Empire of Avarice

by Tony Roberts

  Amne finally demanded some free time, about eight days after becoming engaged to Elas Pelgion. She was grudgingly allowed one watch in the afternoon, from mid-afternoon to dusk. It wasn’t long but long enough for her to be able to fling herself onto her bed with a shriek of relief and lay there, arms out-flung, eyes shut, breathing in and out hard to bring her mind under control.

  What madness! Whatever compelled people to want to control and run an empire? How did her father and step-mother manage it? Clearly with bigger staff. But that cost money and what with finite budgets, that was hard. Requests for employment at the palace, pleas for funding with buying crops here and dairy animals there, upkeep of the sewer system and the cisterns, complaints about the lack of a city militia to keep law and order, offers from dress makers for a wedding dress and offers from them to come to measure her up, letters from various temples asking if she would attend their holy day to lead the prayers to their god….. gods!! It went on and on and on!

  Isbel had given her one small Frasian district outside the walls of Kastan and the Turslenkan Gate Quarter to administer, thus taking off her own shoulders a little bit of the strain. What was this Quarter like? Was it as badly in need of funding as these letters professed?

  She sat up, breathing in hard through her nose. Well, Kastan damn it, she’d go out and see for herself. Why should she allow herself to be stuck in this palace? How could she determine the extent of the problems she was handed unless she saw for herself? She was damned if she was going to rely on the sanitised versions of palace flunkies and bureaucrats who only wished to pass on the information they wanted her to hear.

  She was determined to be someone who made decisions based on her own thoughts and not of those who tried to influence her to their own ends, whatever they may be. She distrusted the smooth-talking advisors, those who smiled a lot whilst they spoke. Never trust someone who smiled that much.

  There came a knock on the door. Amne sighed. Not even in her free time was she allowed peace and quiet! “Yes?” she said testily.

  Lalaas poked his head through the door. “Ma’am, your brother Prince Argan wishes to see you.”

  “Oh, Argan! Yes, yes, show him in!” She was happy to see the boy. He was the exception.

  Argan’s familiar shiny face and its wide beaming smile met her. Amne stood up and opened her arms. “Come here, Argan!”

  He ran to her and flung his arms round her. “Oh it’s wonderful to see you again, properly!”

  “It’s lovely to see you, Argan. We haven’t had much time to speak since I’ve got back, have we? I meant to say you’ve really grown since I last saw you. You’re becoming a young man.”

  “You’ve got different, too,” Argan said, stepping back. He was mindful of the lessons of etiquette he’d been instructed in recently. It didn’t matter too much with Amne, since they were alone and she was his sister, but some of the teachers were really stuffy and serious, and didn’t like Argan being – what was the word they used? – flippant. He didn’t know what that meant but he guessed it wasn’t a good thing. It sounded like flippers. Something aquatic creatures had. He didn’t have flippers. He’d waved his arms after they’d said it and looked closely at them. No, not flippers, definitely arms.

  “Really?” Amne said, stepping sideways to avoid falling over the edge of her bed. “Older, perhaps?”

  “No,” Argan screwed his face up in concentration and cocked his head to one side. Amne recalled he always did that when he was concentrating. She smiled. He sucked on his lower lip. “You’ve got bigger.”

  “Bigger?” Amne’s face vanished. That wasn’t good. “Where?” she demanded, slipping her hands to her tummy.

  “Oh, not there!” Argan grinned. “Your – boobies,” he whispered, looking round to see if anyone was listening. “Do they keep on growing the older you get?”

  Amne giggled. “Oh, no, Argan. I don’t know why they have. You really think so?” she cupped them and studied them closely. She had to admit her dresses of old weren’t fitting her as well, and what she was wearing was either what she’d picked up during her journey back or what had been made hurriedly on her return. Her old wardrobe had been cast out as being too old fashioned and musty.

  “Yes,” Argan nodded. “Your legs, too. They look stronger. Is that with all the equine riding?”

  “Oh yes, it exercises you a lot, you’ll learn that when you begin to ride. When is that going to be?”

