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Epic fantasy! Completed book looking for reviews and advice! Please check it out |
| CHAPTER ELEVEN As Lady Tyrn’s servant slowly led the way toward the southwest wing, he had some time to think. The more he thought back over all that had happened the past week, the more unanswered questions he found. Most of the questions regarded the recent attacks by the Darklings and their motives. He knew from past experience that everything had a motive, even if it wasn’t human. Weather it be hunger, power, money, or any one of the primal needs, there was always something that made someone tick. Looking back on the first attack, the Darklings were organized and dedicated to their cause. Articus didn’t know if he could think of the Darklings as humans, but, from what he had gathered so far, it was hard not to think of them otherwise. They knew whom to strike, and that meant intelligence. Not only that but coordinating the attacks on both Nicolas and the Head Mistress also meant there was a leader behind them. It still didn’t add up to Articus. If Darklings just appeared out of the sky, how did they get from a farmer’s field to be part of an organized attack against a powerful enemy? He knew there was something missing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps the Darklings could control where the hole would open up next. That thought mad him shutter. Their small group rounded the last corner of the Ring, and they came to the entrance of the southwest wing. Two Devotees were stationed at the mouth of the corridor, both looking bored. Upon seeing their guide, they stepped aside for them to pass. A few spans farther down, they came to a door guarded by two Bloods. Unlike the Devotees, they were dangerously alert. Articus could tell who they were by the red tear drop shaped tattoo on the back of one of the soldier’s hands. Seeing Articus, they gave a series of knocks to the door before stepping aside for the small group. He wasn’t surprised that the two privates didn’t salute him. In the Blood, chain of command was different. Even if General Briar had accompanied them, they still wouldn’t have shown respect. He expected Mia to stay outside but she kept to his side, for which he was grateful. Articus thought his muscles had finally stopped changing, but he didn’t want to risk falling on his face in front of the heir to the Ce’l Throne. Their guide led them through a small room just inside the entrance that housed four more Bloods. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to hand over your weapons,” said a man who had the golden stripe of a Legate pinned to his shoulders. Articus removed his da’kka, his sword, and the two dart knives he had hidden on himself. The soldier’s eyebrows rose at the later in silent surprise. He knew they wouldn’t have caught them even if they had patted him down, and he wanted to give the Blood a smirk but thought better of it. With a nod to the servant, they filed passed the guards. The Ce’lian servant asked them to wait there and walked off through another door. They waited patiently until a woman appeared in servant livery. “My Lady will have you now, Centurion.” she said with a low curtsey. They followed her into the next room, which was another waiting room, but bigger--much bigger. The Lady Tyrn came in just as they did from yet another room. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous like all the women he had seen lately, but she was pretty. Just a few inches shorter than Mia, Tyrn looked as tall as he. Something about her stance reminded him of Guinavev. “Centurion Articus Lykos, we finally meet,” the Lady Tyrn said. Articus released Mia and bowed deeply. He caught Mia from the corner of his eye follow his example. She gracefully made an impossibly deep curtsied before grabbing Articus’s unsteady body. “My Lady, you honor me,” he said simply as he straitened. This is surreal. “Would you join me for some wine and dessert? These Reapers have surprisingly good taste.” “I would, thank you, my Lady.” As Articus followed her back into the room she had come from, Tyrn said, “Would you wife like some as well?” Articus stumbled and almost took Mia with him. “I’m sorry, a bad joke,” the Ce’lian woman mused as she rounded the corner of a large heavy oak table that stood in the very center of the room. It was a dinning room and two plates had already been laid out for them. She motioned him to sit down. “I’m sure you are wondering why I’ve called you here.” Articus nodded absently, “The thought had crossed my mind.” Mia lowered him down into his seat before taking up her place along the wall. The moment they were both seated, two servants entered with trays laden with plates of dessert. As they were laying the trays out in front of them, Tyrn said, “When I asked General Briar Ta’lee about the two Ce’lian men who had recently come under the care of Tekal, your name was mentioned frequently. He speaks very highly of you as a strategist as well as a friend. I was hoping to use both of those qualities.” She goes right to the point with underlying expectations--definitely Guinavev. Articus reached for a piece of cake and, taking his time cutting a piece off with his fork, popped it into his mouth. Tyrn took her