Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles)

by Robert Brady

  “Yes,” I said.

  And that only you can be trusted for that seat and that power.

  He didn’t need me to answer, so I didn’t. I had already decided on it, but the idea that War had made the effort to tell me…

  Yes, he added. Finally, you have come to a glimpse of what I have in store for you.

  Chapter Three

  Consequences

  The second day of the month Eveave began cold, dry and bright. Our beloved monarch marked that morning with another drunken display, and that evening my slave girl and my daughter entered the city.

  Glennen got liquored up and decided that he needed more children, so he went hunting for women through the palace. He actually had a troupe of them running for their safety and their own lives through the halls and back rooms of the palace before I could be notified.

  I didn’t have to hit him to subdue him, but I came close. I stood in his way and told him that he would have to go through me to get to them.

  He swung, but he couldn’t focus so he couldn’t hit. I pushed his hand aside a first, a second and a third time. He called me a treasonous bastard and said he would have me hung.

  “Who are you going to give the order to?” I asked him. “Who is carrying out your orders for you now?”

  That made him pause.

  “I’ll tell you, I am,” I said. “And I do everything for you, including wiping your ass when I have to. And I have to do it, because you’ve chased everyone else away.”

  He looked right at me, right into my eyes, and had one of those moments of lucidity that drunks sometimes have.

  “They have all abandoned me?” he asked. “They all left me, like Alekanna did?”

  I stared into his eyes, made him look back at me and said, “She didn’t leave you, our enemies killed her. And your friends didn’t leave you, you chased them away.”

  He collapsed against me, sweating and stinking and, after a few moments, sobbing. He knotted his fists in the material of my shirt, at my shoulders, and leaned his weight on me. He swore that he didn’t like what he had become and would change.

  He went to sleep and, the next morning, started drinking again. We moved all of the female staff where he couldn’t get at them.

  I had a better time with Shela’s arrival. She acted happier to see me, and no one got hurt.

  I had her consult with the royal healers, hoping that she could repeat her success with Genna on the king.

  “You don’t understand these things, White Wolf,” she told me, “so you won’t understand why we can’t help him.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  We were in my Spartan room, already in the process of being made less Spartan by her addition of a bassinet, more furniture, some tapestries and a different bed. We were sitting on a pile of quilts at the foot of our bed because Shela hadn’t decided on chairs for us.

  She sighed, taking Lee to her breast and doing this jiggle with her that she did when she was thinking. She didn’t rock my daughter as much as bounced her, but I think it comforted both of them.

  “I was able to cure Genna,” she said, more to the air than to me, “because Genna was afflicted. A physical ill had been forced on her body, which I could find and attack.

  “Glennen brings this on himself from grief and loss. I could heal the damage done to his body from the strong drink, but it would just make him better able to harm himself. It’s a thing in his mind that is broken, an idea that he can’t rid himself of, that in the drink he can find a clarity or an ease from the grief and pain, or at least a way to step away from it.”

  I nodded. That sounded like a good summation of alcoholism to me. And they had to decide to get better on their own, or they had to give in to it, one or the other. Until then, you could dry them out a thousand times and they would just go right back to what they were doing, because they didn’t see anything wrong with it.

  “But we still have to deal with the drunken monarch,” she concluded. Lee finished and Shela shifted her to her shoulder for burping. If I behaved myself then sometimes I got to do it – Shela knew no Master when it came to her child.

  “Maybe not,” I said. “If you have known a real alcoholic, then you know the problem has a way of fixing itself.”

  “You mean the yellow sickness, which takes their insides and destroys them, colors their eyes and breaks the veins in their nose, until they die.”

  I nodded.

  “Do you really want to let your liege lord die?” she asked me.

  I thought about it. I owed my title to Glennen. He had fostered me in Eldador and named me ‘heir.’ His faith in me had made me strong. I had killed for this man, and risked everything, for his wife, his friendship, and his faith in me.

  My god wanted him dead. He wanted me to replace him.

  I couldn’t just let him die.

  I couldn’t stop him, either. I tried watering his drink, but he simply drank more.

  I dutifully sat in court as Heir and spoke frequently with those Oligarchs here as well as mine in Thera. The month of Eveave progressed on, as time will.

  “We are the emissary of Trenbon,” the Uman said, one of a party of five who had petitioned to plead their case before the Eldadorian court.

  This should be interesting.

  I allowed them to approach the throne, dressed in the royal livery of the House Aurelias, of the Silent Isle. Each wore an eagle on his breast.

  “We petition for reparations, for the actions of your subject, Duke Rancor Mordetur, against Trenbon, for his illegal invasion of the Silent Isle, his violation of the moratorium on violence against the persons of the Fovean High Council, and for the damages done to Outpost IX, both in loss of property and in loss of life.”

  Neither the Uman language nor that of Man had a word for ‘cajones,’ but if they had, I would have used it.

  “We see no justification for reparations,” I said, instead, “on the grounds of self-defense.”

  “Self defense?” the Uman seemed incredulous.

  “Thera was attacked first,” I stated.

