Empire of Avarice

by Tony Roberts

  Jorqel was intelligent enough to realise the nobility would only remain where they were if they treated those beneath them fairly. A hungry people were dangerous, and those that spoke with a wrathful voice doubly so. He was not, as some who had run the empire in the recent past had been, determined to destroy the existing nobility. That way led to civil war. No, he was equally set on keeping and befriending the noble families, but at the same time determined to stop the evil practices that some were currently using.

  The family home of the Sendral was set in a slight vale, bordered with trees and neatly tended shrubs. The house was a single storey construction but sprawled so that the central block was complemented with two wings. One was almost certainly the servant’s wing, the other probably the sleeping quarters for guests and the Sendral. The central block looked as if it were for living, eating, work and leisure.

  A curved road of paved stone led up to the low wall that bordered the gardens that surrounded the house. Outside this wall were low buildings of stone and timber that looked like pens for animals. The ground looked churned up and muddy at the entrances. A well stood close to the opening through which Jorqel led his men and wooden drinking troughs stood both inside and outside the garden wall. A set of stables could be seen towards the rear where the road led.

  The roadway to the front of the house had been thoughtfully shaded by tall hardwood trees, and Jorqel noted their size. They must have been there for two hundred years or more. Hardwood trees grew much more slowly than softwood species.

  A couple of servants came running from the house, alarmed at his arrival. Jorqel hadn’t made any prior arrangement to meet anyone, and the day after the celebrations would, he thought, be the perfect time to catch people unawares. Since he had no intention of marrying Zana Sendral, it wouldn’t matter too much in doing this to this family.

  Jorqel recognised Lord Sendral standing in the doorway, a look of consternation on his face. He was dressed in a short-sleeved rough woollen shirt and linen half-length leggings. Not the outfit to impress anyone. The prince smiled to himself. He had, indeed, caught the nobleman napping.

  As he dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants, Lord Sendral came down the two stone steps and advanced towards Jorqel, who made a show of slowly examining the house as he pulled off his gauntlets.

  “Your majesty!” Sendral said with concern, “this is unexpected! Is anything wrong?” He bowed low.

  Jorqel bowed slightly, acknowledging the greeting. “No, Lord Sendral. I’m touring my province, and visiting every estate and settlement. I want to see for myself the state of things rather than relying on the manicured reports of other people.” He grinned to rob any possible offence Sendral might have taken from his words. “You have a beautiful house, if I may say so.”

  “Thank you, sire. But we had no idea you were coming and have prepared nothing!”

  “Does that matter? I prefer to see things how they are rather than artificially spruced up just for my benefit. Now tell me, Sendral, do you have any problems, or worries?”

  Lord Sendral looked at the prince carefully. “Ah, sire, have you come to see my daughter on this visit?”

  Jorqel smiled briefly. “Amongst the other reasons, but not specifically.”

  “I see,” Lord Sendral said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “You are not intending to take her as your wife, are you, sire?”

  Jorqel shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, Lord Sendral. She does not appear ready yet to take up the onerous duties of the wife of the heir to the throne of Kastania. You have a charming daughter but not one who I feel can rise to the challenge I would set.”

  “Thank you for your candour, Prince Jorqel.” Lord Sendral sighed. “I myself doubted whether she would be the right one. There will be tears, you know. She had her heart set on being your consort.”

  “I can only choose one wife; I’m no Tybar prince with their multiples. Talking of the Tybar, I take it you have not seen any on your estates yet?”

  “Thank the gods, no! They are a worry, I can tell you. All we hear is how they plunder and burn. My estates are farming land; we do not have any military value, and apart from my personal retinue of half a dozen men, I have no force to protect my estates with. Mind you, most of the other noble houses are in the same situation; the recent financial hardships have meant that most of us has had to offload whatever guards we had!”

  The prince nodded sympathetically. He was relieved at that; as a military man he believed the only armed men should be in the army and not part of a personal mercenary force of nobles. The shedding of so many armed men at once over the past few years had resulted in a rise of banditry and lawlessness, especially as the hard-up imperial treasury found it increasingly hard to pay for the militia to keep the roads clear. “The fruits of avarice, Lord Sendral; if so many hadn’t sought to enrich themselves at the empire’s expense, we would not be standing here talking with our backs to the sea worrying whether our enemy would be appearing over the horizon at any moment.”

  Sendral nodded heavily. “I can only plead self-protection; if I had not taken my share of the noble’s plunder, they would have gobbled up my estates in no time. We all ate from the same trough but that was because we had to.”

  “I care not, Lord Sendral. In my eyes guilt is guilt. People should learn to accept responsibility for their own actions rather than looking elsewhere to place the blame. My family did not partake of this free-for-all. We fought hard against the enemies of the empire, only to find that behind our backs the life blood of Kastania was being sucked away by greedy self-interested families. Now we are in command, people will be brought to account. Taxes are to be levied, and those who took will find they will be asked to pay.”

  Lord Sendral’s face hardened. “You may find opposition to your proposals, sire.”

