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“I won’t argue with you. Every person must study that which interests him.”
“Exactly. I’m a specialist in ancient languages, and look where it got me.”
“Don’t say that. Dorgoe won’t even know what to do with your report. And you’re one of only two people in the empire who knows Virilan, aren’t you? There you have it. Remember what I said about making yourself irreplaceable?”
Uni blinked.
“You’ll see what I mean soon enough. I just had an idea. It’s simple, but bold. My servants will bring you a fresh robe, and then I want you to come with me to a certain grand event. They may have stolen the report, but you did not jump off that bridge. That’s what matters.”
Chapter 4. Specialist Work
Other than coming to and from work at the archive, Uni had never visited the sprawling palace grounds. The palace was a state within a state, with its own residents, an army (the Imperial Guards) and everything needed to support life (and a comfortable one, at that) for at least two years if cut off from the rest of the world by some hazard. Uni had always been awed by the palace, and he wondered how and why the ancient Emperors had built such grandiose buildings in which people felt like flies trapped in a bottomless marble canyon.
Uni had a realization. “If the ancient architects were trying to demonstrate the Emperor’s power, they achieved almost the opposite. Our lords look just as small and insignificant as the rest of us in a palace built for giants.”
Ronko and his young companion passed through a series of grand halls, each of which was designed to reflect the architectural style of one of the empire’s many regions. There was welcoming Necredancia, imposing Seregad, elegant and simple Ulin, and nine other regions whose former sovereign glory was all but forgotten, recounted only in certain works of history. Even Herandian chronology counted years starting from the founding of the empire (it was currently the year 403 of the Era of the Sun Kingdom).
Uni realized that Ronko probably knew the answer to a question that had bothered him for many years. Why had the empire retained the old borders of the kingdoms it had vanquished – while it changed everything else? Wouldn’t it have been wiser to draw new provinces and mix up the peoples who had once been enemies?
Ronko laughed when he heard the question. “I see you are a traditionalist, Uni. That is no way for the leader of an unparalleled country to think. The Heavenly Empire is a unique state, and there will never be another like it. We didn’t conquer those other peoples by force alone. If we had, we would have been no better than all the other countries that subjected this land to continual war a thousand years ago. We did not take away people’s property or their freedom. We didn’t even take away their homelands. With each country, we gave them what they needed. Vuravia had always been wealthy, but its citizens detested war and were slow to rise up against enemies. We protected them without asking for anything in return. Seregad, on the other hand, was the most militaristic of the twelve kingdoms. They wanted to conquer their neighbors, but they were enthralled by our culture. Semeria was a backward place, so we showed them how to work metal, helped them drain their bogs and build towns, and taught them how to grow crops with improved yields. The secret of our empire is that we always gave more than we received, but in the end all of them joined us.
“But we still had to conquer some of the kingdoms by arms, didn’t we?”
“Of course. The nobility never wants to give up its privileges. But how hard their subjects are willing to fight for their lords’ privileges is another question entirely. Recall the battle at Mueh, when the combined armies of three kingdoms threw down their weapons and surrendered, even though they outnumbered us. None of those soldiers wanted to die for an old order that gave them nothing but war, hunger, and poverty. They saw no difference between their own rulers and their rulers’ enemies. Norius swore that all the peoples would be a family united, but that each would retain what the Heavenly Lord had endowed them with. He said that land is the people’s flesh and blood, and that it is a terrible crime to separate people from their land.”
“Fine words. But can you tell me why two-thirds of the land in Vuravia belongs to the same wealthy noble families that Norius fought? The peasants have to rent their homeland by the acre to keep their families from starving.”
Ronko raised his eyebrows. “What an interesting conversation for the halls of the palace! The Solar Sentinels have spies in all the taverns, at the play houses, and even in every bath house, but here you are spouting treason in the very heart of our Heavenly Lord’s palace.”
