Empire of Avarice (13 page)

Sereth turned his attention to Amne, sitting quietly on
the other side of Astrias. His look was initially of surprise. “I was under the
impression we had a corps of trained diplomats in the palace, sire.”

“Meaning my daughter is incapable of the task, Counsel?”
Isbel beat Astiras to the response. Astiras shut his mouth and smiled at his
wife.

“No, sire,” Sereth hastily retreated. “My apologies, and
to you, Princess,” he bowed solemnly. “But I would counsel against placing me
at the head of an army to invade Bragal; there would be far more experienced
and – ah – worldly-wise people to handle the dark dealings of a diplomatic
mission. No disrespect to Princess Amne here, but such a young, and may I say,
beautiful woman, is surely not experienced enough to travel such a long and
dangerous journey and then to secure a treaty advantageous to the empire?”

Astiras didn’t know whether to smack the man in the
mouth or not.

Isbel smiled widely, however. She sensed her husband’s
outrage; it was almost visible as it rattled through his clothing outwards. “Counsel
Sereth, my daughter is not travelling alone. She is taking Counsel Theros with
her as senior advisor. You are familiar with him?”

“Ah, yes, a much valued man well versed in the
intricacies of diplomacy. With a man such as he with her, then I am more
confident the treaty can be obtained.” He nodded at Amne.

“As for Venn, we will have to wait and see their
reaction to us securing Bragal. I’m sure they have cast an envious eye on it
for their own.” Astiras growled deeply. “They have moved into those regions we
used to own in the east, and it won’t be long before they are knocking on our
door.”

“They are fully embroiled in their own pacification war
with Kral, your majesty,” Vosgaris said. “My father recently returned from a trip
to Rhan and spoke to members of the Venn military there.”

“Indeed?” Astiras almost pounced on the young officer. “And
did he say much of the Venn military there?”

“Not much, but I could ask him further, sire.”

“Do that. Tell me, how are you settling in?”

Vosgaris smiled. “Very nicely thank you. The guard have
not complained much of the change in commander, but I suspect they talk in the
barracks.”

“Inevitable, Vosgaris.” Astiras studied the list of
subjects on the parchment in front of him. “We were talking of trade. There’s
another possible problem there. Piracy. The ships travelling from Zipria to
Kastan have to come a long way by sea, and piracy takes a toll as well as the
weather. We want to make sure the ships are safe. Thoughts, anyone?”

“Where do these pirates operate from, sire?” Pepil
asked.

“Everywhere not under imperial or other kingdom
controlled territory, so it would appear,” Astiras said. “And possibly even
lands controlled by the Tybar and Venn, with their tacit approval.”

“We need the navy to be rebuilt, in that case,” Pepil
said. “There has been no move to keep repaired or improve the navy in the past
few years.”

“There has been no funding available,” Frendicus
commented.

“Who is the most senior naval commander now?” Sereth
enquired.

Astiras had the grace to look abashed. “I haven’t had
the opportunity to find out. To be honest, the matter hasn’t even entered my
mind. I don’t know even if we have a navy, and if so, if they’re loyal!”

Isbel tutted. Pepil came to the emperor’s assistance. “An
Admiral Fotis. Currently at sea, so I believe, in the Sea of Balq. We do have
another fleet, patrolling the seas close to Zipria, but that’s it. Four ships.”

“Four.” Astiras’ shock was evident to all. “Four? Four
ships – the empire has – just – four – ships in total?”

“Yes, sire.” Pepil looked at the emperor helplessly. “But
the shipbuilders are still around. It’s just they don’t have any orders to
build any more military ships, so they pass the time building private vessels
for merchants and other rich patrons.”

There was a short silence. The dismay at the state of
the navy was clear. Finally Astiras looked at Pepil. “Arrange for a message to
be sent to Admiral Fotis; he needs to be based here and take part in the
Council sessions. I don’t know when he’s due back but he must put into port
somewhere.”

“I’ll send word to all the ports of the empire. He will
have put to sea under your predecessor, sire, so the news you are emperor will
surely bring him sailing back to Kastan in no time.”

