by Tony Roberts
“What? I’m a prince! I outrank those peasants!”
“But you don’t know how to act like one. Until I am satisfied you’re mature enough to warrant the respect and give commands, you will have no powers. If this continues to your age of adulthood, then I shall remove your title of Prince of the East and give it to Prince Elas.”
“Elas? He isn’t even your son!”
“No but he outranks you, and should I die tomorrow and Jorqel assumes the throne, then Prince Elas becomes his heir, because Argan and yourself wouldn’t be old enough. So remember, you rank below everyone else.”
“Even that girl Argan? That’s stupid! He’ll never be an emperor! He’s not a man.”
“You stop that right now. I don’t know why you dislike your brother so much; you defer to him, since he is your superior. Remember your position, remember how our society works. Rules are made for everyone, including you. If you don’t abide by them, don’t expect anyone else to do so where you are concerned.”
The young prince seethed. This old man was so unfair to him. He saw himself as the only proper one to take over the throne. Everyone else was stupid and weak, especially Argan. Argan would be imprisoned the moment he took over and anyone else who had annoyed him ever would be put in the same prison and the door closed to crush them all. He would kill everyone who didn’t do as he wanted immediately. His father would have to die once he got to sixteen so he could become heir, for if Jorqel chose anyone else he would kill the named one and so he, Istan, would be the only one left to take over. And once he became emperor he would not name anyone as heir because he would never let anyone near the throne.
Astiras saw the angry emotions play across the boy’s face. “Behave, or else. You understand?”
“Yes, father,” Istan forced the words out. “Who will be my companions now?”
“They will be chosen. I do not want you to have Bragalese boys in your entourage; they are too wild. I disliked them anyway and it was time they were got rid of. Now behave like a prince should and I’ll let you keep your title. You may go.”
Astiras remained seated, shaking his head sadly. Such things ought not to be necessary, but it seemed with Istan one had to constantly slap him down. Wild beasts needed such control.
While Istan had to come to terms with his restricted circumstances, Amne found she had more freedom. Elas had been outraged at Amne’s treatment at the hand of Dragan, and his attitude to his wife changed subtly. He was no longer severe towards her. He asked after her frequently, and although he was still distant, it wasn’t with the hard coldness he had displayed previously.
Amne was grateful for Lalaas’ attentiveness. The two girls had been upset during Amne’s absence and Lalaas had done his best to reassure them at that time. Since her return he had often stopped by and been a comforting presence to them all. Amne had a few nightmares thanks to her ordeal and Elas had difficulties in dealing with that, and only a frank and open exchange with Lalaas in private had stopped him from abandoning her at night altogether.
Amne’s need to hold onto someone when she had those bad dreams clashed with her reluctance to have a man near her at night following her rape. It meant that Elas spent hardly any time with her at night, and although it was something neither really needed to help their marriage, it was an arrangement that suited Elas more than Amne. However, Elas gradually became more attentive and that helped heal some of the rift between them. Amne, never one to let something pass by without finding out why it was so, found out that Lalaas was responsible for Elas’ new-found thoughtfulness. It only reinforced her fondness for the guard captain and she made a special effort to guide him through the intricacies and pitfalls of how to become a noble in Kastania’s system.
Gradually Elas was allowed more time with Amne alone, and she slowly shut away the ordeal she had endured, but it never quite vanished.
Lalaas found it frustrating to have to wait the long time it took from when he sent a letter to Zipria to the reply. The replies took almost a season to come back, and when they did, they were couched in terms of such vagueness and stilted language he found it hard to decipher. Amne was a great help there, too. It seemed the Ziprians were somewhat touchy about any kind of what they perceived as interference from Kastan City, and although they paid their taxes and sent goods to the mainland, they were almost independent. Lalaas confided to Amne that if it were not for the need to have a small imperial garrison there to keep a watch on the Epatamians on the nearby shores of Vantalia, they would probably dispense with even the superficial appearance of being part of the empire.