  “From you? With an army of six? I have five hundred men at Slenna. My tax collectors will soon be sent out far and wide and all those with wealth, and you certainly have that here, Lord Sendral, will be asked to pay. However…” Jorqel rubbed his chin and looked at Lord Sendral with a conspiratorial air.

  “Yes, sire?” Lord Sendral asked, staring at the prince.

  “Slenna is running short on food and the winter will be hard. Your estate has plenty of food; you are one of the main producers in this region, so I’m told.”

  Sendral nodded. He kept on staring at Jorqel, then a smile slowly broke out over his face. “In return for supplying Slenna with sufficient food stock to last until the end of winter, the tax assessors may pass my estate by?”

  “Indeed, Lord Sendral. An – arrangement – of convenience, do you not agree?”

  “Of course, sire. I fully understand. Of course, I shall not say a word to the other families as they may take the news badly.”

  “Indeed they might,” Jorqel agreed. He looked at the house once more. He decided to screw up his courage. “Why don’t you show me to your charming wife and daughter, Lord Sendral?”

  Sendral bowed and led the prince up the steps to the front porch. Gavan grinned and turned to the other men, all holding the reins of their mounts. “Now he’s got the old man inside the house, spread out and take a good look at the immediate area. We’ve got to check what’s here quite carefully. Count the animals, buildings, fields. Durzar, you write everything down.”

  The man called Durzar nodded and dragged a wax tablet from his saddle. The province’s assets would now be recorded properly.

  Kijimur the Tybar was summoned from his chamber to the throne room once more. It was about time. These arrogant Kastanians had kept him waiting for too long; he had other treaties to seal, treaties of friendship with those kingdoms beyond the eastern frontier of Kastania, and perhaps alliances. When the final war against Kastan came, maybe a simultaneous attack in east and west would be the perfect way to end it all. Then the Tybar tribes could go to war with those foolish and stupid kingdoms beyond Kastan.

  Once more he bowed and paid
respect before the empress. Surely she would be more suited as a slave to his lord; she had a figure to arouse passion in many men. Perhaps one day she would kneel at the feet of her master and await his pleasure? He would write to his master and inform him of the beauty of the empress.

  Isbel looked down on the Tybar diplomat for a moment. She had thought for a long time over the response to the Tybar peace offer, and still wasn’t sure whether he was bluffing or not. “Kijimur, we have deliberated over your treaty, and feel we cannot meet the cost of the peace offering. A thousand furims is a high price, and the treasury simply does not have the reserves to pay the amount you are asking. We do, however, wish for a trade agreement, and offer you a mutual trade route deal between Imakum and Niake.”

  Kijimur smiled. He had expected the Kastanians to turn down the deal. “Your majesty, my master could not turn down a trade offer, but I fear he may look unfavourably on not acquiring payment for ceasing his attacks on your – helpless territory.” Kijimur smiled widely, mocking the Kastanian military might.

  “Kijimur,” Isbel replied, crushing the sense of outrage she felt rising within her, “please convey my respects to your master and inform him of our offer. We shall await eagerly his reply.”

  Kijimur bowed and backed away, then walked out of the chamber, ignoring the hostile looks from the assembly to left and right.

  Isbel returned to the council chamber with Vosgaris and the other council members. They sat waiting for the empress to speak. “Do we have any indication the Tybar will invade Kastania should we fail to sign the treaty?” she put to Panat Branas.

  “There are no signs of any military activity anywhere near the borders of Bathenia, ma’am. I have sent scouts and riders out all over the province and nobody has seen a Tybar. We are still getting refugees coming into the empire from the west, and from what I understand the main Tybar armies are to the south and west. They do not seem worried about their eastern frontier with us; probably because, ma’am, they do not see us as any threat. They do have a garrison at Imakum but nothing of note close to our borders.”

  “And our forces in the west?”

  Panat waved at the map carved into the table. “Niake has a decent garrison; fine for staying behind the walls and holding out in a siege, but unless backed by substantial reinforcements they wouldn’t be able to stop a full-scale invasion. Against the Tybar in open battle? No, ma’am, it would be suicide.” His finger moved up to Lodria. “Now here Prince Jorqel has the Army of the West, our most battle-hardened force. Should the Tybar invade then the Prince is the best bet in meeting them in battle, but I would not risk them against a numerically superior force. If they are destroyed then the west is open.”

  Isbel nodded. She was reliant on the good advice of the general. Her knowledge of military matters was very limited. If Panat Branas said not to risk the west by taking on a larger force, then so be it. “Should the Tybar invade they will look to capture Niake and Slenna, is that not correct, General?”

  Panat bowed. “Indeed, ma’am. With their loss the west would be gone. As long as those two centres remain in our hands, we have a hold on the west.”

  “Then send a message to both Prince Jorqel and Evas Extonos to ensure all their defences are secure and as strong as they can be.”

  “Ah,” Frendicus cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Frendicus?” Isbel queried, turning to her left, “what is it you wish to say?”

  “Prince Jorqel is at this moment dismantling the walls of Slenna, including the castle, with a view to rebuilding them further out and much stronger. He has sufficient funds to do so.”