“I apologize, Enel Ronko. I wasn’t thinking…”
“I don’t mind it in the least, but you must be careful around others.” He paused, and then went on. “And about those peasants of yours, they aren’t really all that bad off. Yes, they have hard lives, but that’s just from our point of view as spoiled residents of the capital. Their ancestors made a living on that land in much more difficult conditions. Don’t assume that the men working in this palace are all monsters with frozen hearts. Well, some of us may be a little chilly, but we certainly aren’t stupid. We understand that the empire must support its poorest subjects, and the Emperor frequently makes them handsome presents. Every five years he even forgives debts and arrears of anyone who can prove themselves unable to pay. We do our best to keep taxes low. Just last year, the fee for the use of imperial granaries was reduced by almost one percent. That is not much, but it is something. What matters is the direction we move in. People feel that change is possible, and that it’s change for the better. Things might not change as fast as they would like, but still.”
Ronko turned to his companion to see if he had made an impression. “What? Don’t look at me like I’m an ogre. I know it doesn’t sound inspiring the way I tell it. But you have to understand. The wealthier a man is, the better able he is to protect his assets from imperial tax collectors. That means that the Emperor has to depend for the most part on contributions from simple people.”
“So after four hundred years, everything has returned to the natural condition?”
“That would be a long conversation, Uni. It isn’t as simple as you think, but we’ll have to discuss it some other time. We’ve arrived.”
They entered a small room that was set back from the main palace chambers. Sunlight filtered weakly through the decorative bars on the windows, creating a strong contrast with the bright expanses of the halls they had passed through. Uni was distracted by the familiar smell of varnish coming from behind a small door covered by green drapes, and it was only when he turned his head again that he saw an imperial guard wearing a dress uniform and gilded armor. Ronko gave the man a friendly nod.
“Wait here for now,” he told Uni, looking from side to side as if trying to remember something important. Finally, he straightened his shoulders and slipped between the green drapes, leaving Uni to anxiously await the next turn of events.
He looked around again and noticed a smooth wooden bench along one wall. Feeling insignificant, he asked the guard in a whisper if he might be permitted to sit. The guard said nothing, and Uni was afraid to repeat his question, so he remained standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with his hands, which were now sweaty.
Only the statues on the roof of the archive could be more arrogant than these toy soldiers in fancy dress, Uni thought to himself. The statues, however, remained indifferent to the pigeons that crapped on their heads. Could this brave swashbuckler take the same kind of humiliation just as easily? Vordius said they were trained to withstand anything. Uni allowed himself a tiny smirk. “It’s too bad Vordius didn’t see me on my way here with Ronko. His eyes would have popped out of his head. What would he have said? I bet he would not have dared call me ‘Little Uni.’”
He was startled when the drapes on the opposite wall began to move. An opening appeared, and two men entered the room. One of them was an agile, faceless palace steward wearing a yellow cape embroidered with what looked like a pattern of tree branches. The other was a giant of a man in a hooded, brown cape. The room began to feel too small. Having bent over to fit through the opening behind the drapes, the man now straightened up, removed his hood and looked around. Uni stopped breathing. He had never seen a real, live Arincil before, but there was nothing else the man could be – his copper skin and hooked nose gave him away instantly.
The newcomers were just as surprised to see Uni and stared at him in horror, as if he were a hunter who had been waiting for them in that little-known room, instead of a miserable young man who had contemplated suicide earlier that day. The steward said something to the Arincil in a voice too low for Uni to hear, and both men exited the room, this time using the regular door.
“Wonder of wonders,” Uni thought, still shaking. “An Arincil in the palace. Secret negotiations? Perhaps. I could ask Ronko about it, but I don’t think I will. I’d rather not know if the knowledge is dangerous! I have enough problems of my own…”
He spent quite a while trying to put his thoughts in order, which was difficult business. Why had Ronko brought him here? How could his presence at the Ambassador’s Council do anything to help Ronko? And why was the empire suddenly interested in Virilan? He wondered if the rumors were true, and the two countries were edging toward direct contact.
Uni’s rambling thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected ray of light just beyond the green drapes. An instant later, Ronko reappeared and gestured for Uni to come in.
“Everything’s ready. Go ahead,” he whispered. “And don’t sweat so hard. The people in there are a group of old friends. They got together today to discuss foreign policy. Go in, bow politely, and act like you belong there. Otherwise they’ll laugh at you.”