Amne agreed. “We have neglected Zipria for too long; our predecessors paid little attention to them as they were too distant and when our borders fell back, they became isolated. Its only because we Koros are the enemies of who came before that the Ziprians feel even a little loyalty to us. They would rather the landowners of their estates actually live on the island.”
“I can see their point of view,” Lalaas commented. “It would be better to be there and see for myself the state of affairs.”
“But it’s too far out of the way,” Amne said. “They’re closer to the Epatamian capital than they are to us here.”
“But what a beautiful forward base to launch an invasion of Tybar or Epatamian territory. Look how close they are to all the cities and fortresses there – Adnea, Antok, even Krau. If we held Krau we could dominate the whole coastline there.”
“We are not strong enough, Lalaas, so I hear from Elas anyway. All I do hear from anyone in the army is the lack of strength we have. What do you think? You’re a military thinker.”
Lalaas chuckled at that. “What, me? I’m a hunter, a scout, and a captain of the guard here, a ceremonial unit. The Guard hasn’t seen action for nearly a century.”
“Even so, what do you think about the strength of our armies?”
Lalaas thought for a moment. “Alright, your father has got a difficult job to do. He’s trying to please the Council who are mostly traders and have self-interests in what has built up their financial strength. Take the Anglis for example. They have built their House on marble, so their focus is on keeping the trade in marble going.”
“We have done the same in timber, yet we are a champion of the army.”
Lalaas acknowledged the challenge in her voice. “Yes, but be honest, the Koros are something of an exception. So, spending a lot on the army wouldn’t be popular with the Council. The navy is moaning about neglect, and we still only have four warships which is ludicrous. We lag behind in field artillery, and its only in Kornith, of all places, that we’re trying to regain what we once had.”
He pondered a little more. “Your father has done the right thing in leaving the west to Jorqel. Its good practice to divide responsibilities – he can concentrate on the east where Venn is currently causing a bit of anxiety and leave the running of the other half to the prince. He seems a very competent person, by the way.”
Amne smiled in pleasure. “Oh he is – my big brother. So reliable. You ought to get to know him better; he’s really not as dull as some people think. It’s just he takes his duties seriously. He’s as dutiful as Elas but has a much better personality.”
“Ah, I cannot comment on that,” Lalaas said. “So, Jorqel has the RIMM on Romos, which is, what, five squadrons now with the new recruits? He’s building up the castle there so it can hold out longer until reinforcements arrive in case of an invasion. In Slenna we have the Army of the West with the best of the regulars we have over there, but it’s still small with just four companies. Far too small to be anything other than a defensive force. Then there’s Niake and its equally small garrison, three companies. Pretty good, from what I hear, but still too small for anything other than patrolling Bathenia.”
“So nothing to threaten the Tybar with.”
“No. Best it remains like that too. If Tybar thought we were strong enough to invade they’d put more forces on our borders. They’re happy with the current situat
ion. No, everyone knows we’ve got our focus in the east. Here, the KIMM is based with six squadrons under Deran Loshar. I’m still a little uneasy relying on a renegade Tybar to train them but he seems to be doing a good job.”
“I know what you mean. But he does seem loyal enough. We need every help. Elas says the KIMM are our mobile strike force to deal with any crisis east or west.”
“Yes he’s right; they’re fast, and can get to most places in time to deal with any event. Of course, we also have the city militia and the guard, another four companies, so the city can hold out for some time if necessary. Nothing as well trained as the Army of the East in Zofela, and nobody would dare take them on unless they have overwhelming numbers.”
“Father is our best general, too,” she said with pride.
“There’s that, too. His reputation is another deterrent; who would want to take him on? I wouldn’t, that’s for sure!”
Amne laughed, her face bright. Lalaas had to look away as the urge to kiss her was very strong. Not something he should think about, but she was so attractive. He treasured these times of being together. “Not many would, which is why I think mother is mad.”
