charclone
Well-known member
No, they aren't. We are past the point where I'd add a subplot like that.I also wonder if these things may be related...
Chapter 100
New
charclone
Well-known member
A. N. The big one-double-oh.
Pina pinched the bridge of her nose.
Around her, the remnant senators she trusted enough to advise her, alongside officers that once served her father shifted uncomfortably inside the office. A few of them tugged at their collars, feeling the heat of the fireplace to be oppressive, certainly not out of fear of how Pina might react to such news.
"In short," Pina began to summarize, her voice making a few nobles flinch in anticipation. "My brother has been spreading rumours regarding my… relationship with my knights, disparaging their skill, and attempting to undermine my right to rule?"
"That… is a polite summation of the accusations the agents in service to your brother have made," One noble, braver than the rest, spoke. "The loss of status amongst the Senators has… also created a perception that you do not respect the traditions of our ancestors."
"Is that so?" Pina raised an eyebrow at the comment, drawing upon her father's lessons as she focused on the man. "Is that your opinion, or that of the people in the Empire?"
"Both," The noble stated bluntly. "The plebians have yet to see justice be done, the crimes committed by the senators, or a senate be formed from those that remain clean of criminal action."
"You are suggesting I form a senate from my supporters?" Pina noted. "And that Senate pursue justice against the criminal elements of the accused senators?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then I shall take it under advisement," Pina nodded. "Is there any other bit of news that you wish to bring forward?"
The room was silent.
"Then I end this court session," Pina announced. "You are dismissed."
As the nobles filed out, her knights filed in. Only a handful; Bozes, Hamilton, Norma, and Grey. The others were busy with duties elsewhere.
"At least our money issues have been resolved, in the short term, thanks to Lord Richard," Grey grunted. "We also started to see support from NATO countries. A train dropped off several letters and packages. In addition to funds that have started to be collected."
"Oh?" Pina blinked.
"Shall I have some people review the letters and prepare responses?" Grey asked.
"I will handle that; thank you, Sir Grey. Hamilton, I believe several of my servants should be available for this task. Please have them sort through the letters under your guidance. They should have picked up on English by now," Pina ordered. "It would seem Richard's friends, and the efforts they asked us to make in support of their mission, have been successful."
"Yes, apparently, the demonstration of my sword skills has already gained worldwide renown!" Bozes' grin split her face. "Over a million people have seen the recording!"
Pina blinked.
"Were you… in full plate when you gave the demonstration?" She asked her blonde knight.
"Ah, no," Bozes, bashful of the lighter regimen she had used, coughed. "It would have… gotten in the way of demonstrating the proper posture and stances."
Pina kept her face smooth. Though in her mind, she could imagine just what sort of audience would gather to see a female knight, partially undressed and going through her physical exercise, would attract. There were probably less than a million people interested in lost sword arts on Earth, after all.
"Well, I am glad for you, but please don't let it interfere with your duties," Pina calmly, without blushing, said. "Now… speaking of Lord Richard, he has encountered a problem with the treasury of the city. That which belonged to the Empire has already been transferred to us, but the rest of the treasury is less clear on its ownership."
"How much is he asking to keep?" Hamilton asked.
"None of it, he is leaving it to me to determine," Pina sighed. "While the additional money would be beneficial, I have no intentions of being seen as a miser. I am tempted to permit him to keep it."
"Does that include the money seized from Imperial merchants?" Bozes asked. "If they were supporting your brother, well, the money would belong to you."
"He has left the merchants alone, an act I support," Pina explained. "Most of the money belongs to the city itself. Given it and the surrounding territories are to be handed over to him after this war…"
"I see your point," Grey nodded. "Well, if it is to be his, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be magnanimous, but that is just my suggestion, Your Highness."
"Then I shall," Pina ended the topic with a nod. "How goes the training of new recruits for the Order?"
"Most of the nobles we've recruited are well motived," Grey's face shifted as he took on a more formal tone. "Some of the Equestrians have protested training alongside commoners or the relatives of Patricians and have been removed from candidacy. Without the facilities I had when training you and your first groups of knights, I cannot guarantee the same level of competency. However, I am doing my best to remove problem elements."
"I trust that whatever you can present to me will more than live up to my expectations, Grey," Pina gave him an appreciate smile and nod. "Now… Bozes, I understand some of my brother's troops tried to attack estates under our protection on the other side of the mountains?"
"Yes, only two dozen cavalrymen after a light snowfall, acting like bandits," The blonde knight reported. "Vefeater has led a lance to pursue them, as we know where they are operating out of. She has likely already crushed them…"
Rifles barked out over the snowy fields outside Italica. Despite the cold, and the regularity of the event, there were still many spectators watching Pina's forces drill under the watchful eyes of hired instructors from NATO.
In some ways, it reminded Pina of the early days of the knighthood. When she was under the watchful eyes of instructors as they drilled in swordplay and mounted manoeuvres, on top of other classes like etiquette.
Those were fonder, quieter times. When the idea that the Empire was unshakable and was the height of civilisation. When her idea of knighthood was finding the cracks in the Empire and fixing them; fighting bandits, protecting travellers from monsters, and living like the stories of old heroes.
