by Eric Ugland
“Change, now,” he said. “And keep no weapons with you. You will be searched. Put your old things in the closet in front of you.”
While I undressed and redressed, he did the same, and we looked alike. Blue pants, white shirt, stiff white coat buttoned up with golden buttons. Blue gloves, black shiny shoes. There was an imperial crest on my left breast.
“Come,” my guide said, spinning on his heel. We raced back through the halls. There were no windows where we were, but there were plenty of doors, stairs, and color-coded arrows.
“What do the colors mean?” I asked.
“They lead to specific areas of the palaces,” he said. “You will be told colors to follow when you are given a delivery. Blue Blue Blue for the Emperor’s home. Blue White Blue for the Grove Palace. Green Green Black for the Farms. Given the seemingly perpetual construction of the place, and the relentless addition of guests and family members, it was necessary.”
Two turns, and we were at a set of double doors. My guide stopped quickly, so quickly that I almost ran into him.
He turned around, then took a step back because I was so close.
“Through here is the Imperial Kitchen,” he said. “Touch nothing inside, unless it is given to you. If you touch something, they will assume you are trying to poison his Imperial Majesty, and they will throw out the food and likely imprison you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You will wait inside until his majesty’s meal is prepared, and you will bring it to him. Do not deviate from the path you are given to follow. If you do, they will assume you are trying to poison the—”
“I get it.”
“I hope so. There will be a guard who escorts you to the Emperor, so do as he tells you. Questions?”
Before I had the chance to even tell the man I didn’t have questions, he nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Best of luck.”
He stepped around me and marched down the hall, his sharp footsteps clacking off the shiny stone floor.
I pushed through the double doors.
It was a kitchen, pretty much like any of the ones I’d worked at in my previous life. Lots of fire, lots of bodies, lots of knives, lots of yelling. There were also a bunch of men and women who looked like me, in starched white coats with gloves, all lined up against the wall. They were all waiting behind small wheeled carts, like fancier versions of hotel room-service carts. But they all had different sigils on their uniforms. I was the only one with an Imperial crest.
Someone saw me walk through the door. He didn’t look at my face. He looked at my chest, then snapped at me.
“Here,” the man said, and pointed to a spot next to a cart with a blue table cloth over it. “You’re almost late.”
“Apologies,” I said. “First day.”
“No one cares,” the man said.
I walked over to my designated spot, and stood there.
“Who’s your daddy that you got this gig on your first day?” someone asked next to me.
I looked over and saw a red-headed woman, about my age, a little shorter than me. Her smile told me she was making a light-hearted jab.
“It wasn’t who had me,” I said, “so much as who I had, who got me this gig.”
She laughed.
“Gretchen,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Gretchen,” I said. I was about to give her a fake name, but I wondered what information these people had been given about me. Maybe this was a test of sorts. “Clyde.”
“The guy who did it before you, he was a real dickburger.”
“Dickburger? Not sure I’m familiar with that.”
“Stuck up. Thought he was hot shit because he was the Imperial Waiter. Treated the rest of us like we were his lessers. Ordered us around, tried to order Chef around, that sort of thing. Basically made everyone else here miserable. Used to say he had the ear of the Emperor, tried to peddle that into meaning something outside of here. At least that’s what I heard.”
“Dickburger sounds like a good word for him.”
She shrugged. “It fits.”
“Blueboy,” shouted the man who’d given me my position, “food is up.”
“That’s you,” Gretchen said. “Say hi to the Emperor for me.”
“You want me to?” I asked with a smile.
Her face paled and she shook her head. “Do not.”
I chuckled as I pushed my cart forward. Covered dishes were set on the cart in a specific way, all watched over by a burly guard with arms as big as my legs and a massive sword on his hip. He glared at me. But, then again, he seemed to be glaring at everyone.
As soon as the cart was laden with the Emperor’s dinner, a rather substantial amount of food, the guard nodded at me.
“Blue blue blue. Push,” he said.
And I did, following him.
We left the kitchen, and a second guard came along and followed us.
It was another maze of tunnels, though a tad less intimidating now that I knew we were following the three blue arrows everywhere. Eventually I lost track of the turns we took, and, after awhile, I just let everything go and pushed the cart.
Finally, after who knows how long, we got to a door. It was painted blue and had lots of gold on it. The guards opened it up to reveal a long ramp. Up the ramp the three of us went, still in silence. I didn’t dare speak to them. At the top of the ramp, there was a slight lip, and we went from hard stone to deep carpets. It was suddenly much harder to push the cart anywhere.
Left, right, right, long hallway and through a door. Suddenly there was another door with two guards standing in front of it. They separated, and the huge guard and I went inside.
And inside was the Emperor.