  Argan shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m supposed to start soon. In the spring, Panat says.”

  Amne ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ll go riding with you.”

  “Will you, really? Oh that’ll be really great!”

  Amne laughed at his excitement. To be truthful, Amne needed to keep on riding; it had toned her legs, and her backside too. It had made it firmer, something she believed made her look better. Appearances counted for a lot, especially if you were in the public eye. Putting on weight wasn’t good, unless it was in the right place. Her mother was a good example of that. She liked Argan; he was always good-natured, and she had to admit to herself, he made her laugh with his innocent observations. Sometimes she wished she was young again. Ah, he would grow up soon enough and learn to be deceptive, dishonest, cynical, duplicitous, scheming. Just like normal adults. Shame.

  Argan’s face fell. “Oh, won’t you be busy getting married and things? Mother said you’d not be able to do much else.”

  Amne tutted. “Don’t listen to your mother too much, Argan. She’s just fussing like a mother fowl; she’ll do all the work needed to prepare the wedding. I won’t get a chance to get involved, mark my words, Argan. I’ll just wear the dress and turn up on the day.”

  “Is it going to be a beautiful dress? The ladies are all talking about it.”

  Amne giggled. “I don’t know, Argan. It’s got to be made first. I’ll have to go for a fitting plenty of times.”

  “You won’t leave the palace, will you, Amne? I didn’t like you going away all this time to Bragal.”

  “Don’t worry, Argan, I’m staying here. I’m a princess and Elas will become Governor of Frasia when he marries me. That means Kastan City will be his base, and this palace his office. I’ll go wherever he goes, but I don’t think he’ll go far.”

  “Good!”

  “But I was glad I went to Bragal and Valchia. It did show me a lot. You’ll be sent to places I should think, to learn about the empire.”

  “Will you show me where you went, Amne?” Argan asked, his hands behind his back. “On the map in the big room?”

  “You mean downstairs? Oh, you’ve been in there?”

  Argan nodded, grinning. “It was brilliant! All those places! I want to see them one day!”

  Amne laughed, caught up in his infectious enthusiasm. “Yes, maybe you will. Come on then, let’s go show you.” She put a hand round his shoulders and Argan pressed against it, pleased at the warmth of her hand and arm. They left the room and Lalaas and Vosgaris, both standing outside, fell into step behind them. Amne glanced at the two. There was definitely an atmosphere between them. She stopped. “Captain, I don’t think you need to accompany us. Lalaas here is perfectly capable of looking after us.”

  “Ma’am,” Vosgaris said with an edge to his voice, “I’ve been given explicit instructions from the empress that I must not allow the young prince here to go anywhere in this palace without me. Since the Kivok incident the empress had been most insistent.”

  Amne pulled a face. “She can be insistent, Captain, but so can I. Please attend your other duties; I am capable of looking after my brother. Unless, Captain, you think otherwise.”

  Vosgaris hesitated, then glanced sideways at the silent Lalaas. The inference was clear.

  Amne smiled. “Lalaas, the same goes for you. Return to my chamber and await my return. I wish to go riding later. Please arrange for an equine for me. You shall, of course accompany me then.”

  “Can I come, too?” Argan asked.

  Amn
e shook her head. “Sorry, Argan, when you’ve learned to ride, then yes. It’s not possible yet. I have to go look at the quarter I’m responsible for, that’s all. Boring adult stuff.”

  “Oh. I’d like to see what’s outside the palace, Amne.”

  “One day, yes.” She looked at the two men. “Well, go on. I’ll look after Argan here, and he can look after me.”

  Vosgaris reluctantly turned, then halted as Lalaas made no move. “You heard the Princess,” Vosgaris said with an edge to his voice, “we’re not needed.”

  Lalaas bowed curtly to Amne and turned stiffly. Vosgaris received a bump to his shoulder as Lalaas strode past him. The palace guard captain matched his stride and pushed him back as he came alongside. Amne shook her head. Willy waving. Let the boys play. She grinned at Argan and together they made their way to the great Council Chamber on the ground floor.