Now, Pina felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Her father was dead, alongside her other brother. She was now, as a result, fighting a war against her eldest brother for the throne, a throne she didn't want. Before the Gate had opened, before NATO had come, she'd have considered anyone telling her it would happen was insane. The Empire had been at its height, she had once thought.
Now, the Empire's aura of invincibility had been shattered. She was slowly realising how backwards her people were compared to those of Earth. The Empire itself teetered on the brink, while people it had enslaved were now free, building a better society.
In the moments of solitude she found, she felt almost lost; when she wasn't struggling towards some solution to her current problems.
Her idea of the Empire as a just place had been shattered, most recently. A fact that she still struggled with, and she found hurt most of all.
As her horse, slowly acclimatising to the sound of gunfire, trotted along through the snowy training fields, Pina realised something.
She was to be Empress if she won. Without a Senate strong enough to oppose her; the seeds of corruption the senate had sown now bore their bitter fruit.
She could impose justice upon the Empire in the aftermath of the civil war, and build it up to what she once imagined it had been.
Pina swallowed at the prospect. Both the possibilities it offered and at the magnitude of the task.
To call it hard would be an understatement.
But… so was training to be a knight.
"Or a soldier," She noted with some amusement to herself, as a drill sergeant verbally laid into a group of recruits for some mistake. "But… that doesn't mean it's the wrong choice."
The half-elf, representing Dimmu's chimeric merchant allies, smiled politely as she was shown a seat across from Richard. A fire blazed merrily in what had once been the Legate's quarters in the city garrison.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," She began, her tone pleasant. "I am particularly grateful that we did not need to… encourage the Saderans to surrender. Such actions would have been costly. We would have done so, had you asked, as with the trade you have aided in that flows to and from Alnus, we are in your debt."
Richard noted her appearance. It was clear that her reason for being the 'face' of the organisation was her looks, though he had learned through Dimmu that she was a member of their leadership through her skills as well.
Given the way she sat and dressed, he suspected that her skills lay, at the very least, in manipulation. Given the organisation was, effectively, a merchant guild in the city, one more willing to reach into politically sensitive or neglected areas, he could imagine how she put those skills to use. They had, after all, avoided any problems with the Saderans for many years; despite openly operating as merchants despite their 'other' status, chimera not being considered human or demi-human.
But he had been forewarned and had prepared for her skills. Even if his counter to her skill was… a tad heavy-handed.
"Still," He said. "I should thank you for agreeing to meet with me over a meal. Though, I should let you know, we are still waiting on another guest."
"Oh?" The woman's smile faltered. "Is Lady Tara - sorry, Empress Tara to join us?"
"No," Richard shook his head, feigning disappointment to hide his anticipation. "She is unfortunately back at Alnus, dealing with some issues."
From the nearby balcony, the sound of leathery wings and scrapping claws striking the stone interrupted their conversation.
The half-elf lost some of her colour as she saw the two juvenile dragons trying to stick their heads in through the door and getting in each other's way.
"Hey!" Richard barked at them, without heat. "Your food is being brought to the courtyard, but if you keep trying to break the stonework, you won't get any."
The blue and red dragons froze, giving him their best attempt at pitiable looks. Which for the winged lizards, this amounted to pulling back to make themselves smaller and staring, causing the half-elf to shift in her seat.
"Go on," Richard shooed them off. "It'll be cooling off soon if you don't get down there."
He shook his head as the pair scrambled off the balcony. An unplanned, but advantageous event, he noted.
"My apologies," Richard resumed speaking to the unsettled representative. "Those two are… energetic about food, much like their master."
"They listen to you more than me," His countermeasure grumbled as she entered, taking the final seat after setting her scythe against a wall. "So, what are we eating?"
The half-elf did her best not to stare at Giselle.
"Something from Earth," Richard informed her with a smile. "A tad late in the season for it, but I was able to get several butterball turkeys."
He didn't tell them they were… not considered high-class food on Earth, but then, here, something slathered in layers upon layers of butter, a product that was hard to make with their level of technology and thus expensive? It was a show of wealth, without the expense. Absolutely a high class ingredient to the representative.
Giselle wouldn't care, as long as it tasted good. Fortunately, there were a few people he could borrow chefs from for this, not that he ended up needing to. However, he was admittedly curious why one of the mid-ranked chefs who used to serve Emperor Molt had chosen to seek his patronage.
"So," He said as the food was brought out. "I understand that your group is not interested in borrowing money from me, nor am I willing to fund expeditions in the spring, but that does leave me at a loss of what you are expecting from me."
The representative seemed to recover some of her control.
"Yes, the weaponsmith guild was begging to forge swords for the Long Patrol, weren't they?" She asked. "I also heard they pushed too hard."
"They pestered me and refused to grasp that the Long Patrol is not in the habit of engaging in close combat," Richard frowned. "The former light cavalry's idiocy notwithstanding."
"Oh?" The half-elf blinked. "What happened?"
Richard shrugged.