“We’ll see. Anyone have any further suggestions on how
to raise new funds for the treasury?”

Sereth drew in a deep breath. Somehow Astiras guessed it
would be he who would be the first to speak. “Sire, if you wish to make
savings, then I would caution on overspending on the military. Even though we
need a strong army to defend our borders, we cannot throw everything into
building up a large army if there is no infrastructure behind it to keep it
going. It would need supplying, equipping and administering, and if no funds are
spent on these, then it is pointless having an army.”

“I’m well aware of that, Counsel. What funds that do
exist are being diverted as we speak to repairing the roads in Bathenia and
Pelponia, and to improving those in Frasia.” Astiras stood up and addressed all
those present. “Roads are the lifeline of the empire and have been neglected
too long; they are in a shocking state. I have used them in the recent past and
I was appalled at how bad they were. We need to move the army quickly to any
place threatened, and to enable the smooth transit of trade through our lands. The
upkeep of the roads is essential to that. In addition to this, I have ordered
the rebuilding of the port of Kalkos in Makania province, and for a clearance
of arable land on Zipria. We need good crops and that island can supply us with
plenty.”

Sereth nodded in agreement.

Frendicus spoke next. “Sire, we used to have a busy
trade of textiles in the province of Bathenia and in Frasia here, but these
have, like most things, withered in recent years. There was a fair amount of
duty raised on these for export.”

Astiras looked interested. “Investigate the possibility
of reviving it. We’ll need a merchant we can trust to run the business, not one
in the pockets of our rivals. They’d make sure they benefitted at our expense.”

“The Fokis are involved in textiles,” Pepil commented.

“Pah! Those traitors,” Astiras growled. “Give Vosgaris
here the location of their business warehouses and he can raid them and see if
they’re trading; if they are, seize the stock. They are paying no taxes, if I
recall Frendicus’ documents accurately.”

“That is true,” Frendicus agreed. “They say they are no
longer using the premises as the demand for textiles died out.”

“And I’m a Mazag’s uncle,” Astiras commented. Some of
those present smiled.

The conversation moved to the next subject, and then the
next. Isbel remained silent most of the time but was interested to see who was
for or against what. One of the most contentious subjects was the fate of the
High Priest, Gaurel. Both Frendicus and Pepil spoke up on his behalf, putting
forward the case that the populace needed a spiritual leader to focus their
beliefs and that banishing Gaurel could provoke riots. Astiras was all for
sending him to Niake, and it was agreed to send him there where some temples
had recently been destroyed in fires following the riots and many had turned
away from the rest. Gaurel was needed to restore faith and to oversee the
rebuilding of those shrines destroyed. Astiras would make a public announcement
that was why Gaurel was leaving Kastan.

As time was moving on and lunch approaching, it was
agreed to adjourn the Council and to meet again in three days’ time.

Isbel made a sign to Astiras to remain behind for a
moment. When the others had gone and the guards in the chamber waved outside,
Isbel held his hand. “Having that Counsel Sereth here is a mixed blessing,
don’t you think?”

“Big mouth and opinionated, if you ask me, my love. I
nearly hit him a couple of times.”

“I know. You must learn to control your temper better.”

“Bah! I’m a soldier, not a politician. Besides, I’m
shortly to leave Kastan with Teduskis’ new army.”

“How soon?” Isbel couldn’t hide her dismay.

“Twenty days or so. Teduskis tells me the new units will
be trained sufficiently to be able to leave the city. We’ll train them some
more en route to Bragal.”

“Oh, how I wish you weren’t going! That means Amne will
be leaving too! With Jorqel in Lodria I’ll be so lonely in this huge palace.”

Astiras held her hands. “You’ll be fine. I’ll write
every day. I’ll ask Amne to do the same. I’ll miss the boys growing up,
though.”

“How long will you be?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t see the campaign being that
short. The Bragal people are a stubborn lot. And sieges tend to take time. I’ve
no idea how much supplies they’ve got in Zofela, but once it’s fallen I’ll
summon you to join me there.”

“But who’ll run matters here?”