Uni didn’t have the slightest inkling of how to behave like he belonged in a place where he most certainly did not belong, but he stepped past the drapes and found himself in a slightly larger room with rounded walls. The floor, beautifully laid with panels of Torgendam oak, made no sound under his feet, and Uni almost floated into the center of the room. All eyes were on him. Feeling lost, he did his best to aim his bow at the maximum number of people. It must have looked odd, for laughter glinted in the eyes of several of the people present.
“At least they noticed me,” Uni thought. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. When he looked up at the people sitting in a circle around him, his composure left him. Sitting right in front of him was Degenium Forsey, the Great Lord’s former tutor, now the head of his chancery and secretary of the Imperial Council. The cold steel in the man’s eyes confirmed the rumors that he was a very difficult man to please.
Uni’s glance flickered to the corpulent man next to Forsey. He gulped. He had only seen Licisium Dorgoe once, but that was enough. On a rare visit to the archive, Dorgoe had spent most of his time shouting at Enel Margio for taking too long to come up from the basement and meet with his most important (although entirely unexpected) guest. Uni knew that Dorgoe was important enough to shout at anyone he wanted to, but he was much more interested in how a man like that – almost entirely uneducated and extremely vulgar – had managed to worm his way into the palace bureaucracy and, in a matter of just five years, become one of the most influential figures surrounding the Emperor.
“A meeting of old friends?” Uni’s hands were cold, and his mind raced. “I should have known. I bet Dorgoe has my scroll somewhere on him right now. I much appreciate the favor, Enel Ronko!”
The air in the room was electric. Forsey spoke, his voice crackling with displeasure. “Manelius, I fail to see how this boy could have anything of interest to tell us. I believe you promised us a detailed report, and instead of that you bring us a baby bird that hasn’t got its feathers yet!”
A sharp voice rang out somewhere behind and to the right of Uni. “Quite true, Ronko. Do you really mean to say that your source is this nobody who looks afraid of his own shadow? I thought you had gotten your hands on a live Virilan, or at least someone who had visited that country!”
Uni was deeply offended, but Ronko just chuckled. Uni turned around to get a glimpse of his second critic. To his surprise, the man was highly unusual in both person and dress: his long hair was swept up and tied with a leather thong on top of his head, then falling back down, over his shoulders, in a luxurious black wave. Instead of a long robe, he wore a yellow and red military tunic with short, wide sleeves – the kind that was designed for sword fighting. His nose was aquiline, and his cold, gray eyes radiated enough power to drill through a granite wall.
Dorgoe’s deep, rough voice rang out, and Uni turned to stare at him. “Manelius, my friend, I am surprised you bothered to bring him here.” He looked around at the others. “You all should know that this young man was fired from the archive this morning in the most shameful fashion. For drunken misbehavior, I think it was. An absolute outrage and affront to His Majesty!”
Ronko’s eyes sparkled recklessly. “My friends, I warned you that my source of information is unusual. Virilan has been closed to the rest of the world for so long that its language has been lost to us. Believe me, I have searched far and wide. There are only two people in the empire who know the Virilan language, and one of them stands before you.”
“That’s a lie, Ronko!” Forsey interrupted him rudely. “The only Herandian subject who knows Virilan is Limentius Barko at the archive. He’s over seventy, his eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and he can barely walk. This boy…”
“Is his only student.” Ronko’s voice was low. “He is the author of the manuscript we were just speaking of.”
“Was he drunk when he wrote it?” Dorgoe countered.
“Where is the manuscript, anyway? Forsey bubbled over. “Stop wasting our time, Ronko. Just tell the truth: there is nothing of interest about Virilan in the archive. And since that is the case, I cannot agree to send a delegation to a country about which we know nothing. It’s too dangerous and could lead to unforeseen consequences, even war!”
The dark-haired man behind Uni stood up. “What do you mean you have no information? My men risked their lives forging their way three hundred henos into the dead lands and found a band of Virilans in the very heart of the Great Expanse.” His voice rumbled with anger. “What is your plan? To keep sending us on rash missions while you sit here and pretend that none of it means anything?”