  The council looked at one another. Isbel tightened her lips. “Then send an urgent message to delay and await the outcome of the negotiations with the Tybar. I do not want Slenna to fall a short while after having it retaken for the empire!” She regarded Frendicus. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, ma’am.”

  Isbel rapped her fingernails on the table, then turned back to Panat Branas. “General, you have concluded your appraisal of the empire’s armed forces in the east as well?”

  “Indeed, ma’am. The Army of the East under the emperor is in Bragal, besieging Zofela, as we all know. If we are invaded from the west this army would have to lift the siege and march back to Kastan to reinforce Prince Jorqel.”

  “That would not be a popular move with my husband,” the empress remarked, “and what of the other forces?”

  Panat pointed to a dot not far from Kastan. “Thetos Olskan commands the Makenian garrison in Turslenka. They have two units of good quality, a remnant of the old imperial army before things fell apart there, and that’s all. Then down in Kornith a garrison at the castle there, a couple of companies, one of spearmen and one of archers. They will keep Pelponia secure for us as long as we hold out elsewhere.”

  “And Zipria?” Valson of Zipria queried.

  Panaet Branas looked up from under his bushy eyebrows. “Yes, your home province has a garrison in Niksos, the capital there. Two companies of spearmen. Enough to keep law and order, but not if the island is invaded. I’m afraid that should that come, we do not have the resources to come to its rescue. Zipria remains imperial as long as they can keep it so.”

  Isbel nodded and peered at the map. The army units had been placed there, marked by coloured blocks of wood. “Do we know what’s happening further east in Epros? Have the Venn invaded it yet?”

  Panat nodded. “I do not believe so yet. Drazino is not a walled village so I suspect when they do march in it will fall without much trouble. We would then have the prospect of Venn being on our eastern frontier.”

  “So we could not send the Turslenka garrison to help in the west,” Isbel said.

  “No ma’am, they would be needed to defend that city.”

  The empress sucked on her lower lip. It was looking very much like their neighbours were closing in, waiting for the opportunity to strike. If the armed forces of Kastan moved in one direction, then the threat would materialise from the other. “Then we must secure a treaty with the Tybar.”

  The council members exchanged quick looks. They knew there was not much choice. They had to get some breathing space. As much as they all hated the prospect, they knew they had to do a deal with their demon.

  “And I hope our embassy to Mazag manages to secure a deal with them, too,” Isbel said.

  “If that comes to pass, ma’am, then we can turn our attention to Venn,” Valson the diplomat added. “Venn may well turn out to be our greatest threat, and once they have taken Drazino then they will be looking towards Kornith and Turslenka before long. They are very aggressive. They already control our former province of Cratia, and their fleets control the seas to the north and east.”

  “Could we contest the seas if matters came to a head with Venn?” Isbel asked Panat.

  “I doubt it, ma’am; their seamanship is superior to ours and their fleets bigger and better trained.”

  There was a brief silence. The empress sighed and leaned back. “Then we will have to wait and see what the Tybar reply is before determining what our next move is. Frendicus, how is the treasury doing?”

  “Good so far, ma’am. Taxes are beginning to come in and trade is beginning to flow once more. The building projects are gathering pace. The roads have been repaired in Bathenia and Pelponia, and the new paved road network completed in Frasia. The port of Kalkos close to Turslenka has been repaired and merchant ships can once more sail from there. I am told that Zipria has completed a programme of land clearance in order to grow more foodstuffs; they’re looking to become more self-sufficient, and to send surplus to the rest of the empire.”

  “That must cost a fair amount of money,” the merchant Elethro Ziban commented. “I trust we won’t have to pay more tax for this programme of rebuilding.”

  Isbel shook her head. “We’re conscious of not exceeding our income. We’re making efforts to improve the trade infrastructure throughout
the empire. Tell everyone what is planned for the next year, Frendicus.”

  “Approval has been given for the roads to be repaired throughout Makenia and Zipria, the port of Parsot on the northern tip of Pelponia to be improved and enlarged, and a grain exchange to be built in Niake.”

  “Indeed?” Elethro said, pleasantly surprised. “That will attract many merchants and traders to Niake.”

  “Our intentions exactly,” Isbel nodded. She stood up, and the council did likewise. “I thank you all for your time. We shall reconvene once news of the Tybar reply is received. Good day to you all.”

  As the meeting broke up, two boys were lying together in a narrow alcove, hidden from view by a statue and a wide fronded plant arranged at the base of the plinth the statue was stood upon. Prince Argan looked at Kerrin with wide eyes. “So that’s what a Tybar looks like,” he said in wonder. Kijimur had walked straight past them, escorted by two volgar-wielding palace guardsmen to his quarters.

  “He doesn’t look much different,” Kerrin said with a disappointed voice.

  “No, but he did have a funny mouse-tash. Did you see the way it waved in the air as he walked?” The two chuckled quietly, not wishing to be discovered. It had been Argan’s idea to hide in the alcove; his curiosity about the Tybar visitor had been too much to resist, and Kerrin had eagerly agreed to join his friend in their secret hiding place. They could peer out through the fronds of the plant and unless a passer-by was especially alert and looking at them at that moment, they were unseen to all those who walked along the corridor that led to the throne room.