“You patched up your differences with the empress?”
“Oh, you know how it is – best we stay in two different places. We have too many differences of opinion. I find Sannia much more easy to get on with.”
Lalaas grunted. He didn’t want to get too deep into that. “So, garrisons at Turslenka and Kornith. Nothing much. Five companies in Turslenka – two regulars and three militia, and two companies in Kornith. Very thin on the ground there – Venn would find little resistance outside the two settlements. Not what you’d call a massive army overall. Could we face a big invasion? I don’t know. I do know the current thinking is to sit back and wait for any attack and rely on our defences, but you can’t keep on doing that forever.”
Amne nodded. “Father has said to me we need time. Time to get Argan and Istan old enough to command. We need more generals, reliable ones. Father distrusts the other Houses, and to be frank the experiences of them in the recent past supports his mistrust. Better to have an army-orientated family on the throne than a merchant or lawyer.”
“But the Council doesn’t like dynasties, do they? It makes them feel excluded.”
“Oh, father has to suck up to them from time to time and he doesn’t like that. That’s why he’s not spent much on the armed forces; he’s kept the trade going and improved the roads, market places and ports as a priority so to improve the flow of goods. The Council are as happy as a porcine in shit at the moment.”
“Amne!” Lalaas was shocked at the expression.
“Oops! Sorry, forgot myself there a moment,” she giggled. “Heard one of the junior officers in the KIMM use that once.”
“Well, Elas would be scandalised if he heard you speak like that.”
“Oh he disapproves of me showing a hand-span of flesh,” she smiled. “If he had his way I’d be dressed head to foot in a one-piece drape with just my face showing. His idea of modesty borders on the fanatical.”
“I can’t see you in a one-piece, Amne.”
“Nor I. He especially hates my riding outfit. Talking of that, are you up for a ride out this afternoon?”
“Sure, I’m off-duty today, it’s my rest day.”
Amne smiled. “Excellent. It’s been a while, I need to keep the practice up. Yes, Elas thinks I dress like a prostitute in that outfit.”
“I’ve never seen any prostitute dress like that – perhaps he goes to some dodgy parties?”
Amne collapsed into gales of laughter. The thought of her excessively serious and straight husband going to one of the more dubious noble parties was too much. Lalaas grinned. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Lalaas, it’s a life-saver being with you in this palace. You’re just about the only one who keeps my sanity.”
“Thought that had flown years ago, Amne.”
Amne punched him on the arm. “Cheek. Come on, enough of this, let’s take lunch then go out riding.”
They made their way to the dining room. Elas came in shortly afterwards and listened silently while Amne informed him as to where they would be going. The prince tolerated her going out provided she was escorted at all times. He still felt only having Lalaas was too little but as both pointed out, the captain had showed his abilities in the past and as Elas knew, Lalaas was the only one he trusted to be with his passionate wife and not succumb to her charms. He was in fact grateful for Lalaas taking her out as it seemed to defuse her temper, for she became fractious if kept indoors too long. His own attention was firmly on social matters. His current project was to oversee the renovation and rebuild of the public baths. For too long these facilities had been allowed to decay and if Kastania was known for one thing, then it was for its public works.
All over the empire such works were continuing, and for the moment they were enjoying the peace, but Astiras and his family knew it wouldn’t last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was almost the tenth anniversary of the accession of Astiras Koros to the throne. The fourteen year old Argan Koros stood at the top of the steps of the governor’s residence and inhaled deeply, sucking in the spring air and stretching. He was glad the winter was gone; he could enjoy the brighter days, the warmth and the less chance of it raining. He didn’t mind the cold too much, it was the wet days he disliked.
He felt more and more at home here in Turslenka now. Kastan City and Zofela were receding memories, but he knew soon, one day, he would have to leave and take up whatever governorship his father had planned. Would it be Slenna or Romos? It wouldn’t be any other, for Niake was firmly Evas Extonos’, and Jorqel would be in one of the other two. No matter, he would find out in due course.
