Conquest

by T. C. Edge

  "I would agree," comes Lucius, stepping back in, "that Kira should be able to visit her home. But, it must be structured, and planned, not allowed with utter freedom. Regular visits can be arranged, but if that is the case, I do not think Emperor Domitian should be accompanying her every time. The city needs their rulers here, now, as we navigate these difficult waters. They need to see solidarity in our leadership, not a leader who spends half his time abroad."

  "Strengthening ties," Dom counters, "and building bridges with our new ally across the sea. It will make us all stronger, more robust, enriching both of our cultures. In these dangerous times, we require friends who will support us. We know what other threats lie beyond our borders. This alliance will serve us both well."

  "No one is disputing that, and the treaty is already in place," says Lucius, the debate picking up some steam. "And yes, diplomatic missions to New Haven are important. However, you have visited several times over the last few months already. That is too much..."

  "And only temporary, as we bed the alliance in," Dom replies, fighting back. "Ares's stationing there is part of that, and that is why I support it. Our Neoroman soldiers are becoming known to the people. They are popular, and well liked. To deepen our ties, we must appeal to their civilian population, as well as their leadership. Yet I have been back here now for two months with Kira, and we have no immediate plans to return." He glances at me. "I see no need to concern yourself with the issue of her, and our, travels."

  A few consenting murmurs echo about the place. Lucius is keen enough to be aware of them, steering the debate back to its source.

  "Yet the point of her activities remains," he says, looking around the crowd, trying to determine their allegiance and support. "She is a born warrior, but those days have passed. We will not cage her, as you suggest, Domitian, but merely help her adapt to this new way of living. We have warriors aplenty here to engage in any fighting we need to do to protect our borders, or forge new territories elsewhere. Her participation on that matter is not required."

  My heart begins to sink, just a little, as I see the assembled senators beginning to be swayed by Lucius's argument. And, I can't exactly blame them. Who would want their Empress Consort rushing off and fighting? What sort of dignified leader would I be if I did that?

  "A position with less direct involvement then," I hear Dom saying, as if trying to come to some compromise. "She could be involved in the Imperial Guard, or..."

  "The Imperial Guard?" says one of the senators. "Emperor Domitian, they are here to protect the royalty, not be run by them."

  "Of course," says Dom, on the back foot now, starting to clutch at straws. "Another form of military involvement, perhaps. Strategy. War planning."

  "Does she have experience with that?" asks another of the senators. They turn to me. "Do you, my Lady?"

  My lips feel like they're stuck together. "Ummm...."

  "She was heavily involved in the rebel effort in Haven, before Director Cromwell's regime was overturned, and the city renamed," says Dom, speaking for me. "Yes, she has experience at the highest end of planning a war."

  "That doesn't change the fact," Lucius comes in, "that it is inappropriate for an Empress to be involved in such things. It simply isn't right."

  "And what about me?" Dom asks. "I was a lanista for many years while I was a prince. Was that any more appropriate? A trainer of gladiators, a proprietor of death. Shouldn't Kira be given the same liberties."

  "That was different," calls an older senator at the back. "You were under orders from your mother. And you never physically engaged in any fighting. And with all due respect, you are a man, Emperor Domitian. It makes things different."

  I bristle at the words. That particular senator does have a rough edge to him.

  "That is of little consequence," Dom replies firmly. "Gender has no importance here."

  "It does. You know it does!"

  The room works up into a bit of a frenzy again, and I find myself beginning to zone out. I sit there, just staring, listening, as my fate is decided for me. As these men, most of whom don't even know me, debate my purpose, my future. Oh, I've lived under order and rules, with the Nameless and Lady Orlando, but that was different. That was true purpose, true fate.

  That was what I was born to be.

  This...it isn't. I'm not here to be nothing but a trained pet, sent around to kiss babies and cut banners when opening a new building. That is the work of politicians.

  I am a warrior.

  Amid the throng, I find myself reaching my limit. With a shake of the head, and a deep sigh, I stand and begin moving out. I don't hurry off or run. I don't engage my Dasher speed.

  No, I just walk, lonely, off to the side, around the back, and through the door into the Imperial Palace.

  And no one even seems to notice.

  5

  Brie

  The refugee centres are kept mostly towards the southern quarter of the city, a place that saw little fighting during the wars, and thus was never required to see too much rebuilding.

  Unlike the northern quarter, perpetually abandoned and decimated, and the western quarter, where I used to live, the southern quarter still harbours plenty of life owning to its more positive state of repair. Elsewhere, much damage remains, the city planners and redevelopment teams still struggling with the workload required to see it all fully rebuilt and restored.

  That will take many years, I know. The priority, as it should be, was always to focus first on defence, and the walls to Inner Haven, in particular, have seen significant upgrades over the last six or so months. Once that work has been completed, there are plans to redevelop the rest of the city, starting in the western quarter. The north is, as it has always been, far too damaged to draw our focus now. It would take a great deal of time, money, and effort to restore it completely, and simply put, with our population lower than ever, there really is no need.

