plot to overthrow him within his own palace. He would instead "reward" Kati with some position of prestige on the furthest reaches of the Empire; maybe something in the far east where cities get sacked as often as day turns to night. If Molt was lucky, the boy would be killed by some stray arrow and that would be that. Kati would go down as a tragic hero, a prince who died for his Empire.
But now that Syagrius knew, and had no doubt told his allies in the Senate, Molt simply could not sweep this issue under the proverbial rug. If Molt didn't openly punish the boy, or as openly as court would accept, Clovis and his ilk would come out of the woodworks and decry Molt as both weak and a hypocrite due to the Emperor's prior actions against treasonous elements in his court. And if Molt delayed his response? Then Syagrius would no doubt introduce his evidence to the Senate and cast Kati to their mercies, and receive praise not only from his loyalists, but also from Molt's own sycophants who were oblivious to the clock and dagger nature of all this and genuinely believe a plot against him was just uncovered.
But this whole fiasco brings up another issue his must face; succession.
Zorzal was his heir, but he was also a damned fool who cared more about gallivanting with his friends and abusing slave girls to be trusted with any real power. He'd probably bankrupt the empire within a year with Colosseum games if the words from his tutors was anything to go by.
And while Diabo had a better head on his shoulders, he lacked any sort of backbone to stand his ground when facing pushback of any sort. He seemingly wants to clothe himself in false praise, regardless of what he needs to do to receive it.
Neither were worthy of inheriting his crown.
What a damned mess…
If worst came to worst, Molt was hold onto power until grandsons came of age. Maybe one of them would have a better head on their shoulders then their fathers.
He still has to deal with Kati quickly, less that brat do something unpredictable like-
"…your Majesty," Marcus mumbled aloud. "I…ugh.."
"Yes, Marcus, what is it?" Molt replied, still trying to nurse his headache.
"The…uh…" Marcus seemingly scrambled to find the right words. "Princess is…just outside the window."
Which one… ah yes, Tanya. Did come back from her little 'excursion' in quite the rush and organized an impromptu snack in the royal garden's just beyond with her friends. He was honestly happy at the news; for as brilliant as she was, his youngest was too shy for her own good. Maybe all that prancing about as a commoner was giving her a bit more self-confidence? His agents did note she does walk with a bit of a spring in her step when she-
"Please, Your Majesty," Marcus repeated more urgently. "She is just beyond the window."
Molt saw that his retainer was pointing behind him and saw the other guards also staring as well. The Emperor rolled his eyes at the dramatics. If they were acting like this, Tanya was probably doing some magic trick to amaze her friends that seemingly also dumbfounded his own circle.
He turned to see what all the fuss was about, "yes, yes, my daughter is one of the greatest mages of our time, but what can be so-"
And then he saw it.
Tanya, his little girl, was just outside the window to his study.
On the seventh floor of the palace….
She wore something akin to those commoner rags his agents told him she wore. There was some kind of magical aura around her if the light that outlined her form was anything to go by. A hand rested along the arch of the windowsill from the outside, as if holding herself up from the force of gravity. Tanya noticed him looking at her. Her blue eyes, that seemed to hold a brighter shade of blue than normal, blinked.
Without breaking eye contact, Tanya let go of the stone outside and began to fall. His heart sank, but this feeling was only momentary, for she did not fall to the earth like a brick. She floated down; slowly, as if sinking to the bottom of a pool of water.
After half a minute, with the Emperor opening the window of his study to crane his neck down to watch, her feet touched solid ground once more. The aura around her vanished, and the other children raced to her side. The servants, guards, retainers, and beyond stared at the princess with astonishment as they tried to process what kind of magic they had just witnessed with their own eyes.
As Molt heard bits and pieces of their astonishment and praise from far below, all he could feel was the onset of yet another headache.
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AN: So yeah, Tanya can fly (float/glide)! Huzza for progress!
A Young Princess - VI
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Kati is dead.
The Emperor took his sons out on a hunting trip, probably to shore up that lacking brotherly love they share for one another, and Kati ended up getting gored by some stag when he left the Royal party to do something on his own. The beast was killed, but Kait bled out shortly thereafter when the healing mage attached to the trip declared there was nothing he could do except dull the pain. I was among the first to hear the news alongside Pina, who had also not been on the trip, and some other close retainers but before long the whole capital knew.
The funeral arrangements were a tame affair that few people of note attended. While Kati did have some friends in the Senate, and amongst his personal household, he was still a relative unknown amongst the ruling class. Influential nobles and patricians were socially obligated to come by, said how sorry they were for the Emperor's loss, then leave to do something they actually wanted to.
A tragic fate for a rising star in the Empire who could have been a real boon to the Empire in the future. As the result of a freak accident, fate decreed he must depart before doing his part….
I actually had to keep myself from rolling my eyes at the sappiness of that speeches.
Kati did not die to some animal, he was killed.
A bold claim? Yes.
Paranoia? No, it is simply the most logical conclusion when looking at all the facts.
Firstly, the very premise that a member of the royal family, even a stepson, would be allowed to wander unattended for any length of time in middle of the wilderness is preposterous. I can barely walk out of my own room in the imperial palace without being shadowed by maids or other members of the staff. The thought that Kait was able to walk about in untamed wilderness without a small camp following him is preposterous to begin with.
Secondly, there was the matter of how Kati died. I will be the first to admit I know nothing about stags or wild animals in general, but I would be shocked to know they could use knifes or bladed instruments. When Pina and I were led in to see Kati's body, before he was shipped off to his mother's family's crypts, I could clearly see his chest was quite gored and sufficiently tore apart enough to implicate a wild animal attack. However, if it was a beast, why were there straight edged cuts along his palms? As if he had been tying to catch or push away a blade with his bare bands.
And finally, there was Zorzal and Diabo. While I did not expect to see much love lost between them and Kati, I did not expect to see such fear in their eyes. The pair looked like they expected something to happen to them at any moment. Flinching at unseen shadows as if they were about to be attacked. If Kati was attacked in the wilderness, why would the surviving brothers be so scared within the halls of the Palace?
Given all this, I feel that it is safe to assume that Kati was murdered rather than simply killed.
So the next question: by whom?
The very first suspect to pop into my head was Zorzal. It honestly seemed a little too obvious. Zorzal was always competing with Kati over everything and the two came to blows many times, both metaphorically and literally. It seems obvious that Zorzal got Kati alone and killed him out of some misguided sense of vindictiveness, then mutilated the body so he could pass the blame to a wild animal. Pretty open and shut case. But then if Zorzal did kill Kati, why was he so terrified?
Sure it could be that he thinks he went too far, or he is afraid of getting caught, but I just don't believe that's the case. Zorzal is many things, crude, boastful, stubborn, and so on. One thing I would never call him, is shy or reserved with his emotions. For example, if he dislikes something it is obvious to even a blind man. It's just the way he talks, acts, or his micro expressions are. So if he did kill Kati, why did not have a single shred of joy or contentment in his body language? In truth, he looked terrified when he looked at Kati and seemed to want to be anywhere in the city but that room.
So who does that leave?
Diabo may rant and rave his insecurities to the staff, but he never acts on any of these threats. He's more the type to blow hot air and vent his grievances to those who have no choice but to listen, then actually do anything.
Pina had no real animosity towards Kati or a grudge to warrant wanting him dead. That of course ignores that fact that she is too wrapped up in all that "knightly chivalry" as she calls it to even think of doing something so underhanded. Besides, while the two were not close by any means they had a cordial relationship.
And unless Being X is somehow controlling my body like some marionette and wiping my memories of said events, I know for a fact I didn't do it.
So that left only one possibility as far as I was concerned: the praetorian guard. Not that the Guard killed him because they wanted him dead, but that one of them was paid off by a person who did want Kati dead.
Even from brief look over Imperial history, anyone can plainly that the praetorian guard as an institution have a very shaky reputation when it came to guarding royals. During the reigns of strong Emperors their loyalty and dedication to the crown is unquestionable, displaying characteristics akin to some of the most extreme examples of bushido. It is said they would sooner fall upon their own blades then even fathom the idea of harming the royal family.
And other times?
Well, all I can say is that more Emperors have died from Praetorian blades then have died at the hands of the Empire's enemies.
Hell, there was even a three-decade long period of time where the Guard basically ruled the Empire. It started with them killing an incompetent Emperor who was too busy filling his baths with wine to actually bother to govern. When his son showed to be equally unfit, they killed him to, then his son's son, and so on. It might have started with them wanting to have an effective ruler, but their constant regicides set up a precedent where they could sit and unseat an Emperor at will. They also realized that the strong rulers they wanted tented to not look favorably upon a guard who have a reputation of killing their charges.
There was even a macabre story that one of the Emperor's they proclaimed had been hiding behind a curtain in the throne room as the Guard cut down his reigning brother only to have the Guard draw back the curtain to proclaim him Emperor. So came a line of weak Emperors who held power in name alone while obeying the instructions of their praetorian backers.
And why did no one stop them?
Well, the Senate did try to disband the Guard when the corruption became a bit too obvious for their liking. But before they could pass the vote the Guard burst into the Senate, dragged the senators who were voting and killed them in the street. That act disincentivized any move against them for a decade.
And so the Guard became not only Kingmakers (Emperormakers simply doesn't sound as catchy) but fabulously wealthy. During that period of control if an Emperor did not grant the Guard enough concessions and gifts, or worse slighted them in some way, the Guard had no qualms with killing Royal in question. The Guard also showed no concern for the line of succession or even basic protocol, just crowning people who promised them greater wealth.
Hell, one time they actually auctioned off the crown to the highest bidder at a market!
It wasn't until the Artic War when Emperor Evnadrus assumed the throne that the Guard finally lost their political power. Even then, it took a civil war within the Guard itself to finalize this change. They kept most of their prestige, being the personal guard of the Emperor with the best training and equipment available, and for the most part have kept to their renewed role quite well.
Even so tales of corruption do persist, though at a far smaller rate.
It all fits. The blade marks on Kati's hands when he would have tried to fight off his own Guards who killed him, Zorzal's nervousness in the depths of the Imperial Palace which is heavily guarded by Praetorians, and even the current trend of the Praetorians seemingly keeping a closer eye on the two remaining princes to ensure another is not killed by one of their own.
But that does bring up the question, who would want to kill Kati? Who could have the pull to get a Pretorian to do it?
But the most important question of all to me: how much more would a true born child, say a magically inclined girl nine years of age, cost the conspirator when compared to a stepchild?
-
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As the days moved on, with Kati's death slowly drifting into the past, life went on.
More specifically, the lessons continue as always. Now that I was "older", and know as the 'smart' child, I was allowed to sit in on some of Pina's lessons.
From our time together, I got the impression Pina was completely uninterested in anything (beyond the basics) that was not related to her knight 'thing'. I can hardly call it a phase anymore given how "all in" she's been with it, and I will admit I am genuinely surprised she stuck with it. She actually has some good talent for swordsmanship from what little I've seen, usually when she drags me from my books to swing her sword at a training dummy and constantly ask if I was still sure I didn't want to join her Rose Knights saying she could find any place I wanted among their ranks.
So I tell her the same things I have told her for years: I do not want to be a knight, or a squire, or a page, or a quartermaster, or a fucking mascot! That last one is more of an internalization of my more modest refusal, but who just asks someone to be a mascot?
Still, I was learning more and more. One subject I've been recently learning more about was geography. In other words, the other nations of Falmart besides the Empire. Granted it is through the Imperial propaganda lens, but simply learning of their existence gives me enough to work with when I ask Gaius about them for a more neutral take.
To be frank, ignoring the client and vassal kingdoms along the Empire's peripheries, there were genuinely independent realms everywhere.
The most predominate of these foreign states, and the only one the Empire considers a civilized nation, was located along the peninsula to the south of the Empire: The Korinthian League.
Less a nation and more a loose confederacy of petty kingdoms, city states, and other small polities located along the Korinithan Peninsula that were united in their desire to not be a part of the Empire. While they lacked both the material and the manpower to wage a war of aggression against the Empire, the geography of their peninsula made any advance by the Empire doomed to failure as the Empire would end up funneling their forces into a bottleneck. And since the Empire also lacked the ships needed to contest control of the Blue Sea from the League there was no way to simply sail around and attack them from the flanks.
I am tempted to say the Lesage is the "Italian Peninsula" of this world. Given that the League is composed of city states and compact kingdoms who fight one another with mercenaries and have highly urbanized population centers (relative to the level of development in this world), however they show more relation to ancient Greek city states than the Italian ones. I base this mostly on the fact they fight with formations of hoplites and phalanxes.
While most texts regard these formations as inferior to the legion in broad terms, the fact they haven't been conquered by the numerically superior legions speaks volumes to the potency of their formation on the defense and the power of their navy.
By contrast northern Falmart, from my reading of the situation at least, is populated by a people who are basically the Norse from European history.
They are a barbarian culture with a seafaring raider society who reave along the coasts and inland rivers with longships for loot and slaves. They raise runestones, burn down temples, and other Viking things. They even worship a god they call the "All-Father" and have warrior women called shield maidens as if to hammer in the whole "Norse" connections more firmly.
My tutors and books note that the Northerners proudly scorn any trapping of civilization and happily toss tomes and manuscripts into great fires for their own amusement. A hyperbolic statement, given most accounts of them are the survivors of their raids and would not incline to give an impartial analysis, but I am willing to concede that these Viking are just as aggressive as their Earth counterparts. Even the more impartial texts agree that the north men are an aggressive culture.
The east is covered in great grasslands and plains and is home to numerous nomadic hordes and tribes who raid caravans along the Imperial road network and push against imperial settlement in the area.
Even with a significant legion presence, control of these vast lands beyond established urban centers or the main roads is tenuous at best. Some books go so far as to imply that it is not uncommon for entire settlements to vanish overnight as Imperial settlers are enslaved by the horse lords who view the civilized way of life as anathema to their customs. Sometimes, a great leader arises from their ranks and leads all hordes against the Empire, to sweep them back into the center of Falmart. Fourteen times have the horse lords attempted to remove the Empire completely from the East, and fourteen times they were beaten back at high cost to the Empire.
But there is another culture who calls the far east home: the Warriors Bunnies.
Even now I can't help but roll my eyes or grimace at the phrase.
Was there nothing better thing to call themselves? When I initially read about them, a matriarchal society of scantily clad warrior women with bunny ears than captured strong men to mate with, I couldn't help but think that this was just some fetishized Amazonian culture created by writers of certain genres. An impression not helped by the detailed 'artwork' I found amongst the pages telling the tale of a group of men who 'sacrificed themselves to save their village. Indeed, men of some settlements even offered themselves as "tribute" to the bunny women in exchange for not sacking their town.
How "brave" of them.
Getting past those sorts of things, for all their attacks on isolated imperial settlements, many warrior bunnies do offer their services as mercenaries to the legion. Their feats of strength and power have greatly aided the Imperial effort to pacify the nomads, who the warrior bunnies hate with a greater fervor than the Imperials due to aforementioned age-old grudges.
And finally, there was the matter of the west. I have a bit more to work with then simple books or second hand accounts as Selene has been quite open about her life in the west and certain things that go on there. Granted, it's information that comes from a literal child who may not have the knowledge necessary to parcel out fact from fiction, but it's a start.
From what I gathered, it's a very forested land where the Empire borders many barbarian kingdoms who they have a sort of tributary relationship with. At least, that's what I get from hearing how Selene says lots of Barbarian Kings send "a lot" of gold or goods to Soissons in exchange for military assistance against other Kingdoms. Many tales abound of legions fighting hordes of warriors painted from head to toe in paint. Basically it is this world's equivalent of Gaul and Germania.
I did try to look up what I could about the Empire's colonies to the far south but found very little. Most of the texts are about the large slave plantations growing sugar and spices then anything regarding the natives in those lands beyond a passing mention of "feather wearing People" and "golden temple cities".
Just goes to show that being a fantastical world is no barrier to having the same old mundane problems crop up over and over again.
-
-
"I can do it!"
"No you can't."
"Yes I can! See!"
"Nope, don't see it."
"What are saying? Clearly I was THIS high up."
"That's how high you always jump."
"Grrrr."
"And there! Your just kicking air!"
"Mmmmm!"
Ever since my little flying display a few months ago Zaynab, being the only other mage of my cohort, has been trying to replicate the feat herself. She's even come to me on multiple occasions to ask how I "did it". When I did explain to her that I didn't "fly" but merely reduced my own body mass to a fraction of what it normally is, I got a blank stare in return.
And today, with Sherry having left earlier to go home, and Myui having traveled back in Italica to celebrate her birthday with her family, that left only Selene and Zaynab here to interact with.
"But what does that mean" she questioned me at the time.
After some roundabout thinking and walking her through the logic, I got her to understand what I did in explaining the way a bird can fly through the air.
So here she is now, pumping mana across her body and jumping up and down without pause; kicking her feet in the air as if that gives her more "air time".
Despite what Selene is quipping from the sidelines, Zaynab is getting better at it. It's not overtly noticeable, but my trained eye can see she is getting more air with each hop overtime. But it's the difference between measuring airtime in a couple of seconds, to a single second when she started. Still a creditable achievement for a non-military trained preteen.
I remember reading something in Officer School that amounted to saying most mages can't actually use their magic without some kind of foci to help with the mental calculations or regulate mana draw; basically the more calculations done in ones head, the more efficient a spell is mana wise. Therefore only the most powerful mages, or at least the ones with the largest mana pools, can use magic in a practical way without some kind of foci since without calculations spells are horrifically mana intensive. Hence why the creation of the computation orb was so profound.
With it, mages can shunt most of the mental calculations to the orb and focus their attention to primarily mana regulation. And with the orb making spells more efficient the number of people who could become mages skyrocketed.
The reason for this disparity is basically because mana allowed a mage to bend the rules of reality. The more you want to "bend" the more mana required, but reality can be bent in many different ways to achieve the same end and an understanding of how the world works form a scientific angle allowed one to greatly reduce how much "bending" is needed.
Take 'flying' for example. A mage could simply keep pumping mana into their bodies to fly, though naturally they'll be on their asses in a matter of minutes when they run out of mana. A mage could also reduce their own mass, making themselves lighter than air to "float" or "glide" in a way not dissimilar to how birds achieve flight.
Even Zaynab used some basic science in the hydromancy she shows off. Just this morning, she pulled moisture from the air, condensed the particles into small drops of water, then snap froze the water and dropped the resulting ice cubes into her drink.
However, with an orb managing the calculation side a mage can do far more then simply float and can easily maintain multiple spells at the same time with all the mind work being handled mechanically.
Sadly, lacking an understanding of even the fundamentals of orb creation, such a tool is impossible to come across here and I certainly have no idea how to make one. I was a solider, trained to operate, maintain, and make small repairs to my gear with materials on hand. I could explain to someone what made a dual core orb superior to a single core, and I could even offer possible improvements to orb design based on my own experience of using them.
I was not, educated in the ways of building an orb from scratch, much less creating one in a pre-industrial society where the wheel was still the pinnacle of technological development in some areas.
I do remember reading an offhand mention in a textbook that before magic development pivoted towards mechanical computation in the early nineteenth century most research was directed towards enchanting gemstones with a set number of spells. Different from normal enchantments, where a single trait was imbued into an object, since the gemstone would "hold" several spells that could be used when mana was pushed through them. An interesting design, but with several problems.
First, the gemstones had to be large; prohibitory large.
Second, the mana cost is excessive. Since the mage must first cast a spell into the gem, and then use more mana to cast the stored spell.
And third, why go through all that effort when a simple enchantment could do about as well, since a mage would still need to do the calculations in their head to cast the spell into the gem in the first place.
In short, it became an evolutionary dead end when mechanical computation sprung up.
Still there was one good idea surrounding it. A Russy magical researcher, before the communists took over naturally, wrote about having mages cast spells into the gems then handing out said gems to soldiers who had the necessary amount of mana to cast the spells but lacked the mental prowess for precise calculations. An interesting idea and one that might have come to fruition had the computation orb technology not achieved mass proliferation by the dawn of the twentieth century.
Not that such an idea helps me all that much since the book simply dismissed the gemstone idea as outdated and moved on from there.
"Ow!" Zaynab had fallen to the ground, nursing her sore bottom.
"Oaky, that was high!" Selene cheered from the sidelines. "Princess, did you see it! Zaynab went up to the tree branch!"
"Of course, I did," I lied effortlessly. "See it's like I said, if you practice enough, and have some natural talent, there is nothing you can't do."
"I only wish it didn't hurt as much," the dark-skinned girl grumbled.
"Are you really complaining that you can fly?" the Syagrius girl tsked to herself.
"No, I'm complaining it hurts when you hit the ground," Zaynab quipped back, moving a stray leaf from behind her slightly pointy ear.
"You didn't even fall that high," Selene pointed to one of the lower branches of the tree. "I've fallen way higher and I'm fine."
"I certainly hope you haven't fallen from greater heights!" a new voice broke through the childish quips.
Selene looked to the new voice, then beamed a bright smile, "Father!" She abandoned her spot by the tree and rushed to the new arrival.
While I can see the resemblance between the two in hair color and cheek bones. But if I had to be honest, I can't help but think Selene's father looks more like some jester pretending to be a noble. His clothes were a ridiculous mishmash of colors. He had more jewelry adorning him, rings, ears, neckless, and all, then some noble women I've had the displeasure of being acquainted with. I will say the white cane gives him back a bit of a regal look, thought the fist sized gem on the top is a tad much in my opinion.
And this was supposedly the second most powerful man in the Empire after the Emperor himself?
Still, Selene jumped into the man's open arms.
"It's so good to see you sweetie," he kissed his daughter on the head and knelt to her level. "Look how big you've grown! Keep growing like this and you'll be taller than George before long."
As if on cue, a massive giant of a man walked next to the pair; by far the biggest man I have ever laid eyes on. Clad head to toe in dragon scaled armor, he was certainly an impressive sight. Given how massive he was, I think even during my last life, I'd be hesitant to charge him without substantial back up.