“I’ll run the empire from Zofela. I’ll need to stay
there a while to sort things out. It’s a right mess in Bragal. We can keep the
core of the administration here, but things can be run from anywhere.”

Isbel sighed. Was this the life of an empress? If so, it
was so different from that which she had hoped for before they had acted to
take the throne. She feared for the future of the family.

Slenna was built on a headland jutting into the Aester
Sea. The land fell towards the sea in a series of rolling hills, and where the
sea met the land it was broken up into promontories and headlands of varying
size. Slenna stood at the mouth of the Mendar River, a wooden walled town with
a small wooden circular keep towards the sea end. The approach along the rutted
mud road passed through farmland and this supplied Slenna. People fled at the
approach of Jorqel’s army and the gates were slammed firmly shut before any of
the imperial force came near.

The ramparts bristled with flags, pennants and spear
points and the arriving force stopped out of bow shot range to study the defences.
Jorqel slid off his mount and walked stiffly up to the last rise alongside a
now abandoned farmhouse and tugged off his gauntlets. It was cool and rain was
in the air. Here the weather often came in from the sea, much of the time full
of moisture.

“Well at least we won’t go hungry or die of thirst,”
Jorqel commented to Gavan who had stepped up alongside the prince. The chargers
were already cropping the lush grass that grew in abundance on the roadside.

“But we’ll need shelter, sire.”

“Use those,” Jorqel waved at the farmhouses. “If their
occupants return, then we keep them here and they don’t send any produce to the
town. If they don’t surrender we’ll starve them out.”

“What’s out to sea there, sire, beyond the town?”

Jorqel craned his neck and saw a couple of ships rolling
on the waves, approaching the town. There was no harbour, the town itself being
built on a rocky shore. The port that served Slenna, Efsia, lay to the north on
the other side of yet another headland. A road ran from the town across where
the imperial army was deploying and into the distance. “I trust they are not
going to bring supplies to Slenna, or that will complicate matters.”

“Me too, sire.”

“Well,” Jorqel sighed heavily, “time to do what’s
necessary. Get me a white parley flag.”

Gavan fetched the white flag, now stained and slightly
greyed with age. It had been often produced in Bragal and the frequent washes
had aged it prematurely. He held the flag on a short pole and nodded. The
prince led him out from the shelter of the farmhouses and onto the flat ground
before Slenna. They were clearly in sight with the parley flag fluttering in
the air, and an answering parley flag was run up from the gatehouse, a
twin-towered spiked construction heavily manned and covered. Archers could be
seen with arrows nocked, ready to loose on command. Jorqel disliked this aspect
of warfare, but rules were rules and such was expected of him, particularly now
he was prince.

He halted thirty paces from the gates, not wanting to be
told when to stop. He had to maintain the advantage. “I am Prince Jorqel of the
House of Koros, son of Emperor Astiras of Kastania. I hereby declare you in
rebellion against the empire. You are to surrender this town to me and to swear
an oath of fealty to me, the emperor and the empire.”

A man stood up straight on the ramparts. He was dressed
in grey and white and beneath the surcoat was a set of shiny armour. “I am Duke
of Lodria, Alfan Fokis, and I do not swear fealty to anyone. We have rejected
the rule of the corrupt empire of Kastania and no longer wish to be ruled by
people who care not for this region.”

“So you say, Alfan Fokis of Slenna,” Jorqel retorted. He
was damned if he was going to address him by any fictitious rank. “And how long
do you think you would resist the advance of the Tybar without the empire to
rely on?”

“The empire cannot fight against the Tybar as it is run
by those who wish only to enrich themselves at the expense of the empire. You
represent an old, doomed order that has no place in the world anymore. Accept
the inevitable and surrender your lands to whoever wishes to take them.”

Jorqel sneered. “We shall see, traitor. How long do you
think your sorry force I see quaking in their boots alongside you can hold out
against us? We are all veterans of the Bragal War; your puny army will be eaten
for breakfast!”

“Insult us all you like; it will be you who gives up
first. We can remain here safe for a year or so. Can you stay where you are, in
the open, for that long?”