  The southern quarter, however, remains a popular place for many residents to live, particularly the Unenhanced and Outer Haveners who, I know, have grown sick of the drab simplicity and dull architecture you see within Inner Haven. Yes, some colour is being added here and there, the place given more life, but it remains a fairly uninteresting place from a purely aesthetic point of view.

  The southern quarter, with its little shops and squares and pretty streets, is far more appealing. Once a place for the more affluent members of Outer Haven, it now provides housing for a huge range of inhabitants. Mostly Unenhanced, yes, but there are a number of Enhanced who choose to live there too, Sophie and Rycard included, along with their young son, Maddox.

  I see Sophie now, across the large hall at the base of one of the refugee centres. She runs this place now, overseeing the coming and going of those from the Outerlands, a monumental effort that takes up almost all of her time. It's a worthy calling, and she's quite perfect for the job, her natural ebullience and kind-heartedness making her the perfect representative for New Haven when outsiders arrive.

  Standing among a group of newcomers to the city - she likes to do inductions where she can - she looks as pretty as ever, despite her long days and short nights. She's a mix of me and Tess, really, with my wavy brunette locks, and Tess's shining blue eyes, a combination that makes her quite startlingly beautiful.

  Around the rest of the hall, other groups of newly registered refugees stand, taken around by some of Sophie's helpers. All are like her, lovely and kind, selected for their compassion and friendly nature. The idea, I think, is to provide newcomers, many of whom are intimidated upon entering the city, with a friendly countenance to welcome them. In that, they have selected their representatives correctly.

  It takes a few moments before Sophie sees me. When she does, she's quick to hurry over, gesturing for her group to wait a moment while she says hello. I'm drawn into a hug, as ever, and met with a buoyant, if slightly weary, smile.

  "Back again, I see," she says. "You do have a fascination with this place. Unless you only
ever come to see little old me."

  "You know I do," I say, smiling back at her, her expression ever infectious.

  She pats me on the arm. "Oh, you jest. I know it's not true, but it's nice to hear it anyway."

  She's right. It isn't true. I love to see Sophie, but I mostly come here for a different reason.

  "Looks like you're busy today," I say, looking around. "All these are brand new from the Outerlands."

  "Yes, more or less. Most have been here for a few days by now, just getting to know the city a little bit. We're sorting out their housing now. Should have them ready and set up by the end of the morning."

  I nod, impressed by the efficiency of it all. It takes careful vetting, of course, to ensure that those who come here do so with the right intentions. For that purpose, some of our more limited Mind-Manipulators are tasked with getting into their heads and discovering a little about their backgrounds, before determining where they will be kept. Yes, sometimes we have some darker sorts coming here, perhaps looking for a nice, fertile place to begin their shady dealings, but even they aren't sent back out and beyond the walls to fend for themselves.

  No, we allow everyone in, no matter what, a subject that has brought some criticism to President Orlando. The darker elements are watched carefully, re-educated to our systems and culture, taught our way of life with the warning that, should they break the law, they will be sent to prison. It seems a reasonable compromise to me.

  It's nice, sometimes, to give people a second chance...

  Of course, it has been suggested that they could go through a bit of mental 'rewiring', the sort of thing only the likes of me or Defence Secretary Burns could manage. We could get in their heads and make them more compliant, withdraw any criminal tendencies and predilections they may harbour. But, frankly, that would be too...

  Well, too similar to the old regime.

  We are not about that anymore. People should be given free will, whether that will is dark or not. We cannot police the entire city by making anyone who disagrees with us, or causes problems, nothing but a lobotomised robot. All we can do is try to engender the right culture, and deal with any immoral types through more lawful, and less historically questionable, means.

  We are not the Consortium. We are not like Director Cromwell and his cronies. We will run things differently now.

  That is the party line we are all buying into.

  "Well, I can't stay long," Sophie says, noticing that my attention is elsewhere. "I have a full workload on today."

  I can imagine. Integrating this many people can't be easy, especially with many of them having lived quite primitive lives before this.

  "How many have come now?" I ask.

  "Today? Oh, I'm not sure. They'll still be in the holding stations, ready to go through their security..."

  "No, I mean overall," I cut in. "How many new people are here."

  "Oh, right. Um, well I think it's several thousand now. I'd have to check the official numbers, but at least ten thousand would be my estimate. They come in waves and cycles, it seems. Sometimes we get a great influx, large populations coming here together. At other times, it's much quieter. Recently, we've had a fair few newcomers to deal with."

  "Well, you're doing a wonderful job, Soph," I say. How's Maddox doing?"

  "Oh, adorable as always," she swoons, thinking of her toddler son. "He's definitely got his father's mischievous manner about him. And those eyes...yes, he's going to be a fine Hawk one day."

  "That's great, Soph."

  She beams, seeming to enjoy life more than she ever has. She's truly found her calling here.

  "I hear you'll be seeing Rycard later on?" she asks. "In the council meeting."

  I nod, though not with great energy. I don't particularly enjoy those meetings. Mostly, they deal with the mundane matters of running the city, things I don't know much about. Only when we speak of the city defences, and other military matters, do I tend to become engaged.