"They charged into the retreating Saderan infantry. They lost two horses in the act, and one of my people will never ride again," He grunted. "Something that should have never happened, as they are armed with rifles, to engage at long range. All because their former commander was used to cavalry charges, and he had encouraged the unit to carry swords."
He shook his head.
"They are being reorganised into a Dragoon unit, mounted infantry," Richard informed her. "It will not happen again."
Giselle snorted, as she devoured the mountain of food on her plate with a speed that disturbed both Richard's and the representative's appetites.
"I will do my best not to let it happen again," Richard amended, forcing himself to ignore Giselle's gluttonous behaviour, lamenting his mistake to invite her to a full meal, and took several bites from his own plate.
"Well," The representative coughed, averting her eyes from the blue draconid demigod. "We have no intentions of… requesting more from you when we already owe so much. Rather, we wish to understand how we can best aid your administration of the city, to ensure all parties prosper."
"I see," Richard eyed her for a moment. "Well, I will have to invite you to a meeting in the coming days, with a NATO economic advisor. I will warn you now, the city is going to see significant changes, but ones that can be profited from, if you are willing to remain competitive."
"In what manner of competition?"
"Accepting and integrating new ideas and opportunities," He answered. "Send some people to Alnus, to talk to local shop owners, if you want real examples."
"I shall do so, then," The half-elf tried to smile. It became a flinch when Giselle chose that moment to belch, after draining a large mug.
Pina pinched the bridge of her nose.
Around her, the remnant senators she trusted enough to advise her, alongside officers that once served her father shifted uncomfortably inside the office. A few of them tugged at their collars, feeling the heat of the fireplace to be oppressive, certainly not out of fear of how Pina might react to such news.
"In short," Pina began to summarize, her voice making a few nobles flinch in anticipation. "My brother has been spreading rumours regarding my… relationship with my knights, disparaging their skill, and attempting to undermine my right to rule?"
"That… is a polite summation of the accusations the agents in service to your brother have made," One noble, braver than the rest, spoke. "The loss of status amongst the Senators has… also created a perception that you do not respect the traditions of our ancestors."
"Is that so?" Pina raised an eyebrow at the comment, drawing upon her father's lessons as she focused on the man. "Is that your opinion, or that of the people in the Empire?"
"Both," The noble stated bluntly. "The plebians have yet to see justice be done, the crimes committed by the senators, or a senate be formed from those that remain clean of criminal action."
"You are suggesting I form a senate from my supporters?" Pina noted. "And that Senate pursue justice against the criminal elements of the accused senators?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then I shall take it under advisement," Pina nodded. "Is there any other bit of news that you wish to bring forward?"
The room was silent.
"Then I end this court session," Pina announced. "You are dismissed."
As the nobles filed out, her knights filed in. Only a handful; Bozes, Hamilton, Norma, and Grey. The others were busy with duties elsewhere.
"At least our money issues have been resolved, in the short term, thanks to Lord Richard," Grey grunted. "We also started to see support from NATO countries. A train dropped off several letters and packages. In addition to funds that have started to be collected."
"Oh?" Pina blinked.
"Shall I have some people review the letters and prepare responses?" Grey asked.
"I will handle that; thank you, Sir Grey. Hamilton, I believe several of my servants should be available for this task. Please have them sort through the letters under your guidance. They should have picked up on English by now," Pina ordered. "It would seem Richard's friends, and the efforts they asked us to make in support of their mission, have been successful."
"Yes, apparently, the demonstration of my sword skills has already gained worldwide renown!" Bozes' grin split her face. "Over a million people have seen the recording!"
Pina blinked.
"Were you… in full plate when you gave the demonstration?" She asked her blonde knight.
"Ah, no," Bozes, bashful of the lighter regimen she had used, coughed. "It would have… gotten in the way of demonstrating the proper posture and stances."
Pina kept her face smooth. Though in her mind, she could imagine just what sort of audience would gather to see a female knight, partially undressed and going through her physical exercise, would attract. There were probably less than a million people interested in lost sword arts on Earth, after all.
"Well, I am glad for you, but please don't let it interfere with your duties," Pina calmly, without blushing, said. "Now… speaking of Lord Richard, he has encountered a problem with the treasury of the city. That which belonged to the Empire has already been transferred to us, but the rest of the treasury is less clear on its ownership."
"How much is he asking to keep?" Hamilton asked.
"None of it, he is leaving it to me to determine," Pina sighed. "While the additional money would be beneficial, I have no intentions of being seen as a miser. I am tempted to permit him to keep it."
"Does that include the money seized from Imperial merchants?" Bozes asked. "If they were supporting your brother, well, the money would belong to you."
"He has left the merchants alone, an act I support," Pina explained. "Most of the money belongs to the city itself. Given it and the surrounding territories are to be handed over to him after this war…"
"I see your point," Grey nodded. "Well, if it is to be his, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be magnanimous, but that is just my suggestion, Your Highness."
"Then I shall," Pina ended the topic with a nod. "How goes the training of new recruits for the Order?"
"Most of the nobles we've recruited are well motived," Grey's face shifted as he took on a more formal tone. "Some of the Equestrians have protested training alongside commoners or the relatives of Patricians and have been removed from candidacy. Without the facilities I had when training you and your first groups of knights, I cannot guarantee the same level of competency. However, I am doing my best to remove problem elements."