"Sir George!" Selene was ecstatic at the sight of the giant. Rather than hug him like her father, Selene grabbed hold of his armor climbed up the knight's from like a monkey and came to a rest upon his gargantuan shoulders.
"Now I'm the tallest!" she cheered from his shoulders; I can only guess if the man winced from the loud voice so close to his ears.
"Yes you are dear," Clovis jovially went along with his daughter's train of thought. "Now while I can see you are having fun, there is something I wish to speak with her Highness about. Something neither you, nor your friend, need be here for."
"What, why?" Selene questioned, her hands ruffling the plum thing on George's helmet.
"It's something not necessary for you to hear," he cryptically answered. "Don't worry, you can see your friends tomorrow."
"…..okay," the girl bemoaned from her ad-hoc podium. "Guess I'm going home."
"You can see her tomorrow dear," he repeated, before grinning. "And, while I don't want to be the one who told you, but I do believe there is someone waiting for you at the villa. Someone who has been asking to come see you for some time.
"Mother?" the girl perked up. Right, while here as a hostage in all but name, she hasn't been able to see her mother all that often.
"Oh, I've said too much. She told me not to spoil the surprise," he all but confirmed her mother's arrival.
"Yes! Sorry Zaynab, sorry Princess, but have to go! Bye Princess! Bye Zaynab," she quickly chatted out before clicking her heels against the giant's armor as if it were a horse. "Onwards Sir George! I need to get home to see Mother!"
The giant spared a short look to the Governor, who gave a curt nod, before walking off with Selene riding continuously clicking her heels as if that would make him walk faster. I swear I could hear a deep sigh from the man as he walked forward on command.
Oh the pains of dealing with an employer's kids.
"The same goes for you as well, Lady Zabba, my apologies" Clovis now turned to the other girl still here.
"It's fine, my Lord, I was planning to leave shortly anyway," the girl turned to me and curtsied. "Have a pleasant evening your Highness, I shall see you tomorrow."
"You to," I tell her and waved as she walked off in the general direction Selene was riding the giant in.
Now alone, Clovis stared at me for a few seconds before sighing. "Your Highness, I would first like to extent my most heartfelt condolences for your recent loss," Clovis began. "Had I been in the capital sooner, I would have paid my respects and offered my condolences sooner. Alas, I was on campaign and only heard the news from a courier weeks afterwards."
Oh that.
"Thank you for your concern, My Lord," I almost drone out. While it had been a while, I was still able to give the boiler plate "thank you for your concern" spiel without even thinking about it. "Did you know him?"
"Not on a personal level, no," Syagrius clarified. "I only had the opportunity to meet him a handful of times. But even in those brief moments, I could tell he was a sharp one. Someone who, if given enough time to come into his own, could have facilitated great strides for the Empire. A shame it had to end the way it did."
He paused for a moment, as if to let his words sink into me like this was some damn soap opera.
"But I can only imagine what you must have gone through," he continued. "Or are going through now. To know your own brother was snuffed out like he was, cut down before he could truly live his life. I can scarcely think of anything less more disturbing than that."
"It was a shock at first, but time has a way of making thing easier to deal with," I reply taking yet another page of the "accepting false pity" book. Honestly, while this wasn't some halfhearted thing most of the nobles did, it was a little soppy for my tastes. "Cut down" is a little too poetic for my tastes. Death is death. Horrible when it happens to soon, but something that come for everyone eventually-
Wait…
What was it Syagrius said…Cut down?
That carries a lot of implications. Implications not usually found in cases where the cause of death was due to an animal. Sure Kati's body was on display for a short while, but why would he conclude that he was killed? The knife marks were so faint that even I could barely see them without the whole cloth over the body thing at the funeral. Further, he wasn't even here for the funeral, by his own admission he was in his own province when people were allowed to pay their "respects".
So the next question is how did this man figure out Kati was killed?
The Emperor was surly keeping the nature of Kati's death a great secret to deter others from attempting to bribe the praetorians to similar acts. Sure, a secret is only as safe as the weakest link and there is no shortage of people who would inform on the going on in the palace for the right price. Perhaps Syargius has spies in the palace who told him what happened.
Or maybe…Could it be that HE was the one who paid off the Praetorians to murder Kati?
I felt a chill run through my veins as the man went on about something or another, I barley paid attention as my mind ran into overdrive over the implications of my discovery.
If what I think is true, IF Syagrius ordered the death of Kait, then the first question is why he would tip so blatantly to a member of a family of the person had killed? Is this psychological warfare? A 'Ha-ha, I killed one royal I didn't like and I can kill you just the same if I felt like it' kind of thing? If so, it's a very foolish move. He has to know I'm going to run to the Emperor to tell him who was the one who ordered Kati's death the moment I get back to the Palace.
Wait! No!
Shit! I can't do that!
Ignoring the fact that the Emperor is keenly aware of what the truth of how Kati was killed, I doubt he could even act on this information if he wanted to. All I have is my word that Clovis all but admitted to ordering the death of a royal. And if the Emperor moved against Syagrius, what would the rest of the Empire think to his proof? It would be a nine-year old's word against the second most powerful person in the Empire. Golly gee, I wonder who the people would listen to?
But then, I come back around to the first question, why imply his actions to me? He may dress like what a person thinks an eccentric noble dresses but that doesn't mean he is an idiot. You don't rule over a territory twice the size of Germania, and make it one of the most profitable in the Empire, by being a fool.
…
Damn it!
Why was I so stupid!
I see it now! The way he dresses is part of the ruse itself! In any meeting between people, the way one dresses can subconsciously imply what kind of person you are to your opposite. Dress smartly, and people will subconsciously think you are. Dress like a slob, and they'll think you're a slob. But it can also work in reverse: dress like a slob, to make people think you are a slob, then pull the rug out from under them after playing into the assumptions for your own benefit!
Damn it! I actually fell for it too!
But once again, why all but tell me he killed Kati.
Before I could run my mind any further, I tried to pull myself back from overanalyze every little detail. One should never mistake maliciousness with Incompetence.
Could it be that he just gloating to a child he thinks can't understand the blatant subtext of his words and be internally laughing at my reactions?
To be fair, I'm not a child mentally, hence I probably should not be 'getting' the gloating since I am a 'child'. Maybe he's mentally grinning like some Cheshire cat as he goes on about his crime with the belief that I think he's being genuine in his condolences.
But why would he kill-
A hand on my shoulder dragged me from my analysis of the situation.
"Forgive me your Highness, but are you feeling well?" Clovis asked, his green eyes filled with a sufficient amount of concern. "You've been a little out of sorts for the past few minutes. Is something wrong."
"No, my Lord," I try and reply with no indication of my true feelings.
"In any event," he brushed off my comment. "As I said, if you every need anything, or simply wish to talk to someone, I will be here to offer what aid I can."
"Thank you, my lord, you are too kind," I manage to say without tipping my hand of knowing what he did.
Clovis and I exchanged some more meaningless small talk before he decided it was time to return on. Something about wanting to spend an evening dinner with his wife and child or something equally trivial. Yet as he walked away, I made a mental note to be on guard with him when we met again.
I refuse to fall for the same ploy of 'foolishness' ever again. I have no plans on dying so soon.
At least not before I can shove my boot up Being X's ass and pay him back for everything he has done to me!
-
-
Zorzal lived in almost constant fear since his father had Kati murdered before him and Diabo.
What was supposed to be a family 'bonding' trip turned into a brutal torture display as the Emperor read out all of Kati's crimes and then…
Zorzal had always hated Kati. He had always dreamed of the moment he could wipe that damn smirk off his face with his fists. To throttle Kait's throat until he died, forcing his manservant lover to watch before he suffered the same fate. Seeing the look in Kati's eyes as the last bit of light left them had been a dream he so wished to make real.
Yet even he thinks that what Molt did to Kati was extreme. It wasn't Kati's death that haunted him, it was everything that was done to Kati before the Emperor allowed him to die. How he made his mages keep Kati from expiring too soon so he could "continue to be an example for the boys".
Zorzal knows he will never forget the screams Kati made until his dying breath.
Every time he saw one of the Praetorians, he felt his blood run cold. Whenever he had to be near one of them, he could almost feel himself shake. What if this time they were ordered to kill him, his mind would insidiously whisper.
He remembers Tanya asking if something was wrong earlier that day since he wasn't eating his food. Zorzal laughed it off and made light of the situation. He could hardly tell her that he was afraid the pretorian guards detached to watch over her were under orders to kill him in the most painful way possible now could he?
Even had the Emperor not told him and Diabo to never speak of what happened that day to either Pina or Tanya, Zorzal would have done so of his own volition. Tanya, for all her brilliance, was a gentle soul. Shy in unfamiliar situations, bright and friendly among friends, she was truly a rare breed of noble. She was not only noble by birth, but in sprit as well.
However, for all her brilliance, her heart was simply too big. She had a type of ingrained innocence that ran at odds with how the world worked.
He remembers one incident when she stopped a servant girl from getting caned in the yard. The girl had taken some food from the plate of a visiting emissary, before it had even been served to him, and was being punished accordingly. When questioned by his sister, the girl claimed she hadn't eaten in two days and had only taken some crumbs. As if that excused the crime.
Yet his sister, ever generous, ordered the girl to be given a meal. "No one should work on an empty stomach" she told them and asked for the girl transferred to her own staff. Despite the legitimate points brought up by the matron that this would only embolden the girl's thieving tendencies, she obeyed.
While he can't help but find her innocent view of the world adorable, it hardly prepared her for the brutality of the real world. Even Pina, for all foolishness at trying to be a knight as a woman, at least understood what kind of place the world was. Not that Zorzal wants to be the one to ruin that native innocence Tanya holds.
Still, perhaps that naivete was actually a benefit?
If you didn't know about the threats and dangers around you, how can you live a life in fear?
Like the fear of your own father possibly torturing you to death….
To escape the existential fear of what his Father could do to him at any moment, Zorzal indulged in vices. Drink. Food. Parties. Of all of them though, he had found lust to be the best salve for his fears. It wasn't even the sex that he enjoyed but the intoxicating feeling of control. He could do whatever he wanted to any girl he brought to his bed. No matter how much they cried or begged, they were forced to deal with him.
And in the moment, he could forget he too was controlled by another he feared and dreaded.
But when everything was quiet, his mind would wander…
"I'm done with this one," the prince waved to his courtier as he put on his clothes.
His latest conquest was a demi-human slave girl with patches of scales splotched across her body. A body now covered in bruises and shallow marks from that evening's activities. The girl didn't even make a sound when one of his men lugged her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Done for the night, your highness or-"
"Done as in 'finished'," Zorzal clarified, pouring himself a glass of wine. "If any of the boys want a go at her, their welcome to do so. Otherwise, see if there's a brothel willing to take used goods. Price doesn't matter, but I don't want to see her again."
"Yes, your highness," the man dutifully nodded, taking the abused slave out of Zorzal's chamber and softly shutting the door behind him.
Grumbling to himself, Zorzal took a long sip of his wine. Sadly, it wasn't a long one, for Zorzal flinched as a flash of lighting bathed his chamber. Flinched, dropping his goblet, even before the booming thunder followed it. It was simply so sudden. His heart was racing at nothing. Sighing at his own paranoia, he moved to pick up his cup and call for a servant to clean up the mess-
"My oh my, jumping at every shadow now… are we?"
Zorzal shot back to his feet. He wasn't alone! Someone had snuck into his chambers! Scanning the dark room yielded nothing, it was the same as it was a moment ago. No windows open, the door still tightly shut, not a single thing out of place.
"I didn't mean to cause alarm."
There it was again, but from a different side of his room. What was going on! Moving swiftly, the prince reached under his bed for the sword attached to the bedframe.
"Who's there!" Zorzal quickly drew the blade looked for the speaker, sword at the ready. "I command you to show yourself!"
His words were greeted by an animal like laughter that echoed all around him, putting him even more on edge.
"Well as this is your home, I ought to be the respectful guest." The laugh that followed was something akin to a pig's snorting. Out of the comer of his eye, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a corpulent creature garbed in simple brown clothes. The disgusting creature looked to me something akin to a human mixed with some chimeric pig-rat thing with leathery green skin.
"Apologies for the ruse Your Highness," the creature gave a short bow to him. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Bouro, leader of the Haryo Tribe."
"Haryo?" Zorzal questioned. This was one of those mongrel creatures he members his tutors mentioned once upon a time. No, this was their leader? Why- How did he get into city? No, how did he get into his home!
"Indeed," Bouro nodded.
"What do you want?" Zorzal demanded loudly, his sword still at the ready to cut the pig faced creature down. He was silently waiting for one of his guards, who allowed this creature to trespass through his home into his very bedroom, to finally come in and get rid of it!
"Want? It is not what I want, but what you want," the Haryo cryptically answered.
"What could a creature like you know about me?" Zorzal questioned, his eye switching between the door and the intruder.
"Oh, I know a few things," Bouro scratched his chin, unconcerned of the blade pointed at him. "It's just what I like to do: knowing a little bit about everything that is. For example, I know that the Emperor killed Prince Kati since he was conspiring to overthrow him. I know you and Prince Diabo were present during the grizzly torture session. And I know you are terrified you will suffer the same fate."
"Shut up! Shut Up! Guards! Get in here already! Guards!" Yet all that greeted Zorzal was silence. No calls of concern, nor any guards burst through the doors to take this creature to the dungeons.
"Apologies, but your guards are indisposed for the moment," the Haryo enlightened Zorzal. "Alive, but they will not bother us for quite some time."
'What did you-"
"It is not what I did. You were the one who gave them something to occupy their time with did you not?" Bouro chuckled as the Prince's face paled.
"So, you're here to kill me?" Zorzal took a step back as he readied himself to fight for his life.
"Kill you?" he snorted at the prince's words and shook his head. "Did you not hear what I said moments ago, I am here because of what you want."
"What I want?" the whole situation was so outlandish for him. Why break into the crown prince's room only to want to do something for said prince?
"Indeed," it agreed. "As mentioned, I know a great deal. Such as your greatest fears of losing everything to Emperor, to becoming a footnote in history that will be forgotten within a generation, to being known as a useless boy who amounted to nothing."
Zorzal stared Bouro down, not lowering his blade, but clearly listening to the Haryo's words.
"But don't worry, your highness," Bouro walked towards the prince until the blade tip was pressing against his chest. "I think I may have a solution to your situation. One that not only shows your courage and bravery to your fellow citizens but demonstrates your worth to your family and the Empire."
"And why should I trust anything that comes out of your disgusting mouth?" Even as Zorzal insulted the pig thing he pulled his blade tip back from the chest. Silently, he was genuinely curious as to what the Haryo had to say. If it was nonsense, he'd cut the demi-human down where he stood.
If the Haryo was insulted, he didn't show it. All Bouro did was give Zorzal a yellow toothed smile as he scratched his chin with one of his long claws. "Tell me, what do you know of the Warrior Bunny Kingdom?"
-----------------------------------------------------------
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AN: Wheels and plots are turning indeed! A very world building heavy chapter, but the gears of canon are moving onwards.
Tanya is being Tanya, Zorzal is about to commit a whole slew of war crimes against bunnies', and the beginning of Gate draws ever closer.
The Emperor took his sons out on a hunting trip, probably to shore up that lacking brotherly love they share for one another, and Kati ended up getting gored by some stag when he left the Royal party to do something on his own. The beast was killed, but Kait bled out shortly thereafter when the healing mage attached to the trip declared there was nothing he could do except dull the pain. I was among the first to hear the news alongside Pina, who had also not been on the trip, and some other close retainers but before long the whole capital knew.
The funeral arrangements were a tame affair that few people of note attended. While Kati did have some friends in the Senate, and amongst his personal household, he was still a relative unknown amongst the ruling class. Influential nobles and patricians were socially obligated to come by, said how sorry they were for the Emperor's loss, then leave to do something they actually wanted to.
A tragic fate for a rising star in the Empire who could have been a real boon to the Empire in the future. As the result of a freak accident, fate decreed he must depart before doing his part….
I actually had to keep myself from rolling my eyes at the sappiness of that speeches.
Kati did not die to some animal, he was killed.
A bold claim? Yes.
Paranoia? No, it is simply the most logical conclusion when looking at all the facts.
Firstly, the very premise that a member of the royal family, even a stepson, would be allowed to wander unattended for any length of time in middle of the wilderness is preposterous. I can barely walk out of my own room in the imperial palace without being shadowed by maids or other members of the staff. The thought that Kait was able to walk about in untamed wilderness without a small camp following him is preposterous to begin with.
Secondly, there was the matter of how Kati died. I will be the first to admit I know nothing about stags or wild animals in general, but I would be shocked to know they could use knifes or bladed instruments. When Pina and I were led in to see Kati's body, before he was shipped off to his mother's family's crypts, I could clearly see his chest was quite gored and sufficiently tore apart enough to implicate a wild animal attack. However, if it was a beast, why were there straight edged cuts along his palms? As if he had been tying to catch or push away a blade with his bare bands.
And finally, there was Zorzal and Diabo. While I did not expect to see much love lost between them and Kati, I did not expect to see such fear in their eyes. The pair looked like they expected something to happen to them at any moment. Flinching at unseen shadows as if they were about to be attacked. If Kati was attacked in the wilderness, why would the surviving brothers be so scared within the halls of the Palace?
Given all this, I feel that it is safe to assume that Kati was murdered rather than simply killed.
So the next question: by whom?
The very first suspect to pop into my head was Zorzal. It honestly seemed a little too obvious. Zorzal was always competing with Kati over everything and the two came to blows many times, both metaphorically and literally. It seems obvious that Zorzal got Kati alone and killed him out of some misguided sense of vindictiveness, then mutilated the body so he could pass the blame to a wild animal. Pretty open and shut case. But then if Zorzal did kill Kati, why was he so terrified?
Sure it could be that he thinks he went too far, or he is afraid of getting caught, but I just don't believe that's the case. Zorzal is many things, crude, boastful, stubborn, and so on. One thing I would never call him, is shy or reserved with his emotions. For example, if he dislikes something it is obvious to even a blind man. It's just the way he talks, acts, or his micro expressions are. So if he did kill Kati, why did not have a single shred of joy or contentment in his body language? In truth, he looked terrified when he looked at Kati and seemed to want to be anywhere in the city but that room.
So who does that leave?
Diabo may rant and rave his insecurities to the staff, but he never acts on any of these threats. He's more the type to blow hot air and vent his grievances to those who have no choice but to listen, then actually do anything.
Pina had no real animosity towards Kati or a grudge to warrant wanting him dead. That of course ignores that fact that she is too wrapped up in all that "knightly chivalry" as she calls it to even think of doing something so underhanded. Besides, while the two were not close by any means they had a cordial relationship.
And unless Being X is somehow controlling my body like some marionette and wiping my memories of said events, I know for a fact I didn't do it.
So that left only one possibility as far as I was concerned: the praetorian guard. Not that the Guard killed him because they wanted him dead, but that one of them was paid off by a person who did want Kati dead.
Even from brief look over Imperial history, anyone can plainly that the praetorian guard as an institution have a very shaky reputation when it came to guarding royals. During the reigns of strong Emperors their loyalty and dedication to the crown is unquestionable, displaying characteristics akin to some of the most extreme examples of bushido. It is said they would sooner fall upon their own blades then even fathom the idea of harming the royal family.
And other times?
Well, all I can say is that more Emperors have died from Praetorian blades then have died at the hands of the Empire's enemies.
Hell, there was even a three-decade long period of time where the Guard basically ruled the Empire. It started with them killing an incompetent Emperor who was too busy filling his baths with wine to actually bother to govern. When his son showed to be equally unfit, they killed him to, then his son's son, and so on. It might have started with them wanting to have an effective ruler, but their constant regicides set up a precedent where they could sit and unseat an Emperor at will. They also realized that the strong rulers they wanted tented to not look favorably upon a guard who have a reputation of killing their charges.
There was even a macabre story that one of the Emperor's they proclaimed had been hiding behind a curtain in the throne room as the Guard cut down his reigning brother only to have the Guard draw back the curtain to proclaim him Emperor. So came a line of weak Emperors who held power in name alone while obeying the instructions of their praetorian backers.
And why did no one stop them?
Well, the Senate did try to disband the Guard when the corruption became a bit too obvious for their liking. But before they could pass the vote the Guard burst into the Senate, dragged the senators who were voting and killed them in the street. That act disincentivized any move against them for a decade.
And so the Guard became not only Kingmakers (Emperormakers simply doesn't sound as catchy) but fabulously wealthy. During that period of control if an Emperor did not grant the Guard enough concessions and gifts, or worse slighted them in some way, the Guard had no qualms with killing Royal in question. The Guard also showed no concern for the line of succession or even basic protocol, just crowning people who promised them greater wealth.
Hell, one time they actually auctioned off the crown to the highest bidder at a market!
It wasn't until the Artic War when Emperor Evnadrus assumed the throne that the Guard finally lost their political power. Even then, it took a civil war within the Guard itself to finalize this change. They kept most of their prestige, being the personal guard of the Emperor with the best training and equipment available, and for the most part have kept to their renewed role quite well.
Even so tales of corruption do persist, though at a far smaller rate.
It all fits. The blade marks on Kati's hands when he would have tried to fight off his own Guards who killed him, Zorzal's nervousness in the depths of the Imperial Palace which is heavily guarded by Praetorians, and even the current trend of the Praetorians seemingly keeping a closer eye on the two remaining princes to ensure another is not killed by one of their own.
But that does bring up the question, who would want to kill Kati? Who could have the pull to get a Pretorian to do it?
But the most important question of all to me: how much more would a true born child, say a magically inclined girl nine years of age, cost the conspirator when compared to a stepchild?
-
-
As the days moved on, with Kati's death slowly drifting into the past, life went on.
More specifically, the lessons continue as always. Now that I was "older", and know as the 'smart' child, I was allowed to sit in on some of Pina's lessons.