  There were a few lights flickering in their holders, but the chamber was cold and Amne shivered. It was quiet and slightly foreboding as the two stepped down to the main floor. Argan didn’t appear to notice as he ran to one of the chairs and scrambled up to the tabletop and peered at the beautifully carved surface. “Show me, Amne!”

  She came alongside and looked for a moment at the map. The trouble was, Kastan City was in the centre and the furthest point from any chair. “Oh, it’s too far to show you,” she said, disappointed.

  Argan got up and crawled onto the table. “No, it’s not! C’mon!”

  “Argan! That’s not allowed!” Amne said, shocked.

  “It’s alright, mother or father won’t know! C’mon,” he grinned mischievously. Amne giggled and got up awkwardly. It had been a long time since she’d done something like this. The sharp carved edges of hills and mountains dug into her knees through her dress but she slid onto her belly, manoeuvring herself into a comfortable position. She was lying across the plains of Mazag, a flat region bisected by the huge Ister River, so nothing dug into her that much. Argan curled into the Balq Sea, to Amne’s left, and placed his hand along the shore next to Kastan City. “So, you started here. Where did you go first?”

  Amne ran her finger from the wall of Kastan along the flat looking countryside towards a series of jagged points. “Up here. It was very cold and snowing. This was where we sheltered from a storm in caves.”

  “Oh! What was it like?” Argan was all eyes and eagerly devoured the tale Amne recounted of the journey with Lalaas and Theros. He followed her finger tracing a route into Bragal and the rolling countryside there. She told him of the winter and her illness, and of Lalaas saving her life. Argan was enthralled, constantly asking her for more details. Her finger came to the gash that represented the Ister River, and the frontier of the old Kastanian Empire.

  “We crossed the bridge about here,” Amne flicked a fingernail at the river, “and Lalaas killed many bandits.”

  “Ooh, tell me!” Argan had any normal boy’s appetite for bloodthirsty stories, and enjoyed the tale of the crossing.

  Amne saw the woodland that denoted the area she and Lalaas had been almost captured by the villagers in, and missed that part out. Argan didn’t need to know that. Eventually her fingers ran to a small collection of squares that represented Bukrat. “Here we stayed for a few days.”

  “Is it a big place? It doesn’t look nearly as big as Kastan!”

  “No, it’s small, but the Mazag now have it and they’re building it up really quickly. They’re making it a military frontier town. So, just outside here we met General Polak and his men and we went back into Bukrat. Then, after we got the treaty signed, we went this way,” and she ran her finger back to the Ister and across it, then made a path towards the collection of squares that made up Zofela, “and met our father here at Zofela.”

  “Is he in Zofela yet? Mother says he’s fighting the rebels.”

  Amne recalled the ghastly, nightmarish scene that had met her eyes as she had come over the ridge. “Zofela is still holding out, but I can’t see how it can for much longer. Father should be inside before long.”

  “Why don’t they bash their way in?”

  Amne didn’t know. It was a reasonably sensible question. “I think they don’t have the men to do that. Father doesn’t want to lose too many men. We haven’t got a big army, and if he loses too many men trying to climb into Zofela, we may not be able to win. He’s got to keep his losses low.”

  “They ought to have big war machines that bash the walls down. Mr. Sen has models of them I play with!”

  “Perhaps they didn’t have the right sort of wood to make them, or the people to do that. You need special people, engineers. We don’t have any here. Perhaps they’ve all gone?”

  Argan thought on that for a moment. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Sen. He knows lots about war. He says we used to be the biggest and best empire ever. I would like us to be that again. I’d like us to have all this map as ours!”

  Amne smiled at her younger brother. “It would take lots of hard work – and lots of wars. I don’t think that’s possible. Nobody thinks we can do it, and everyone else doesn’t like us.”

  Argan pouted. “They’re silly. They don’t like our gods. Father will show them we’re not to be pushed around, won’t he?”