Chapter 132
The room was something between a library and an office. There was a huge table that took up nearly half of the floor space. On the table was a three-dimensional map of what I assumed was the Empire. I noticed, off to one side, was another, smaller table, with a map of the city laid out. A large fireplace held what seemed to be picture-perfect logs, but there wasn’t a fire going at the time. It seemed a fire could be lit at any moment, however. There was a large leather couch in front of it, and the opposite wall held a series of large windows looking out over a fountain. It was dark out.
An older man leaned over the table, muttering to himself. He was dressed impeccably. Every item fit him perfectly. But it was the ordinariness of the garb that threw me a little. Average trousers, shirtsleeves rolled up. He looked like any other man I’d walked by anywhere in the Senate District. The only real difference was the slight crown on his head. Just a thin platinum band, about as wide as a finger. His hair had been blonde at one point, but was now in the middle ground of turning to white. He had a powerful build, like a warrior who’d never stopped fighting or training just because of age. And there were plenty of visible scars on his arms.
The burly guard put a huge hand on my arm, and I understood, quickly, it was time for me to wait.
The old guy continued to look at the map. He grabbed a stick, and moved something on the table. Then he shook his head, and undid whatever he’d done.
“Carson,” the old man said, “you may leave me with him.”
“Yes, your majesty,” the giant guard said. He bowed his head for a second and then strode out of the room.
As soon as the door shut, the Emperor’s head turned to me. I was struck by his eyes. The intensity of his gaze reached me all the way across the room.
“Yo-yo-your dinner,” I stuttered, somehow suddenly nervous in front of this guy.
“Bring it over, if you wish,” he said, a hint of smile.
I shook myself, and then rolled the trolley over, doing my best to remember that this was just a dude like me, differences in station weren’t nothing to a kid from New York.
“Leave it there,” he said, pointing over towards the couch. “Come look at the table with me if you would.”
I left the cart and walked to th
e table. I was impressed with the detail, and blown away by the size of the Empire. It was huge. And there were mountains everywhere.
“Impressive,” I said.
“Given the cost, I would hope so,” the Emperor replied. “Enchanted to be updated as my country grows. Or shrinks. You have something for me?”
“Yes, your majesty,” I said.
I pulled the sheaf of papers out of my pants, and passed them over to the Emperor.
He took them, and started reading while pacing back and forth. As he finished each page, he let it drop on the floor.
I took the chance to look at the table again. We, the city of Glaton, sat at the base of a huge range of mountains which were covered with tiny trees and dotted with tiny blue lakes. It really felt like I could reach out and touch them.
“You can touch it if you like,” the Emperor said. “But it’s mostly an illusion. Feels a bit like sand.”
I looked over at him, but his attention was back on the papers, as if it had never strayed.
Naturally, I had to try. I reached out and touched the ocean at the south end of the Empire.
Sand. Kind of. More like the kinetic sand. And I couldn’t grab it or move it. It was somehow sand that was solid. Very strange, but a bit disappointing.
“So my brother aims to kill me,” the Emperor said.
I glanced his way and saw him leaning against a bookshelf. All the papers were strewn about the floor.
“I don’t suppose you’ve gleaned a means or a time?” he asked.
“Unfortunately not,” I replied. “Just that he’s planned it to happen soon. Ish.”
“Soonish? You’ve got the talk of a spy down, that’s for sure.”
“I’m not a spy, your majesty.”
“I wonder what it is you are, given the lengths it took to get you to me. You must have some powerful friends.”
“I have friends who care for you enough to give up all they have to get me to you. None of us are powerful. Frankly, I’ve probably got more powerful enemies than friends.”
“I suppose that would be true, given that you seem to have chosen my side over my brother’s. I wonder why that is? You who are so new here.”
“I am new to the city,” I said, “but I’m an Imperial Citizen.”
He stood up and walked over to the map of the Empire.
“What is it you see here?” he asked, spreading his hands out.
“The Empire of Glaton in map form.”
“That it is. Down to every tree. I dare say it might have every blade of grass. I’ve never really seen the point of checking. If you would, my loyal subject: point out your home town.”
I looked at the map. At all the towns spread out across it. The villages and hamlets. And the cities. Almost at random, but not quite, I pointed to one of the smallest villages I could find, roughly halfway between Glaton and the coast with quite a distance to the big road that ran between all the various cities.
“Skegrund?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Just outside, really,” I said.
“Time was, I would have ordered horses saddled, provisions made ready, and I would have ridden with you to the village, just to see you continue your charade. I admire one who is willing to commit to such a story. But I fear my life is running out, whether it comes from Valamir or another quarter. I just don’t have the time for such dalliances any longer. So perhaps you could humor an old man, and tell me where you are really from.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, really trying to figure out what to say.
“You realize I am the Emperor. I could have any sort of folk here to compel you to talk. From the brutes to the mages.”
“Another world,” I said. “I’m from another world.”
“I knew it,” he said with a clap of his hands. “I knew it. I had my thoughts about it, and I wanted to say from the start, but it’s better to hear you say it.”
He walked up to me, and peered at my face, pulled at my skin a bit.