From our time together, I got the impression Pina was completely uninterested in anything (beyond the basics) that was not related to her knight 'thing'. I can hardly call it a phase anymore given how "all in" she's been with it, and I will admit I am genuinely surprised she stuck with it. She actually has some good talent for swordsmanship from what little I've seen, usually when she drags me from my books to swing her sword at a training dummy and constantly ask if I was still sure I didn't want to join her Rose Knights saying she could find any place I wanted among their ranks.
So I tell her the same things I have told her for years: I do not want to be a knight, or a squire, or a page, or a quartermaster, or a fucking mascot! That last one is more of an internalization of my more modest refusal, but who just asks someone to be a mascot?
Still, I was learning more and more. One subject I've been recently learning more about was geography. In other words, the other nations of Falmart besides the Empire. Granted it is through the Imperial propaganda lens, but simply learning of their existence gives me enough to work with when I ask Gaius about them for a more neutral take.
To be frank, ignoring the client and vassal kingdoms along the Empire's peripheries, there were genuinely independent realms everywhere.
The most predominate of these foreign states, and the only one the Empire considers a civilized nation, was located along the peninsula to the south of the Empire: The Korinthian League.
Less a nation and more a loose confederacy of petty kingdoms, city states, and other small polities located along the Korinithan Peninsula that were united in their desire to not be a part of the Empire. While they lacked both the material and the manpower to wage a war of aggression against the Empire, the geography of their peninsula made any advance by the Empire doomed to failure as the Empire would end up funneling their forces into a bottleneck. And since the Empire also lacked the ships needed to contest control of the Blue Sea from the League there was no way to simply sail around and attack them from the flanks.
I am tempted to say the Lesage is the "Italian Peninsula" of this world. Given that the League is composed of city states and compact kingdoms who fight one another with mercenaries and have highly urbanized population centers (relative to the level of development in this world), however they show more relation to ancient Greek city states than the Italian ones. I base this mostly on the fact they fight with formations of hoplites and phalanxes.
While most texts regard these formations as inferior to the legion in broad terms, the fact they haven't been conquered by the numerically superior legions speaks volumes to the potency of their formation on the defense and the power of their navy.
By contrast northern Falmart, from my reading of the situation at least, is populated by a people who are basically the Norse from European history.
They are a barbarian culture with a seafaring raider society who reave along the coasts and inland rivers with longships for loot and slaves. They raise runestones, burn down temples, and other Viking things. They even worship a god they call the "All-Father" and have warrior women called shield maidens as if to hammer in the whole "Norse" connections more firmly.
My tutors and books note that the Northerners proudly scorn any trapping of civilization and happily toss tomes and manuscripts into great fires for their own amusement. A hyperbolic statement, given most accounts of them are the survivors of their raids and would not incline to give an impartial analysis, but I am willing to concede that these Viking are just as aggressive as their Earth counterparts. Even the more impartial texts agree that the north men are an aggressive culture.
The east is covered in great grasslands and plains and is home to numerous nomadic hordes and tribes who raid caravans along the Imperial road network and push against imperial settlement in the area.
Even with a significant legion presence, control of these vast lands beyond established urban centers or the main roads is tenuous at best. Some books go so far as to imply that it is not uncommon for entire settlements to vanish overnight as Imperial settlers are enslaved by the horse lords who view the civilized way of life as anathema to their customs. Sometimes, a great leader arises from their ranks and leads all hordes against the Empire, to sweep them back into the center of Falmart. Fourteen times have the horse lords attempted to remove the Empire completely from the East, and fourteen times they were beaten back at high cost to the Empire.
But there is another culture who calls the far east home: the Warriors Bunnies.
Even now I can't help but roll my eyes or grimace at the phrase.
Was there nothing better thing to call themselves? When I initially read about them, a matriarchal society of scantily clad warrior women with bunny ears than captured strong men to mate with, I couldn't help but think that this was just some fetishized Amazonian culture created by writers of certain genres. An impression not helped by the detailed 'artwork' I found amongst the pages telling the tale of a group of men who 'sacrificed themselves to save their village. Indeed, men of some settlements even offered themselves as "tribute" to the bunny women in exchange for not sacking their town.
How "brave" of them.
Getting past those sorts of things, for all their attacks on isolated imperial settlements, many warrior bunnies do offer their services as mercenaries to the legion. Their feats of strength and power have greatly aided the Imperial effort to pacify the nomads, who the warrior bunnies hate with a greater fervor than the Imperials due to aforementioned age-old grudges.
And finally, there was the matter of the west. I have a bit more to work with then simple books or second hand accounts as Selene has been quite open about her life in the west and certain things that go on there. Granted, it's information that comes from a literal child who may not have the knowledge necessary to parcel out fact from fiction, but it's a start.
From what I gathered, it's a very forested land where the Empire borders many barbarian kingdoms who they have a sort of tributary relationship with. At least, that's what I get from hearing how Selene says lots of Barbarian Kings send "a lot" of gold or goods to Soissons in exchange for military assistance against other Kingdoms. Many tales abound of legions fighting hordes of warriors painted from head to toe in paint. Basically it is this world's equivalent of Gaul and Germania.
I did try to look up what I could about the Empire's colonies to the far south but found very little. Most of the texts are about the large slave plantations growing sugar and spices then anything regarding the natives in those lands beyond a passing mention of "feather wearing People" and "golden temple cities".
Just goes to show that being a fantastical world is no barrier to having the same old mundane problems crop up over and over again.
-
-
"I can do it!"
"No you can't."
"Yes I can! See!"
"Nope, don't see it."
"What are saying? Clearly I was THIS high up."
"That's how high you always jump."
"Grrrr."
"And there! Your just kicking air!"
"Mmmmm!"
Ever since my little flying display a few months ago Zaynab, being the only other mage of my cohort, has been trying to replicate the feat herself. She's even come to me on multiple occasions to ask how I "did it". When I did explain to her that I didn't "fly" but merely reduced my own body mass to a fraction of what it normally is, I got a blank stare in return.
And today, with Sherry having left earlier to go home, and Myui having traveled back in Italica to celebrate her birthday with her family, that left only Selene and Zaynab here to interact with.
"But what does that mean" she questioned me at the time.
After some roundabout thinking and walking her through the logic, I got her to understand what I did in explaining the way a bird can fly through the air.
So here she is now, pumping mana across her body and jumping up and down without pause; kicking her feet in the air as if that gives her more "air time".
Despite what Selene is quipping from the sidelines, Zaynab is getting better at it. It's not overtly noticeable, but my trained eye can see she is getting more air with each hop overtime. But it's the difference between measuring airtime in a couple of seconds, to a single second when she started. Still a creditable achievement for a non-military trained preteen.
I remember reading something in Officer School that amounted to saying most mages can't actually use their magic without some kind of foci to help with the mental calculations or regulate mana draw; basically the more calculations done in ones head, the more efficient a spell is mana wise. Therefore only the most powerful mages, or at least the ones with the largest mana pools, can use magic in a practical way without some kind of foci since without calculations spells are horrifically mana intensive. Hence why the creation of the computation orb was so profound.
With it, mages can shunt most of the mental calculations to the orb and focus their attention to primarily mana regulation. And with the orb making spells more efficient the number of people who could become mages skyrocketed.
The reason for this disparity is basically because mana allowed a mage to bend the rules of reality. The more you want to "bend" the more mana required, but reality can be bent in many different ways to achieve the same end and an understanding of how the world works form a scientific angle allowed one to greatly reduce how much "bending" is needed.
Take 'flying' for example. A mage could simply keep pumping mana into their bodies to fly, though naturally they'll be on their asses in a matter of minutes when they run out of mana. A mage could also reduce their own mass, making themselves lighter than air to "float" or "glide" in a way not dissimilar to how birds achieve flight.
Even Zaynab used some basic science in the hydromancy she shows off. Just this morning, she pulled moisture from the air, condensed the particles into small drops of water, then snap froze the water and dropped the resulting ice cubes into her drink.
However, with an orb managing the calculation side a mage can do far more then simply float and can easily maintain multiple spells at the same time with all the mind work being handled mechanically.
Sadly, lacking an understanding of even the fundamentals of orb creation, such a tool is impossible to come across here and I certainly have no idea how to make one. I was a solider, trained to operate, maintain, and make small repairs to my gear with materials on hand. I could explain to someone what made a dual core orb superior to a single core, and I could even offer possible improvements to orb design based on my own experience of using them.
I was not, educated in the ways of building an orb from scratch, much less creating one in a pre-industrial society where the wheel was still the pinnacle of technological development in some areas.
I do remember reading an offhand mention in a textbook that before magic development pivoted towards mechanical computation in the early nineteenth century most research was directed towards enchanting gemstones with a set number of spells. Different from normal enchantments, where a single trait was imbued into an object, since the gemstone would "hold" several spells that could be used when mana was pushed through them. An interesting design, but with several problems.
First, the gemstones had to be large; prohibitory large.
Second, the mana cost is excessive. Since the mage must first cast a spell into the gem, and then use more mana to cast the stored spell.
And third, why go through all that effort when a simple enchantment could do about as well, since a mage would still need to do the calculations in their head to cast the spell into the gem in the first place.
In short, it became an evolutionary dead end when mechanical computation sprung up.
Still there was one good idea surrounding it. A Russy magical researcher, before the communists took over naturally, wrote about having mages cast spells into the gems then handing out said gems to soldiers who had the necessary amount of mana to cast the spells but lacked the mental prowess for precise calculations. An interesting idea and one that might have come to fruition had the computation orb technology not achieved mass proliferation by the dawn of the twentieth century.
Not that such an idea helps me all that much since the book simply dismissed the gemstone idea as outdated and moved on from there.
"Ow!" Zaynab had fallen to the ground, nursing her sore bottom.
"Oaky, that was high!" Selene cheered from the sidelines. "Princess, did you see it! Zaynab went up to the tree branch!"
"Of course, I did," I lied effortlessly. "See it's like I said, if you practice enough, and have some natural talent, there is nothing you can't do."
"I only wish it didn't hurt as much," the dark-skinned girl grumbled.
"Are you really complaining that you can fly?" the Syagrius girl tsked to herself.
"No, I'm complaining it hurts when you hit the ground," Zaynab quipped back, moving a stray leaf from behind her slightly pointy ear.
"You didn't even fall that high," Selene pointed to one of the lower branches of the tree. "I've fallen way higher and I'm fine."
"I certainly hope you haven't fallen from greater heights!" a new voice broke through the childish quips.
Selene looked to the new voice, then beamed a bright smile, "Father!" She abandoned her spot by the tree and rushed to the new arrival.
While I can see the resemblance between the two in hair color and cheek bones. But if I had to be honest, I can't help but think Selene's father looks more like some jester pretending to be a noble. His clothes were a ridiculous mishmash of colors. He had more jewelry adorning him, rings, ears, neckless, and all, then some noble women I've had the displeasure of being acquainted with. I will say the white cane gives him back a bit of a regal look, thought the fist sized gem on the top is a tad much in my opinion.
And this was supposedly the second most powerful man in the Empire after the Emperor himself?
Still, Selene jumped into the man's open arms.
"It's so good to see you sweetie," he kissed his daughter on the head and knelt to her level. "Look how big you've grown! Keep growing like this and you'll be taller than George before long."
As if on cue, a massive giant of a man walked next to the pair; by far the biggest man I have ever laid eyes on. Clad head to toe in dragon scaled armor, he was certainly an impressive sight. Given how massive he was, I think even during my last life, I'd be hesitant to charge him without substantial back up.
"Sir George!" Selene was ecstatic at the sight of the giant. Rather than hug him like her father, Selene grabbed hold of his armor climbed up the knight's from like a monkey and came to a rest upon his gargantuan shoulders.
"Now I'm the tallest!" she cheered from his shoulders; I can only guess if the man winced from the loud voice so close to his ears.
"Yes you are dear," Clovis jovially went along with his daughter's train of thought. "Now while I can see you are having fun, there is something I wish to speak with her Highness about. Something neither you, nor your friend, need be here for."
"What, why?" Selene questioned, her hands ruffling the plum thing on George's helmet.
"It's something not necessary for you to hear," he cryptically answered. "Don't worry, you can see your friends tomorrow."
"…..okay," the girl bemoaned from her ad-hoc podium. "Guess I'm going home."
"You can see her tomorrow dear," he repeated, before grinning. "And, while I don't want to be the one who told you, but I do believe there is someone waiting for you at the villa. Someone who has been asking to come see you for some time.
"Mother?" the girl perked up. Right, while here as a hostage in all but name, she hasn't been able to see her mother all that often.
"Oh, I've said too much. She told me not to spoil the surprise," he all but confirmed her mother's arrival.
"Yes! Sorry Zaynab, sorry Princess, but have to go! Bye Princess! Bye Zaynab," she quickly chatted out before clicking her heels against the giant's armor as if it were a horse. "Onwards Sir George! I need to get home to see Mother!"
The giant spared a short look to the Governor, who gave a curt nod, before walking off with Selene riding continuously clicking her heels as if that would make him walk faster. I swear I could hear a deep sigh from the man as he walked forward on command.
Oh the pains of dealing with an employer's kids.
"The same goes for you as well, Lady Zabba, my apologies" Clovis now turned to the other girl still here.
"It's fine, my Lord, I was planning to leave shortly anyway," the girl turned to me and curtsied. "Have a pleasant evening your Highness, I shall see you tomorrow."
"You to," I tell her and waved as she walked off in the general direction Selene was riding the giant in.
Now alone, Clovis stared at me for a few seconds before sighing. "Your Highness, I would first like to extent my most heartfelt condolences for your recent loss," Clovis began. "Had I been in the capital sooner, I would have paid my respects and offered my condolences sooner. Alas, I was on campaign and only heard the news from a courier weeks afterwards."
Oh that.
"Thank you for your concern, My Lord," I almost drone out. While it had been a while, I was still able to give the boiler plate "thank you for your concern" spiel without even thinking about it. "Did you know him?"
"Not on a personal level, no," Syagrius clarified. "I only had the opportunity to meet him a handful of times. But even in those brief moments, I could tell he was a sharp one. Someone who, if given enough time to come into his own, could have facilitated great strides for the Empire. A shame it had to end the way it did."
He paused for a moment, as if to let his words sink into me like this was some damn soap opera.
"But I can only imagine what you must have gone through," he continued. "Or are going through now. To know your own brother was snuffed out like he was, cut down before he could truly live his life. I can scarcely think of anything less more disturbing than that."
"It was a shock at first, but time has a way of making thing easier to deal with," I reply taking yet another page of the "accepting false pity" book. Honestly, while this wasn't some halfhearted thing most of the nobles did, it was a little soppy for my tastes. "Cut down" is a little too poetic for my tastes. Death is death. Horrible when it happens to soon, but something that come for everyone eventually-
Wait…
What was it Syagrius said…Cut down?
That carries a lot of implications. Implications not usually found in cases where the cause of death was due to an animal. Sure Kati's body was on display for a short while, but why would he conclude that he was killed? The knife marks were so faint that even I could barely see them without the whole cloth over the body thing at the funeral. Further, he wasn't even here for the funeral, by his own admission he was in his own province when people were allowed to pay their "respects".
So the next question is how did this man figure out Kati was killed?
The Emperor was surly keeping the nature of Kati's death a great secret to deter others from attempting to bribe the praetorians to similar acts. Sure, a secret is only as safe as the weakest link and there is no shortage of people who would inform on the going on in the palace for the right price. Perhaps Syargius has spies in the palace who told him what happened.
Or maybe…Could it be that HE was the one who paid off the Praetorians to murder Kati?
I felt a chill run through my veins as the man went on about something or another, I barley paid attention as my mind ran into overdrive over the implications of my discovery.
If what I think is true, IF Syagrius ordered the death of Kait, then the first question is why he would tip so blatantly to a member of a family of the person had killed? Is this psychological warfare? A 'Ha-ha, I killed one royal I didn't like and I can kill you just the same if I felt like it' kind of thing? If so, it's a very foolish move. He has to know I'm going to run to the Emperor to tell him who was the one who ordered Kati's death the moment I get back to the Palace.
Wait! No!
Shit! I can't do that!
Ignoring the fact that the Emperor is keenly aware of what the truth of how Kati was killed, I doubt he could even act on this information if he wanted to. All I have is my word that Clovis all but admitted to ordering the death of a royal. And if the Emperor moved against Syagrius, what would the rest of the Empire think to his proof? It would be a nine-year old's word against the second most powerful person in the Empire. Golly gee, I wonder who the people would listen to?
But then, I come back around to the first question, why imply his actions to me? He may dress like what a person thinks an eccentric noble dresses but that doesn't mean he is an idiot. You don't rule over a territory twice the size of Germania, and make it one of the most profitable in the Empire, by being a fool.
…
Damn it!
Why was I so stupid!
I see it now! The way he dresses is part of the ruse itself! In any meeting between people, the way one dresses can subconsciously imply what kind of person you are to your opposite. Dress smartly, and people will subconsciously think you are. Dress like a slob, and they'll think you're a slob. But it can also work in reverse: dress like a slob, to make people think you are a slob, then pull the rug out from under them after playing into the assumptions for your own benefit!
Damn it! I actually fell for it too!
But once again, why all but tell me he killed Kati.
Before I could run my mind any further, I tried to pull myself back from overanalyze every little detail. One should never mistake maliciousness with Incompetence.
Could it be that he just gloating to a child he thinks can't understand the blatant subtext of his words and be internally laughing at my reactions?
To be fair, I'm not a child mentally, hence I probably should not be 'getting' the gloating since I am a 'child'. Maybe he's mentally grinning like some Cheshire cat as he goes on about his crime with the belief that I think he's being genuine in his condolences.
But why would he kill-
A hand on my shoulder dragged me from my analysis of the situation.
"Forgive me your Highness, but are you feeling well?" Clovis asked, his green eyes filled with a sufficient amount of concern. "You've been a little out of sorts for the past few minutes. Is something wrong."
"No, my Lord," I try and reply with no indication of my true feelings.
"In any event," he brushed off my comment. "As I said, if you every need anything, or simply wish to talk to someone, I will be here to offer what aid I can."
"Thank you, my lord, you are too kind," I manage to say without tipping my hand of knowing what he did.
Clovis and I exchanged some more meaningless small talk before he decided it was time to return on. Something about wanting to spend an evening dinner with his wife and child or something equally trivial. Yet as he walked away, I made a mental note to be on guard with him when we met again.
I refuse to fall for the same ploy of 'foolishness' ever again. I have no plans on dying so soon.
At least not before I can shove my boot up Being X's ass and pay him back for everything he has done to me!
-
-
Zorzal lived in almost constant fear since his father had Kati murdered before him and Diabo.
What was supposed to be a family 'bonding' trip turned into a brutal torture display as the Emperor read out all of Kati's crimes and then…
Zorzal had always hated Kati. He had always dreamed of the moment he could wipe that damn smirk off his face with his fists. To throttle Kait's throat until he died, forcing his manservant lover to watch before he suffered the same fate. Seeing the look in Kati's eyes as the last bit of light left them had been a dream he so wished to make real.
Yet even he thinks that what Molt did to Kati was extreme. It wasn't Kati's death that haunted him, it was everything that was done to Kati before the Emperor allowed him to die. How he made his mages keep Kati from expiring too soon so he could "continue to be an example for the boys".
Zorzal knows he will never forget the screams Kati made until his dying breath.
Every time he saw one of the Praetorians, he felt his blood run cold. Whenever he had to be near one of them, he could almost feel himself shake. What if this time they were ordered to kill him, his mind would insidiously whisper.
He remembers Tanya asking if something was wrong earlier that day since he wasn't eating his food. Zorzal laughed it off and made light of the situation. He could hardly tell her that he was afraid the pretorian guards detached to watch over her were under orders to kill him in the most painful way possible now could he?
Even had the Emperor not told him and Diabo to never speak of what happened that day to either Pina or Tanya, Zorzal would have done so of his own volition. Tanya, for all her brilliance, was a gentle soul. Shy in unfamiliar situations, bright and friendly among friends, she was truly a rare breed of noble. She was not only noble by birth, but in sprit as well.
However, for all her brilliance, her heart was simply too big. She had a type of ingrained innocence that ran at odds with how the world worked.
He remembers one incident when she stopped a servant girl from getting caned in the yard. The girl had taken some food from the plate of a visiting emissary, before it had even been served to him, and was being punished accordingly. When questioned by his sister, the girl claimed she hadn't eaten in two days and had only taken some crumbs. As if that excused the crime.
Yet his sister, ever generous, ordered the girl to be given a meal. "No one should work on an empty stomach" she told them and asked for the girl transferred to her own staff. Despite the legitimate points brought up by the matron that this would only embolden the girl's thieving tendencies, she obeyed.
While he can't help but find her innocent view of the world adorable, it hardly prepared her for the brutality of the real world. Even Pina, for all foolishness at trying to be a knight as a woman, at least understood what kind of place the world was. Not that Zorzal wants to be the one to ruin that native innocence Tanya holds.
Still, perhaps that naivete was actually a benefit?
If you didn't know about the threats and dangers around you, how can you live a life in fear?
Like the fear of your own father possibly torturing you to death….
To escape the existential fear of what his Father could do to him at any moment, Zorzal indulged in vices. Drink. Food. Parties. Of all of them though, he had found lust to be the best salve for his fears. It wasn't even the sex that he enjoyed but the intoxicating feeling of control. He could do whatever he wanted to any girl he brought to his bed. No matter how much they cried or begged, they were forced to deal with him.
And in the moment, he could forget he too was controlled by another he feared and dreaded.
But when everything was quiet, his mind would wander…
"I'm done with this one," the prince waved to his courtier as he put on his clothes.
His latest conquest was a demi-human slave girl with patches of scales splotched across her body. A body now covered in bruises and shallow marks from that evening's activities. The girl didn't even make a sound when one of his men lugged her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Done for the night, your highness or-"
"Done as in 'finished'," Zorzal clarified, pouring himself a glass of wine. "If any of the boys want a go at her, their welcome to do so. Otherwise, see if there's a brothel willing to take used goods. Price doesn't matter, but I don't want to see her again."