Ronko spoke again. “Honorable Tameto! Everyone in this room has the utmost respect and gratitude for your hard work, but you must not forget that we are speaking of peace, both inside our empire and on its borders. I am more than aware that you would like nothing better than to start a new war, but I’m not sure the rest of our empire’s subjects would agree with you. And I think the rest of the room will agree with me.”
Tameto’s face hardened even further – if that was possible – but, to Uni’s surprise, he folded his arms and said nothing more.
“You have certainly intrigued us, Manelius, but enough of that. I have heard dozens of arguments for and against the delegation, but I have yet to see any concrete facts on the subject. Are we even in a position where we could make an informed decision?”
The man seated to the left of Dorgoe spoke in the calm voice of a man who always takes his time and sees himself as the rector of something like an imperial academy, a man whose job it is to keep learned discussions from getting out of hand. He looked to be about thirty and thus much younger than everyone else on the room (except Uni), and there was something kind and fatherly about the smile he now turned on the patriarchs of imperial politics, weighed down as they were by age and importance. He was the only one who had nodded in response to Uni’s timid bow earlier, and the young man instantly took a liking to him.
“I couldn’t introduce such an important document for discussion without Enel Dorgoe’s approval.” Ronko’s voice dripped with honey. “As soon as the document was ready, I asked Margio from the archive to take a copy to my dear friend Licisium. I hope,” and here Ronko looked deeply into his adversary’s eyes, “that you have already formed an opinion about Virilan? Perhaps it will help turn our dearest Forsey around.”
Uni stared at his protector in awe, but all the others turned their eyes to Dorgoe. Caught off guard – either by Ronko’s nerve or by the breadth of his knowledge – Dorgoe froze for a second, mouth half open, unable to make a sound.
“Is this true, Licisium?” asked the young man to whom Uni had taken a liking. He had his fist over his mouth, but his eyes were laughing. He had a handsome face that was spoiled only by deep wrinkles on his forehead and the sides of his nose. “Why have you kept quiet? Is the drunken manifesto really that bad?”
Dorgoe recovered quickly. “Of course, I read through the document. The information it contains is certainly worth attention, but there are gaps in the report, and some of it is hard to make heads or tails of. I asked Forsey to comment on some parts of it. I expect he can give more detailed answers to your questions.”
“This is a plot!” Tameto leaped up, furious. “Merciful Lord, they think we are fools! Forsey, everyone knows you are against the delegation, but that does not excuse your dirty intrigues or your violation of the Emperor’s direct order!”
Forsey looked ready to spit, so great was his impotent rage, but there was a mix of humor and pity on the face of the young man to the left of Dorgoe.
“My friends, I see that nothing changes with you. But no matter. The Heavenly Light sees all and puts all in its place. Thank you, Ronko, for looking into the matter with detail, as always. I see that only Tameto and I have yet to read this wise opus. Since the young man is here…” He turned, “By the way, what is your name?”
“Uni. I mean, Unizel. Unizel Virando.”
The man smiled. “Unizel is not a Herandian name.”
“I was named for my maternal grandfather, who was born in Seregad.”
“Is that so? That means the blood of warriors flows in your veins. We have that in common. My mother was from that land. Well, since you are here, perhaps you could simply answer our questions?”
“Of course,” Uni answered softly, spreading his arms and then folding them on his chest. “I am ready.” His voice sounded stronger.
Fearsome Tameto struggled to hide a smile under his striking nose, and Dorgoe and Forsey worked quickly to patch the masks of all-knowing noblemen that they wore.
Ronko rescued his protégé by asking the first question. “Remind us, if you will, isn’t Virilan the second largest country after our empire?”
“Some people believe so,” said Uni, sinking with relief into a topic he knew well. “But no one actually knows how big Virilan is today. Almost four hundred years ago, it encompassed five independent kingdoms, each of which was fairly large. The western border lies along the Sandomar Kai ridge, which can only be crossed at the legendary Tueta Pass. Today, the pass is covered by a giant glacier. Many centuries ago, at the dawn of the Virilan era, the master bowman Enevir Chenis stood in that pass and single-handedly repelled an entire army that had been sent to destroy a Virilan monastery. To the north, Virilan is bordered by the Great Expanse, but little is known about that land. To the east, the country ends at the Dancing Ocean, where heavy currents make seafaring dangerous. South of Virilan is the Mirror Sea, and there is a Capotian trading post called Manibortish on the coast. All of Virilan’s trade with the outside world goes through that single location. Foreigners are not allowed to enter the country.”
