The Argument of Empires

by Jacob T. Helvey

  Kareen blushed for the second time in as many days. Blessed Tirrak! How did a man get so beautiful? “Yes. Well, I…” She took a sip of her tea to give her hands something to do. “You heard what that witch at the palace said. I may be here for a while.”

  She said weeks, Kareen thought. Can I really afford to wait that long?

  “I would welcome you to stay here, but I think it would ultimately be an empty gesture.” He bit into a piece of buttered bread and chewed for several moments. “Because I’m taking you to see the Emperor myself.”

  “What?” Kareen shook her head. It was early and already she had had too many surprises for one day. “You would disobey an order from one of the Emperor’s own Delvers?”

  “If it means helping you and getting a chance to raid the Cutarans, then yes, I would.” He gulped down his tea and took another bite from the bread.

  “My father knew Hadan well, in the years leading up to his death. The Emperor thought my old man had singlehandedly saved the Empire, which I guess he did in a way. I don’t think he would give the son of Timon Kirov too severe of a punishment.”

  “Maybe,” Kareen mumbled, her eyes settling on her half-eaten meal. “But what about me?” Her family was already in trouble with the Empire. This very trip spoke to that end.

  “You’ll have paid your taxes to the Emperor. That’s really what matters, in any case.” Kareen couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was sure there was another reason for Livran’s sudden enthusiasm in helping her. He wants glory, she realized. To prove himself to the Emperor and gain the same favor his father earned.

  She could easily turn down his offer, leave Livran and stay in any of a dozen inns in the city that catered to nobles from the Empire, waiting for Hadan’s return in comfort and luxury. But there were a lot of “ifs” down that path. What if the Emperor arrived later than expected? Would he accept a simple apology, considering the bad timing of her arrival to be a simple act of fate? She couldn’t be sure. She had heard stories of how Hadan treated those who disregarded his edicts. They tended to find themselves hanging from a rope in the Courtyard of the Fates back in Akiv.

  No. She couldn’t wait. Not while knowing there was a noose hanging around her neck and the necks of all her kin. She would have to take her chances and accept Livran’s offer.

  “I’ll go with you,” she finally said. It seemed like the wrong choice, but it was the only choice she had. Inaction would get her nowhere.

  Livran smiled and brushed a lock of hair back from his eyes. “I knew you would see it my way. With your permission, we’ll be ready to leave by the evening.”

  “The evening?” she asked, incredulous. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “I left to see some of my men after you went to bed. They started gathering supplies last night.” He got up from the table and headed to the door. “I don’t mean to rush you, but if we want to leave on schedule…”

  Kareen looked down at her food, hunger suddenly replaced by a rising anxiety that filled her with a mix of dread and anticipation. “You’re leaving?”

  Livran took a cream-colored jacket off the coat rack and threw it over his broad shoulders. “We’re leaving. You’re going to need a horse, unless you plan on walking all the way to the Front.”

  It was nearly nightfall by the time Kareen road her new rouncey into the yard of Livran’s house. The knight came up beside her on his brown stallion, Firestar and dismounted, leading the great beast into the stables built behind the small manor.

  “Have you decided on a name yet?” Livran called from inside one of the stalls.

  “Ranger,” she said, dismounting and handing the reins to Livran. “That was the name of my father’s destrier.” Despite the difference in size and breeding, the horses shared the same auburn colored coat and the same sharpness in their dark eyes.

  “You do realize you picked a mare?” he chided. “Ranger seems a little masculine, don’t you think.”

  Kareen chuckled and patted the horse on the flank. “Don’t listen to him,” she told the animal. This close, he smelled of fresh hay and the wide-open fields of sorghum just outside the city walls. “If you can carry me all the way to the Emperor, then you’ll be more than worthy of the name.”

  “It’s a good thing I brought a heavy purse,” Livran commented as he led the pair of horses into the rear of the stable. “This girl’s good Skithandi stock. Hopefully she was worth the money I sunk into her.”