"Yes, your highness," the man dutifully nodded, taking the abused slave out of Zorzal's chamber and softly shutting the door behind him.
Grumbling to himself, Zorzal took a long sip of his wine. Sadly, it wasn't a long one, for Zorzal flinched as a flash of lighting bathed his chamber. Flinched, dropping his goblet, even before the booming thunder followed it. It was simply so sudden. His heart was racing at nothing. Sighing at his own paranoia, he moved to pick up his cup and call for a servant to clean up the mess-
"My oh my, jumping at every shadow now… are we?"
Zorzal shot back to his feet. He wasn't alone! Someone had snuck into his chambers! Scanning the dark room yielded nothing, it was the same as it was a moment ago. No windows open, the door still tightly shut, not a single thing out of place.
"I didn't mean to cause alarm."
There it was again, but from a different side of his room. What was going on! Moving swiftly, the prince reached under his bed for the sword attached to the bedframe.
"Who's there!" Zorzal quickly drew the blade looked for the speaker, sword at the ready. "I command you to show yourself!"
His words were greeted by an animal like laughter that echoed all around him, putting him even more on edge.
"Well as this is your home, I ought to be the respectful guest." The laugh that followed was something akin to a pig's snorting. Out of the comer of his eye, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a corpulent creature garbed in simple brown clothes. The disgusting creature looked to me something akin to a human mixed with some chimeric pig-rat thing with leathery green skin.
"Apologies for the ruse Your Highness," the creature gave a short bow to him. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Bouro, leader of the Haryo Tribe."
"Haryo?" Zorzal questioned. This was one of those mongrel creatures he members his tutors mentioned once upon a time. No, this was their leader? Why- How did he get into city? No, how did he get into his home!
"Indeed," Bouro nodded.
"What do you want?" Zorzal demanded loudly, his sword still at the ready to cut the pig faced creature down. He was silently waiting for one of his guards, who allowed this creature to trespass through his home into his very bedroom, to finally come in and get rid of it!
"Want? It is not what I want, but what you want," the Haryo cryptically answered.
"What could a creature like you know about me?" Zorzal questioned, his eye switching between the door and the intruder.
"Oh, I know a few things," Bouro scratched his chin, unconcerned of the blade pointed at him. "It's just what I like to do: knowing a little bit about everything that is. For example, I know that the Emperor killed Prince Kati since he was conspiring to overthrow him. I know you and Prince Diabo were present during the grizzly torture session. And I know you are terrified you will suffer the same fate."
"Shut up! Shut Up! Guards! Get in here already! Guards!" Yet all that greeted Zorzal was silence. No calls of concern, nor any guards burst through the doors to take this creature to the dungeons.
"Apologies, but your guards are indisposed for the moment," the Haryo enlightened Zorzal. "Alive, but they will not bother us for quite some time."
'What did you-"
"It is not what I did. You were the one who gave them something to occupy their time with did you not?" Bouro chuckled as the Prince's face paled.
"So, you're here to kill me?" Zorzal took a step back as he readied himself to fight for his life.
"Kill you?" he snorted at the prince's words and shook his head. "Did you not hear what I said moments ago, I am here because of what you want."
"What I want?" the whole situation was so outlandish for him. Why break into the crown prince's room only to want to do something for said prince?
"Indeed," it agreed. "As mentioned, I know a great deal. Such as your greatest fears of losing everything to Emperor, to becoming a footnote in history that will be forgotten within a generation, to being known as a useless boy who amounted to nothing."
Zorzal stared Bouro down, not lowering his blade, but clearly listening to the Haryo's words.
"But don't worry, your highness," Bouro walked towards the prince until the blade tip was pressing against his chest. "I think I may have a solution to your situation. One that not only shows your courage and bravery to your fellow citizens but demonstrates your worth to your family and the Empire."
"And why should I trust anything that comes out of your disgusting mouth?" Even as Zorzal insulted the pig thing he pulled his blade tip back from the chest. Silently, he was genuinely curious as to what the Haryo had to say. If it was nonsense, he'd cut the demi-human down where he stood.
If the Haryo was insulted, he didn't show it. All Bouro did was give Zorzal a yellow toothed smile as he scratched his chin with one of his long claws. "Tell me, what do you know of the Warrior Bunny Kingdom?"
-----------------------------------------------------------
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AN: Wheels and plots are turning indeed! A very world building heavy chapter, but the gears of canon are moving onwards.
Tanya is being Tanya, Zorzal is about to commit a whole slew of war crimes against bunnies', and the beginning of Gate draws ever closer.
A Young Princess - VII
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
A Triumph
The concept is hardly alien to me. At its most basic level, it's merely a military victory celebrated by festivities and other merry making activities. Hell, I've not only seen them in both lives but actually took part in a few in my previous life. Personally, I think these sorts of things are a tad extravagant.
Zorzal went out and destroyed the bunny warrior kingdom.
Even now, knowing men died in this conflict, I still can't take that damned name seriously.
Still, names are hardly the thing to worry about right now. I'm more concerned about what is going to happen now. For while Zorzal went out and conquered, the Emperor was furious about it.
Naturally he didn't say such a thing outright, in public or private. In the Senate he exalted his son's actions as the makings of a true leader, one who would sooner face defeat on the field of battle than victory through shameful means. Now I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to PR moves, but even I can tell when someone is making backhanded comments that sound like praise but are in fact insults. Of course, the question of how Zorzal got the authority to command the Empire's military forces in such a way that the Emperor himself couldn't recall them is still in the air.
As the months dragged on the Emperor's mood darkened sharply. Every day seemed to see him in a fouler mood, culminating in a breaking point.
One night I caught him just standing in the hallway outside his study resting his forehead against a pillar. His breathing was slow and, as if trying to control himself, labored while a crumpled note lay at his feet. I tried to sneakily move closer to see what the note said, but the guards alerted him to my presence before I could get a good look. Like a professional actor all the stress in him melted away and with a soft smile he jovially offered to walk me to my chambers, as if he wasn't just holding off a violent outburst a mere moment prior.
While I couldn't see the note I was able to gleam a single word before he smeared the note beneath his shoe: annihilated.
Given his barely contained anger it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Oh, I can already see it now. Muscle meat head goes to war thinking it was easy and promptly gets his forces trounced because he doesn't understand strategy in the slightest. I saw this happen plenty of times before in both Germania and the Commies; people raised up to powerful positions via connections or birth then led their forces to catastrophic defeat. A tale as old as time you could say.
Still, after that day the Emperor stopped exalting Zorzal's campaign at court and in the Senate. Frankly he stopped talking about his eldest son completely in public, only mentioning him doing 'good work' before moving to another subject if he was questioned about his son's 'glorious' campaign. Though given the fact he won the war I suppose the campaign was a pyrrhic victory rather than a 'complete' defeat.
Not that it changes the number of corpses.
Still, this all puts me in an awkward position. That is to say, once people realize how much of a fuck up Zorzal is they'll start looking for a place to direct their ire. Whose fault is it that so many men are dying? Why it's obvious! The Emperor who allowed this to happen and his family! And, by extension, me. I know exactly what happens when a populace gets the idea that getting rid of their monarch and their family is the best way to solve their woes.
Sure, maybe if this was a modern era with basic human rights established I could eek my way out of this mess with exile or a promise to forsake my royal claims and get out of the 'splash zone' with my life when the inevitable uprising occurs. Not to say I couldn't do either of those things now, just that I doubt any such agreement would be honored indefinitely. I probably wouldn't be killed, Being X is far too wrapped up in his warped 'plans' to let that happen, but I could be relegated to a forced marriage to whoever takes the throne after Molt to further legitimize their claim. Essentially forced into the life of a broodmare for whatever family wants to cement their hold on the throne.
In light of this very possible outcome I've accelerated my plans for a 'charm' offensive at the citizenry.
In short, I am going to give these retches some basic creature comforts and goodwill services, plaster my name and face all over them so they know exactly who is funding them, and just hope that whatever good PR I can squeeze out of the populace can keep me out of the mob's rage.
Still, while I was not going to the 'parade' part of the Triumph, I was still expected to attend the 'dinner party' portion held at the palace. And that meant dealing with my greatest of foes in this new life: the overly extravagant nobility.
--
--
The party was as extravagant as I feared it would be.
A victory as complete as Zorzal's demanded the finest of celebrations, so I was told. The palace was filled with nobles, senators, guests, and a handful of dignitaries from the Empire's client states. Truly, anyone who was anyone was here in the palace, going about their meandering motions of courtly intrigue and faux passes.
Honestly, the fakeness of the social interactions was hardly the worst part. It was bad, hence why I was sitting alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom with guards blocking the immediate area off from the rest. A few nobles, both adults and children, tried to approach, but were politely and soundly sent away with a stern word from the guards. So, while the interactions were bad, it was manageable.
The worst thing about these events was the damn clothing!
Ugh, if dressing up like a peacock in an overcomplicated dress was what these people considered 'the finest' then they can keep it! I can hardly walk in these shoes they've forced me to wear, let alone breathe in this damned dress they've literally strapped me into! If I didn't know any better I'd have assumed this was a primitive straitjacket with all the harnesses and cords and-
"You look miserable," an all too familiar, and snarky voice dragged me from my mental woes. An overly dressed man slinked his way past the guards who spared him but a single glance.
"I feel miserable," I quip back to the latest addition to my 'retinue'.
"Well don't worry, it's almost late enough that you can excuse yourself to retire to your chambers for the evening," Gaius Rax commented, pausing to sip from the glass he was holding.
Gaius Rax; record keeper, eunuch, and now the newest member of my 'retinue'. I took on Gaius as my personal retainer a few weeks ago when the Emperor mentioned how it was time for me to begin building a retinue for myself. I'm pretty sure he was assuming I'd take on one of my acquaintances as a 'lady in waiting', or 'handmaiden', or whatever the hell they're called rather than a middle aged, balding eunuch who appeared out of nowhere. Objectively, I can understand why the Emperor gave me such a strange look when I brought Gaius into the palace as my employee. It does look a tad strange.
Though his reaction was not as animated as Gaius' to me offering him the job. Pretty sure I gave the poor man a heart attack when I showed up to his archive with a dozen praetorians in tow, no sneaking out that time as it was official business. After some calming down, and him readily agreeing to my proposal, I told him the one condition to being in my employment: no slaves. If he wanted to keep Remus on as an assistant so be it, but he would do so as a free person and with pay. I was prepared for him to call me out on my hypocrisy of demanding he sell his slave while I have my own at the palace, along with my rebuttal that I do not have the means or ability to emancipate any of my staff.
Surprisingly, for someone of this culture, he readily agreed to my caveat. Strange, but I suppose when offered the chance to work for the most powerful family in the Empire the price of a single slave was hardly a deal breaker.
And so, with Gaius and a newly freed Remus in tow, the real battle began: convincing the Emperor. Given my station it is entirely understandable that he took a great interest in who I hired on as my retainers. Initially, he was less than enthused by my choice. When presented before him he argued that Gaius didn't have the proper training or pedigree to serve me in such an official capacity, that he would make me look bad before my peers. I should be glad he didn't ask how I knew him I suppose.
Still, I replied that I didn't care about any of that. He was sharp, intelligent, quick-witted, and most importantly wasn't some sycophantic yes-man who simply agreed with everything I said. I phrased the last point in more eloquent words, but the basic premise remained.
After a terse twenty minutes of debating and arguing (with some begging), Gaius was officially my first retainer with Remus being my second, but less official, retainer as well.
Now while I talked up Gaius's skills I was worried that there would be some 'growing pains' with his new duties as my, for a lack of better words, secretary. Thankfully, my fears were unfounded. Gaius took to his new duties like a fish to water. Within two days of working for me he was already organizing my schedule, keeping track of all my documentation, and keeping track of the numerous 'charities' I was running with my monthly 'allowance'.
An allowance that is more than what most skilled workers make in a year, but I digress.
"Don't tempt me," I grumble back, resting my head against the cool table, watching the people dance. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to not just rip this thing off me."
"I can make an educated assumption," he quipped back. "Excuse me for changing the topic, but I was just talking with the kitchen staff about the leftovers."
That caught my attention, "So what did they say?"
"It will be done," Gaius replied. "A few of the lads downstairs will start taking the food to those kitchens of yours in Akusho in a little bit."
One of my first charm offensive items was to create a series of food kitchens in the lowest economic locations in the city serving the people there some basic sustenance like soup, bread, a bit of meat, and some vegetables. Nothing extravagant, I do have a budget to work with, but better than just bread for the human poor or straight up starvation for the local demi-humans. And given the extravagance of these kinds of banquets, it's obvious that a large amount of food will go to waste well after it was over. So why not send it to the kitchens for some 'brownie points', I thought. The problem was actually getting the leftovers there, but that issue has seemingly solved itself.
"That is at least some good news," I mused. "And how much are they asking for?"
"Nothing, as you feared," he reported. I was afraid of that. They probably see it as an order rather than me asking them to work in a short-term capacity.
"And you…" I led him onto my next question to see if he followed my instructions on what to do in this situation.
"I shoved several handfuls of denari into their hands and told them you would not accept any refusal of the coin," Gaius replied.
"So, everything went according to plan?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," he nodded.
"At least something positive happened this evening," I mumbled to myself. While this was a 'win', I couldn't help but be afraid this whole thing would backfire on me, that I would wake up tomorrow to find out the people at the kitchens are insulted that I'm sending them leftovers normally given to the kennels or maybe assume it is a subtle jab at the demi-humans for their 'inhuman' origins.
'No, stop overthinking it. Nothing good has ever come from overthinking these sorts of things. Food is food to a starving person, no matter what it was meant for. So long as it tastes good and is nutritious, that is enough for most.'
"Ah, but, before I forget, Your Highness," Gaius continued. "There is the matter of filling out the rest of your retinue that we discussed earlier."
"And I thought I told you I would think about it later," I waved off his comment.
"Technically it is later," I groaned at his bad joke. "But more to the point, with how fast you are expanding your expenses and… reach, I feel it would be prudent to your efforts if we had more manpower at our disposal, beyond the occasional members of staff of this palace."
"I think you overestimate how much money I have on hand," I roll my eyes.
"And I think you are overestimating just how much some people will work for," he countered.
"So, a race to the bottom for how little someone will work for," I said. It was hardly a good way to secure reliable labor if you just kept betting downwards.
"Beyond simple manpower, there are other positions you need to fill. You will need a castellan to manage your estates and expenses, a number of courtiers with a variety of skills to add to your own capabilities, and most importantly a sufficient number of eccentrics to surround yourself with."
"Wait, what?"
"Eccentrics," he repeated with a straight face. "Everyone knows lords and ladies must surround themselves with a sufficient number of eccentric individuals."
"Really? I already have you, don't I?" I snort under my breath. "You're enough for a dozen people at least."
"While true it is still, sadly, insufficient for one of your station," Gaius continued, giving this joke far more seriousness than it deserved.
"Is that right?" my eyes roll at his melodrama, off handedly watching two women argue over a man. I couldn't hear it from where I was, but it looked quite animated.
"Indeed," he nodded, gesturing to the crowds beyond my line of guards. "Why, just look at them. How else do they make themselves look sane to the common man unless surrounding themselves with greater insanity?"
I sigh, pinching the ridge of my nose. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."
"I'm more likely to lose my tongue than my life," he quipped back.
I was about to comment on his comment when I heard the crowds and music die down. The nobles and guests parted like the sea as the Emperor strode to the center of the room with Diabo in tow. Garbed in magnificent shades of purple and burgundy, to his sides were a mix of his usual praetorians and members of the newest imperial knightly order: The Rose Order of Knights.
Yes, it seemed Pina did achieve her dream in the end of being a knight. Sixteen and already the head of a military formation. She stood at the head of her party of knights as they marched beside their liege.
Granted it was probably out of nepotism, and I attained a similar rank prior to my death at thirteen in my former life, but that is hardly here or there. Still, I am surprised all the same. While this is a 'fantasy' world, by my previous two incarnations' definitions, it was still rooted in some form of 'realism'. Beyond barbarians, such as the bunny warriors Zorzal so recently smashed to pieces, and mages, women rarely see any combat.
I can only wonder what the assortment of nobles and guests think of a bunch of armored warrior women.
Any further musing was meaningless as the Emperor gave me a gesture to beckon me to come to his side.
And in came the wayward prince. While his hair was longer than it was prior he didn't look any different from when I last saw him. Flanked at his sides were several legionaries pulling along several cloaked individuals with chains. It was hardly a secret that they were probably those rabbit people, anyone could see bits of their ears peeking out of their hoods. But what was the point in dragging them into a ballroom?
Standing before his father, Zorzal gave an exaggerated bow. "Your Majesty, I stand before you victorious in battle! Through my strength and diligence, the Empire has expanded and the demi-human barbarians who would threaten our people have been broken beneath the boots of my legions!"
A polite clap emanated from all those in attendance. Claps akin to someone scoring well in a game of golf than being told we just enslaved an entire population.
"I come before you not only in victory, but with a present to you. Behold: the bunny queen herself!" With a firm tug of the chain one of the cloaked figures was thrown to their knees. Without pausing, he grabbed the back of the cloak and exposed the woman to all. I could safely say that under better circumstances I would be in awe of her beauty. The white hair, pale skin, and red eyes were a combination that was never in either of my previous lives. Also, the rabbit ears and, strangely, bits of fur along the arms and legs added an exotic flair to her. Sadly, the bruises and cuts that littered her pale form did detract from her elegance, vain as it might sound.
"Though she fought with great dishonor, even her dirty tricks did little to stop our righteous legions from taking what is rightfully ours by right of conquest," Zorzal sharply tugged the leash to emphasize the point, the woman in turn crying out in discomfort. "Even in defeat she showed her duplicity. She threw herself at my feet and begged for her life to be spared, offering everything and anything to be spared death. Being the honorable man I am, and taking pity on this worthless foe, I of course accepted and took her into my chambers to see to her promises. Know that I can assure you that for all her bluster of being a monarch and warrior, the skills she showed me in the ensuing days prove without a shadow of a doubt that she was raised in a house of whores."
More polite clapping, though there were a few lurid jeers thrown in by several men in the audience.
"But is not all I bring from her lands. Though poor in coin their lands were ripe with flesh for our markets. Even now the brothels are filling to the brim with their race, and I have no doubt they shall become favorites of many lords if the service their queen has provided me is any indication."
Again, quiet clapping, though I could hardly hide my frown, appearances be damned.
"For my father, our Emperor, I give you her lands for expansion," Zorzal turned to me and smiled, signaling to his henchman to bring another one of the cloaked figures forward. "But for my beloved sister," I held in my eye roll, "I had to think hard on what to give her. As I said, this is a poor race with little of value to offer. But it occurred to me that I should give my sister, your princess, something that has no equivalent in value!"
Led forward by a chain leash was another cloaked bunny humanoid. She looked far younger than the former queen if her size was anything to go by. She was thrown to the ground next to her leader and had her own cloak ripped off her form. Not only was the second rabbit person younger than the first, but she also looked like a younger copy of the older one! The same white hair, pale skin, and red eyes, but had barely any of the injuries that her senior had.
"The answer was obvious to me: what better slave for a princess than another princess!" Zorzal pressed his boot into the younger one's back, forcing the girl to bow before the assembled royal family.
As the applause rang out far louder this time than before only one thought raced through my mind.
'Are you fucking kidding me!'
"Brother… you shouldn't have…" 'you really fucking shouldn't have!' Ignoring the whole ethics issues I have with having a fucking slave taken in war just 'given' to me, the girl is setting off every red flag in the back of my mind. A girl who has lost everything, had been publicly humiliated, has probably been abused in numerous ways, is most likely suicidal, was raised in a martial society and now has nothing to lose by going after the closest of her tormentors is NOT someone I want to be around!
The rest of his little speech was a blur as the crowds applauded one thing after another. I only realized the whole thing was over when Zorzal walked over and handed me the chain leash for the younger rabbit girl.
"If she gives you any issues, just have one of the guards have a go at her, that tends to shut them up from what I've heard," Zorzal 'helpfully' advised. "If she keeps at it, just let me know and I'll set her straight."
'Ugggh'
"So, are we going to be done with that one or are you going to try and salvage something from her?" Gaius returned to my side as the festivities resumed, nudging his head in the girl's direction as she was escorted with me to my chambers.
"I'm not going to just kill her for no reason," I retorted as we made our way out of the chamber, people parting before us.
"You might end up with a slit throat if you don't do something," the eunuch sighed. "What was that man thinking giving you a bunny warrior slave? The girl just saw her whole civilization crumble before her and now they think she's just going to just ignore that?"
"I know."
"Even young bunny warriors have superhuman strength and speed. If she tries to kill you, it may happen too fast for you to blast her away with a spell."
"I said I know," I grumbled. "Look, I'll take the necessary precautions and deal with her."
"Kindness has its place Tanya," Gaius broke court protocol and addressed me by my name. Not that it doesn't happen, but never in public with so many people around us. "And that place, more often than not, is the grave."
"I said, I know," I repeated more forcefully. "Push comes to shove I will deal with it, but I'd rather see if there is a diplomatic solution if at all possible. Show her she's not going to be treated like that anymore."
"As you say," he commented, doubting the end result of the situation as it stands.
"If she attacks me, I'll put her down myself," I replied. "But just trust that I actually do know what I am doing."
Rax sighed and shook his head. "I will defer to your judgment then."
He didn't believe me. Not surprising since I was lying. As with many situations I find myself in, it seems I will just have to come up with something on the fly. With every step I took to my chambers, guards flaking me with the girl not far behind me and Gaius, my mind raced through a myriad of possible outcomes.
--
--
…why…
…why was her life like this now…
Since she fell into captivity, time seemed to just blur for Cordelia. Despite knowing weeks have passed it still felt like only yesterday that her home burned before her eyes. Imperial soldiers marching in horrific unison to pillage and loot everything in their path. The screams of the daughters being torn from their mothers and sisters as the legionaries started… partaking of them in such a bestial display that still haunts her nightmares.