  “You have presented no proof of this,” the Uman insisted.

  “Of an attack on Thera?” I said. “I have the body of a dead queen, the word of the Duchess of Thera, numerous Wolf Soldiers and testimony from members of the Free Legion.”

  “Irrelevant,” he sniffed. “And, as you must know, un-presented to the Fovean High Council.”

  I looked at the Oligarchs. The one I had come to know as ‘One’ nodded. Under the Fovean High Council’s charter, evidence wasn’t evidence until proxy delivered it, as I had done for the Great Dwarven Nation, and debated by the members.

  I had emissaries to the Fovean High Council, but only the monarch, not the heir, could command them. I could not send my own proxy for the same reason.

  I hadn’t seen it necessary to shove something in front of Glennen to sign, and that had been a tactical mistake. I should have covered that base and hadn’t.

  “And what evidence do you have, then, that the Duke of Thera had any involvement in your alleged attack on Outpost IX?”

  The gallery enjoyed a moderate amount of laughter as the Uman sputtered.

  “The city was sacked,” he said.

  “We have no proof of this,” I said.

  “No proof?” he repeated. “There are thousands of dead.

  “I have seen none of these,” I said.

  “Your Highness, you were there,” the Uman said.

  “And I saw none of this, prove otherwise,” I said.

  They were dumbfounded. However, the same rules applied. They would have to present that evidence from Angron or one of the other Fovean monarchs, and then the Eldadorians would have to debate it with the rest of the Fovean nations. We would have to be given the opportunity to speak through proxy, and clearly we hadn’t.

  They must have been thinking I had a guilty conscience or something. They didn’t know me.

  “Your Highness, is it your position that Outpost IX wa
s not attacked?”

  “It is our position,” I said, “that you have no proof that it was attacked by me. Not proof that has been presented before the Fovean High Council.”

  “No less than 1,000 nobles –“ the Uman began.

  I shook my head. “They saw a man in a war helmet and armor,” I said.

  “You spoke before the Fovean High Council,” the Uman argued. He became more and more flustered.

  “And who will present that evidence?” I asked him. “Which of the delegates to the Fovean High Council, and from which nation, has decided to antagonize – um, implicate – me?”

  I felt reasonably sure that none of them right now were lining up to alienate me directly.

  And I could be called as the accused, but only my monarch could force me to attend, and that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

  The nobles who had written the charter had not wanted to be subject to the High Council over their own leaders. That had probably seemed like a clever way to avoid certain responsibilities at the time.

  “This leaves us in a difficult position,” the Uman said, finally.

  “No,” I said. “Your position is to leave, mine is to let you. What could be simpler than that?”

  Indignant, that is what they did. My Eldadorian delegates would be shamed before the High Council now, for my playing so underhanded a trick.

  I didn’t care. I hadn’t invaded to make them like me.

  The delegates left the city that day, according to my Eldadorian sentries. I would need more efficient spies.

  At the end of the day at court, the Oligarchs anticipated me.

  “We have taken the liberty of calling Glennen’s council,” the second told me, as we walked through the palace to the dining room.

  “We shall dine, and speak with them,” said the first. “The lady Shela has been informed and will attend.”

  “There are missives from your Free Legion associates, as well,” the fourth said. “You are informed that they would like 3,000 Wolf Soldiers for the summer campaigns, in Volkhydro and in Sental.”

  I nodded. No chance of that happening. I knew it already.

  If I were a gambling man, I would bet that Volkhydro wanted to take part of the harvest, and that Sental wanted to weaken Volkhydro to prevent just that.

  “And how is our beloved monarch?” I asked.

  They looked at each other, then at me. “We are informed that it took ten of your Wolf Soldiers to keep him from charging out of the palace gates,” said the third. “He wanted to go out into the streets and spread the wealth of Eldador with the common folk.”

  I could only imagine what he thought that might be.

  “I want Wolf Soldiers in all of the key guard positions throughout the palace,” I informed him.

  They exchanged glances. “The house compliment of 1,000 can be sent to the royal foot. Your five hundred and Lady Shela’s thousand could replaced them here.”

  We were outside of the dining room now. As heir, they expected me to fill Glennen’s place at the head of the table, if he didn’t make an appearance. That had happened one time, and he had puked into his salad and passed out at the beginning of the meal. I still preferred that to having to nod and smile at his drunken rambling through a meal.

  “However,” the second among them said, “the House Guard are chosen for their loyalty to the monarch. They take their positions seriously, not just for the advantage of such duty, but for their love of the Stowes. There are four children whom they protect, not just the King.”

  “They will not simple depart,” the third said.

  “Not peacefully,” the first agreed. “And open combat with them-“

  “Will make me look like an usurper,” I said.

  I’d had this conversation before, but not with them.

  “There’s a Wolf Soldier named, ‘J’her,’” I informed them. I’d noted his service. He’d been with me at Tamaran Glen, and at the Sack of Outpost IX, as it was being called.

  “Have him sent to me.”