Footsteps behind him heralded the arrival of Kerrin. Kerrin was becoming very much like his late father in appearance, and since Panat’s death the winter just gone, he was much more subdued and sad. Panat just gave up one dark morning; he had been ill for a while and his injuries that he’d gained years ago worked against him. His sight had gone, his body had failed him and finally he just let go and faded away.
Argan and Amal had comforted Kerrin as best they could, and of late Kerrin had showed signs of recovering from the blow. To have no parents now was lonely, and Argan and the Bragalese girl were the closest to family he had.
The death of one man didn’t mean martial training was done; another had to be found to continue Argan’s and Kerrin’s training, and a young officer in the militia had volunteered. He was one of those middle-ranked noblemen who was either the second, third or lower son who would not take up the family’s head once the current head died, so had to find useful employment.
Mostly they went into business, running one of the House’s branches of trade, but sometimes there were too many sons to fill positions and they tended to find their way into military posts, positions the rest of the House tended to look down on. Sometimes these people turned out to be utterly useless, but sometimes the military found they had a talented officer and used them as best they could.
This particular individual was from the Bosua family, a low-to-middle ranked House who had built their fortune on manufacturing bovineskin goods, and owned a large tract of land in Frasia where they bred herd beasts from whose skin they made top quality bovineskin. The manufacturing sheds were well away from any residence as the smell was fairly awful.
The young Kontas Bosua was keen, slim, tall, and had a shock of black curly hair and very pale skin. He was probably no more than ten years older than Argan, and was properly in awe of the young Koros prince. Kontas was a sub-commander of one of the Turslenkan militia companies but was uncommonly good at fencing and had a pretty good grasp of tactics. His strategic vision was however not so good.
“A good day to practice our riding skills, ‘Rin,” Argan said, without looking to see whether it was his friend or not.
“Yes, ‘Gan,” came the familiar reply. “I
’ll be pleased to ride out away from here.”
Argan looked at Kerrin who was now standing alongside. “You don’t like it here?”
“No. Father’s memory is here, and I will always think of him dying in Turslenka. I can’t wait to go to another place.”
Argan looked away. “In time, yes. We have a couple of years yet. Still plenty to learn.” He looked out over the sea of roofs to the sea, glittering in the distance. “We ought to learn to swim one day.”
“Swim? What for?”
“I think we will be taken by sea at one time or other, definitely if we are to go to Niake and the west.”
“Why Niake, ‘Gan?”
“I’m to marry Velka there, remember? We are betrothed, after all, and Niake is her home city. I’m not the emperor or heir, so it won’t be in Kastan City. As I’m supposed to be Prince of the West, it should be in the principle city of the west, and that’s Niake.”
“Getting married is silly,” Kerrin said gloomily. “Just because people say you have to marry her.”
Argan shrugged. “Being a prince isn’t all good; you have duties to follow. One duty is to marry and have children so the empire gets more leaders and generals.”
“But you don’t really know Velka do you? I mean you’ve only seen her maybe five or six times, and she seems so stuck up these days.”
“Stuck up? Oh, ‘Rin, don’t be a spoiler! You don’t like her because she doesn’t speak to you. She doesn’t speak to Amal, either, have you noticed?”
“You like Amal more than Velka, so if you were going to marry anyone, it would be Amal, surely?”
Argan smiled sadly. “Not allowed. She’s not Kastanain, or a noble. I’m not allowed to marry who I like. Duty,” he faced his friend squarely, “but I will insist on both you and Amal being in my household after I marry Velka.”
“Quite right too. It’d be awful not to have people around you like. Anyway, where would you live?”
“I don’t know. In fact I haven’t thought about that much to be honest.” He thought on that matter for a moment. “Maybe Slenna or Romos. It depends where the emperor will send me when I’m of the age to rule a province.”