“We will, if that is what it takes, traitor. We have
water and food, and a wide area to forage. Nothing will enter your gate and
nothing will leave. You will be eating dung by the time we finish with you.” Jorqel
curtly waved Gavan to follow him back to the imperial lines. “I want to know
what ships those are out there in the bay. They can’t dock here, they must be
on their way to Efsia. Send a party down to the port, seize it and impound
whatever cargo they have if they are intended for Slenna.”

“Sire,” Gavan acknowledged. They reached the imperial
camp, being set up around the farms, and Jorqel chose the biggest one as his
headquarters. The soldiers whooped with delight when they caught sight of the
various fowl and herd animals in the barns and pens. As the looting began
Jorqel shouted at them to stop. “I want an inventory of everything before you
take them. And then you will pay for whatever you take – this is not plunder. This
is to feed us through the coming winter, so they will be rationed properly.”

The company captains set about the task with relish,
screaming orders and slapping the more reluctant members until all were obeying
orders. Jorqel sighed and sat heavily in a chair in the main living chamber of
the big farmhouse. He hated sieges. Why the stupid rebels didn’t give up was
beyond him. They were on their own and isolated with no allies. It may take
time but Slenna would fall eventually, and the longer it took the more bad
tempered the men would be.

Gavan took ten of the bodyguard with him and rode to the
port of Efsia. It wasn’t a very big place, being a village set in a wide bay
against a backdrop of hills rising inland. The shore had been built on with
jetties and wharves, and warehouses lined the docks. Whatever the village had
been before the docks had been built, it was now there just to serve the
trading fleets that came and went.

People stopped and stared in surprise as the eleven
horsemen thundered down the one street wide enough to accommodate them,
fluttering the imperial banner as they did so. Gavan clattered off the stone
cobbled street onto the wooden jetty and brought his charger to a halt,
positioning himself sideways across the wharf, blocking anyone who may try to
pass.

Two ships were moored to the biggest dock; single-masted
vessels with sleek lines and neat decks. Clearly these were not trading
vessels. What was more surprising was that the two ships were flying the
imperial flag. Gavan led the others slowly up to the side of the first ship and
looked up at the stern. The gangplank was down and sailors were busy loading
supplies. Standing by the nearest warehouse were a group of men armed with bows
and swords. They had on their chests the long bar and twin circles of the
Kastanian Empire.

“Hello up there,” Gavan hollered, controlling his steed.
The beast wasn’t entirely happy to be where it was. The sea gave off a strange
smell it wasn’t used to and the other odours of spice, tar, rotting fish and
ropes made it skittish. “What ship are you and where from?”

A man with a barrel chest leaned over the side. He had a
neatly clipped black beard. “Halloo down there! I see you’re of the imperial
army! Well met. I am Admiral Drakan, imperial navy, bound for Kastan, recently
out of Zipria. I hear there’s a new emperor!”

“Yes! I am with his son, the Prince Jorqel. We are besieging
Slenna. What is your business here?”

Admiral Drakan put a finger to the side of his nose. “I
shall inform you of that over a mid-afternoon drink. Care to come aboard?”

Gavan grinned. That sounded good. He dismounted, handed
his reins to his subordinate and advised him to watch while he was aboard, then
climbed the gangplank and met the admiral on the main deck. Drakan was a big,
cheery fellow with a ruddy complexion. Sea life obviously agreed with him. Gavan
was led through a door at the rear of the deck and into a cabin that was
comfortably decorated.

“We got a message to pick up a man off the coast of
Makania from a fishing vessel three days ago while we were on our way to the
capital.” Drakan pulled the cork on a wide green coloured bottle and tipped an
amber liquid into two cups. He sat behind a desk and waved Gavan into a second
that was off to one side of the cabin. “It seems the fishing vessel had been
ordered by the palace to find us. Well, very unusual indeed, but the letter
they passed to me was sealed the correct way and had the right heading and so
on.” Drakan quaffed a mouthful of the alcohol. “Ahh, great stuff. So, we
diverted east to the Makanian coast at a place we’d been asked to reach, and
this man hails us and rows out to my ship. Very secretive and furtive, gives me
yet another document giving him authority over me, signed by the palace in the
name of Emperor Astiras Koros. Well, ‘who?’ I ask. ‘The new emperor, Admiral’,
says he. ‘I know of no new emperor’ I say. ‘Do you believe these documents?’
says he.” Drakan throws his arms up in the air. “He tells me to drop him off
the Slennan coast and then proceed here to take supplies on and hold the port
until someone like you arrives.”