If she closed her eyes, Cordelia could swear she still felt the cold kiss of steel on her throat from when she was forced to watch her Auntie be… defiled in front of her. The night before that she remembered Auntie Tyuule saying that everything would be alright, that she was prepared to do what was needed to save her people. But the scene, and then forcing Tyuule to thank that human, was too much for Cordial.
She thanked whichever God was watching her that evening that she didn't suffer a similar fate. While depraved lust hung in the air from the other humans watching their leader, that monster took one look at her and decided that she was 'off limits'. Cordelia thought he was referring to wanting her for himself, but he showed no interest in her for that sort of action. She was quickly separated from her aunt and left to wallow in her fear.
Cordelia even heard from some legionaries guarding her that some of her people began to think Auntie Tyuule betrayed the kingdom to the Empire! That she spread her legs to that degenerate of a human of her own volition, as if she wasn't threatened with the death or violation of every single one of her subjects had she continued to resist.
The insanity!
Cordelia only knew this because she was in the room when the decision to surrender was made. After her father died in battle against the Imperials Auntie Tyuule had kept her close at all times, closer still after a failed assassination attempt on her life. She was in the room when her Auntie had made the decision to lay down her arms and surrender. Cordelia saw how she smashed her war table to splinters as the realization dawned on her and her council that there was no victory in their war, and the rage and anguish on her face as tears flowed without end when she gave the order to surrender her crown and herself if it meant of sparing her people further bloodshed.
Now here she was, a proud warrior princess made to be a slave to a human girl her junior.
It was pathetic.
Led into the human's darkened chamber, the girl had foolishly ordered Cordelia unbound and requested her guards to remain outside. Was she so arrogant that she believed Cordelia's spirit was broken to the point of not resisting, or was she so stupid she didn't think the warrior princess was a threat? She didn't know what was more insulting.
Alone now with the human, the child turned her back to her to look at something on her desk, as if she was forgetting a skilled warrior was unbound and in her chamber.
But since she was alone with the human, it made what was to come much easier.
Cordelia may not be able to bring back all those who had died or rebuild her kingdom, but she can give these humans a small taste of the horror and anguish they inflicted upon her people.
Moving as quietly as she could Cordelia carefully grabbed a nearby adjacent candlestick. While it was a tad gaudy with its gilded appearance it was still sturdy enough to crack open a person's skull if it strikes the proper place. She had seen her aunt do something similar to the assassin after her own life, so it was probably doable for her.
But before she could close the distance between the two of them, the girl spoke to her for the first time.
"Are you going to try and kill me?"
The question made the young warrior stop dead in her tracks, makeshift weapon arched high, her ruby eyes widened as she watched the human slowly turned to face her.
"W-What?" was all she could reply with, her first words to this human.
"I said, 'are you going to try to kill me'?" the human questioned again. Cordelia gave no reply, for her words carried all the weight of asking about the weather. Her eyes looked at the candlestick in her hand, "I assume that will be your weapon of choice?"
"Why are you… talking like that?" her red eyes met the human's deep blue with unhidden confusion.
"I'm just curious," the human admitted before walking over to her dresser.
"H- Hey! Don't move!" Cordelia angled her weapon.
"I just want to change out of this dress. This damned thing has been on my nerves for the entire evening and I'd rather be in something more comfortable," she replied, though stopping her motions to the dresser.
"A-Are you stupid!?" She yelled at the weird human child. "Don't you understand what's happening?"
"You were going to try and kill me, correct?" the human tilted her head in confusion.
"Stop that," Cordelia snapped. "Stop acting like nothing is happening. I am going to kill you, and you're just acting like it's nothing?"
"Overreacting would hardly benefit the situation," the human shook her head. "Besides, I wanted to try and stop you from making a mistake."
"Killing a human can't ever be a mistake."
The human sighed and shook her head. "Well, before you try and bludgeon me to death, could you at least humor me with an answer to a single question for me?"
"I'm killing you for everything your people have done to my- "
"Not that," the human cut off her tirade that she had been holding in for such a long time. "The 'why' is obvious. My question is: what do you think will happen next?"
"Huh?" That…. was not what Cordelia was expecting. Shouldn't this soft human princess be begging for her life or cursing at Cordelia with some vague promise of vengeance? It was what she did to the assassin before her auntie raced into her room and killed him.
"I don't care." She admitted. "I just want your people to understand a fraction of the pain and suffering you inflict on others! I want your people to mourn the loss of someone they hold dear. We didn't do anything to you, and you killed and enslaved us! So, I am going to kill you for the sake of all those who died to your invasion!"
"And what do you think they will do if you kill me!?" The human raised her voice for the first time. Cordelia's ears twitched as the girl's voice carried some underlying authority that shouldn't be possible for anyone her age. "I won't say your people did nothing to the Empire," the human paced her words carefully. "Your people raided and pillaged the outlying territories and provinces for slaves and mates. So no, you have done something to the Empire, but I will agree that nothing your people had done warranted such a disproportionate response against your kingdom."
Are all human children like this or is this one just the weird one? Who talks like this?
"But, going by your logic, if doing nothing caused the Empire to destroy your kingdom, what do you think the response will be when you actually do something?"
"They'll kill me," Cordelia stated, it was a fate she had steeled herself for when she committed to this path.
Yet her reply only made the human girl give her a quizzical look, "Really? That's what you think will happen? That the guards will just cut you down?"
"Perhaps after they torture and violate me for a time," she added, not sure why the human was giving her that look. Most likely they would also force her aunt to watch all of this occurring. Though it will be painful for her Auntie, she knows she'll understand why she did this.
"Really?" The human looked disappointed. "You think they'll torture you for a while before killing you?"
"What does it matter to you? You'll be dead in a few moments," but why was she hesitating now?
"Let me rephrase my question then," the human took a step closer to her. "If the Empire attacked and destroyed your kingdom for doing, as you say, nothing, what do you think they will do after you kill a member of their royal family?"
"…what?" They would… they…
"I said," the girl spoke slowly, taking another step forward. "What will the Empire do to your people if you kill me?"
'They'll kill them all…' her mind whispered.
The human seemingly noticed her reaching this conclusion and nodded. "That's right, they'll punish everyone they can in retaliation. Your own death, torture, or violation, will not be enough satiate the lust for vengeance."
As much as Cordelia wished it wasn't so, the human was… correct. Here she was, a proud warrior princess of the bunny warrior kingdom, forced to grovel and serve at the feet of those who slaughtered and enslaved them, and should she lash out at an Imperial to share with these humans a modicum of the loss and anguish they had happily inflicted on others they would pay it back a hundreds times more.
It's not fair…
It's not fucking fair…
Its not GODS DAMNED FAIR!
"Gods damn it!" Cordial blindly threw the candlestick away and fell to her knees with tears racing down her cheeks. But before she could even properly weep at the futility of her own situation she heard the human girl yelp in pain. Looking up, Cordelia saw the human girl holding her forehead as a small dribble of blood ran down her cheek and the unused murder weapon lay bloody at her feet.
She barely heard the doors slam open and the guards race in.
"What's going on!?" the taller of the pair asked, roughly grabbing Cordelia's shoulder. She felt his grip tighten as he noticed the girl's bleeding forehead. "Did you lay your filthy hands on Her Highness slave!?"
Cordelia wondered if killing herself here and now would help alleviate the pain forced upon her people or would they simply respond more cruelly for having been denied inflicting pain upon her? Her musings were cut short by a swift kick to her stomach that pushed all the air out of her lungs.
"You damn animal, don't even have the gall to deny it?" the guard spat in her face. "Don't worry Your Highness, we'll send for an apothecary immediately and make sure that this beast learns her place- "
"Wait, she didn't do anything," the human girl spoke up.
The words made Cordelia go lightheaded.
What was the human doing?
"Your Highness?" The other guard questioned, a hand still on her shoulder.
"I tripped and fell," the girl seamlessly lied, her hand trying to curtail the bleeding.
"But this beast raised her voice and swore at you," the guard countered.
"She probably did that because she was afraid that you would jump to the conclusion that you did," the girl replied. As good as her acting skills were, there was no way these two humans would ignore the bloodied candlestick at her-
Wait… where was it?
Cordelia had seen the thing land by her feet, and the gold on it should be reflecting the light from the hallway now shining into the room. She had only taken her eyes off the girl for a moment when the guards rushed in. But as the girl exchanged more pleasantries with the guards, she saw it. The candlestick was laying by the edge of the room, the deepest and darkest corner of her chamber. Did she kick it there intentionally so the guards wouldn't see it?
But why?
The warrior bunny could only stand in a haze as a healer rushed to the child and cleaned her wound. She ignored the glares the humans sent her way as they exited the room at the prompting of the child.
"So... what's your name anyway?" Cordelia asked the girl.
"Didn't you hear it when my brother went on that whole speech of his when he… handed you over to me," the girl asked.
"I wasn't really paying attention to that," Cordelia admitted with a shrug.
Rather than look annoyed, the human nodded. "Understandable. My name is Tanya Augustus. What's your name?"
She stared at the human for several seconds before sighing, "…Cordelia."
"Well then Cordelia, while these are hardly ideal circumstances it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the girl then held out her hand for the bunny girl.
Cordelia stared the human's extended hand before crossing her arms, wondering what this human's game was.
"I'm not your friend, human," Cordelia commented. "Just because you show basic decency and lied for my sake doesn't mean we're suddenly friends."
"Naturally," she replied, pulling back her hand. "I do hope that I have demonstrated the sincerity in my intentions to not treat you as a slave, even if you must be legally identified as such."
"All you've proven is that you're the least deplorable human I've ever met, a crowning achievement for your entire race," Cordelia frowned at the girl and pulled at the chain attached to her collar. "But from where I'm standing, actions speak louder than any flowery words you can say."
"Agreed," what is wrong with this girl? Does she have a comeback for everything in her head? "Then starting tomorrow I'll have Gaius show you my itinerary and see how you fit into it."
"Want to keep your new slave nice and close to show off to your friends?"
"Close, yes, but only make sure you don't do something stupid given your current emotional state. And you're not a slave, at least, I don't want you to be one. I prefer it when someone works for me with an equivalent exchange. If it's something in my power, I will do it to have you in my employ."
"If that's the case, why don't you free my fellow bunny warriors and we'll call it even," Cordelia joked.
"Agreed," the human replied, causing the albino girl to stare at her.
"Wait… what?"
"Though I have neither the authority or the funds to emancipate an entire race, I do have a sizable enough cash flow to at least purchase and emancipate groups of your people in small bursts," the human explained.
"Stop mocking me," the bunny warrior waved off the human's words.
"It's an agreement, not an insult," the human shook her head and extended her hand once more. "As I said, while I am hardly flush with enough currency to emancipate your race, I can still free your people in groups. While I can hardly find them large scale employment to facilitate a transition into the general population, I can still have them legally emancipated so they are free once more. Would that be sufficient for you?"
Cordelia stared at the girl, "…why are you saying you would do that?"
"Because I hate slavery and if I could I would see the whole institution burned to the ground," the human did not mince her words. "While I cannot do such a thing on my own I can still alleviate the suffering of some in whatever ways I can. So, do we have a deal?"
The human extended her hand again. Cordelia stared at it for a moment. She wanted to slap it away and yell at her for playing with her mind. But there was a part of her mind that questioned if this was better than nothing. For as ignoble as humans are, this one has shown surprising decency with her. Hardly a stirring compliment, but far more than any human had shown her so far. She supposed that the worst thing that could happen is that nothing happens, her people remain as slaves. But if this human is being honest with her at least some of her people could be saved…
Damn the Gods for these choices!
"…fine," Cordelia grasped the human's hand firmly. "Free my people as best you can and I'll… behave."
"So we are in agreement," the human nodded. "I will have my aids draw up an appropriate and suitable outflow of coin to facilitate long term emancipation tomorrow."
"I want to be there when you do that," the bunny warrior huffed, making sure this human wasn't going to pull a fast one on her.
"That's fine. In the meantime, though I have no issues with it, you might wish to be a tad more... composed," she said the word as if was something dirty. "I might not care all that much about some backtalk, but I've seen people dragged out to be broken on the wheel for less than what you just said."
"You know, before I was enslaved by your brother, I was a princess myself," Cordelia rolled her eyes at this human girl's worry. "I can hold my tongue just fine."
"It's stuff like that I am worried about," she pointed out.
"What? What could I possibly want to say to the people who butchered their way through my people's homeland?" She quipped with a half-hidden growl. Cordelia was half sure she was goading the human girl to see how far the girl's 'deal' went and she decided to just call the guards, but she was also certain that this was the first genuine conversation she has had with someone since her captivity. She was kept separate from her people and the guards were hardly the conversing sort beyond the usual mocking and joking at her expense.
"I'm serious," the girl frowned at Cordelia's attitude. "If someone overhears you even I might not be able to- "
"Don't worry, I said I know how to hold my tongue, didn't I?" She cut the human off. "In public I'll sing your praises and talk about how much I love how your Empire destroyed my culture and enslaved untold numbers of my people. That I'm so blessed that my Mistress is so generous, she lets me have my own opinions in private and promises to not beat me as much as the other slaves. What more can a girl ask for?"
"You did come in here planning to kill me in a fit of misguided blame," while the girl hardly seemed enthused by Cordelia's words, she again didn't call in the guards. Maybe she was being honest with her, or as honest as humans can be.
"Not misguided, misdirected," Cordelia corrected her 'partner' before sighing and taking a seat on the child's overly decorated couch. "But I admit I… may have let my anger get the better of me. I was so consumed with righting the wrong done to my people that I was just lashing out at anything I could get my hands on that could make them feel pain. In short, I was acting like a damn human. Thinking it through now, it's obvious a kid like you could hardly be responsible for the war."
"…you're only four years older than me."
"So, if your serious about treating me like a servant rather than a slave, and hold up your end of this agreement, we'll have no problems. But just know that I'm not some lowly maidservant or pauper to be tasked with things beneath my station."
"…and what is your station then?"
"I'm a warrior," Cordelia proudly stated. "I suppose I can tolerate a task like guarding you. If you hold to your end of our deal, I might even try to protect you."
"I'm not some helpless waif," the girl replied.
"Look, don't try and act tough with me," Cordelia cautioned. "If not for some fast talking I would be already walking away from this room with your lifeless corpse on… the…" Cordelia's chastisement died on her lips as she watched the human conjure a flame between her hands. With a flick of the human's wrists, the flame snaked from her palms to the fireplace to ignite the fresh wood.
"I didn't fight you because I didn't want to fight you," the apparently magical, human girl replied as she walked over to the soft fire.
"Why? The possibility of getting hurt scares you?" Cordelia tried to bounce back from the revelation of the girl's defensive capabilities. "Or do you prefer others to inflict the pain for you?"
"I'm hardly squeamish to the concept of violence," not for the first time did the warrior princess wonder what the deal with this human was. "If pushed I will fight, and I'll gladly strike first should the situation call for it. But if I think I can reach a mutually acceptable agreement then I'd rather do that."
"Hmm, no kidding," Cordelia stretched her dirty feet onto the table. "Well unlike humans, I honor my agreements. Free as many of my people as you can and I'll… work with you," she spat out the words. "I'll also protect you as best I can, since you're more useful to me alive so you can go about freeing my people. But prove true to your human nature, betray the modicum of trust I'm giving you, and you better be able to cast a spell faster than I can snap your neck."
"I suppose that is the best I can hope for at the moment," she sighed.
"I suppose it is," Cordelia agreed.
There was no more talking after that. The girl finally changed into some nightwear and wandered over to her desk to write something down. This whole situation was bizarre. Less than an hour ago she was going to kill this human, now she's working for her. The whole situation was surreal.
Still, as Cordelia started to nod off on the couch, the first cushioned surface she had felt in months, she thought that this bargain did come with one additional benefit: it let her see if humans were cruel by nature or by nurturer.
--
--
"You left without permission."
"I did, Father," Zorzal agreed. "I left a boy and return to you as a man. A conquer." The faint hum of festivities reverberated within the Emperor's solar. Zorzal could hardly contain the glee in his step when his father had summoned him to his private study.
Zorzal had been hesitant to trust the rat man Borro at first. What he proposed seemed outrageous. To use his father's seal to falsify commands to the Legions to march against the warrior bunnies, to accomplish in months what Emperors of centuries past have tried and failed to do, to finally secure the Empire's eastern territories. It was mad!
While he accepted the forged seal and path the creature showed to leave the capital without being seen, Zorzal thought little of the creature's assurances of support. After all, what use could he possibly need from the likes of a haryo that could not be achieved infinitely better by the might of the Legions? But after enough defeats at the hands of the honorless women he accepted the ratman's help in informing him of the bunny warrior locations. Where they were strongest. Where they were weakest. He was even provided with their exact battleplans.
With these weapons in hand, his victory was guaranteed. Battle after battle, his legions smashed the warrior women. Twenty-one times did the bunny warriors charge his lines, and twenty-one times did they break before the might of his legions. Even their city was no match for superior Seradan siege engines. In short, he achieved complete victory.
He may have left under the cover of darkness as a boy, but he returned home a man. A conqueror!
"I called you here to speak of your… actions in the far east," his father began. "It made me realize something. I was wrong about you, Zorzal."
This was it! Zorzal felt his spirit soar as his father would soon shower him with praise for his actions.
"This is hardly something I dare admit, but I was wrong about you," he repeated. "Before you marched off with six legions to subdue the bunny warriors, I had thought you were little more than a spoiled boy who knew nothing of how the world truly worked and sought out tasks in bid to fuel your own ego and vanity."
Zorzal felt his chest swell at the anticipation and he prepared the thanks he would give him in turn.
"In hindsight, I can admit I was wrong… I had vastly overestimated your abilities."
"What?" What had he just said?
"I said I was wrong," the Emperor repeated. "You are far worse than anything I could have ever imagined."
"I- I…" Zorzal didn't know what to say. What had he done wrong? "Father, whatever it is that you think I did wrong please tell me, and I will make it right. Give me any task and it will be done!"
"Anything you say?" Molt mulled over his son's plea.
"Yes!"
"Hmm, well I suppose there is one thing you could do to make this right," the Emperor mused aloud.
"Name it and it shall be done!"
"My Legions," though soft, the Emperor's voice carried as sharp as a blade. "Give them back to me."
"…what?" What was he talking about?
"My Legions, give them back to me," he repeated to his son. "Give them back to me you pathetic little worm!"
Zorzal flinched as his father sent a golden goblet flying towards his son, the chalice bouncing off a hand covering his face. "Father, I- "
"Do you even understand what you've done!? Can you even comprehend the magnitude of your insanity, your idiocy!?" The Emperor raised his voice in a manner the prince had never seen before.
"I led our legions to victory- "
"Over the corpses of five legions that you marched to their deaths!" he cut Zorzal off. "Do you understand you commanded the single greatest military loss since the Northern War?"
"They died honorable deaths in the glory of- "
"Eighty thousand men! And you couldn't even defeat a force barely a tenth of your own!? Demi-human or not, the legion's superior formation and discipline should have been enough to scatter the barbarians in any pitched battle." He ignored Zorzal's rationalizations.
"They fought us dishonorably!" Zorzal finally stood his ground, determined to defend his honor. "They attacked in the dead of night, set fire to our stores, slaughtered the men as they slept, and when my legions forced them into a battle they refused to meet us on favorable ground! So I forced them to commit to fighting me by never retreating after a battle. Bloodied as we were from their craven tactics, we pushed forward, regardless of the losses. Eventually we forced them to fight in a proper battle and annihilated them! We emerged victorious with the glory and honor such victories grant!"
"Victory? You see the deaths of two thirds of your forces as a victory!?" Molt raged. "And honor? What does that have to do with victory?"
"Everything!" Zorzal countered.
Molt started in disbelief at his eldest son, before signing with annoyance.
"It appears you don't truly understand. Then let me explain to you what you did in a way even a man-child like you will understand," Molt's eyes narrowed at his eldest and slid a paper across his desk. "When you pulled the legions guarding the east away for your little war, that caused gaps in our eastern most defenses to be noticed by the steppe tribes. Then the sheer carnage from… whatever in the Gods' name you think you were doing came to light, they smelled blood and attacked in force. In the time it took for you to prance your way back to the capital with your whores, six cites have been sacked and dozens of towns razed to the ground. Thousands of our people lie dead, and thousands more are now slaves to barbarians."
Zorzal tsked, "Ut's hardly my fault when others fail in their duties- "
Molt slammed his fist down to quiet the prince, "It is when you're the one who pulled their forces away and made it impossible to hold their positions with the broken legions you returned to them!"
"Then I shall return to the east and teach the horse tribes the lesson I taught the warrior bunnies." Zorzal declared. "I will burn their homes to ash as I drag each and every one of those filthy beasts from- "
"You will do nothing," Molt silenced the prince's promise. "I've already sent word for ten legions across our western and southern borders to redeploy to deal with the mess that you created. You," he almost spat the word, "have already done more damage to my legions than a thousand barbarian warbands could have inflicted. Were you not my son I would have you broken on the wheel and burned alive for your actions."
"You bastard! Don't you know what I've -UGH!" Zorzal's burning rage and rebuttal to his father was cut short by the sharp sting against his back forcing him to his knees. Looking back, he saw one of the guards pressing his foot into his back to keep him prostrated before the Emperor.
"I know exactly what you've done," the Emperor replied to his cut off question, uncaring with the way his heir was being treated. "And it's because of what I know that I would sooner let myself be consumed by maggots then let a single legionary be put under your command ever again."
Why… Why was he doing this to him?
He had conquered in the name of the Empire! He had slaughtered their enemies and broken their will to ever rise up again! He has done more for this Empire than anyone has ever done before-
Wait…
Was that it…?
"You're jealous…" Zorzal mumbled.
