The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “They can,” Stiger confirmed. “Are you suggesting I leave now? I thought you wanted me to send word first?”

  “You cannot leave Lorium until after the emperor’s funeral. To do so would be a black mark in the people’s eyes. You must be seen paying homage and proper respect to the man who elevated you to his throne. It is more symbolic than anything else and something the masses will expect. Word of what happens here will filter back to the capital.”

  “That quickly?”

  “I imagine that once we allow the gates open,” Aetius said, “the populace will flee northward. There is nothing left in this city but ruin. It will take years to rebuild.”

  “I assume food will be a problem as well for those who remain,” Stiger said. “We will need to address that, figure out some long-term solution.”

  Aetius gave Stiger a slight nod of agreement.

  “Even though I need to be there, I really don’t want to go to the capital,” Stiger said, thinking of Taha’Leeth. By all rights, he should be at her bedside, looking after her. His slave, Venthus, was there in his stead. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “You need to go,” Aetius said firmly, “as soon as the funeral is over. To delay would be dangerous. Doing so might throw everything away.”

  Stiger knew the colonel was right … His personal desires did not matter. He had to go, and the sooner the better. He just wished he could delay for a few days, until Taha’Leeth had awoken. He wanted to see her out of danger and on the road to recovery. Then, when he did go … bring his army with him. But … he understood he could not afford to delay, and the army would have to go the old-fashioned way, by foot. That would take time, weeks of hard marching.

  “As I said, I would send word first,” Aetius said. “It is not wise to delay on this important news. We might as well dispatch word to all corners of the empire while we are at it. When the news spreads in the capital, it will build excitement amongst the mob, hope even, at what has occurred here in Lorium and your victory over the enemy. Once you arrive … nearly everyone will want to see and cheer you. The entire city will turn out.” He gestured with a hand toward a window. “Just like those people outside, who rightly view you as their savior. Your entrance into the capital will effectively be an unsanctioned triumph, something the people have not seen in at least a hundred years. It will be hard, if not impossible, for the senate to ignore and act against you. Doing so would test the will of the mob, and that always is dangerous, for the mob loves victorious generals.”

  Stiger considered Aetius for a long moment. What the colonel said made sense.

  “Excuse me, sir.” Ruga poked his head back into the room. “I am sorry to bother you. There’s someone here to see you. I believe he is a messenger. He says he’s from General Treim’s headquarters.”

  “Send him in,” Stiger said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stiger turned back to Aetius. “As you have suggested, I would meet with the general and Father Restus to discuss this further. I am thinking a letter from Restus, as the head of his order, to the senate will add weight to my claim.”

  “I agree,” Aetius said. “That is a smart move. I think we should also sit down and come up with a list of those families we can count on, ones that will support your claim and position. Writing them will help move matters along. We need to lay the groundwork for your grand entrance into the city.”

  “And those who can be cowed and counted to fall in line,” Stiger said. “We will want to make a list of them as well. There is too much at stake not to use every tool at our disposal.”

  Aetius inclined his head in agreement. “There are agents we can hire in the capital to help lean on those that are pliable. There are others we can outright bribe for their support.”

  “To do that,” Stiger said, “we need money.”

  “It is a lucky thing General Treim is a wealthy man,” Aetius said. “I am certain he would be pleased to loan you the money. I may even loan you some myself. I am sure, as emperor, you will be good for it.”

  “With interest?” To call the general wealthy was an understatement. Treim was one of the richest men in the empire. And Aetius was not exactly destitute either.

  “Of course,” Aetius replied without any shame or hesitation.

  Stiger was about to reply when someone stepped into the doorway. He froze, then broke out into a grin, genuinely pleased.

  “Tiro!” Stiger stood.

  “It’s good to see you too, sir.” Tiro stepped into the room, looking between Aetius and Stiger, a little guiltily, as if he had interrupted. “I can wait until you are done, sir.”

  Tiro turned to go.

  “Not so fast, Sergeant. Remain, if you would.” Aetius turned back to Stiger. “As soon as they have concluded their responsibilities to the late emperor, I will return with General Treim and Father Restus. With your permission, that is, Imperator, I will withdraw?”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Stiger said and stood. “We will continue this conversation then.”