Gavan shrugged. “I know of no orders, but we’ve not had
a communication from Kastan for some time. Where did this man go?”

“He slipped overboard and swam to the shore. After that
– I know not. We sailed onto this port and informed these people they were once
more serving the empire. We did have trouble from one or two but after hanging
them from the mast – you can see them on the other ship if you like – the rest
quickly submitted.”

“Funny, that,” Gavan commented with a straight face. “Slenna
isn’t giving up; they’re going to hold out for as long as they can.”

Drakan pulled a face. “And you’ll wait outside until
they give in? What about rushing the gates or breaking in the walls?”

Gavan shook his head. “The forces in Slenna are unknown
and until we find out, we won’t do anything. The walls looked too sturdy to
smash and we don’t have any siege equipment.”

“Ah well, rather you than me. We’re off to Kastan on the
morning tide and are to find out our position under the new regime. Tell me,
what’s the new emperor like?”

And the two military men turned to gossip.

____

Gaurel Burnas was surprised to be released from prison. He
fully expected to be executed for defying the new emperor, and he went with the
guards with a sense of trepidation out of the garrison building and along the
street to the palace. Of course, it was at night, so that nobody would see him.
He was admitted via the servant’s entrance and escorted up into the palace
proper.

Endless corridors and guards were passed, until he was
shown into a room with a number of chairs, a table and rich velvet curtains. Candles
flickered from the table and wall brackets and standing awaiting his entry was
Emperor Astiras with two others. One he recognised, the other he did not. “Sire,”
he bowed to the emperor. “Pepil,” he acknowledged the major domo.

“This is Demtro Kalfas, a merchant,” Astiras introduced
the third man. “Please, be seated.”

All sat and Gaurel, still wearing the clothes he’d had
whilst in prison, felt shabby and uncomfortable, which was probably a design on
the emperor’s part, he mused. Still, he would endure what was to come his way;
the gods moved in mysterious ways and directed people to do the most unexpected
things at times.

“I have work for you, High Priest,” Astiras began. “Clearly
your continued presence in Kastan is not acceptable, given your outburst
towards me recently, but I am prepared to lift the sentence of imprisonment on
you provided you agree to what I am about to say.”

The High Priest waited calmly. But inside his heart was
beating fast. He may be fortified by his faith, but he was just as mortal as
the next man and he dearly wanted to avoid imprisonment.

“It is this,” Astiras continued. “The Council has
decided you have a mission to perform; that is to restore the faith and morale
of the people in Niake. As you know, recent unrest caused the accidental
destruction of most of the temples in the city. It is desired that you, as High
Priest, travel to Niake and help rebuild these temples, and to restore faith in
the gods amongst the people, which has been slipping of late. Is this agreed?”

“Am I to remain in Niake, your majesty?”

“Yes, or in the province of Bathenia. But you will never
return to Kastan in your lifetime.”

Gaurel bowed. He felt a sense of loss. Kastan was the
capital, the spiritual head of the gods. “And who is going to be High Priest?”

“You will remain High Priest, but your new headquarters
will be Niake.”

Gaurel looked confused. “But there must be a High Priest
in Kastan, sire!”

“That is not your concern. Your concern is to restore
the temples in Niake. If you don’t feel this is something you can do, then I’ll
find another, and return you to prison where you will rot for the rest of your
life. Take it or leave it, priest.” Astiras was curt.

Gaurel drew in a deep breath. “I shall of course take
the offer. The people should not live without the gods to direct their lives
and to guide them in times of trouble – and we all have our share of troubles
at present, do we not?”