  “Oh yes,” Amne nodded. “He’s got the Bragalese rebels on their knees. He’s going to win that war. It’s what happens after that I worry about, Argan. Mazag and Venn both think they’re stronger than we are, and I believe they’ll try to fight us for our lands before long.”

  “Father will win against them, won’t he, Amne?”

  There was a slight tone of doubt in Argan’s voice so Amne reassured him. “Of course! But he needs a strong and big army to help him and all the people of Kastania supporting him – and us. We have to support father and work hard to help him and mother in getting Kastania strong again. Those horrid Fokis and Duras families have caused terrible damage to us over the past few years.”

  “I’m going to grow up into a big strong general and will help father win his wars. I will,” Argan nodded emphatically.

  Amne hugged Argan. “I know you will. But you’ve got to learn to ride and fight, and to be a good administrator.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Administrator? Someone who tells people what to do the right way, someone who makes things happen the right way, puts the right people in the right jobs, has the best people to do the job and gets rid of the bad ones. Lots of things, really. I’ve been given the job of administering part of Kastan City. So I’ve got to go out now and see for myself what it’s like. It’s no good, Argan, running a place if you have no idea what it’s like or how things are there. So I’m going out with Lalaas to see. When you’re given a job like that, you make sure you see for yourself what the place is like, and not rely on the words of advisors around you, for they might not be telling you the truth.”

  Argan nodded, taking in her words. “I must go soon to Panat to learn more sword fighting. Kerrin is with me then. He’s as good as me! One day he hopes to be my bodyguard, like Lalaas is to you.”

  Amne slid off the table and helped Argan get down. “I’m sure he will. But Argan remember, there is more to being a prince than being a good warrior. You have to be a good administrator too. Wars cost money. If you’re at war all the time it’ll cost too much money. You must look to create jobs, make better buildings, grow more crops, look after the people. Without people you can never be a prince.”

  “I’ll remember that, Amne. It’s been good talking with you again. I missed you!”

  She hugged the boy, then opened the door to the chamber and they left, she escorting him to the courtyard where Panat and Kerrin were waiting in the frost. Amne spoke briefly to Panat and Kerrin before making her way to Vosgaris’ office nearby. The captain looked up sharply as Amne entered the room. He put down his quill and waved the sheet of parchment to dry the figures he’d been scribbling down. The number of guards had been kept constant since the Koros had come to power but with more people in
the palace these days, there was a need to increase them and he’d been doing a quick cost analysis. He thought it could be justified. He stood up and bowed. “Your highness.”

  “Relax, Vosgaris. I didn’t mean any insult to you earlier,” she smiled. “I just think it’s silly that Argan is shadowed closely by you all the time. I’m going to have a word with mother about that.”

  Vosgaris nodded curtly.

  “And I think your duties as guard captain are onerous enough without being asked to follow Argan here and there and everywhere.”

  “Security is my remit, ma’am. Should anything happen to him, then my head would be on the block. We’ve already had an attempt on his life, remember.”

  “I do remember being told about that. But now he’s seven. He should be allowed greater freedom. Mother is a fussy old fowl.”

  “May I point out that you have a shadow, too, ma’am.”

  Amne’s lips twitched. “Ah, Lalaas, you mean? You don’t like him, do you? May I ask why?”

  Vosgaris hesitated, reluctant to speak his mind.

  Amne made an impatient gesture. “Oh, come on, Captain, you can speak freely to me! I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Very well, ma’am. He’s a risk. I run security here and he’s outside my control. I also….hear that you and he are…. close.”

  Amne’s eyes narrowed. “Close? Like you and mother?”

  Vosgaris felt his face reddening. “Ma’am – that is false rumour.”

  “Oh, is it?” Amne glided round the table and stopped next to Vosgaris. “Close, like this?” She pressed against the captain. “I know of the rumours. If, as you say, they are false, then they are no different to those about Lalaas and me. If, however, you believe the rumours about us, then surely they are equally true of you and mother. Should enough people believe them, then your head would roll. You do know that, don’t you, Captain Vosgaris.”