"I trust that whatever you can present to me will more than live up to my expectations, Grey," Pina gave him an appreciate smile and nod. "Now… Bozes, I understand some of my brother's troops tried to attack estates under our protection on the other side of the mountains?"
"Yes, only two dozen cavalrymen after a light snowfall, acting like bandits," The blonde knight reported. "Vefeater has led a lance to pursue them, as we know where they are operating out of. She has likely already crushed them…"
Rifles barked out over the snowy fields outside Italica. Despite the cold, and the regularity of the event, there were still many spectators watching Pina's forces drill under the watchful eyes of hired instructors from NATO.
In some ways, it reminded Pina of the early days of the knighthood. When she was under the watchful eyes of instructors as they drilled in swordplay and mounted manoeuvres, on top of other classes like etiquette.
Those were fonder, quieter times. When the idea that the Empire was unshakable and was the height of civilisation. When her idea of knighthood was finding the cracks in the Empire and fixing them; fighting bandits, protecting travellers from monsters, and living like the stories of old heroes.
Now, Pina felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Her father was dead, alongside her other brother. She was now, as a result, fighting a war against her eldest brother for the throne, a throne she didn't want. Before the Gate had opened, before NATO had come, she'd have considered anyone telling her it would happen was insane. The Empire had been at its height, she had once thought.
Now, the Empire's aura of invincibility had been shattered. She was slowly realising how backwards her people were compared to those of Earth. The Empire itself teetered on the brink, while people it had enslaved were now free, building a better society.
In the moments of solitude she found, she felt almost lost; when she wasn't struggling towards some solution to her current problems.
Her idea of the Empire as a just place had been shattered, most recently. A fact that she still struggled with, and she found hurt most of all.
As her horse, slowly acclimatising to the sound of gunfire, trotted along through the snowy training fields, Pina realised something.
She was to be Empress if she won. Without a Senate strong enough to oppose her; the seeds of corruption the senate had sown now bore their bitter fruit.
She could impose justice upon the Empire in the aftermath of the civil war, and build it up to what she once imagined it had been.
Pina swallowed at the prospect. Both the possibilities it offered and at the magnitude of the task.
To call it hard would be an understatement.
But… so was training to be a knight.
"Or a soldier," She noted with some amusement to herself, as a drill sergeant verbally laid into a group of recruits for some mistake. "But… that doesn't mean it's the wrong choice."
The half-elf, representing Dimmu's chimeric merchant allies, smiled politely as she was shown a seat across from Richard. A fire blazed merrily in what had once been the Legate's quarters in the city garrison.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," She began, her tone pleasant. "I am particularly grateful that we did not need to… encourage the Saderans to surrender. Such actions would have been costly. We would have done so, had you asked, as with the trade you have aided in that flows to and from Alnus, we are in your debt."
Richard noted her appearance. It was clear that her reason for being the 'face' of the organisation was her looks, though he had learned through Dimmu that she was a member of their leadership through her skills as well.
Given the way she sat and dressed, he suspected that her skills lay, at the very least, in manipulation. Given the organisation was, effectively, a merchant guild in the city, one more willing to reach into politically sensitive or neglected areas, he could imagine how she put those skills to use. They had, after all, avoided any problems with the Saderans for many years; despite openly operating as merchants despite their 'other' status, chimera not being considered human or demi-human.
But he had been forewarned and had prepared for her skills. Even if his counter to her skill was… a tad heavy-handed.
"Still," He said. "I should thank you for agreeing to meet with me over a meal. Though, I should let you know, we are still waiting on another guest."
"Oh?" The woman's smile faltered. "Is Lady Tara - sorry, Empress Tara to join us?"
"No," Richard shook his head, feigning disappointment to hide his anticipation. "She is unfortunately back at Alnus, dealing with some issues."
From the nearby balcony, the sound of leathery wings and scrapping claws striking the stone interrupted their conversation.
The half-elf lost some of her colour as she saw the two juvenile dragons trying to stick their heads in through the door and getting in each other's way.
"Hey!" Richard barked at them, without heat. "Your food is being brought to the courtyard, but if you keep trying to break the stonework, you won't get any."
The blue and red dragons froze, giving him their best attempt at pitiable looks. Which for the winged lizards, this amounted to pulling back to make themselves smaller and staring, causing the half-elf to shift in her seat.
"Go on," Richard shooed them off. "It'll be cooling off soon if you don't get down there."
He shook his head as the pair scrambled off the balcony. An unplanned, but advantageous event, he noted.
"My apologies," Richard resumed speaking to the unsettled representative. "Those two are… energetic about food, much like their master."
"They listen to you more than me," His countermeasure grumbled as she entered, taking the final seat after setting her scythe against a wall. "So, what are we eating?"
The half-elf did her best not to stare at Giselle.
"Something from Earth," Richard informed her with a smile. "A tad late in the season for it, but I was able to get several butterball turkeys."