Molt raised a brow at his son's words, "What is it you're- "
"You're jealous," Zorzal repeated with more clarity, kicking off the praetorian and standing upright once more. "I'm the one who marched our Legions against the warrior bunnies. I'm the one who accomplished in months what Emperors of centuries past have tried and failed. I'm the one who finally secured the Empire's eastern territories. I've done more in months than you have ever done in your whole life! That's why you're beating me down because you're afraid of what I can really do! That I would be a better Emperor than you could ever be!"
"Is that how you're rationalizing all of this?" He seemed confused and surprised, though a cold fury was still evident just beneath the facade he held up. With a tsk, he waved to his guards, "Get him out of my sight."
Zorzal yelled at his father as he was dragged out of the solar, fighting to stay upright as the armored figures pulled him by his heels down the hall to his chambers. No matter how loud he raged and swore his voice was drowned out by the continued celebrations of his victory that echoed across the palace.
He would not forget this betrayal…
--
--
The Great Khan was dead.
Ironic in a sense. Great Khan Plekx had rallied his host under the assumption that it would be a quick victory. That the tribes must strike with all to haste to take full advantage of the Imperial's moving their forces to subdue the Hares in the northern plains. And for a time, it was good.
City after city paid tribute to the clans or resisted to face the mercy of the sword and the life of the chains. After the first handful broke, the remainder simply complied and lavished the clans with coin and slaves of their own volition.
Khan Febos saw none of these riches. In response to the slight his father gave Great Khan Plekx's father two score years ago, when both men still drew breath, the Great Khan had ordered Febos and those sworn to him to raid along the territories of the dark-skinned knife-ears. A fool's errand. While Febos would gladly fight any foe before him, he can hardly fight a foe who refuses to meet him in battle. Such as, for example, the knife-ears who limber up the great trees of their forest home and pepper his host with unending volleys of arrows. Perhaps if he had a number of griffon or pegasus among his clan's mounts it would be less of an issue, but griffons are too far to the north and pegasi are too temperamental for hobgoblins to ride effectively.
Not that he would ever exchange his beautiful pearl white plain strider for anything. She may be stubborn as a mule and spiteful to a fault, but he trusted her with his life as he knew she trusted him with her own. Now that he thought about it, the hot-blooded girl would probably hunt him down if she even caught wind of him riding another mount!
Still, his host's task did have one advantage in retrospect: they were far from the bloodbath and slaughter that followed the Great Khan's fall when the Imperials, flushed with reinforcements from the far west, pursued the fleeing riders. So many were cut down by cataphracts and wyvern riders.
Laid low by a dozen arrows as he charged to break the line at Magna Orientis. Worse, his two sons died in the same battle when they attempted to sally forth and collect their father's corpse before the Imperials could desecrate it. They suffered the same fate as their father. With their deaths, the host broke against the imperial defenses and routed.
But the death of The Great Khan led to another issue: succession. News of this death spread faster across the Khanate then even a man on the swiftest steed could deliver it. With both of Plekx's sons dead, and with their own sons too young to rule, an Assembly was called by the eldest shamans to select a new leader. All the khans were ordered to ride for Kurultai for the vote.
And by virtue of being untouched by the slaughter at Magna Orientis, Khan Febos's clan, and many others, were made stronger by the others' losses. While hardly a large clan to begin with, his motley band of riders now held more power now than it ever did before. Enough to possibly tip the balance of votes in favor of one party or another.
Naturally, he could hardly weigh in one way or the other without seeking the console of his riders. Perhaps a poor choice in hindsight.
"Plizek's claim is strongest! He was Great Khan Plekx's good brother!"
"He also takes Imperial gold for his own benefit!"
"Slander! The shamans exonerated him of that false claim!"
"Zirix is a proven commander who has led dozens of raids against the Imperials and Hares both. Who better to lead us in a time of war than a proven commander?"
"How dare you! You would support the man whose father spat upon the honor of our clan?"
"His father, not his son. The holy texts are quite clear about the sins of the father- "
"And did that stop Great Khan Plekx from slighting us?"
"Neither of those men have done any good to our clan, we must stand beside Khan Chax. Our clans have ever been allies for generations!"
Febos sighed as the circular debates dragged on for hours. Dusk had eventually turned to night, meals have been placed and taken away, and all he could do was watch the myriad of emotions dancing along the faces of his riders' faces in the light of the fire. He was almost angry that his first wife had forbade him from drinking himself into a stupor.
Yet as the moon climbed to its zenith in the sky, as talk moved from claims and rights to glory and bloodshed, a raspy laugh quieted all gathered. "Oh, young boys, so eager for slaughter that they turn into rabid beasts at the first mention of blood."
The crackling voice came from the old shaman who sat beside the Khan, Orik. He was an old hobgoblin, covering in wrinkles and bruises accumulated over ninety years of life advising countless of Febos's line. His yellow teeth were crooked, his hands shook softly even when resting on his lap, and his eyes near grayed over from blindness. Yet, despite his ancient age, his voice, raspy as it was, carried a sharpness and wit rarely seen in a man's prime.
"With respect, elder," one of his men softly replied, realizing who he was conversing with. "The Imperials have never been weaker. Their losses against the Hares have only made our people stronger. One good raid could lavish us with enough riches to be the deciding vote in the Assembly."
"Yet we too also suffered losses that have made our people weaker as well," Orik noted back, his grey eyes on the young man. "Is more death truly worth a slightly heavier coin purse?"
"If we move fast, we can sack a city before they can respond," a companion of the young man agreed. "The Imperials are too slow to match our speed."
"Perhaps, or perhaps their wyverns shall see us leagues away and assemble to counter us," the shaman shook his head. "No, that is not the way."
"I have meditated on this matter a great deal and asked God for a sign to best lead our people forward. I received not a sign, but a vision," the shaman commented, turning to Febos. "I saw you, young lord, leading a force from all the clans to war."
"You saw me?" Febos felt lightheaded at the implication that he would ever be Great Khan.
"Yes, you," Orik nodded. "Not old and grey with age, but as you are now. Youthful and in the prime of your life. I saw not the distant future, but what is to be very soon. You, Febos Kokx, shall be the one who is the next Great Khan."
"Excuse me," Febos laughed, barely believing what he was hearing. Him? Great Khan?
"Then what is our future Shaman?" Febos questioned, curious about how far this went if nothing else.
"Greatness," the elder chuckled as he turned to his lord.
In the light of the fire, Febos could swear the old man's greyed eyes reflected the dancing flames. "God has shown me a glimpse of what events are to come and what events may come."
"Please speak plainly, Elder,"
"From Alnus Hill, they will come," the shaman stated suddenly to the silent gathering.
"They?"
"A people, an army. I do not know their name," he answered with a shake of his head. "By the Demon Gods' own hubris and the Empire's greed, they shall be brought here. They shall set forth as a great force, mighty and terrible in equal measures. Like a flowing river they will pour forth and drown the Empire in a sea of Imperial blood. With magic and means unknown to my eyes, they shall cut the Empire's armies down, breaking and humbling them in a manner so complete that it will be spoken of for as long as words exist."
The assembled riders began to mutter amongst themselves. While true that shamans had some clairvoyant abilities this was a… tad more than what usually was spoken of. Normally it was of a hidden blade amongst a crowd of supposed friends, or knowledge that a foe would be weakest to strike at a specific time of morning. This was…
"But that is not all He showed me," the elder continued, standing up to address the entire gathering. "Standing before this carnage and great power was a mighty hydra. Yet instead of fighting against the tides of blood, it ripped and tore at its own flesh. It ate itself as the world around it burned. From each bite rose another dozen heads that joined in the grizzly feast. The many heads ate until naught but clean bones remained and the monster collapsed under its own weight. Heed my words! Brother shall turn upon brother, magics and forces of unimaginable power shall lay waste to the land, and demons will laugh at the slaughter before them! Know this, young lord. Serada will burn, the kindlings relit over and over by the insistent winds of change. This squabble with the Empire's border territories will be nothing compared to what is to come."
Silence dawn upon the men as the elder's words sunk in.
"So, all we need to do is wait until this catastrophe occurs and simply move into their lands afterwards?" An older warrior spoke up.
"No."
"No?"
"Our war is not to the west, but to the north. It is in the north that you, young lord, shall fulfill your destiny."
"I have a destiny?" this was the first he has heard of such things.
"You, with the full might of our people, will join our strength with a mighty force in the north to fight under the banner of the one true God. To take part in a war between the Faithful and the False Gods."
"You mean to say… I will destroy the Empire?"
The old shaman chucked, "I never said you would be fighting the Empire. I said our fate is to fight under the banner of God. By extension, we shall join alongside all those who would take up arms in His name. And it's as you said, only reavers and Imperials are in the north."
"Enough!" One rider shouted. "You go too far shaman!"
"Too far?" this made the shaman chuckle. "Young man, were you not the one who suggested we go our way through the Empire in the hopes of finding trinkets to swing a vote one way or the other? Yet I am the one who is speaking out of turn?"
"I would sooner let myself be consumed by maggots than fight beside an Imperial," the rider marched over and towered over the old man. "They killed my brother; I would sooner spit on their graves then raise a sword for them!"
"And what of me?" he questioned back. "I have lost a father, brothers, nephews, sons, and a grandson to Imperial steel. Do you presume that I would choose this path for us of my own volition? As you so colorfully described, I too would sooner die than fight beside a dragon banner. But before I am a son, a brother, a father, a grandfather, or even a servant of our Khan, I am a servant of God. And by His will, I shall obey. Human, hare, hobgoblin, we all are equal before God. Are you so filled with pride and vainglory that even God's will is not enough for you to smother it?"
"His will, or yours," another, younger, voice spoke up. A young lad, no older than twenty, stood up and joined the other rider.
"Careful boy," the shaman growled, "you are treading dangerous ground."
"I am not refuting God's will, I'm only saying what others are certainly thinking," the young warrior refused to back down. "Your mind is going soft, Elder. This tale of yours is but the first sign of the sickness of the mind." He turned to Febos. "My Khan, surely you can see it too? Age and stress are getting to him."
"Would you have me cast out my advisor?" Febos narrowed his gaze upon the boy.
"No man here could dare argue that retiring the elder is a slight on his honor," the boy seemingly had a better backbone than Febos did at his age. "I would ask you to let him spend his last days in peace and comfort. He has served our people well over the years, but there is a time when the old- "
Before the warrior could finish his plea, a crack of thunder roared around them. The fires in the pit jumped and glowed white hot only to reach out like spindly fingers towards him. On reflexes, both warriors threw themselves backwards to avoid the fiery grasp. The flames whipped and wrapped around the firepit, slithering their way towards Febos. They did not seek to burn him, but to encircle him in a cage of white fire.
"Enough!" the voice that boomed from the shaman's throat was not his own. Projected by unseen magics and magnified beyond mortal means it rang into the very minds of all assembled. "I am not merely a man, but a conduit for God's will upon this world. A great war is coming to Falmart. A war that will be fought by man, beast, abomination, and powers beyond your imagining. From the old order, the faithful shall raise as never before and unite under one banner. MY banner! With your righteous wrath the deceivers shall be cast down from their charnel pulpits, the false idols smashed until they are naught but grains of sand cast to the wind, and the deceived shall be brought into MY Light as is proper."
Despite the scene unfolding before him, Febos did not feel any fear at the unnatural display. All he felt was warmth that bled into his very soul. There was no terror amongst those watching either, merely contentment and a desire to hear what this… Voice wanted to say.
"I see you, young lord," the shaman's neck twisted in a way similar to an owl so he could look Febos in the eyes. The gray of his eyes was gone, replaced with a torrent of shining gold. "Yours is to ride at the vanguard of My Heavenly Host. Upon a white horse you shall have a crown upon your head to lead your people against your foes, and with a bow in hand you shall conquer as your people have done before and you shall do a thousand times again. It is your fate to be an instrument to cast down the deviant, the heretic, and the false God. You will stare down the dragon, rising sun, the abominations beyond, and any other who would oppose My will. Once the Gate opens, this is inevitable."
"I-I…" he could barely form words.
"Claim your crown and march north when the time comes," the voice instructed him before swiveling the shaman's head back to the assembled riders. "The Anointed One shall await you there."
With that said, everything returned to normal as suddenly as it had changed. The fires died down to normal, the elder shaman's eyes returned to its blind grey state, and silence reigned as all who had seen this… event could hardly articulate their thoughts.
Febos did not know how long they sat there in absolute silence before one of their number, the young man from earlier who challenged the shaman's claims, spoke up.
"My Khan…. what… W-What was- "
"Have the camp ready to move before first light," Febos commanded. "We ride for Kurultai to place my name before the Assembly."
None spoke out against his order. As the assembled dispersed to collect themselves, one thought lingered in the back of all their minds, one that overshadowed even the knowledge of a cataclysmic war on the horizon.
God's will be done.
--
--
"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see."
"And I saw and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer."
Book of Revelations, First Seal of the Apocalypse
--------------------------------
--------------------------------
AN: What? Revelations? Seal of the Apocalypse? How did that get in there?
Oh well, probably nothing to worry about or a recuing narrative motif for the story.
And yes, monotheist (Being X) hobgoblin Kharzas/Mongols are on the move. Not the first group of Being X worshipers in Falmart, and certainly not the last to make an appearance.
Also, if you any are curious about the timeline of events (specifically the part about when the JSDF will pop up), canonically Zorzal had his "wild ride" in the bunny kingdom three years before the start of GATE. So no more than two chapters until the Gate is here.
Then the fun begins!
The concept is hardly alien to me. At its most basic level, it's merely a military victory celebrated by festivities and other merry making activities. Hell, I've not only seen them in both lives but actually took part in a few in my previous life. Personally, I think these sorts of things are a tad extravagant.
Zorzal went out and destroyed the bunny warrior kingdom.
Even now, knowing men died in this conflict, I still can't take that damned name seriously.
Still, names are hardly the thing to worry about right now. I'm more concerned about what is going to happen now. For while Zorzal went out and conquered, the Emperor was furious about it.
Naturally he didn't say such a thing outright, in public or private. In the Senate he exalted his son's actions as the makings of a true leader, one who would sooner face defeat on the field of battle than victory through shameful means. Now I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to PR moves, but even I can tell when someone is making backhanded comments that sound like praise but are in fact insults. Of course, the question of how Zorzal got the authority to command the Empire's military forces in such a way that the Emperor himself couldn't recall them is still in the air.
As the months dragged on the Emperor's mood darkened sharply. Every day seemed to see him in a fouler mood, culminating in a breaking point.
One night I caught him just standing in the hallway outside his study resting his forehead against a pillar. His breathing was slow and, as if trying to control himself, labored while a crumpled note lay at his feet. I tried to sneakily move closer to see what the note said, but the guards alerted him to my presence before I could get a good look. Like a professional actor all the stress in him melted away and with a soft smile he jovially offered to walk me to my chambers, as if he wasn't just holding off a violent outburst a mere moment prior.
While I couldn't see the note I was able to gleam a single word before he smeared the note beneath his shoe: annihilated.
Given his barely contained anger it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Oh, I can already see it now. Muscle meat head goes to war thinking it was easy and promptly gets his forces trounced because he doesn't understand strategy in the slightest. I saw this happen plenty of times before in both Germania and the Commies; people raised up to powerful positions via connections or birth then led their forces to catastrophic defeat. A tale as old as time you could say.
Still, after that day the Emperor stopped exalting Zorzal's campaign at court and in the Senate. Frankly he stopped talking about his eldest son completely in public, only mentioning him doing 'good work' before moving to another subject if he was questioned about his son's 'glorious' campaign. Though given the fact he won the war I suppose the campaign was a pyrrhic victory rather than a 'complete' defeat.
Not that it changes the number of corpses.
Still, this all puts me in an awkward position. That is to say, once people realize how much of a fuck up Zorzal is they'll start looking for a place to direct their ire. Whose fault is it that so many men are dying? Why it's obvious! The Emperor who allowed this to happen and his family! And, by extension, me. I know exactly what happens when a populace gets the idea that getting rid of their monarch and their family is the best way to solve their woes.
Sure, maybe if this was a modern era with basic human rights established I could eek my way out of this mess with exile or a promise to forsake my royal claims and get out of the 'splash zone' with my life when the inevitable uprising occurs. Not to say I couldn't do either of those things now, just that I doubt any such agreement would be honored indefinitely. I probably wouldn't be killed, Being X is far too wrapped up in his warped 'plans' to let that happen, but I could be relegated to a forced marriage to whoever takes the throne after Molt to further legitimize their claim. Essentially forced into the life of a broodmare for whatever family wants to cement their hold on the throne.
In light of this very possible outcome I've accelerated my plans for a 'charm' offensive at the citizenry.
In short, I am going to give these retches some basic creature comforts and goodwill services, plaster my name and face all over them so they know exactly who is funding them, and just hope that whatever good PR I can squeeze out of the populace can keep me out of the mob's rage.
Still, while I was not going to the 'parade' part of the Triumph, I was still expected to attend the 'dinner party' portion held at the palace. And that meant dealing with my greatest of foes in this new life: the overly extravagant nobility.
--
--
The party was as extravagant as I feared it would be.
A victory as complete as Zorzal's demanded the finest of celebrations, so I was told. The palace was filled with nobles, senators, guests, and a handful of dignitaries from the Empire's client states. Truly, anyone who was anyone was here in the palace, going about their meandering motions of courtly intrigue and faux passes.
Honestly, the fakeness of the social interactions was hardly the worst part. It was bad, hence why I was sitting alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom with guards blocking the immediate area off from the rest. A few nobles, both adults and children, tried to approach, but were politely and soundly sent away with a stern word from the guards. So, while the interactions were bad, it was manageable.
The worst thing about these events was the damn clothing!
Ugh, if dressing up like a peacock in an overcomplicated dress was what these people considered 'the finest' then they can keep it! I can hardly walk in these shoes they've forced me to wear, let alone breathe in this damned dress they've literally strapped me into! If I didn't know any better I'd have assumed this was a primitive straitjacket with all the harnesses and cords and-
"You look miserable," an all too familiar, and snarky voice dragged me from my mental woes. An overly dressed man slinked his way past the guards who spared him but a single glance.
"I feel miserable," I quip back to the latest addition to my 'retinue'.
"Well don't worry, it's almost late enough that you can excuse yourself to retire to your chambers for the evening," Gaius Rax commented, pausing to sip from the glass he was holding.
Gaius Rax; record keeper, eunuch, and now the newest member of my 'retinue'. I took on Gaius as my personal retainer a few weeks ago when the Emperor mentioned how it was time for me to begin building a retinue for myself. I'm pretty sure he was assuming I'd take on one of my acquaintances as a 'lady in waiting', or 'handmaiden', or whatever the hell they're called rather than a middle aged, balding eunuch who appeared out of nowhere. Objectively, I can understand why the Emperor gave me such a strange look when I brought Gaius into the palace as my employee. It does look a tad strange.
Though his reaction was not as animated as Gaius' to me offering him the job. Pretty sure I gave the poor man a heart attack when I showed up to his archive with a dozen praetorians in tow, no sneaking out that time as it was official business. After some calming down, and him readily agreeing to my proposal, I told him the one condition to being in my employment: no slaves. If he wanted to keep Remus on as an assistant so be it, but he would do so as a free person and with pay. I was prepared for him to call me out on my hypocrisy of demanding he sell his slave while I have my own at the palace, along with my rebuttal that I do not have the means or ability to emancipate any of my staff.
Surprisingly, for someone of this culture, he readily agreed to my caveat. Strange, but I suppose when offered the chance to work for the most powerful family in the Empire the price of a single slave was hardly a deal breaker.
And so, with Gaius and a newly freed Remus in tow, the real battle began: convincing the Emperor. Given my station it is entirely understandable that he took a great interest in who I hired on as my retainers. Initially, he was less than enthused by my choice. When presented before him he argued that Gaius didn't have the proper training or pedigree to serve me in such an official capacity, that he would make me look bad before my peers. I should be glad he didn't ask how I knew him I suppose.
Still, I replied that I didn't care about any of that. He was sharp, intelligent, quick-witted, and most importantly wasn't some sycophantic yes-man who simply agreed with everything I said. I phrased the last point in more eloquent words, but the basic premise remained.
After a terse twenty minutes of debating and arguing (with some begging), Gaius was officially my first retainer with Remus being my second, but less official, retainer as well.
Now while I talked up Gaius's skills I was worried that there would be some 'growing pains' with his new duties as my, for a lack of better words, secretary. Thankfully, my fears were unfounded. Gaius took to his new duties like a fish to water. Within two days of working for me he was already organizing my schedule, keeping track of all my documentation, and keeping track of the numerous 'charities' I was running with my monthly 'allowance'.
An allowance that is more than what most skilled workers make in a year, but I digress.
"Don't tempt me," I grumble back, resting my head against the cool table, watching the people dance. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to not just rip this thing off me."
"I can make an educated assumption," he quipped back. "Excuse me for changing the topic, but I was just talking with the kitchen staff about the leftovers."
That caught my attention, "So what did they say?"
"It will be done," Gaius replied. "A few of the lads downstairs will start taking the food to those kitchens of yours in Akusho in a little bit."
One of my first charm offensive items was to create a series of food kitchens in the lowest economic locations in the city serving the people there some basic sustenance like soup, bread, a bit of meat, and some vegetables. Nothing extravagant, I do have a budget to work with, but better than just bread for the human poor or straight up starvation for the local demi-humans. And given the extravagance of these kinds of banquets, it's obvious that a large amount of food will go to waste well after it was over. So why not send it to the kitchens for some 'brownie points', I thought. The problem was actually getting the leftovers there, but that issue has seemingly solved itself.
"That is at least some good news," I mused. "And how much are they asking for?"
"Nothing, as you feared," he reported. I was afraid of that. They probably see it as an order rather than me asking them to work in a short-term capacity.
"And you…" I led him onto my next question to see if he followed my instructions on what to do in this situation.
"I shoved several handfuls of denari into their hands and told them you would not accept any refusal of the coin," Gaius replied.
"So, everything went according to plan?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," he nodded.