“We already knew that,” said Dorgoe, sounding snippy. “Tell us more about the country. Who is its ruler? What are their laws and customs like? How many people are there? Are they wealthy? Do they have a large army?”
“I, too, would like to hear more about their military,” Tameto said. “I will add a word when you are done, for I have first-hand information.”
“I will do my best,” said Uni, trying not to lose his train of thought. “Let me see. Their customs are very different from ours. They are ruled by a wise Emperor who lives in an elaborate palace and rarely shows himself to his subjects. Their laws are harsh and extensive, even going as far as to regulate how to get out of bed in the morning. Refugees from kingdoms conquered by the Virilans recount other strange things. Supposedly, they never display signs of happiness or sadness. They know neither fear nor pity, and they are not afraid of the cold. They can go for weeks without food or water, since all they need is air to survive. Some say that their faces are like death masks with icy cold eyes. I have even seen it said that they are actually bloodthirsty demons who only look like humans.” Here, he paused for effect. “Virilans have no parental instincts. Their children are taken away at a tender age and raised by special tutors. All children – male and female – are taught to use weapons, and most private disputes are resolved by duel. Everyone in Dashtornis has heard that the strength of Virilan swords cannot be matched by any other weapon. Their soldiers never tire, and their discipline is unmatched. They never run in battle, even when faced by an enemy with greater numbers. They believe in terrible, fearsome gods who demand blood sacrifice in the form of children from the lands they conquer.”
“Is Virilan often at war with its neighbors?”
“We do not know, unfortunately. You see, all we have to go by is the Viada chronicle, which describes the war of the Fifth Kingdom. The Virilans expelled from their lands all those who did not accept their rules, so we have no more sources of information about the country.”
Again, Ronko stepped in to help. “I have questioned Capotian merchants in great detail. It goes without saying that they are reluctant to share what they know; however, I was able to ascertain that they knew even less than we do. The Capotians merely bring their wares ashore in Manibortish, load Virilan weapons and grain onto their ships and sail back home, often without even seeing a single Virilan. Apparently, they keep to themselves because they have a great suspicion of outsiders.”
“Yes, of course, I forgot to add that,” Uni jumped in. “They believe that all foreigners are beneath them, perhaps not even human.”
Forsey straightened up and looked around the room. “Well, my lords, who still wants to send a delegation to Virilan? It’s obvious that they are incapable of civilized negotiation.”
“I see nothing particularly unusual in what we’ve been told,” said Dorgoe, unexpectedly adopting a friendly tone. “All barbarians believe themselves to be exceptional. That tends to clear up once they gain a greater understanding of our culture.”
“Actually, Virilans are fairly cultured,” Uni said, feeling he needed to stand up for his hobby interest. “I would even say they are too cultured, in the literal sense of the word. They are so polite among themselves that even our customs of palace ceremony fall far short.”
Forsey looked annoyed. “I see that being asked to address this august assembly has gone to the young man’s head,” he grumbled, thrown off by his friend’s warm reception of Uni’s monologue. “Otherwise, he would never dare to cast aspersions on palace etiquette, especially in the presence of…” and he looked around the room with his eyebrows raised. “And another thing. Just a minute ago you said that the Virilans are a fierce people with no understanding of human feeling. As anyone with the slightest education knows, that is a characteristic of barbarians, those who look human but have the hearts of wild animals. Wisdom and etiquette are only possible here, in the greatest Heavenly Empire, where the Bright Deity shines its warmth on all the land. Those lands at the edges of the earth suffer from never seeing the whole face of the Giver of Life, and the people who live there are crude and prone to violence. It would be a rare thing indeed to meet a cultured person in a place like that.”
“You know, Forsey,” Ronko drawled, “the empire has sent ambassadors to barbarians with worse reputations than the Virilans. We are here to discuss the empire’s interests, not to find dubious reasons to shy away from a decision that has been taking shape for a long time.”