He didn't tell them they were… not considered high-class food on Earth, but then, here, something slathered in layers upon layers of butter, a product that was hard to make with their level of technology and thus expensive? It was a show of wealth, without the expense. Absolutely a high class ingredient to the representative.
Giselle wouldn't care, as long as it tasted good. Fortunately, there were a few people he could borrow chefs from for this, not that he ended up needing to. However, he was admittedly curious why one of the mid-ranked chefs who used to serve Emperor Molt had chosen to seek his patronage.
"So," He said as the food was brought out. "I understand that your group is not interested in borrowing money from me, nor am I willing to fund expeditions in the spring, but that does leave me at a loss of what you are expecting from me."
The representative seemed to recover some of her control.
"Yes, the weaponsmith guild was begging to forge swords for the Long Patrol, weren't they?" She asked. "I also heard they pushed too hard."
"They pestered me and refused to grasp that the Long Patrol is not in the habit of engaging in close combat," Richard frowned. "The former light cavalry's idiocy notwithstanding."
"Oh?" The half-elf blinked. "What happened?"
Richard shrugged.
"They charged into the retreating Saderan infantry. They lost two horses in the act, and one of my people will never ride again," He grunted. "Something that should have never happened, as they are armed with rifles, to engage at long range. All because their former commander was used to cavalry charges, and he had encouraged the unit to carry swords."
He shook his head.
"They are being reorganised into a Dragoon unit, mounted infantry," Richard informed her. "It will not happen again."
Giselle snorted, as she devoured the mountain of food on her plate with a speed that disturbed both Richard's and the representative's appetites.
"I will do my best not to let it happen again," Richard amended, forcing himself to ignore Giselle's gluttonous behaviour, lamenting his mistake to invite her to a full meal, and took several bites from his own plate.
"Well," The representative coughed, averting her eyes from the blue draconid demigod. "We have no intentions of… requesting more from you when we already owe so much. Rather, we wish to understand how we can best aid your administration of the city, to ensure all parties prosper."
"I see," Richard eyed her for a moment. "Well, I will have to invite you to a meeting in the coming days, with a NATO economic advisor. I will warn you now, the city is going to see significant changes, but ones that can be profited from, if you are willing to remain competitive."
"In what manner of competition?"
"Accepting and integrating new ideas and opportunities," He answered. "Send some people to Alnus, to talk to local shop owners, if you want real examples."
"I shall do so, then," The half-elf tried to smile. It became a flinch when Giselle chose that moment to belch, after draining a large mug.
Chapter 101
New
charclone
Well-known member
A.N. Bleh. Essay due tomorrow that was a lot harder to work on than expected, and I have an exam the next day.
Wish me luck.
Sol's might was at his back as Zorzal stood before the assembled legions. The light and majesty of the sun kept the remaining cold at bay, as the Spring dawned with Winter's inevitable defeat.
If Zorzal had considered himself more of a poet, he might have made some witty phrase about the changing of the seasons mimicking the changing of the Empire, the stifling cold of Molt's reign being burned away by Zorzal's dawn, or some such.
But poetry was not Zorzal's art. He considered himself a warrior. A general.
His art was glory and victory.
Not that there would be victory today, as the legions were granted a final set of honours, his Frumentarii spread amongst them and handed their new weapons. Maybe victory would not come tomorrow. But it would be his.
Behind him, demigods shifted. Some were bored, while others were just impatient, according to Sol. Out of all of them, Zufmuut's demigod attracted Zorzal's attention.
She stood as stiff as the soldiers. Her weapon, made from her heart and blood, or so he heard, was at her side. She lacked the physique he preferred, but he wasn't going to try anything there, even if he fought to keep her crimson eyes out of his head. A brighter shade than Tyuule's, that contrasted nicely with her dress and hair.
Zorzal tugged his attention back to the soldiers.
He had delivered his speech, roused their spirits, enflamed their hearts, and denounced his sister. He didn't believe that she had abandoned the gods, as commented by some advisor who had spread the rumours, not with what Sol had told him.
A battle between gods, with himself as one of the proxies?
It was something out of the oldest myths. It was the sort of thing that made enduring legacies.
When, after a millennium of ruling, he ascended, he looked forward to seeing the praises sung in his name about this war, long after his body was gone.
But before that, he needed to defeat his sister and actually win the civil war.
After she was defeated, her nonsense ended, NATO would be next. There, he believed what he said about them. They were godless barbarians. Cowards, too, unlike his men. Perhaps, at one point, they had been men, but their weapons had made them soft. But it would take time. Bouro's informants had finally gotten through, delivering word that the otherworlders were arming her.
There was disturbing news about mercenaries from Elbe and other former vassals, who would need to be put back in line, joining her banner, even a Warrior Bunny army marching against the port near NATO's territory, but Zorzal dismissed them.
The Warrior Bunnies were not sailors. They had never used ships. So, maybe they'd take the city, then drown when they tried to cross. Still, Zorzal made a mental note to ensure the nearby ports were at least partially defended.
A chill broke through the warmth of Sol's rays.
"I'm headed inside," He announced to his aides, before turning around and walking away. The demigods scattered as he left, each to their own desire. Zufmuut's demigod, Zorzal noticed, headed towards the kitchens.