"At least something positive happened this evening," I mumbled to myself. While this was a 'win', I couldn't help but be afraid this whole thing would backfire on me, that I would wake up tomorrow to find out the people at the kitchens are insulted that I'm sending them leftovers normally given to the kennels or maybe assume it is a subtle jab at the demi-humans for their 'inhuman' origins.
'No, stop overthinking it. Nothing good has ever come from overthinking these sorts of things. Food is food to a starving person, no matter what it was meant for. So long as it tastes good and is nutritious, that is enough for most.'
"Ah, but, before I forget, Your Highness," Gaius continued. "There is the matter of filling out the rest of your retinue that we discussed earlier."
"And I thought I told you I would think about it later," I waved off his comment.
"Technically it is later," I groaned at his bad joke. "But more to the point, with how fast you are expanding your expenses and… reach, I feel it would be prudent to your efforts if we had more manpower at our disposal, beyond the occasional members of staff of this palace."
"I think you overestimate how much money I have on hand," I roll my eyes.
"And I think you are overestimating just how much some people will work for," he countered.
"So, a race to the bottom for how little someone will work for," I said. It was hardly a good way to secure reliable labor if you just kept betting downwards.
"Beyond simple manpower, there are other positions you need to fill. You will need a castellan to manage your estates and expenses, a number of courtiers with a variety of skills to add to your own capabilities, and most importantly a sufficient number of eccentrics to surround yourself with."
"Wait, what?"
"Eccentrics," he repeated with a straight face. "Everyone knows lords and ladies must surround themselves with a sufficient number of eccentric individuals."
"Really? I already have you, don't I?" I snort under my breath. "You're enough for a dozen people at least."
"While true it is still, sadly, insufficient for one of your station," Gaius continued, giving this joke far more seriousness than it deserved.
"Is that right?" my eyes roll at his melodrama, off handedly watching two women argue over a man. I couldn't hear it from where I was, but it looked quite animated.
"Indeed," he nodded, gesturing to the crowds beyond my line of guards. "Why, just look at them. How else do they make themselves look sane to the common man unless surrounding themselves with greater insanity?"
I sigh, pinching the ridge of my nose. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."
"I'm more likely to lose my tongue than my life," he quipped back.
I was about to comment on his comment when I heard the crowds and music die down. The nobles and guests parted like the sea as the Emperor strode to the center of the room with Diabo in tow. Garbed in magnificent shades of purple and burgundy, to his sides were a mix of his usual praetorians and members of the newest imperial knightly order: The Rose Order of Knights.
Yes, it seemed Pina did achieve her dream in the end of being a knight. Sixteen and already the head of a military formation. She stood at the head of her party of knights as they marched beside their liege.
Granted it was probably out of nepotism, and I attained a similar rank prior to my death at thirteen in my former life, but that is hardly here or there. Still, I am surprised all the same. While this is a 'fantasy' world, by my previous two incarnations' definitions, it was still rooted in some form of 'realism'. Beyond barbarians, such as the bunny warriors Zorzal so recently smashed to pieces, and mages, women rarely see any combat.
I can only wonder what the assortment of nobles and guests think of a bunch of armored warrior women.
Any further musing was meaningless as the Emperor gave me a gesture to beckon me to come to his side.
And in came the wayward prince. While his hair was longer than it was prior he didn't look any different from when I last saw him. Flanked at his sides were several legionaries pulling along several cloaked individuals with chains. It was hardly a secret that they were probably those rabbit people, anyone could see bits of their ears peeking out of their hoods. But what was the point in dragging them into a ballroom?
Standing before his father, Zorzal gave an exaggerated bow. "Your Majesty, I stand before you victorious in battle! Through my strength and diligence, the Empire has expanded and the demi-human barbarians who would threaten our people have been broken beneath the boots of my legions!"
A polite clap emanated from all those in attendance. Claps akin to someone scoring well in a game of golf than being told we just enslaved an entire population.
"I come before you not only in victory, but with a present to you. Behold: the bunny queen herself!" With a firm tug of the chain one of the cloaked figures was thrown to their knees. Without pausing, he grabbed the back of the cloak and exposed the woman to all. I could safely say that under better circumstances I would be in awe of her beauty. The white hair, pale skin, and red eyes were a combination that was never in either of my previous lives. Also, the rabbit ears and, strangely, bits of fur along the arms and legs added an exotic flair to her. Sadly, the bruises and cuts that littered her pale form did detract from her elegance, vain as it might sound.
"Though she fought with great dishonor, even her dirty tricks did little to stop our righteous legions from taking what is rightfully ours by right of conquest," Zorzal sharply tugged the leash to emphasize the point, the woman in turn crying out in discomfort. "Even in defeat she showed her duplicity. She threw herself at my feet and begged for her life to be spared, offering everything and anything to be spared death. Being the honorable man I am, and taking pity on this worthless foe, I of course accepted and took her into my chambers to see to her promises. Know that I can assure you that for all her bluster of being a monarch and warrior, the skills she showed me in the ensuing days prove without a shadow of a doubt that she was raised in a house of whores."
More polite clapping, though there were a few lurid jeers thrown in by several men in the audience.
"But is not all I bring from her lands. Though poor in coin their lands were ripe with flesh for our markets. Even now the brothels are filling to the brim with their race, and I have no doubt they shall become favorites of many lords if the service their queen has provided me is any indication."
Again, quiet clapping, though I could hardly hide my frown, appearances be damned.
"For my father, our Emperor, I give you her lands for expansion," Zorzal turned to me and smiled, signaling to his henchman to bring another one of the cloaked figures forward. "But for my beloved sister," I held in my eye roll, "I had to think hard on what to give her. As I said, this is a poor race with little of value to offer. But it occurred to me that I should give my sister, your princess, something that has no equivalent in value!"
Led forward by a chain leash was another cloaked bunny humanoid. She looked far younger than the former queen if her size was anything to go by. She was thrown to the ground next to her leader and had her own cloak ripped off her form. Not only was the second rabbit person younger than the first, but she also looked like a younger copy of the older one! The same white hair, pale skin, and red eyes, but had barely any of the injuries that her senior had.
"The answer was obvious to me: what better slave for a princess than another princess!" Zorzal pressed his boot into the younger one's back, forcing the girl to bow before the assembled royal family.
As the applause rang out far louder this time than before only one thought raced through my mind.
'Are you fucking kidding me!'
"Brother… you shouldn't have…" 'you really fucking shouldn't have!' Ignoring the whole ethics issues I have with having a fucking slave taken in war just 'given' to me, the girl is setting off every red flag in the back of my mind. A girl who has lost everything, had been publicly humiliated, has probably been abused in numerous ways, is most likely suicidal, was raised in a martial society and now has nothing to lose by going after the closest of her tormentors is NOT someone I want to be around!
The rest of his little speech was a blur as the crowds applauded one thing after another. I only realized the whole thing was over when Zorzal walked over and handed me the chain leash for the younger rabbit girl.
"If she gives you any issues, just have one of the guards have a go at her, that tends to shut them up from what I've heard," Zorzal 'helpfully' advised. "If she keeps at it, just let me know and I'll set her straight."
'Ugggh'
"So, are we going to be done with that one or are you going to try and salvage something from her?" Gaius returned to my side as the festivities resumed, nudging his head in the girl's direction as she was escorted with me to my chambers.
"I'm not going to just kill her for no reason," I retorted as we made our way out of the chamber, people parting before us.
"You might end up with a slit throat if you don't do something," the eunuch sighed. "What was that man thinking giving you a bunny warrior slave? The girl just saw her whole civilization crumble before her and now they think she's just going to just ignore that?"
"I know."
"Even young bunny warriors have superhuman strength and speed. If she tries to kill you, it may happen too fast for you to blast her away with a spell."
"I said I know," I grumbled. "Look, I'll take the necessary precautions and deal with her."
"Kindness has its place Tanya," Gaius broke court protocol and addressed me by my name. Not that it doesn't happen, but never in public with so many people around us. "And that place, more often than not, is the grave."
"I said, I know," I repeated more forcefully. "Push comes to shove I will deal with it, but I'd rather see if there is a diplomatic solution if at all possible. Show her she's not going to be treated like that anymore."
"As you say," he commented, doubting the end result of the situation as it stands.
"If she attacks me, I'll put her down myself," I replied. "But just trust that I actually do know what I am doing."
Rax sighed and shook his head. "I will defer to your judgment then."
He didn't believe me. Not surprising since I was lying. As with many situations I find myself in, it seems I will just have to come up with something on the fly. With every step I took to my chambers, guards flaking me with the girl not far behind me and Gaius, my mind raced through a myriad of possible outcomes.
--
--
…why…
…why was her life like this now…
Since she fell into captivity, time seemed to just blur for Cordelia. Despite knowing weeks have passed it still felt like only yesterday that her home burned before her eyes. Imperial soldiers marching in horrific unison to pillage and loot everything in their path. The screams of the daughters being torn from their mothers and sisters as the legionaries started… partaking of them in such a bestial display that still haunts her nightmares.
If she closed her eyes, Cordelia could swear she still felt the cold kiss of steel on her throat from when she was forced to watch her Auntie be… defiled in front of her. The night before that she remembered Auntie Tyuule saying that everything would be alright, that she was prepared to do what was needed to save her people. But the scene, and then forcing Tyuule to thank that human, was too much for Cordial.
She thanked whichever God was watching her that evening that she didn't suffer a similar fate. While depraved lust hung in the air from the other humans watching their leader, that monster took one look at her and decided that she was 'off limits'. Cordelia thought he was referring to wanting her for himself, but he showed no interest in her for that sort of action. She was quickly separated from her aunt and left to wallow in her fear.
Cordelia even heard from some legionaries guarding her that some of her people began to think Auntie Tyuule betrayed the kingdom to the Empire! That she spread her legs to that degenerate of a human of her own volition, as if she wasn't threatened with the death or violation of every single one of her subjects had she continued to resist.
The insanity!
Cordelia only knew this because she was in the room when the decision to surrender was made. After her father died in battle against the Imperials Auntie Tyuule had kept her close at all times, closer still after a failed assassination attempt on her life. She was in the room when her Auntie had made the decision to lay down her arms and surrender. Cordelia saw how she smashed her war table to splinters as the realization dawned on her and her council that there was no victory in their war, and the rage and anguish on her face as tears flowed without end when she gave the order to surrender her crown and herself if it meant of sparing her people further bloodshed.
Now here she was, a proud warrior princess made to be a slave to a human girl her junior.
It was pathetic.
Led into the human's darkened chamber, the girl had foolishly ordered Cordelia unbound and requested her guards to remain outside. Was she so arrogant that she believed Cordelia's spirit was broken to the point of not resisting, or was she so stupid she didn't think the warrior princess was a threat? She didn't know what was more insulting.
Alone now with the human, the child turned her back to her to look at something on her desk, as if she was forgetting a skilled warrior was unbound and in her chamber.
But since she was alone with the human, it made what was to come much easier.
Cordelia may not be able to bring back all those who had died or rebuild her kingdom, but she can give these humans a small taste of the horror and anguish they inflicted upon her people.
Moving as quietly as she could Cordelia carefully grabbed a nearby adjacent candlestick. While it was a tad gaudy with its gilded appearance it was still sturdy enough to crack open a person's skull if it strikes the proper place. She had seen her aunt do something similar to the assassin after her own life, so it was probably doable for her.
But before she could close the distance between the two of them, the girl spoke to her for the first time.
"Are you going to try and kill me?"
The question made the young warrior stop dead in her tracks, makeshift weapon arched high, her ruby eyes widened as she watched the human slowly turned to face her.
"W-What?" was all she could reply with, her first words to this human.
"I said, 'are you going to try to kill me'?" the human questioned again. Cordelia gave no reply, for her words carried all the weight of asking about the weather. Her eyes looked at the candlestick in her hand, "I assume that will be your weapon of choice?"
"Why are you… talking like that?" her red eyes met the human's deep blue with unhidden confusion.
"I'm just curious," the human admitted before walking over to her dresser.
"H- Hey! Don't move!" Cordelia angled her weapon.
"I just want to change out of this dress. This damned thing has been on my nerves for the entire evening and I'd rather be in something more comfortable," she replied, though stopping her motions to the dresser.
"A-Are you stupid!?" She yelled at the weird human child. "Don't you understand what's happening?"
"You were going to try and kill me, correct?" the human tilted her head in confusion.
"Stop that," Cordelia snapped. "Stop acting like nothing is happening. I am going to kill you, and you're just acting like it's nothing?"
"Overreacting would hardly benefit the situation," the human shook her head. "Besides, I wanted to try and stop you from making a mistake."
"Killing a human can't ever be a mistake."
The human sighed and shook her head. "Well, before you try and bludgeon me to death, could you at least humor me with an answer to a single question for me?"
"I'm killing you for everything your people have done to my- "
"Not that," the human cut off her tirade that she had been holding in for such a long time. "The 'why' is obvious. My question is: what do you think will happen next?"
"Huh?" That…. was not what Cordelia was expecting. Shouldn't this soft human princess be begging for her life or cursing at Cordelia with some vague promise of vengeance? It was what she did to the assassin before her auntie raced into her room and killed him.
"I don't care." She admitted. "I just want your people to understand a fraction of the pain and suffering you inflict on others! I want your people to mourn the loss of someone they hold dear. We didn't do anything to you, and you killed and enslaved us! So, I am going to kill you for the sake of all those who died to your invasion!"
"And what do you think they will do if you kill me!?" The human raised her voice for the first time. Cordelia's ears twitched as the girl's voice carried some underlying authority that shouldn't be possible for anyone her age. "I won't say your people did nothing to the Empire," the human paced her words carefully. "Your people raided and pillaged the outlying territories and provinces for slaves and mates. So no, you have done something to the Empire, but I will agree that nothing your people had done warranted such a disproportionate response against your kingdom."
Are all human children like this or is this one just the weird one? Who talks like this?
"But, going by your logic, if doing nothing caused the Empire to destroy your kingdom, what do you think the response will be when you actually do something?"
"They'll kill me," Cordelia stated, it was a fate she had steeled herself for when she committed to this path.
Yet her reply only made the human girl give her a quizzical look, "Really? That's what you think will happen? That the guards will just cut you down?"
"Perhaps after they torture and violate me for a time," she added, not sure why the human was giving her that look. Most likely they would also force her aunt to watch all of this occurring. Though it will be painful for her Auntie, she knows she'll understand why she did this.
"Really?" The human looked disappointed. "You think they'll torture you for a while before killing you?"
"What does it matter to you? You'll be dead in a few moments," but why was she hesitating now?
"Let me rephrase my question then," the human took a step closer to her. "If the Empire attacked and destroyed your kingdom for doing, as you say, nothing, what do you think they will do after you kill a member of their royal family?"
"…what?" They would… they…
"I said," the girl spoke slowly, taking another step forward. "What will the Empire do to your people if you kill me?"
'They'll kill them all…' her mind whispered.
The human seemingly noticed her reaching this conclusion and nodded. "That's right, they'll punish everyone they can in retaliation. Your own death, torture, or violation, will not be enough satiate the lust for vengeance."
As much as Cordelia wished it wasn't so, the human was… correct. Here she was, a proud warrior princess of the bunny warrior kingdom, forced to grovel and serve at the feet of those who slaughtered and enslaved them, and should she lash out at an Imperial to share with these humans a modicum of the loss and anguish they had happily inflicted on others they would pay it back a hundreds times more.
It's not fair…
It's not fucking fair…
Its not GODS DAMNED FAIR!
"Gods damn it!" Cordial blindly threw the candlestick away and fell to her knees with tears racing down her cheeks. But before she could even properly weep at the futility of her own situation she heard the human girl yelp in pain. Looking up, Cordelia saw the human girl holding her forehead as a small dribble of blood ran down her cheek and the unused murder weapon lay bloody at her feet.
She barely heard the doors slam open and the guards race in.
"What's going on!?" the taller of the pair asked, roughly grabbing Cordelia's shoulder. She felt his grip tighten as he noticed the girl's bleeding forehead. "Did you lay your filthy hands on Her Highness slave!?"
Cordelia wondered if killing herself here and now would help alleviate the pain forced upon her people or would they simply respond more cruelly for having been denied inflicting pain upon her? Her musings were cut short by a swift kick to her stomach that pushed all the air out of her lungs.
"You damn animal, don't even have the gall to deny it?" the guard spat in her face. "Don't worry Your Highness, we'll send for an apothecary immediately and make sure that this beast learns her place- "
"Wait, she didn't do anything," the human girl spoke up.
The words made Cordelia go lightheaded.
What was the human doing?
"Your Highness?" The other guard questioned, a hand still on her shoulder.
"I tripped and fell," the girl seamlessly lied, her hand trying to curtail the bleeding.
"But this beast raised her voice and swore at you," the guard countered.
"She probably did that because she was afraid that you would jump to the conclusion that you did," the girl replied. As good as her acting skills were, there was no way these two humans would ignore the bloodied candlestick at her-
Wait… where was it?
Cordelia had seen the thing land by her feet, and the gold on it should be reflecting the light from the hallway now shining into the room. She had only taken her eyes off the girl for a moment when the guards rushed in. But as the girl exchanged more pleasantries with the guards, she saw it. The candlestick was laying by the edge of the room, the deepest and darkest corner of her chamber. Did she kick it there intentionally so the guards wouldn't see it?
But why?
The warrior bunny could only stand in a haze as a healer rushed to the child and cleaned her wound. She ignored the glares the humans sent her way as they exited the room at the prompting of the child.
"So... what's your name anyway?" Cordelia asked the girl.
"Didn't you hear it when my brother went on that whole speech of his when he… handed you over to me," the girl asked.
"I wasn't really paying attention to that," Cordelia admitted with a shrug.
Rather than look annoyed, the human nodded. "Understandable. My name is Tanya Augustus. What's your name?"
She stared at the human for several seconds before sighing, "…Cordelia."
"Well then Cordelia, while these are hardly ideal circumstances it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the girl then held out her hand for the bunny girl.
Cordelia stared the human's extended hand before crossing her arms, wondering what this human's game was.
"I'm not your friend, human," Cordelia commented. "Just because you show basic decency and lied for my sake doesn't mean we're suddenly friends."
"Naturally," she replied, pulling back her hand. "I do hope that I have demonstrated the sincerity in my intentions to not treat you as a slave, even if you must be legally identified as such."
"All you've proven is that you're the least deplorable human I've ever met, a crowning achievement for your entire race," Cordelia frowned at the girl and pulled at the chain attached to her collar. "But from where I'm standing, actions speak louder than any flowery words you can say."
"Agreed," what is wrong with this girl? Does she have a comeback for everything in her head? "Then starting tomorrow I'll have Gaius show you my itinerary and see how you fit into it."
"Want to keep your new slave nice and close to show off to your friends?"
"Close, yes, but only make sure you don't do something stupid given your current emotional state. And you're not a slave, at least, I don't want you to be one. I prefer it when someone works for me with an equivalent exchange. If it's something in my power, I will do it to have you in my employ."
"If that's the case, why don't you free my fellow bunny warriors and we'll call it even," Cordelia joked.
"Agreed," the human replied, causing the albino girl to stare at her.
"Wait… what?"
"Though I have neither the authority or the funds to emancipate an entire race, I do have a sizable enough cash flow to at least purchase and emancipate groups of your people in small bursts," the human explained.
"Stop mocking me," the bunny warrior waved off the human's words.
"It's an agreement, not an insult," the human shook her head and extended her hand once more. "As I said, while I am hardly flush with enough currency to emancipate your race, I can still free your people in groups. While I can hardly find them large scale employment to facilitate a transition into the general population, I can still have them legally emancipated so they are free once more. Would that be sufficient for you?"
Cordelia stared at the girl, "…why are you saying you would do that?"
"Because I hate slavery and if I could I would see the whole institution burned to the ground," the human did not mince her words. "While I cannot do such a thing on my own I can still alleviate the suffering of some in whatever ways I can. So, do we have a deal?"
The human extended her hand again. Cordelia stared at it for a moment. She wanted to slap it away and yell at her for playing with her mind. But there was a part of her mind that questioned if this was better than nothing. For as ignoble as humans are, this one has shown surprising decency with her. Hardly a stirring compliment, but far more than any human had shown her so far. She supposed that the worst thing that could happen is that nothing happens, her people remain as slaves. But if this human is being honest with her at least some of her people could be saved…
Damn the Gods for these choices!
"…fine," Cordelia grasped the human's hand firmly. "Free my people as best you can and I'll… behave."
"So we are in agreement," the human nodded. "I will have my aids draw up an appropriate and suitable outflow of coin to facilitate long term emancipation tomorrow."
"I want to be there when you do that," the bunny warrior huffed, making sure this human wasn't going to pull a fast one on her.
"That's fine. In the meantime, though I have no issues with it, you might wish to be a tad more... composed," she said the word as if was something dirty. "I might not care all that much about some backtalk, but I've seen people dragged out to be broken on the wheel for less than what you just said."
"You know, before I was enslaved by your brother, I was a princess myself," Cordelia rolled her eyes at this human girl's worry. "I can hold my tongue just fine."
"It's stuff like that I am worried about," she pointed out.
"What? What could I possibly want to say to the people who butchered their way through my people's homeland?" She quipped with a half-hidden growl. Cordelia was half sure she was goading the human girl to see how far the girl's 'deal' went and she decided to just call the guards, but she was also certain that this was the first genuine conversation she has had with someone since her captivity. She was kept separate from her people and the guards were hardly the conversing sort beyond the usual mocking and joking at her expense.
"I'm serious," the girl frowned at Cordelia's attitude. "If someone overhears you even I might not be able to- "
"Don't worry, I said I know how to hold my tongue, didn't I?" She cut the human off. "In public I'll sing your praises and talk about how much I love how your Empire destroyed my culture and enslaved untold numbers of my people. That I'm so blessed that my Mistress is so generous, she lets me have my own opinions in private and promises to not beat me as much as the other slaves. What more can a girl ask for?"
"You did come in here planning to kill me in a fit of misguided blame," while the girl hardly seemed enthused by Cordelia's words, she again didn't call in the guards. Maybe she was being honest with her, or as honest as humans can be.