“Taking shape?” Forsey spat out. “I spent the last hour explaining the catastrophic consequences to you, but you seem not to have heard me. How can you talk about the Empire’s interests when your own interest is confined to the lining of your pockets? You would sell out the Empire to earn a profit!”
Ronko was about to make an angry reply, but the young man whose face seemed so friendly to Uni took control of the conversation.
“You two seem intent on turning this council into a circus. We gathered here to discuss the Empire’s future in an informal atmosphere, without regard to rank, but that does not mean you are entitled to behave like street fighters.” He took a deep breath. “Now, tell us, Uni, am I correct that all of our knowledge dates to the ancient period when our empire took in refugees from the former Five Kingdoms that are now Virilan?”
“You are absolutely correct. The historical chronicles I based my report on date to that period.”
“Then we’re back where we started,” Tameto burst out. “This librarian – or whatever he is – is useless if you need current information! If you ask me…”
“Be quiet, Necium. We will hear what you have to say,” the man said with composure. He leaned forward slightly, and his emerald eyes fixed on Uni with pensive sadness. “In your opinion, how useful is the information we have?”
“It is out of date, of course, but not useless. You see, Virilans are a very conservative people. Given that their way of life is so different from that of any other country, they have no choice but to maintain vigilance in the defense of the traditions they have fought so hard to keep. No, I think the few changes that may have taken place can only be for the better. Years of peace and stability soften the heart and make it more amenable to temptations from the outside.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed the green-eyed man. “You have said very succinctly something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. A man may despise society, but if you lock him away from that society for ten years, he will lose his mind. Do you remember, Forsey?” He turned the other way. “You said it yourself: cultures are like living organisms. They are born, grow, and fight over resources with other cultures. Just like living organisms, they cannot withstand long periods of solitude. I am convinced that Virilan was ready long ago to come into contact with us. If we help them take that first step, we will be able to derive handsome profit for the empire.”
“Absolutely!” Ronko burst out, pleased at the support. “If we had a treaty on trade, our treasury revenue could double. All of you…” he gestured with his palm at the circle, “…are well aware that we use more grain with each year and that our harvests cannot keep up. Wealthy landowners use every trick in the book to take over the peasants’ fields, but instead of planting grain, they use the land to pasture their animals or grow grapes. We are buying more and more grain every year from the Capotians, and they are turning a fat profit reselling what they buy from Torgendam and Virilan. Why do Capotia’s cities still have a monopoly on trade with Virilan? Why should the Heavenly Lord’s subjects be forced to support these parasites and freeloaders?”
Dorgoe cut him off crisply. “You know the answer to that question as well as I do. Virilans refuse to trade with anyone else.”
“Is that true?” Ronko spread his arms and looked around the room for support. “Did they tell you that in person? The only way to find out for sure is to send a delegation to Virilan and establish direct contact with their ruler. I bet everything I have that he will find it profitable to trade with us directly. The Capotians are making millions of leros off of the both of us every year. It would be in the Virilans’ interest to cut the middleman out.”
“You are being short-sighted, Ronko,” said Forsey, shaking his head. “If you want to benefit the Empire’s treasury, you don’t need to send good men to their deaths in a country populated by demons. Instead, you should help us clean up house. Make the wealthy pay their full share of taxes. Your plan will end in disgrace for our Emperor if the Virilans refuse to speak to our ambassador. And that isn’t all. Do you think the Capotians will sit on their hands if you take away their only source of income? They will renounce their status as our protectorate if you so much as try!”
“Let them try,” Tameto growled. “My cavalry has been sitting idle for too long!”
“See!” Forsey exclaimed, leaping from his seat and pointing a finger at the commander. “Our generals whine that we have tied their arms and legs. Just imagine what will happen if we let them act on their own understanding.” Tameto scowled alarmingly, but Forsey could not be stopped. “Get it through your bronze skull that the Heavenly Empire cannot simply declare war on whomever it wishes!”
“These knock-kneed advisors have clouded your vision,” Tameto said, barely controlling himself. “What is the purpose of the army if not to maintain the unity of the Heavenly Lord’s domains?”