own bite as well and waited patiently for him. “The General gives me more credit then I deserve, My Lady.” he said cautiously. “But my loyalties are to the Empire, if that’s what you are asking.” For some reason, he felt as if there was a trap closing in around him that he couldn’t quite see. “What are your thoughts on Tekal in general?” She asked, ignoring his bait. Setting the fork down, he took a sip of wine. As he set his glass down, he said, “A very powerful nation.” She blinked. “That’s it?” He smiled and shrugged. “It would be better if I knew what you are trying to do, but I don’t think I’ll be hearing it even if you tell me. Now, if you want my thoughts from a military standpoint, I think Tekal has a very dangerous tool at its disposal and, if it wasn’t for the Darklings, I’d be worried.” She pursed her lips and took another sip. Slowly, the Lady said, “At the Summit, I’ll be announcing that the trade embargo with the northern lands will be lifted.” He nodded. “I thought as much. But that’s not what is worrying you, is it, my Lady?” Tyrn’s eyes narrowed. “He was right about one thing,” she muttered to herself. Articus was enjoying his new eavesdropping super hearing. “Yes, you are right,” she said finally. Articus waited expectantly but she didn’t offer anything else. Tyrn eye’s drifted to Mia, and Articus slowly grasped part of the problem. If she lifted the embargo and the doors to the Empire were opened, slavery would soon become an issue. While at first it may only be the black markets, sooner or later a few members of the Council of Thirteen would propose the idea of letting slaves be legal. It was a catalyst, but that was only one small problem. Where does Tekal fit in this? “May I ask why you want to lift the embargo? I think the saying ‘if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it’ would apply to this.” Instead of answering, she asked, “What do you do when you want to pet a stray dog?” Articus hadn’t expected the question, but the answer came to mind quickly, “You make sure you have a stick in the other hand.” She smiled, returning, “That pretty much sums up my problem.” She beats around the bush as much as Nina does. “So you are worried that your stick isn’t big enough?” Articus offered. She nodded. “If the dog is Tekal…with all due respect, my Lady, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. From a clearly tactical standpoint, there would be no sense in doing it.” Tyrn raised her hand to stop him, “You are jumping to conclusions.” Articus stopped the growl that had been forming in his throat. How was he to help if she didn’t tell him anything? He set his glass of wine down almost a little too heavily. Heir to Ce’l Throne or not, I’m done jumping through hoops. The realization dawned on him that he most likely wasn’t going back to the Empire and that he could care less about the woman sitting in front of him. Why was I nervous before? She is just another Celia. The Lady took a bite of her apple pastry and closed her eyes in bliss. When she swallowed the piece, she said, “Lifting the embargo isn’t the only thing that I’ll be announcing. Two other items are on my agenda that day, one of which will affect you.” She took another bite and sighed in delight. Articus patiently waited. “I’ll be also lifting the ceiling to all the Guards’ ranks for peasants, but that won’t happen until early next year, officially.” Articus’s eyes widened. “You mean a peasant could become the Primus-General?” Tyrn nodded, “Now will you stop being agitated?” She was amused; much like Nina was with him at times. “My other announcement will be that the seats to the Council of Thirteen and the High Council will be opened to anyone, no matter what family they were born into.” Articus leaned back heavily into his chair and made a low whistle. That. Is. Huge. The Council of Thirteen was the part of the lawmaking body of the Empire’s government. Each House voted for a representative for their House, and that person held a seat in the Council of Thirteen for three years. The High Council was the next step in the law making process; they approved the laws before they were finalized by the Empress herself. The High Council was limited to only three seats. One of the seats was given out by the Empress while the other two were decided by the Thirteen at the end of every election. A peasant could only go as far as Mayor of a town, similar to the ceiling of Centurion in the military. If the seats to the law making part of the government were opened up to the peasants, Articus didn’t know what would happen. The Thirteen Houses wouldn’t be happy at all, for once. As if reading his thoughts, she said, “I’ve already received support from five of the Houses. I plan on restructuring the entire lawmaking body of our government.” “Why would they agree? It doesn’t make sense.” Tyrn smiled. “There will actually be twenty-six seats, thirteen for the peasants and thirteen for the nobles. Each party must agree with each other before a law can pass. There won’t be a High Council after this Summit.” It's smart. I think it would work. Perhaps a pay off here and there from the royals, but that could be easily fixed. “Only problem might be that no laws would be passed,” Articus commented. She shrugged. “Less work for me, then. Once they figure out that they have to work with each other to get things done…who knows what will happen. Right now the government is too corrupt. It’s time to bring them back down to earth.” Articus had a feeling that there had been an incident with one of the royals. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Why are you telling me all of this?” Tyrn stalled herself by taking a sip of her wine. Finally she said, “For a few reasons, to be honest. When this hits the fan, I won’t have many allies. Your reputation as a man who gets things done and your popularity with the peasants would help me greatly. That may sound coldhearted, but it is the truth. Briar trusts you completely and told me I should do the same. Your affiliation to Tekal will also be a great help down the road. I need someone I can count on, and one who has had experience with the northern cultures from a nonpolitical viewpoint. The people are the ones who power the Empire, not the royals. The implications of the trade embargo alone will be a culture shock to everyone.” Articus slowly nodded. “The fact that you will be alive when my daughter’s daughter has taken the throne also helps.” He hadn’t thought on what he was going to be doing the next thousand years. It was one of the things he’d been trying to ignore lately. So many doors, so many opportunities. “And lastly, having a friend who doesn’t bend over backwards to me would be a relief.” He blinked, realizing he hadn’t said ‘my Lady’ as much as he should have been--or prostrating himself as he had planned. “Ummm,” Articus was speechless. That’s called being sideswiped there Articus, a little voice said almost with glee. “I know most people here stay on as Reapers, and I know that this is a lot to put on you so suddenly, but think it over.” And there’s that bloody trap. Articus knew he was being used, somehow. Being handed over a promotion and the ear of the future Empress of the Ce’lian Empire, an Empire that was about to go through some vast changes in the next few years, was too good to be what it was at face value. The red flags were there; he just couldn’t see what they meant. I might just have to trust that Briar knows what he is getting me into. “Enough serious talk. Have you heard of Mistress Guinavev of the Minstrel Guild?” she asked curiously. “I just heard her performance. I’m thinking of offering her an estate if she comes to the Empire.” The change was subtle, but Articus saw it. She’d gone from the heir of the Ce’lian Empire to a simple woman. “Yes, I have. You actually remind me of her.” It was her turn to be taken aback. “You have met her before? I’d love to meet her. She’s...she’s…” “Amazing?” Articus laughed. “Or demanding? I have yet to decide on which.” He pushed a plate of cherry filled pastries towards Mia’s direction. Articus wanted to test his new relationship with Tyrn. Most bluebloods scorned servants who weren’t in their place. Mia hesitated only a moment before stepping forward for the offering. He kept his eyes on Tyrn. Articus didn’t want to believe that Tyrn was putting on an act to manipulate him somehow, but he’d been burned too many times before by bluebloods. She could promise him Deshar, but it wouldn’t be worth a penny till she signed it over in writing--which, in the case of most bluebloods, would never happen. Tyrn followed the plate and looked up to Mia. Gasping, she said, “I apologize. Please have a seat, I forgot my company. I’m used to the stricter type of guests who don’t allow their servants to eat.” Mia hesitated and looked to Articus, but he continued to watch the Ce’lian woman. “I’m not his servant, my Lady. I’m his slave.” “What?” Tyrn demanded as she turned to Articus. I guess she’s the real deal, or she is one helluva politician. Who would have thought it? “She was given to me. I had no say in it; believe me.” Articus gave Mia a sly smile. “All of the students are given a slave since no one is allowed to bring their own here.” Tyrn shook her head in wonder, and then suddenly raised an eyebrow at him. “Demanding you say?” Articus laughed at her delayed reaction and said, “I’d be glad to introduce her to you. She has more stories than the Book of Virtues.” He caught Mia smiling at the comment before she took a bite of the pastry. Articus shot to his feet when his ears caught a faint gurgle and the scruff of boots. There was no mistake about what he heard. As if to reinforce his guess, his sixth sense started tingling. “What is it?” Tyrn asked a bit alarmed. Mia look at him in shock, and then to the door that he was staring at, “Another attack, Master?” “Take Lady Tyrn to the farthest room and lock yourselves in,” he said as he looked around the room. “But I could--“ “That’s an order, Mia. I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Now go!” She stiffened at his tone. Tyrn looked wide-eyed from Articus to Mia. “What’s going on?” She demanded, now close to a panic. Mia grabbed her by the arm and almost dragged her through another doorway. Articus grabbed the heavy oak table and was surprised at how easily he could lift it up. One of these days I’d like to know how much I can lift. That is, if I live through this one, Articus thought darkly to himself. |
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