  “If its money you want, I have enough-”

  “I have plenty of coin, Kareen.” Livran held up a hand. He was being so generous… but rumor had it that Timon Kirov had been as rich as a lord even before he was given his title. Truth be told, Livran was probably worth more than her father, even if the Stevalens were a rung above him on the social ladder.

  Livran came outside carrying Firestar’s heavy saddle over his shoulder. “We have a few hours yet before we need to get moving. My men will meet us at the barracks on the edge of town. For now, we should probably grab something to eat. With things being the way they are, I’m not sure when we’ll get another meal.”

  They gorged themselves on as much food as they could hold in their bellies without vomiting it back up, and then went about the slow process of packing. Livran needed little more than a few uniforms and road rations. Kareen’s choices were more numerous and more difficult. She couldn’t carry her entire trunk. It was light, but regardless, it would take the place of food or weapons on one of the packhorses. If worse came to worst, hard steel and road rations would do Livran better than a pile of dresses and a pan of makeup.

  After a quarter hour of consideration, she finally settled on a small selection of dresses, a single hair brush, and her sturdy pair of boots, along with a few simple cosmetics. Finally, she grabbed her epée and slipped it through her belt. It would be next to useless in a real fight, but it couldn’t hurt to have a few feet of steel between herself and anyone who wanted her dead.

  She checked and then double checked her supplies, making sure there was nothing out of place before making her way to the kitchen, her small pack in one hand, the satchel full of coins in the other. Kareen jumped. A metal man stood at the center of the room. It turned with a clank, revealing Livran’s face behind a lifted visor.

  He waved a gauntleted hand to the half dozen armorers tending to him. They scurried out the door to wait in the yard, giving Kareen an unaltered view of the young knight’s shining plate. It swept and curved around Livran’s body like a second skin, smooth in the style of the Skithandi. Kareen’s father, and most of the nobles and knights of Kilri preferred the style of neighboring Vashava, sharp and fluted like some form of gothic sculpture. This was different, eschewing intimidation in favor of beauty and elegance.

  “I thought you said the Front was days away? Are we going to be attacked by Cutarans the moment we step outside the city walls?

  Livran sighed. “I’ll take it off once we’re away from the city, but my men need to see me wearing this damn stuff from time to time. Sometimes, I have to remind them that I’m not just the man who lines their pockets and buys their ale. I’m a warrior too.” He took his longsword and strapped it at his waist with the clinking of metal on metal. “And besides, the guards will expect us to be equipped for battle. We’re only doing drills outside the city walls, after all.” He gave her a mischievous wink.

  Kareen hadn’t been sure about this plan, still wasn’t, if she was honest, but somehow seeing Livran standing resplendent in his armor gave her hope. They could do this. They just had to keep calm, and stick to the plan.

  * * *

  They left on their horses a while later, heading in the direction of the barracks that lay at the western edge of Kwell. The sun began to set behind the walls ahead of them as they rode, casting the streets below in shadow. Fanalkiri scurried this way and that around them, eager to get home before nightfall. Thei
r day was ending. Kareen and Livran’s had just begun.

  Built within the shadow of the high walls, the Iron Quarter had once been a series of lower class neighborhoods, destroyed during the siege two years ago. Now, in place of tenements and shops were row after row of the same long bunk houses, roughly cut and hastily constructed. They could house all seventy thousand soldiers on the continent if required. But with so much of the army on the Front, most looked empty. Still, she could see the occasional milling group of uniformed men, cooking dinner or tending to their armor and equipment.

  Each one of the shoddy dwellings bore the arms of a noble or knight painted on its side. Some arms were only visible on a single barracks. These were men like Livran or Yules, either of minor power, or with a presence on the continent small enough to warrant the renting of only a few dozen bunks. Others, like High Lord Malgin, controlled more than a score, enough, Kareen estimated, to house several thousand soldiers.