What was her name again? Zorzal briefly wondered. Maple, wasn't it?
"Mabel Forn," Sol whispered into his ear. "Do not risk insulting your equals. You are Emperor, yes. But an Emperor is below the chosen of the gods. You are equal to them in status. Do not forget that."
Zorzal snorted.
"I am not so arrogant as to think I can trample on those of the gods," He huffed. "Now, if she approached me…"
"A separate issue, Emperor," Sol almost sounded frustrated. "Do not forget that your foe will have demigods, as well."
"They aren't going to interfere unless we are losing, anyway," Zorzal laughed as he entered his study, making no comment at the strange shift in topic. It was mildly amusing, to the young Emperor, how Sol wanted to know as little as possible about Zorzal's carousing. He was tempted to indulge a little, just to annoy him and be contrarian. "We won't lose. So it won't matter. Pina's play knights will be crushed by real soldiers. Her legions are the real threat, and we are better equipped."
"Perhaps, but do not become overconfident," Sol cautioned, with a hint of humour. "Now, I believe Bouro has news for you."
"Bouro," The emperor-demigod called out. "I hope the news you bring is about my father's murderer."
"Sadly, Your Imperial Highness, I do not and can offer no excuses," The snivelling weasel crept out of a shadow, failing to hide his discomfort at being found before he could say anything. "However, I do have new news of your sister."
"Oh?" Zorzal sat down, leaning back. "And where does she plan to march?"
"Through the pass near Italica, and head straight to the Imperial City along the main trade route," Bouro said. "Her forces set out several days ago, according to my messenger. Shall I order wyverns or troops to delay their passage?"
"No," Zorzal grinned. "Make sure the wyverns keep running messages. I want to know how she tries, and fails, to crush the border garrison legions. And how much of her forces were equipped with NATO's weapons."
"As you wish," Bouro nodded. "I will ensure your wishes are carried out."
"Gods, these beasts reek," One legionary complained as they marched. "Why'd the Emperor hire them, anyway?"
"Would you rather face the enemy without some demihumans to take hits?" Another grunted as the column marched. Past them, lines of cavalry rode.
The beasts in question rode amongst them. Kobolds lopping alongside, strange dire wolves commanded by mercenaries, towering ogres, even some centaurs.
Further behind them, their normal auxiliaries marched. Elves and orcs made up the bulk. Those, the soldiers were much more comfortable with, but the new war beasts and demihumans were unknown. Poor reputations and unsightly appearances set the soldiers on edge.
"Whatever the Emperor commands," A third joined the conversation. "I'll obey. Especially with these new weapons!"
The third legionary strokes the tube attached to his spear.
"I'll obey, he's the Emperor," The first snorted. "Not to mention, we have the gods on our side. Just a matter of time until we march back through the Gate and teach the barbarians the error of their arrogance."
The second soldier rolled his eyes.
"Personally, I just want to serve, like my father and his father did."
"An honourable intention," A fourth voice cut in. "But you would do well to serve with distinction and loyalty."
All three of the legionaries flinched as they glanced over at the strangely dressed soldier riding alongside them. The uniform was new, a form of bright, gilded plate mail, with a wolf's head emblem on its breast. A Frumentarii.
"Yes, Frumentarii!" The second legionary barked after a moment of marching in tense silence.
"Carry on," The Frumentarii just shrugged, and galloped ahead to join the rest of his unit.
"We got lucky," The first legionary sighed, the soldiers around them nodding, many pale.
"So, I know they're the eyes and ears of the Emperor, but…" A fourth soldier joined in, his armour polished and his face still with obvious signs of youth. "How bad are they?"
"Their commander is a ruthless bastard," The first grumbled. "But the worst part? I heard they have the authority to order decimation."
A silence fell over the unit.
"Thank the gods we didn't provoke him, then," Fourth sighed in relief. "Would they have…?"
"Maybe, it's just rumours," The second said. "But, well, with what happened to the Patricians and the Equestrians…"
The rest of the march was silent until they made camp for the night.
"Mind if I join you?" The fourth legionary asked the other three, late that night, carrying a bowl of soup.
"Go ahead," The second grunted. "Just don't steal any of the food."
"Wouldn't dream of it," The fourth snorted. "So, what units are you with?"
"Fire spear launchers," The first nodded, adding fuel to their campfire. "Same as this idiot here."
"So am I," The third grinned. "Love at first sight. That fire spear… ah, I'll leave more than a few of those Knights of the Rose in shock at my prowess."
His crude joke was accompanied by a waggling of his eyebrows.
"If your spear is burning, no woman will have you," The second gave him a look. "Go see a healer before you ruin the good whores along the campaign. I hate it when my spear itches."
All four of them burst into laughter.
"So, boy," The first soldier turned to the fourth. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen summers," He replied. "You?"
"Eighteen, with a year's experience out east," The first replied, before nudging the second with his shoulder. "Same as this lug next to me. Oh, and you didn't say what your unit was."
"Fire Spear carriers," The fourth replied. With a proud smile, he added. "I got a citation for the speed of my rearming."