"Not misguided, misdirected," Cordelia corrected her 'partner' before sighing and taking a seat on the child's overly decorated couch. "But I admit I… may have let my anger get the better of me. I was so consumed with righting the wrong done to my people that I was just lashing out at anything I could get my hands on that could make them feel pain. In short, I was acting like a damn human. Thinking it through now, it's obvious a kid like you could hardly be responsible for the war."
"…you're only four years older than me."
"So, if your serious about treating me like a servant rather than a slave, and hold up your end of this agreement, we'll have no problems. But just know that I'm not some lowly maidservant or pauper to be tasked with things beneath my station."
"…and what is your station then?"
"I'm a warrior," Cordelia proudly stated. "I suppose I can tolerate a task like guarding you. If you hold to your end of our deal, I might even try to protect you."
"I'm not some helpless waif," the girl replied.
"Look, don't try and act tough with me," Cordelia cautioned. "If not for some fast talking I would be already walking away from this room with your lifeless corpse on… the…" Cordelia's chastisement died on her lips as she watched the human conjure a flame between her hands. With a flick of the human's wrists, the flame snaked from her palms to the fireplace to ignite the fresh wood.
"I didn't fight you because I didn't want to fight you," the apparently magical, human girl replied as she walked over to the soft fire.
"Why? The possibility of getting hurt scares you?" Cordelia tried to bounce back from the revelation of the girl's defensive capabilities. "Or do you prefer others to inflict the pain for you?"
"I'm hardly squeamish to the concept of violence," not for the first time did the warrior princess wonder what the deal with this human was. "If pushed I will fight, and I'll gladly strike first should the situation call for it. But if I think I can reach a mutually acceptable agreement then I'd rather do that."
"Hmm, no kidding," Cordelia stretched her dirty feet onto the table. "Well unlike humans, I honor my agreements. Free as many of my people as you can and I'll… work with you," she spat out the words. "I'll also protect you as best I can, since you're more useful to me alive so you can go about freeing my people. But prove true to your human nature, betray the modicum of trust I'm giving you, and you better be able to cast a spell faster than I can snap your neck."
"I suppose that is the best I can hope for at the moment," she sighed.
"I suppose it is," Cordelia agreed.
There was no more talking after that. The girl finally changed into some nightwear and wandered over to her desk to write something down. This whole situation was bizarre. Less than an hour ago she was going to kill this human, now she's working for her. The whole situation was surreal.
Still, as Cordelia started to nod off on the couch, the first cushioned surface she had felt in months, she thought that this bargain did come with one additional benefit: it let her see if humans were cruel by nature or by nurturer.
--
--
"You left without permission."
"I did, Father," Zorzal agreed. "I left a boy and return to you as a man. A conquer." The faint hum of festivities reverberated within the Emperor's solar. Zorzal could hardly contain the glee in his step when his father had summoned him to his private study.
Zorzal had been hesitant to trust the rat man Borro at first. What he proposed seemed outrageous. To use his father's seal to falsify commands to the Legions to march against the warrior bunnies, to accomplish in months what Emperors of centuries past have tried and failed to do, to finally secure the Empire's eastern territories. It was mad!
While he accepted the forged seal and path the creature showed to leave the capital without being seen, Zorzal thought little of the creature's assurances of support. After all, what use could he possibly need from the likes of a haryo that could not be achieved infinitely better by the might of the Legions? But after enough defeats at the hands of the honorless women he accepted the ratman's help in informing him of the bunny warrior locations. Where they were strongest. Where they were weakest. He was even provided with their exact battleplans.
With these weapons in hand, his victory was guaranteed. Battle after battle, his legions smashed the warrior women. Twenty-one times did the bunny warriors charge his lines, and twenty-one times did they break before the might of his legions. Even their city was no match for superior Seradan siege engines. In short, he achieved complete victory.
He may have left under the cover of darkness as a boy, but he returned home a man. A conqueror!
"I called you here to speak of your… actions in the far east," his father began. "It made me realize something. I was wrong about you, Zorzal."
This was it! Zorzal felt his spirit soar as his father would soon shower him with praise for his actions.
"This is hardly something I dare admit, but I was wrong about you," he repeated. "Before you marched off with six legions to subdue the bunny warriors, I had thought you were little more than a spoiled boy who knew nothing of how the world truly worked and sought out tasks in bid to fuel your own ego and vanity."
Zorzal felt his chest swell at the anticipation and he prepared the thanks he would give him in turn.
"In hindsight, I can admit I was wrong… I had vastly overestimated your abilities."
"What?" What had he just said?
"I said I was wrong," the Emperor repeated. "You are far worse than anything I could have ever imagined."
"I- I…" Zorzal didn't know what to say. What had he done wrong? "Father, whatever it is that you think I did wrong please tell me, and I will make it right. Give me any task and it will be done!"
"Anything you say?" Molt mulled over his son's plea.
"Yes!"
"Hmm, well I suppose there is one thing you could do to make this right," the Emperor mused aloud.
"Name it and it shall be done!"
"My Legions," though soft, the Emperor's voice carried as sharp as a blade. "Give them back to me."
"…what?" What was he talking about?
"My Legions, give them back to me," he repeated to his son. "Give them back to me you pathetic little worm!"
Zorzal flinched as his father sent a golden goblet flying towards his son, the chalice bouncing off a hand covering his face. "Father, I- "
"Do you even understand what you've done!? Can you even comprehend the magnitude of your insanity, your idiocy!?" The Emperor raised his voice in a manner the prince had never seen before.
"I led our legions to victory- "
"Over the corpses of five legions that you marched to their deaths!" he cut Zorzal off. "Do you understand you commanded the single greatest military loss since the Northern War?"
"They died honorable deaths in the glory of- "
"Eighty thousand men! And you couldn't even defeat a force barely a tenth of your own!? Demi-human or not, the legion's superior formation and discipline should have been enough to scatter the barbarians in any pitched battle." He ignored Zorzal's rationalizations.
"They fought us dishonorably!" Zorzal finally stood his ground, determined to defend his honor. "They attacked in the dead of night, set fire to our stores, slaughtered the men as they slept, and when my legions forced them into a battle they refused to meet us on favorable ground! So I forced them to commit to fighting me by never retreating after a battle. Bloodied as we were from their craven tactics, we pushed forward, regardless of the losses. Eventually we forced them to fight in a proper battle and annihilated them! We emerged victorious with the glory and honor such victories grant!"
"Victory? You see the deaths of two thirds of your forces as a victory!?" Molt raged. "And honor? What does that have to do with victory?"
"Everything!" Zorzal countered.
Molt started in disbelief at his eldest son, before signing with annoyance.
"It appears you don't truly understand. Then let me explain to you what you did in a way even a man-child like you will understand," Molt's eyes narrowed at his eldest and slid a paper across his desk. "When you pulled the legions guarding the east away for your little war, that caused gaps in our eastern most defenses to be noticed by the steppe tribes. Then the sheer carnage from… whatever in the Gods' name you think you were doing came to light, they smelled blood and attacked in force. In the time it took for you to prance your way back to the capital with your whores, six cites have been sacked and dozens of towns razed to the ground. Thousands of our people lie dead, and thousands more are now slaves to barbarians."
Zorzal tsked, "Ut's hardly my fault when others fail in their duties- "
Molt slammed his fist down to quiet the prince, "It is when you're the one who pulled their forces away and made it impossible to hold their positions with the broken legions you returned to them!"
"Then I shall return to the east and teach the horse tribes the lesson I taught the warrior bunnies." Zorzal declared. "I will burn their homes to ash as I drag each and every one of those filthy beasts from- "
"You will do nothing," Molt silenced the prince's promise. "I've already sent word for ten legions across our western and southern borders to redeploy to deal with the mess that you created. You," he almost spat the word, "have already done more damage to my legions than a thousand barbarian warbands could have inflicted. Were you not my son I would have you broken on the wheel and burned alive for your actions."
"You bastard! Don't you know what I've -UGH!" Zorzal's burning rage and rebuttal to his father was cut short by the sharp sting against his back forcing him to his knees. Looking back, he saw one of the guards pressing his foot into his back to keep him prostrated before the Emperor.
"I know exactly what you've done," the Emperor replied to his cut off question, uncaring with the way his heir was being treated. "And it's because of what I know that I would sooner let myself be consumed by maggots then let a single legionary be put under your command ever again."
Why… Why was he doing this to him?
He had conquered in the name of the Empire! He had slaughtered their enemies and broken their will to ever rise up again! He has done more for this Empire than anyone has ever done before-
Wait…
Was that it…?
"You're jealous…" Zorzal mumbled.
Molt raised a brow at his son's words, "What is it you're- "
"You're jealous," Zorzal repeated with more clarity, kicking off the praetorian and standing upright once more. "I'm the one who marched our Legions against the warrior bunnies. I'm the one who accomplished in months what Emperors of centuries past have tried and failed. I'm the one who finally secured the Empire's eastern territories. I've done more in months than you have ever done in your whole life! That's why you're beating me down because you're afraid of what I can really do! That I would be a better Emperor than you could ever be!"
"Is that how you're rationalizing all of this?" He seemed confused and surprised, though a cold fury was still evident just beneath the facade he held up. With a tsk, he waved to his guards, "Get him out of my sight."
Zorzal yelled at his father as he was dragged out of the solar, fighting to stay upright as the armored figures pulled him by his heels down the hall to his chambers. No matter how loud he raged and swore his voice was drowned out by the continued celebrations of his victory that echoed across the palace.
He would not forget this betrayal…
--
--
The Great Khan was dead.
Ironic in a sense. Great Khan Plekx had rallied his host under the assumption that it would be a quick victory. That the tribes must strike with all to haste to take full advantage of the Imperial's moving their forces to subdue the Hares in the northern plains. And for a time, it was good.
City after city paid tribute to the clans or resisted to face the mercy of the sword and the life of the chains. After the first handful broke, the remainder simply complied and lavished the clans with coin and slaves of their own volition.
Khan Febos saw none of these riches. In response to the slight his father gave Great Khan Plekx's father two score years ago, when both men still drew breath, the Great Khan had ordered Febos and those sworn to him to raid along the territories of the dark-skinned knife-ears. A fool's errand. While Febos would gladly fight any foe before him, he can hardly fight a foe who refuses to meet him in battle. Such as, for example, the knife-ears who limber up the great trees of their forest home and pepper his host with unending volleys of arrows. Perhaps if he had a number of griffon or pegasus among his clan's mounts it would be less of an issue, but griffons are too far to the north and pegasi are too temperamental for hobgoblins to ride effectively.
Not that he would ever exchange his beautiful pearl white plain strider for anything. She may be stubborn as a mule and spiteful to a fault, but he trusted her with his life as he knew she trusted him with her own. Now that he thought about it, the hot-blooded girl would probably hunt him down if she even caught wind of him riding another mount!
Still, his host's task did have one advantage in retrospect: they were far from the bloodbath and slaughter that followed the Great Khan's fall when the Imperials, flushed with reinforcements from the far west, pursued the fleeing riders. So many were cut down by cataphracts and wyvern riders.
Laid low by a dozen arrows as he charged to break the line at Magna Orientis. Worse, his two sons died in the same battle when they attempted to sally forth and collect their father's corpse before the Imperials could desecrate it. They suffered the same fate as their father. With their deaths, the host broke against the imperial defenses and routed.
But the death of The Great Khan led to another issue: succession. News of this death spread faster across the Khanate then even a man on the swiftest steed could deliver it. With both of Plekx's sons dead, and with their own sons too young to rule, an Assembly was called by the eldest shamans to select a new leader. All the khans were ordered to ride for Kurultai for the vote.
And by virtue of being untouched by the slaughter at Magna Orientis, Khan Febos's clan, and many others, were made stronger by the others' losses. While hardly a large clan to begin with, his motley band of riders now held more power now than it ever did before. Enough to possibly tip the balance of votes in favor of one party or another.
Naturally, he could hardly weigh in one way or the other without seeking the console of his riders. Perhaps a poor choice in hindsight.
"Plizek's claim is strongest! He was Great Khan Plekx's good brother!"
"He also takes Imperial gold for his own benefit!"
"Slander! The shamans exonerated him of that false claim!"
"Zirix is a proven commander who has led dozens of raids against the Imperials and Hares both. Who better to lead us in a time of war than a proven commander?"
"How dare you! You would support the man whose father spat upon the honor of our clan?"
"His father, not his son. The holy texts are quite clear about the sins of the father- "
"And did that stop Great Khan Plekx from slighting us?"
"Neither of those men have done any good to our clan, we must stand beside Khan Chax. Our clans have ever been allies for generations!"
Febos sighed as the circular debates dragged on for hours. Dusk had eventually turned to night, meals have been placed and taken away, and all he could do was watch the myriad of emotions dancing along the faces of his riders' faces in the light of the fire. He was almost angry that his first wife had forbade him from drinking himself into a stupor.
Yet as the moon climbed to its zenith in the sky, as talk moved from claims and rights to glory and bloodshed, a raspy laugh quieted all gathered. "Oh, young boys, so eager for slaughter that they turn into rabid beasts at the first mention of blood."
The crackling voice came from the old shaman who sat beside the Khan, Orik. He was an old hobgoblin, covering in wrinkles and bruises accumulated over ninety years of life advising countless of Febos's line. His yellow teeth were crooked, his hands shook softly even when resting on his lap, and his eyes near grayed over from blindness. Yet, despite his ancient age, his voice, raspy as it was, carried a sharpness and wit rarely seen in a man's prime.
"With respect, elder," one of his men softly replied, realizing who he was conversing with. "The Imperials have never been weaker. Their losses against the Hares have only made our people stronger. One good raid could lavish us with enough riches to be the deciding vote in the Assembly."
"Yet we too also suffered losses that have made our people weaker as well," Orik noted back, his grey eyes on the young man. "Is more death truly worth a slightly heavier coin purse?"
"If we move fast, we can sack a city before they can respond," a companion of the young man agreed. "The Imperials are too slow to match our speed."
"Perhaps, or perhaps their wyverns shall see us leagues away and assemble to counter us," the shaman shook his head. "No, that is not the way."
"I have meditated on this matter a great deal and asked God for a sign to best lead our people forward. I received not a sign, but a vision," the shaman commented, turning to Febos. "I saw you, young lord, leading a force from all the clans to war."
"You saw me?" Febos felt lightheaded at the implication that he would ever be Great Khan.
"Yes, you," Orik nodded. "Not old and grey with age, but as you are now. Youthful and in the prime of your life. I saw not the distant future, but what is to be very soon. You, Febos Kokx, shall be the one who is the next Great Khan."
"Excuse me," Febos laughed, barely believing what he was hearing. Him? Great Khan?
"Then what is our future Shaman?" Febos questioned, curious about how far this went if nothing else.
"Greatness," the elder chuckled as he turned to his lord.
In the light of the fire, Febos could swear the old man's greyed eyes reflected the dancing flames. "God has shown me a glimpse of what events are to come and what events may come."
"Please speak plainly, Elder,"
"From Alnus Hill, they will come," the shaman stated suddenly to the silent gathering.
"They?"
"A people, an army. I do not know their name," he answered with a shake of his head. "By the Demon Gods' own hubris and the Empire's greed, they shall be brought here. They shall set forth as a great force, mighty and terrible in equal measures. Like a flowing river they will pour forth and drown the Empire in a sea of Imperial blood. With magic and means unknown to my eyes, they shall cut the Empire's armies down, breaking and humbling them in a manner so complete that it will be spoken of for as long as words exist."
The assembled riders began to mutter amongst themselves. While true that shamans had some clairvoyant abilities this was a… tad more than what usually was spoken of. Normally it was of a hidden blade amongst a crowd of supposed friends, or knowledge that a foe would be weakest to strike at a specific time of morning. This was…
"But that is not all He showed me," the elder continued, standing up to address the entire gathering. "Standing before this carnage and great power was a mighty hydra. Yet instead of fighting against the tides of blood, it ripped and tore at its own flesh. It ate itself as the world around it burned. From each bite rose another dozen heads that joined in the grizzly feast. The many heads ate until naught but clean bones remained and the monster collapsed under its own weight. Heed my words! Brother shall turn upon brother, magics and forces of unimaginable power shall lay waste to the land, and demons will laugh at the slaughter before them! Know this, young lord. Serada will burn, the kindlings relit over and over by the insistent winds of change. This squabble with the Empire's border territories will be nothing compared to what is to come."
Silence dawn upon the men as the elder's words sunk in.
"So, all we need to do is wait until this catastrophe occurs and simply move into their lands afterwards?" An older warrior spoke up.
"No."
"No?"
"Our war is not to the west, but to the north. It is in the north that you, young lord, shall fulfill your destiny."
"I have a destiny?" this was the first he has heard of such things.
"You, with the full might of our people, will join our strength with a mighty force in the north to fight under the banner of the one true God. To take part in a war between the Faithful and the False Gods."
"You mean to say… I will destroy the Empire?"
The old shaman chucked, "I never said you would be fighting the Empire. I said our fate is to fight under the banner of God. By extension, we shall join alongside all those who would take up arms in His name. And it's as you said, only reavers and Imperials are in the north."
"Enough!" One rider shouted. "You go too far shaman!"
"Too far?" this made the shaman chuckle. "Young man, were you not the one who suggested we go our way through the Empire in the hopes of finding trinkets to swing a vote one way or the other? Yet I am the one who is speaking out of turn?"
"I would sooner let myself be consumed by maggots than fight beside an Imperial," the rider marched over and towered over the old man. "They killed my brother; I would sooner spit on their graves then raise a sword for them!"
"And what of me?" he questioned back. "I have lost a father, brothers, nephews, sons, and a grandson to Imperial steel. Do you presume that I would choose this path for us of my own volition? As you so colorfully described, I too would sooner die than fight beside a dragon banner. But before I am a son, a brother, a father, a grandfather, or even a servant of our Khan, I am a servant of God. And by His will, I shall obey. Human, hare, hobgoblin, we all are equal before God. Are you so filled with pride and vainglory that even God's will is not enough for you to smother it?"
"His will, or yours," another, younger, voice spoke up. A young lad, no older than twenty, stood up and joined the other rider.
"Careful boy," the shaman growled, "you are treading dangerous ground."
"I am not refuting God's will, I'm only saying what others are certainly thinking," the young warrior refused to back down. "Your mind is going soft, Elder. This tale of yours is but the first sign of the sickness of the mind." He turned to Febos. "My Khan, surely you can see it too? Age and stress are getting to him."
"Would you have me cast out my advisor?" Febos narrowed his gaze upon the boy.
"No man here could dare argue that retiring the elder is a slight on his honor," the boy seemingly had a better backbone than Febos did at his age. "I would ask you to let him spend his last days in peace and comfort. He has served our people well over the years, but there is a time when the old- "
Before the warrior could finish his plea, a crack of thunder roared around them. The fires in the pit jumped and glowed white hot only to reach out like spindly fingers towards him. On reflexes, both warriors threw themselves backwards to avoid the fiery grasp. The flames whipped and wrapped around the firepit, slithering their way towards Febos. They did not seek to burn him, but to encircle him in a cage of white fire.
"Enough!" the voice that boomed from the shaman's throat was not his own. Projected by unseen magics and magnified beyond mortal means it rang into the very minds of all assembled. "I am not merely a man, but a conduit for God's will upon this world. A great war is coming to Falmart. A war that will be fought by man, beast, abomination, and powers beyond your imagining. From the old order, the faithful shall raise as never before and unite under one banner. MY banner! With your righteous wrath the deceivers shall be cast down from their charnel pulpits, the false idols smashed until they are naught but grains of sand cast to the wind, and the deceived shall be brought into MY Light as is proper."
Despite the scene unfolding before him, Febos did not feel any fear at the unnatural display. All he felt was warmth that bled into his very soul. There was no terror amongst those watching either, merely contentment and a desire to hear what this… Voice wanted to say.
"I see you, young lord," the shaman's neck twisted in a way similar to an owl so he could look Febos in the eyes. The gray of his eyes was gone, replaced with a torrent of shining gold. "Yours is to ride at the vanguard of My Heavenly Host. Upon a white horse you shall have a crown upon your head to lead your people against your foes, and with a bow in hand you shall conquer as your people have done before and you shall do a thousand times again. It is your fate to be an instrument to cast down the deviant, the heretic, and the false God. You will stare down the dragon, rising sun, the abominations beyond, and any other who would oppose My will. Once the Gate opens, this is inevitable."
"I-I…" he could barely form words.
"Claim your crown and march north when the time comes," the voice instructed him before swiveling the shaman's head back to the assembled riders. "The Anointed One shall await you there."
With that said, everything returned to normal as suddenly as it had changed. The fires died down to normal, the elder shaman's eyes returned to its blind grey state, and silence reigned as all who had seen this… event could hardly articulate their thoughts.
Febos did not know how long they sat there in absolute silence before one of their number, the young man from earlier who challenged the shaman's claims, spoke up.
"My Khan…. what… W-What was- "
"Have the camp ready to move before first light," Febos commanded. "We ride for Kurultai to place my name before the Assembly."
None spoke out against his order. As the assembled dispersed to collect themselves, one thought lingered in the back of all their minds, one that overshadowed even the knowledge of a cataclysmic war on the horizon.
God's will be done.
--
--
"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see."
"And I saw and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer."
Book of Revelations, First Seal of the Apocalypse
--------------------------------
--------------------------------
AN: What? Revelations? Seal of the Apocalypse? How did that get in there?
Oh well, probably nothing to worry about or a recuing narrative motif for the story.
And yes, monotheist (Being X) hobgoblin Kharzas/Mongols are on the move. Not the first group of Being X worshipers in Falmart, and certainly not the last to make an appearance.
Also, if you any are curious about the timeline of events (specifically the part about when the JSDF will pop up), canonically Zorzal had his "wild ride" in the bunny kingdom three years before the start of GATE. So no more than two chapters until the Gate is here.
Then the fun begins!