  They came to one of barracks closest to the city wall, enough that the sun would only be visible for half the day, leaving the buildings here in near-constant twilight. The arms on its long side depicted a silver hand holding a bloodied dagger. “We’re here,” Livran said, dismounting and heading inside. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  Kareen let herself lean back in her saddle, scanning the walls high above. Guards patrolled up on the battlements, their lanterns bobbing in the twilight. Would they try and stop Livran? This story about taking his men on patrol seemed a shaky one to her ears. If they failed here, Kareen would likely find herself spending the rest of her stay on Fanalkir in a cell. It wouldn’t exactly be a good first impression for Emperor Hadan, upon his return, to see the daughter of one of his former enemies waiting for him behind bars.

  Livran emerged from the barracks a moment later with a group of soldiers in tow. Kareen guessed them at no more than eighty, a small force, but larger than she would have expected for a knight’s retinue. The first few ranks were hard-faced fighters. Weighed down with heavy armor, they carried halberds and greatswords. The next were more lightly equipped crossbowmen, their only protection coming from breastplates and pot helms that wouldn’t restrict their movement. The last held pikes at their shoulders and carried satchels of tools. Kareen could recognize farriers, blacksmiths, and grooms. Not front line fighters then, but craftsmen, useful if one of the horses threw a shoe, or a soldier curled the point of his sword.

  Livran climbed back on his horse and with a few orders, led the retinue north, following the city wall out of the Iron Quarter, until they reached one of the gates out of Kwell. A group of packhorses had joined them, as well as the armorers who had been attending to Livran’s plate. Everyone looked to be equipped for several weeks in the field. More than enough to get them to the Front, Kareen hoped.

  Livran rode with confidence at the head of the formation, trailed by his officers, as heavily armored as their commander. The trio must have made an imposing sight for the guard captain who met them, for he came out of the gatehouse with half-a-dozen black-clad men of the Akivian Corps at his back.

  “Ho, Watch Captain!” Livran put a heavy emphasis on the man’s title, as if to rub in by just how far he outranked the man.

  “Sir Kirov,” the captain replied. His men tightened their grips on their spears. Kareen suddenly wondered what Livran had done to anger the Emperors own soldiers. More foolish stunts like this, if she had to guess. “I am to be informed ahead of time whenever someone plans to go beyond the city walls.”

  Livran pulled off his helm and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, you see, I figured my men needed some exercise outside the city. They’ve been cooped up in those barracks so long they’re starting to develop bad habits.” He made a pouring motion with his hand. “I thought a few days of hard drilling outside the walls might help the lazy bastards get their edge back.”

  The captain didn’t look impressed by the excuse. Kareen felt her grip tighten on the reins of her horse. We’re going to be sent back, aren’t we? All this work will have been for nothing.

  “Sir. I have a ledger of every lord, baron, and knight allowed through these walls. A runner comes from the palace every morning with an updated version of that list. But I can already tell you, sir, that you are not on that list.” He turned to head back towards the gatehouse, but Livran cleared his throat, the sound stopping the captain in his tracks.

  “That list is only for men planning on crossing through the Barrier Hills, and trust me when I say I’ll be staying as far from the Hills as I can get. Raids by the Cutarans are rare this far south, but not unheard of.”

  “Sir-” the captain began, but Livran still had more to say.

  “Captain… I will not have you impede on my right of travel as a Peer of the Empire.” He raised his voice, seeming to summon up his best impression of a threatening nobleman. Kareen had seen her father do the same, and while Livran wasn’t quite the master that Lord Stevalen had become over the years, it was enough to intimidate a simple guard captain. “You will either let me and my soldiers through this gate or I will be forced to inform the closest representative of Emperor Hadan that one of his guard captains detained me. Mark my words: if you force my hand, you will find yourself in the brig before the night is out.”

  The flurry of words seemed to have weakened the captain’s resolve somewhat. He gritted his teeth and spit on the ground before Firestar. Kareen held back a gasp at the insult, but Livran ignored the gesture. “Very well. You can go through, sir,” the captain said. “But if I find out you’ve gotten within even a mile of the Barrier Hills, I’ll be the one who’ll have you put in chains.” He smiled. “Sir.”