"Well, I look forward to your aid in tending my spear," The third made another bawdy joke, this one earning eyerolls. "Aside from the other two, I served in the town watch before I enlisted. Nineteen."
"Most of the reborn legions are young," The second nodded. "And to correct my friend here, I'm twenty, but I did serve for a year elsewhere before being called to the capital to join the new legions."
"What happened to your old one?" The fourth legionary asked out of curiosity.
He was rewarded with a dark look from all three of the others.
"Sent further East," The first said for himself and the second.
"North," The third said. "The Emperor doesn't trust their commanders, so they were stripped of some cohorts and sent to other garrisons, to free others. I spent most of the winter helping Centurions train new recruits like you."
"Personally," The second said. "To change the topic back to weapons… I prefer to stick my sword into people."
"One sword for the ladies, the other for the foe, and don't mess them up?" The first quoted an old marching song.
"That," The second soldier nodded to his friend. "And because it's how my father and grandfather fought. I'm alright with this fire spear but… I prefer to face my opponent down, rather than from afar."
"I'm content not having to clean blood from my blade," The first soldier said. "But we'll face the foe regardless."
"To the Empire, the Emperor, the gods, and may Emroy take our souls," The third raised a mug in cheers. "We fight as soldiers, bound as a legion."
Wish me luck.
Sol's might was at his back as Zorzal stood before the assembled legions. The light and majesty of the sun kept the remaining cold at bay, as the Spring dawned with Winter's inevitable defeat.
If Zorzal had considered himself more of a poet, he might have made some witty phrase about the changing of the seasons mimicking the changing of the Empire, the stifling cold of Molt's reign being burned away by Zorzal's dawn, or some such.
But poetry was not Zorzal's art. He considered himself a warrior. A general.
His art was glory and victory.
Not that there would be victory today, as the legions were granted a final set of honours, his Frumentarii spread amongst them and handed their new weapons. Maybe victory would not come tomorrow. But it would be his.
Behind him, demigods shifted. Some were bored, while others were just impatient, according to Sol. Out of all of them, Zufmuut's demigod attracted Zorzal's attention.
She stood as stiff as the soldiers. Her weapon, made from her heart and blood, or so he heard, was at her side. She lacked the physique he preferred, but he wasn't going to try anything there, even if he fought to keep her crimson eyes out of his head. A brighter shade than Tyuule's, that contrasted nicely with her dress and hair.
Zorzal tugged his attention back to the soldiers.
He had delivered his speech, roused their spirits, enflamed their hearts, and denounced his sister. He didn't believe that she had abandoned the gods, as commented by some advisor who had spread the rumours, not with what Sol had told him.
A battle between gods, with himself as one of the proxies?
It was something out of the oldest myths. It was the sort of thing that made enduring legacies.
When, after a millennium of ruling, he ascended, he looked forward to seeing the praises sung in his name about this war, long after his body was gone.
But before that, he needed to defeat his sister and actually win the civil war.
After she was defeated, her nonsense ended, NATO would be next. There, he believed what he said about them. They were godless barbarians. Cowards, too, unlike his men. Perhaps, at one point, they had been men, but their weapons had made them soft. But it would take time. Bouro's informants had finally gotten through, delivering word that the otherworlders were arming her.
There was disturbing news about mercenaries from Elbe and other former vassals, who would need to be put back in line, joining her banner, even a Warrior Bunny army marching against the port near NATO's territory, but Zorzal dismissed them.
The Warrior Bunnies were not sailors. They had never used ships. So, maybe they'd take the city, then drown when they tried to cross. Still, Zorzal made a mental note to ensure the nearby ports were at least partially defended.
A chill broke through the warmth of Sol's rays.
"I'm headed inside," He announced to his aides, before turning around and walking away. The demigods scattered as he left, each to their own desire. Zufmuut's demigod, Zorzal noticed, headed towards the kitchens.
What was her name again? Zorzal briefly wondered. Maple, wasn't it?
"Mabel Forn," Sol whispered into his ear. "Do not risk insulting your equals. You are Emperor, yes. But an Emperor is below the chosen of the gods. You are equal to them in status. Do not forget that."
Zorzal snorted.
"I am not so arrogant as to think I can trample on those of the gods," He huffed. "Now, if she approached me…"
"A separate issue, Emperor," Sol almost sounded frustrated. "Do not forget that your foe will have demigods, as well."
"They aren't going to interfere unless we are losing, anyway," Zorzal laughed as he entered his study, making no comment at the strange shift in topic. It was mildly amusing, to the young Emperor, how Sol wanted to know as little as possible about Zorzal's carousing. He was tempted to indulge a little, just to annoy him and be contrarian. "We won't lose. So it won't matter. Pina's play knights will be crushed by real soldiers. Her legions are the real threat, and we are better equipped."
"Perhaps, but do not become overconfident," Sol cautioned, with a hint of humour. "Now, I believe Bouro has news for you."
"Bouro," The emperor-demigod called out. "I hope the news you bring is about my father's murderer."