  "He'll be there," I say, something I'm grateful for. Rycard, like me, is rather more interested in the city's military functions, particularly helping in conscription for the City Guard, and in planning the scouting missions that our soldiers occasionally take.

  "Well, say 'hi' from me," she says brightly. "We haven't seen much of each other the last few days. We're both just so busy all the time. When we get a chance, you should come over for some dinner. I've been practicing my cooking in what spare time I have."

  "I'd love to, Soph. I'll bring Adryan along too. If I can wrestle him from my grandmother's side."

  She laughs pleasantly, and draws me into our customary, departing hug. "Until next time, Brie Melrose," she says, stepping away.

  "Until next time, Sophie Winchester," I respond, watching as she goes, returning to her group who, I'm not completely surprised to see, are watching us keenly.

  They've probably already heard about me, I think. My legend does precede me sometimes...

  It's a sarcastic thought, but a factual one. My fame around the city has grown quite considerably over the last few months. It's something I'm learning to get used to, even enjoy at times. To be labelled the city's protector is something that appeals to me.

  Something I very much want to live up to.

  With Sophie reengaging with her group, I set about my true purpose for being here, working around the different groups, smiling, saying hello, generally showing my face. The other representatives here know me well enough now, and believe I'm merely doing all this to be a good citizen, a fine representative of Haven, as they are.

  I wish I could say that were the truth, but frankly, it isn't.

  No, my purpose is quite different. I am here, simply put, to read minds. Specifically, to learn as much as I can about the outside world. The threats we face. The places these people come from. And, most importantly, whether anyone knows anything about the Children of the Prime, the lands far to the north that are ever on my mind.

  So, through the groups I go, concealing my true purpose. Yes, we have our vetting to find out a little about these people, but it's never truly in depth, and not performed by the most skilled of Mind-Manipulators. I am here to gain a deeper insight, something I've learned to do without being too intrusive. Once, the subject would be fully aware of my mental intrusions, reliving the precise memories I'd seek to draw up. Now, I can get a firm picture of a person with no more than a glance into their eyes.

  And, often, without even that.

  I move around, gently working my gaze across the groups, the individuals among them. Most people get a sense, perhaps, of something being 'wrong' when I perform my mental snipes. They often blink a couple of times, or draw up a confused expression, lifting their hand to their forehead, wondering just what happened. It's a sense, really, that's something's not right. No one, however, can know exactly what I've done, or that I was indeed the culprit.

  With a glance, a flash, I'm in and out, discovering where someone comes from, what they have faced to get here, what threats and dangers they may have encountered both at home, where they lived, and on their journey here to the city.

  I can learn a great deal with no more than that, my mind attuned to search for specific details about a person's life. No, I don't care about whether they have a husband or wife or kids. I don't care about whether they have worked as a farmer, a scavenger, a hunter. I don't seek detail on the quality of their life, particularly, or the exact nature of their settlements, the villages, in which they lived.

  My focus, instead, is on one simple concept...

  Who should we be worried about? Are there any threats out there we should fear?

  So far, I've turned up little. No reward beyond the threats of bandits and thieves, the sorts of barbarians and nomadic gangs that Kira and I encountered on our travels. I have, in fact, dealt with some of those factions already, often when Kira is back in town. We've had a number of missions based on my discoveries, taking a few of the hardier warriors from New Haven with us when we d
o. It was my plan, all along, to try to create a team able to react to things like this.

  And once, we even had Ares along with us for the ride.

  On that occasion, no one else had to do anything. The man dealt with it all single handedly, veritable one-man-army that he is.

  Still, those weren't great threats, really. Just groups of bandits, usually Enhanced, taking advantage of local Unenhanced villages and settlements they come across. What I'm ever searching for is something that will truly test us, a new faction rising to cause problems for the whole city.

  So far, there's been nothing. Nothing but the whisperings in my mind. The dark memories that live back there.

  Olympus.

  The Children of the Prime.

  It has become my singular obsession. A conflict that part of me almost yearns for. An opportunity to seek revenge. To wipe out this darkness that broods in the north, casting a shadow over everything that lies before it.

  The thoughts, as ever, take hold in me as I do my rounds, keeping specific ideas in mind as I search those of the men and women assembled here.

  I think of Herald Nestor, dressed in his simple robes, his head clean-shaven and forehead scarred with the strange symbols of the Prime. I think of those soldiers under his charge, their strange, almost ethereal blue eyes, a side-effect of his bizarre 'awakening' ritual. I think of the time I witnessed that ritual first hand, watching as the man called Marius, his wife and sister already killed during their failed awakening, have his own 'divinity' released from within.

  The pain, the agony I saw in his eyes...I will never forget it.

  I think of it all as I go, hoping to find some shred of something similar hidden in the minds of those around me. Hoping to discover a thread to pull on, something to unravel this mystery I seem unable to fully solve.

  But, as with every time I come here, I find nothing. No reference. No memory of significance. Nothing to suggest that anyone here has been that far north, had dealings with these people.