Forsey gave a theatrical sigh. “If it takes explaining the same simple thing many times in order for our military to understand, then I will undertake the task. The Heavenly Empire keeps its disparate peoples together not with fear, but through them understanding the mutual benefits of peace, trade, and prosperity. We declared that we will never force a country to be part of our Empire, and that is the reason why the twelve kingdoms chose Herandia as the symbol of their voluntary unity. How many empires have arisen in these lands over the past two thousand years? And how many have disappeared, no more to be recalled by any man? All of them were founded on brute force. People obeyed them when they had to, but they rose up against them as soon as they had a chance. Our Empire is like a granite obelisk. It has stood for over four hundred years and will stand forever, for we are the first to understand that profit binds people closer than fear of punishment. You must see, Tameto, that we cannot attack Capotia, even if they refuse to recognize our leadership. They are not barbarians to whom the law does not apply. It would be treason against all of our empire’s ideals and a signal for our own provinces to revolt against us! Now think a step further. What if the Capotians turn for help to the Arincils, who have long cast an envious eye on our lands?” He sat down to catch his breath, but he was not done. “Ronko, you had best count the money we will lose if Capotia falls away from the Empire and the losses we will incur if we push our closest ally into the arms of our most dangerous enemy! No, my lords, a delegation to Virilan would be a stupid way to risk destroying the Empire!”
Uni’s head was spinning from everything he had heard. With no preparation whatsoever, he was watching as important advisors decided the fates of millions of people.
“I wish I knew who was right.” At first, Uni had been very much in favor of a delegation to the land of his dreams, but after Forsey’s impassioned speech, a sliver of doubt began to worry him. “Who do I believe, when each side has such solid arguments?”
“Forsey, you should hear yourself talk.” Dorgoe spoke in a soft voice that made Uni’s skin crawl. “Are we bound hand and foot by our own vassals? Is our Emperor nothing but a functionary hired to sit on the Heavenly Throne, prevented from taking a step in any direction because of some ridiculous conditions we might have signed ages ago with a band of traders who have the whole empire by the throat? No, if you put the matter that way, then there’s no way I can agree with you!”
The green-eyed man turned to the secretary of the imperial council with a trusting, almost intimate smile. “I have listened to you carefully, Forsey, but there’s one thing I don’t understand. Where did you get the idea that the Empire has need of allies? They are the ones who should be striving to please us, not the other way around. Everything you said about the ideas of our Founder and the ideals of our Heavenly Empire was correct, but we must not go to the other extreme of allowing small nations to become parasites.”
“Exactly!” Ronko exclaimed. “If you want to benefit from friendship with the Empire, then join it! The Capotians think they are smarter than us because they sit on our shoulders and tell us where to go. I wouldn’t mind being a vassal under those rules. They pay us tribute, but then we turn around and give it back to them threefold when we overpay for Virilan grain. What are we left with? Our peasants pay higher interest every year on their loans for seed, and when they lose their land they join the cabals run by the strong dynasties. After that, just try to collect taxes from them! Each and every one of them manages to get exemptions of one kind or another. If we continue to take good care of the Capotians for another ten years, our treasury will be empty!”
“If you’re looking for allies, I suggest you’d be better off talking to the Virilans,” Tameto finally managed to put in. “My men in the field witnessed the effectiveness of their weapons when we rode to the aid of a Virilan band that was being attacked by nomads. I should say we only wanted to ride to their aid. They were perfectly capable of repelling the attack without us. They are fearsome warriors, and their weapons are beyond anything made anywhere else. I have seen a bronze cuirass that was split in two, front to back, by a Virilan sword. The blade sliced through it like paper. It must have been an impressive blow, but just imagine the blade that could withstand such a feat without breaking!”
“Did you actually see this blade, Necium? You sound so confident,” remarked the green-eyed man.
“With my own eyes! The Virilan warrior must not have had time to remove his sword, so it was left in the body of the dead nomad.”
“What I’d like to know is the name of the rogue selling bronze armor to the barbarians against the law!” grumbled Forsey with a side-glance at Ronko, but no one was listening to him.