  All four nodded. Every night we waited respectfully outside of the doors for Glennen to arrive. Guests would be seated before him, so that they could stand in attendance when he entered. However I would be expected to enter right behind, to learn from him how to conduct myself at the meal.

  “One of your advisors is a bounty hunter,” the third Oligarch warned me. “And we are informed already that they do not see service to you as an obligation of theirs.”

  “So why is he here?” I asked.

  “He is Tom Kelgan, and he is an essential part of the intelligence here,” the fourth said. “Even if he must be replaced, then we must speak with him and learn what he knows.”

  I nodded. If he did the job of our Drekk, then we couldn’t just boot him out the back door and be rid of him – not if we wanted the intelligence of the nation to keep running. I would need my own people, however. Whether Glennen got better or not, we were going to have to run things.

  “I think that propriety has been served,” the third Oligarch told me.

  I nodded again. They threw open the doors and the court stood.

  There were dozens. Glennen had supposedly hated to eat alone. Hectar, the Duke of Eldador, sat to my right with his wife whose name I always got wrong. They had a son, Hectaro, seven years old and already being aimed at Lee.

  The Oligarchs sat at the four corners of the long table, to disperse their wisdom. There were a few court barons – landless men with titles who hung about the palace looking for ways to further their positions or their wealth, and to be pains in my ass. They all knew that the duchy of Thera went up for grabs when Glennen couldn’t rule any more.

  Daharef, the general who had replaced Sammin, and his latest honey, an Uman this time, sat next to a man who wore a breastplate and had daggers crossed behind his shoulders. He stood with the table between us, his back to the wall, away from the one great window that faced the bay, and he looked me right in the eye.

  He had red hair brushed out and hanging over one shoulder, a moustache that drooped past his mouth, and green eyes that bore right into me. No need to guess who he might be.

  There were other people I hadn’t seen before. I hadn’t been outgoing enough as the Heir. I didn’t consider them beneath me; I just didn’t have a lot of time.

  I walked to the head of the table. Shela stood in front of the seat beside mine, beaming at me because she still hadn’t gotten used to this. The Oligarchs took their places; I took mine, nodded regally, and sat. They all sat as soon I settled in. Shela touched my hand and, when I turned to her, shot me a smile.

  I broke protocol and kissed the end of her nose. That earned a polite titter at the table, and the Duchess of Eldador looked sideways at her husband.

  “We are pleased that all of you could attend,” I said. “I – um – We are informed that We are to mix business with pleasure, and discuss affairs of state.”

  “Mix business with pleasure?” Hectar asked me.

  Uman servants entered with platters. Just as in the Fovean eateries, we didn’t order food and it didn’t come in courses. The table would be piled high and then we would take what we wanted.

  Shela took my plate and filled it, so that the other guests could eat. No one would take a bite before I did.

  “We mix the business of the day with the pleasure of your company,” I explained.

  Several nodded. “What a bright way to look at things,” the Duchess commented.

  Slang breaking in my favor? That was promising.

  “Our first issue,” said Oligarch two, leaping into business, “is the state of our relations with other nations.”

  “No,” the red-haired man said. “The first issue is your state of relations with me.”

  Even the servants paused over that. Calling me out at dinner probably made for an even larger breach of protocol than the kiss.

  “It is, is it?” I said, looking at him directly.

  “This is our bounty hunter advisor, T
om Kelgan,” the third Oligarch said. “He is in charge of –“

  “He is a representative of the bounty hunters’ guild,” one of the barons said. He was a slight man in elegant clothes, sitting next to Kelgan. He was either really brave or really naïve. “He has sworn to bring you to the justice of the guild.”

  “What makes him think he will survive this meal?” I asked, as Shela laid my plate down before me. I picked up a fork and took a bite so that the others could eat. Most looked nervous as they reached for food.

  “I thought the safety of a dinner guest ensured,” the bounty hunter said, reaching for a stack of cut meat with a two-pronged fork. He did it with his left hand, so that his weapon hand would be free.

  Suddenly he dropped the fork, which a moment later glowed red, singeing the dinner table. He held his hand and looked at Shela and me.

  “I don’t like the nick name you gave me,” Shela said. “And I am aware of no custom that says I can’t make you a pile of ashes, any time I want.”

  “Your Highness,” Oligarch one said. “Shall I call the guard?”

  “We don’t need them,” I said, making a dismissive gesture. A servant came to my left and offered me mead from a pitcher. I held up my bowl for her. I didn’t want it, but if I didn’t take it, none of them could have any.

  “You seem to crave the wrath of the guild,” Tom Kelgan accused me. “I assure your Highness, if I am harmed – “

  “The guild that wants me dead at all costs will want me dead at costs that they had never before imagined?”

  He looked at me, I looked at him, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

  “You do not let yourself be intimidated, then, I see,” he said, picking up a different fork to get himself more meat. He winced as he piled his plate, his left hand still sore from the burn.

  “We have noticed this of his Highness,” Hectar commented.

  “Many have,” one of the barons commented drolly.

  Again, a small laugh.

  “Shall you be keeping me on,” he continued, “or is this my last meal?”

  “Will you be bound by a fealty?” I asked.