  The colonel saluted, which, for a moment, surprised Stiger. Aetius had always been his senior. He’d have to get used to that sort of thing. Barring the High Father, no one was now in a position higher than himself. Stiger returned the salute, and with that, Aetius backed up two paces, turned smartly on his heel, and left.

  Tiro suddenly remembered himself, snapped to attention, and saluted.

  “We’re alone,” Stiger said and approached. He clapped his old sergeant warmly on the shoulder. “No need for that. You taught and gave me more than I can ever repay. Understand me?”

  “Ah, yes, sir.” Tiro suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Do I call you sir, Imperator, or Your Majesty?”

  “I suppose all are correct forms of address,” Stiger said. “Over the years, we’ve chewed a lot of ground together. How about you choose? I believe you’ve earned that right.”

  “Then,” Tiro said, “I will continue sir-ing you. After all those years it seems unnatural to do otherwise.”

  “That works for me.” Stiger eyed the old veteran, who had aged greatly since they had first met all those years ago. Tiro was a year or two from a well-earned mandatory retirement and was old to Stiger’s eyes, though he appeared tough as a nail. Despite his advanced years, it was quite possible Tiro could still kick his ass in hand-to-hand combat. Stiger wondered what Tiro would think of Therik or the dwarves, not to mention the Vass.

  “Is the Seventh here?”

  “No, sir,” Tiro said. “When we passed through the capital on our way south, the general left them there, along with two other companies from Third Legion, the Tenth included. With the Praetorian Guard gone, there was some civil agitation. The High Command asked that the general leave some men to help keep order on the streets. General Treim left some of his best, sir. I would have stayed too, but I was on detached duty and assigned to headquarters. The general’s been kind to me, sir … doing his best to make sure I get to retire, if you know what I mean, sir.”

  Stiger gave a nod of understanding. But he was still disappointed. He would have liked to have seen his old company, spend some time with the men and Lepidus too from the Tenth. Next to Eli and Menos, Lepidus was one of his few true friends, along with Hollux, Stiger’s former executive officer from Seventh Company. It was good they had not marched south. Had they done so, they might have been butchered with much of the rest of the emperor’s army.

  “Who is the new commanding officer of the Seventh?”

  “Captain Ikuus,” Tiro said.

  “I know of his family,” Stiger said, “but I don’t know him.”

  “He was a recent replacement, sir,” Tiro said, “transferred over from Eighth Legion. He came highly recommended.”

  The sterile and passionless way he spoke about Ikuus told Stiger that Tiro did not approve of the man. There was no warmth there, no love lost. Treim had likely realized that Ikuus was a potential problem and had arranged for Tiro’s transfer to headquarters.

  “Is he as
bad as Cethegus?” Stiger asked, suddenly concerned for his old company.

  “I would not know, sir,” Tiro said. “I’ve not seen him in action yet.” Tiro paused a moment. “I wish Varus would have been here to see this, sir.”

  “Me being emperor?” Stiger decided he would have to look into Ikuus. The Seventh deserved a competent commanding officer. It was the least he owed his men for their hard service and dedication over the years. And in a few days, Stiger was certain he would be in the capital and potentially in a position to do that.

  Tiro gave a nod. “Varus would have loved it, sir.”

  Both men fell silent, each suddenly lost in their thoughts. Though it had been more than ten years, fifteen really with his time in the past, Stiger still found Varus’s death painful. So too, he knew, did Tiro. Varus had been Stiger’s first corporal and a damn fine legionary. He had learned much from the man.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, sir.” Tiro’s brows drew together. “You look older.”

  “Isn’t that a bit like calling the kettle black?” Stiger said with a sudden grin.

  “There’s no doubt I’m feeling my age, sir,” Tiro said, eying Stiger closely. “It’s only been a few months since we last saw one another … though … you’ve aged. I mean really aged, and I don’t think command did that to you. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” Stiger said, and then glanced around and spotted another stool. He pointed at it. “Pull up a stool. If anyone deserves to hear it, and I mean everything … that’s you.”

  Chapter Two

  “They’re on their way, Imperator,” General Treim announced as he stepped into the room, with Colonel Aetius following a few paces behind. As was customary for serving officers, both men wore their legionary armor and were armed.

  Stiger was sitting on the stool in the center of the room. He and Eli had been speaking with Father Restus, who was before him. Eli stood to Stiger’s right, a mug of wine in his hand. Stiger’s empty cup sat on the floor off to his side. Restus had declined the offer of wine.