"Sadly, Your Imperial Highness, I do not and can offer no excuses," The snivelling weasel crept out of a shadow, failing to hide his discomfort at being found before he could say anything. "However, I do have new news of your sister."
"Oh?" Zorzal sat down, leaning back. "And where does she plan to march?"
"Through the pass near Italica, and head straight to the Imperial City along the main trade route," Bouro said. "Her forces set out several days ago, according to my messenger. Shall I order wyverns or troops to delay their passage?"
"No," Zorzal grinned. "Make sure the wyverns keep running messages. I want to know how she tries, and fails, to crush the border garrison legions. And how much of her forces were equipped with NATO's weapons."
"As you wish," Bouro nodded. "I will ensure your wishes are carried out."
"Gods, these beasts reek," One legionary complained as they marched. "Why'd the Emperor hire them, anyway?"
"Would you rather face the enemy without some demihumans to take hits?" Another grunted as the column marched. Past them, lines of cavalry rode.
The beasts in question rode amongst them. Kobolds lopping alongside, strange dire wolves commanded by mercenaries, towering ogres, even some centaurs.
Further behind them, their normal auxiliaries marched. Elves and orcs made up the bulk. Those, the soldiers were much more comfortable with, but the new war beasts and demihumans were unknown. Poor reputations and unsightly appearances set the soldiers on edge.
"Whatever the Emperor commands," A third joined the conversation. "I'll obey. Especially with these new weapons!"
The third legionary strokes the tube attached to his spear.
"I'll obey, he's the Emperor," The first snorted. "Not to mention, we have the gods on our side. Just a matter of time until we march back through the Gate and teach the barbarians the error of their arrogance."
The second soldier rolled his eyes.
"Personally, I just want to serve, like my father and his father did."
"An honourable intention," A fourth voice cut in. "But you would do well to serve with distinction and loyalty."
All three of the legionaries flinched as they glanced over at the strangely dressed soldier riding alongside them. The uniform was new, a form of bright, gilded plate mail, with a wolf's head emblem on its breast. A Frumentarii.
"Yes, Frumentarii!" The second legionary barked after a moment of marching in tense silence.
"Carry on," The Frumentarii just shrugged, and galloped ahead to join the rest of his unit.
"We got lucky," The first legionary sighed, the soldiers around them nodding, many pale.
"So, I know they're the eyes and ears of the Emperor, but…" A fourth soldier joined in, his armour polished and his face still with obvious signs of youth. "How bad are they?"
"Their commander is a ruthless bastard," The first grumbled. "But the worst part? I heard they have the authority to order decimation."
A silence fell over the unit.
"Thank the gods we didn't provoke him, then," Fourth sighed in relief. "Would they have…?"
"Maybe, it's just rumours," The second said. "But, well, with what happened to the Patricians and the Equestrians…"
The rest of the march was silent until they made camp for the night.
"Mind if I join you?" The fourth legionary asked the other three, late that night, carrying a bowl of soup.
"Go ahead," The second grunted. "Just don't steal any of the food."
"Wouldn't dream of it," The fourth snorted. "So, what units are you with?"
"Fire spear launchers," The first nodded, adding fuel to their campfire. "Same as this idiot here."
"So am I," The third grinned. "Love at first sight. That fire spear… ah, I'll leave more than a few of those Knights of the Rose in shock at my prowess."
His crude joke was accompanied by a waggling of his eyebrows.
"If your spear is burning, no woman will have you," The second gave him a look. "Go see a healer before you ruin the good whores along the campaign. I hate it when my spear itches."
All four of them burst into laughter.
"So, boy," The first soldier turned to the fourth. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen summers," He replied. "You?"
"Eighteen, with a year's experience out east," The first replied, before nudging the second with his shoulder. "Same as this lug next to me. Oh, and you didn't say what your unit was."
"Fire Spear carriers," The fourth replied. With a proud smile, he added. "I got a citation for the speed of my rearming."
"Well, I look forward to your aid in tending my spear," The third made another bawdy joke, this one earning eyerolls. "Aside from the other two, I served in the town watch before I enlisted. Nineteen."
"Most of the reborn legions are young," The second nodded. "And to correct my friend here, I'm twenty, but I did serve for a year elsewhere before being called to the capital to join the new legions."
"What happened to your old one?" The fourth legionary asked out of curiosity.
He was rewarded with a dark look from all three of the others.
"Sent further East," The first said for himself and the second.
"North," The third said. "The Emperor doesn't trust their commanders, so they were stripped of some cohorts and sent to other garrisons, to free others. I spent most of the winter helping Centurions train new recruits like you."
"Personally," The second said. "To change the topic back to weapons… I prefer to stick my sword into people."
"One sword for the ladies, the other for the foe, and don't mess them up?" The first quoted an old marching song.
"That," The second soldier nodded to his friend. "And because it's how my father and grandfather fought. I'm alright with this fire spear but… I prefer to face my opponent down, rather than from afar."
"I'm content not having to clean blood from my blade," The first soldier said. "But we'll face the foe regardless."
"To the Empire, the Emperor, the gods, and may Emroy take our souls," The third raised a mug in cheers. "We fight as soldiers, bound as a legion."