  Livran looked like he might reach down and strike the man with a gauntleted fist, but must have thought better of the action and the scene it would cause. “Thank you,” he said, curtly, directing his horse around the squad of Akivians.

  The guard captain stepped aside and swept a hand into the darkness beyond. Kareen let out a long sigh, the pressure building since the spat had begun releasing at once.

  “Smug bastard,” Livran spat once they were far enough from the walls for no one to hear. “He knows I have no authority over him, so he rubs it in my face.” He whispered under his breath. “Low class retch…”

  “Aren’t most captains aristocrats?” Kareen asked. Aristocrats were one of those strange quirks of the Empire’s political machine. They weren’t granted the same privileges as the nobility, but they weren’t left in the mud with the commoners either. They could buy and own land without the permission of the Emperor or one of his representatives, just like a lord, but they couldn’t raise their own militias or levy their own taxes.

  “In cities, the governors can raise anyone to the rank of captain. Personally, I support the system. It ensures the best rise to the top. But sometimes they promote men who have ideas well above their station.”

  Kareen nodded. When the Emperor had conquered Hadalkir and Toashan, he had let the local lords continue to rule their own lands so long as they gave him control over the cities. There were still powerful lords in the Empire’s urban areas, granted—half the High Lords had their seats in cities after all—but they had been forced to cede much of that power to the Imperial Governors.

  The “Death of the Ruling Class” as her father had called it, was one of the original catalysts of the Autumn Rebellion. Ripped right from the pages of The Argument of Empires if she had to guess. In her travels, she hadn’t seen any weakening of the institutions and traditions that kept the lords and knights at the top. They seemed as powerful as ever. The barracks in Kwell, full of thousands of privately levied soldiers, and the plantation’s that lined Fanalkir’s northern coast, both attested to that.

  “So, the Front is beyond those hills?” Kareen asked, hoping to change the subject. She’d had enough talk of politics for one day. The whole subject had a way of making her sick.

  “The way they talk
about it, you’d believe the Front is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. But in reality, you’d have to ride for another hundred miles in any direction before you reached the first encampment.

  Livran motioned to the hills, lit by the reflected light of Tirrak, casting the rocky crags in a cool blue. “There will be watchmen up there. Luckily, their eyes will be on the south, watching for Cutaran raiding parties. They won’t have men stationed looking back towards the coast. Why would they?” Kareen could hear the smile in his voice. “By the time they notice their mistake, we’ll be miles onto the savanna, far enough that even their riders—if they even have any—won’t be able to stop us. You’ll be putting that bag of silver at the Emperor’s feet before you know it.”

  * * *

  Kareen had thought they might try something more discreet than marching through a gap in the hills and directly onto the plains below, but that was exactly the path Livran chose. The ground on the heights were craggy and windblown by the storms off the Eye, forcing them to dismount and lead their horses over the uneven terrain on foot. Kareen was sure that at any moment, an alarm would be raised and the hills would be swarming with black-clad troops bearing burnished steel. They would be captured and dragged back to Kwell in chains to face justice before the Delver Tiphil Drom.

  But somehow, despite the constant clanking of armor and loud curses from the soldiers as they stumbled around in near-darkness, their passing went unnoticed. Within minutes, they had reached the top of the pass and begun their descent. The ground smoothed and the men with horses remounted.

  Horns sounded from the heights behind them, but by that time, Livran had urged his men forward into a run. Nothing but the fastest cavalry could catch them now, he assured her.

  The horns were only a distant echo as the ground leveled out and they came to the savanna proper. The plains around them looked like something out of a dream, the blue light of Tirrak giving the place a strangely earie cast. By day, she had read, the savannas of Fanalkir were populated by strange beasts like those she had seen depicted on the walls of the House of Seafarers, but with the coming of night, the plains were quiet, the silence giving to the place an earie, grave-like quality.