“Did you get to choose a new form?” he asked.
I nodded. “No elves where I’m from.”
“Magic?”
“None.”
“Fascinating. I would like to talk to you more about this.”
“You know about the other world?”
“There are countless other worlds. And I know about some of them. I know that there are some who come to this world from others. Though why they come here, I must say I’m a bit fuzzy on.”
“There’s a gang in town that has at least a few of us other-worlders. The Iron Silents.”
“A gang? A criminal group?”
“A criminal enterprise, yeah.”
“Though aren’t you criminal?”
“I have been known to, uh, subvert the law.”
“Should I have you arrested?”
“Probably.”
He laughed, and walked over to his dinner. With indifference, he pulled the tops off and looked underneath. A large steak. Fried potatoes. Green vegetables. Something that might have been a flan. He popped a potato into his mouth.
“I believe it was you who did something at that party I didn’t attend,” he said. “Something along the lines of removing some valuables from a lord or something?”
“That might be true.”
Another smile from the man as he threw a potato in the air and caught it in his mouth.
“That’s where I learned your brother is working with Lord Tollendahl, who is working with the White Hand and Carchedon.”
“Lord Tollendahl is working with the White Hand?” the Emperor asked. “Now that is very interesting. I’ve heard rumors about this White Hand. Problematic group.”
“They’re big into kidnapping and selling folk down the river.”
“And there we have the heart of my problem with Carchedon. They prefer to get their slaves from other shores. And as long as they need slaves to keep their industry alive, they’re going to keep buying our people, and we’re going to keep going to war.”
“Why haven’t you stopped the White Hand?”
“I may seem all-powerful,” the Emperor said, “but I am just a single man. There are limits to what I can do. Especially within the city. What would you expect me to do? Unleash the Legion to track down a group of civilians? It wouldn’t end well.”
“Thingmen?”
“That turns out even less well then you might think.”
“I have heard that.”
“Then you understand. But I promise I will look into the White Hand. Or, to be more honest, I will tell some of my underlings to look into them.”
He gave me a wry smile and tossed another potato up in the air.
But this one, he missed.
His face went pale, and he leaned forward to grab the table, his hand rigid.
“Oh my gods, they found him,” he said, staring off into the distance. “I don’t know how, but they found him.”
“What?” I asked, stepping forward to try and help the guy. “Who?”
“No time,” he said, his breath coming ragged and hoarse. “All that matters is they found him, and they killed him. So they killed me.”
“Wait, what?”
“You have little time here,” he said, pushing off the table to a mostly standing state. “To the window, it is the only way you can get out of here fast enough. Help me over there.”
I got my shoulder under his arm, and together we made it over near the window. The difference in him was shocking. His skin was grey and clammy, and cold sweat came off him in seeming rivers.
“Wait,” he said, and I paused. He reached over to the window, and undid the latch, pushing it up. Cold air rushed in. “Trapped. Only. Responds. To. My. Hand.”
“What’s happening here?” I asked.
He slumped to the floor, leaning his back against the wall, and looking up at me. He had a loose sort of smile on his face, almost like relief.
“I am dying, thief,” he said. “It would appear y
our warning was far too timely.”
“But how?”
“Ah, a bit of magic and a secret ill kept. But you should still be rewarded, thief, for your loyalty.”
He reached out and grabbed me by the neck. In a stunning display of strength, he pulled me to my knees, forcing our foreheads to touch.
Witness! You have gained the indicium: Imperial Mark of Honor.
The Imperial Mark of Honor signifies that you have done great service to the Empire and is one of the most prestigious personal decorations that may be awarded. It is only awarded by the Emperor. Imperial citizens will look upon you favorably. You are no longer required to pay taxes to the Empire, you are no longer required to fulfill involuntary military service to the Empire. Should a title be available, you are deemed worthy of the peerage, and may ascend to the aristocracy at the pleasure of the Emperor or any Imperial title holder. This Indicium is not hereditary beyond the first generation.
He released me, and I fell back on my butt. His face seemed to be devoid of blood almost entirely, and his eyes scanned the room aimlessly. His hands, however, seemed to know exactly where they were going. He fiddled with his ring, pulled it off and shoved it against a baseboard.
The board popped open. The Emperor reached in and felt around for a second before he pulled out a small folded piece of parchment held closed with a blue wax seal.
He held the paper and the ring out.
“Take these,” he said. “Do with them what you feel is right.”
You have been offered a quest by the Emperor of Glaton:
Do the Right Thing
The Emperor has given you a legal document and a signet ring, but not given you instruction what to do with them. Do what you will.
Reward for success: Unknown
Quest cannot be refused.
I took the ring and the papers. The ring was huge, a relative monstrosity of precious metals and gems. It was the Imperial signet ring. I looked at the parchment. It was folded into a small envelope of sorts, perhaps two inches to a side. The wax had the signet ring’s imprint on it.
“I don’t know what—” I started, but he shook his head.