  It had been a long day and would likely end up being much longer, with meetings stretching far into the night. He understood from Ruga that the city elders were waiting and wished to meet with him next. After that, the city’s priests were looking to pray with him. A group of local merchants were cooling their heels too. Ruga had explained that a veritable line of supplicants had formed after that, all wanting a moment with the new emperor.

  Stiger shifted on his stool as the general stepped up before him and saluted. General Treim was ten years Stiger’s senior. He was fit, with a rugged, confident air about him. Though his armor had been well-maintained, there was a used, almost comfortable look about it that marked him as an officer who had spent years leading men in the field. Like Stiger, he wore the blue-colored cloak of command. Also like Stiger, he had earned the right to it the hard way.

  Exhaustion and weariness lined the general’s face. He had spent the last ten years spearheading the effort against the Rivan, only to be ordered south to lead the emperor’s ill-fated army against the confederacy. Especially after having weathered the siege of Lorium, Treim clearly needed a well-deserved rest—only, Stiger knew he could not give him one. Stiger desperately needed Treim’s services as an extremely capable commander and would only ask more from him this day and surely in the days to come.

  “Our man has an escort of six,” Treim continued. “He and they will die first before giving up the letters.”

  Stiger glanced to the window as he considered the general’s words. It was late afternoon and, inside, the room had grown dim. Outside, the ruined streets of the city were surely heavily shadowed. Another lantern had been brought in to combat the growing darkness within the building, but that had not helped much. The crowd of civilians that surrounded the building was still there. They had been singing hymns and praying all day long.

  “No one knows they are coming, or what they carry,” Aetius added. “So they should not be troubled. There is no good reason for anyone to hinder their progress.”

  All seven men were risking their lives on Stiger’s behalf and he had never even met them. The hopes of an empire rode with them. Stiger blew out an unhappy breath, then gestured over to a small table that held two jars of heated wine and several mugs. After he had left, Tiro had arranged for it to be sent over from headquarters, along with some food. The uneaten salt pork lay on a clay plate next to the jars.

  “Wine, gentlemen?” Stiger asked.

  “Thank you.” Treim stepped over. He poured himself and Aetius a mug before handing it to the colonel. “They are some of my best,” Treim said, after a sip, “from Sixth Company. Lieutenant Kerrog is leading them. I believe you know him.”

  “I do,” Stiger said. Though he had never been overly friendly toward Stiger, Kerrog was a good man, and loyal to Treim. He was also a good officer. “If I recall, he is your nephew.”

  “Yes, that is right,” Treim confirmed as he took another pull from his wine. “I saw them to the gate myself.”

  “Barring any unforeseen difficulty, they will be in the capital three days from now,” Aetius said.

  “The day after the funeral,” Stiger said, knowing that the time for him to leave was fast approaching. In a way, by going, he felt like he was abandoning his wife. It was a very unsatisfactory feeling. Who knew how long it would be before he would see Taha’Leeth again? If she survived … That thought alone tore at him, but there was just too much at stake for him to remain or delay. To do so would be incredibly selfish. Not only was the fate of the empire resting in his hands, but as strange and outlandish as it sounded, so too was the world.

  “Perhaps when you go, you might consider carrying Tioclesion’s ashes with you,” Aetius said. “Hand delivering the remains to his family will be a powerful display of respect. It will only play to our advantage with the mob.”

  Stiger did not enjoy the idea of such overtly symbolic games, but he understood the necessity of them. He thought again on the letters that had been written. So much rode on them being delivered to the right people.

  Would the people … the mob, rejoice as Aetius and Treim thought they might? If things were as bad as the two men believed, Stiger considered he might very well be received as the people’s savior, just like those in Lorium had done. Would it be enough to force the senate to do the right thing? He was not so certain about that and had a sneaking suspicion things would be far from easy.

  “Our messenger will go directly to Senator Navaro,” Treim said. “As we’ve told you, he is our man in the capital and can be relied upon. He will see the letters are distributed and forwarded before he personally breaks the good news to the senate.”

  “Will he read them?” Stiger asked, for he had never met Navaro. He only knew the man by reputation. The Navaro family was not an outright enemy, but they weren’t friends of the Stigers either.

  “It is expected,” Aetius said. “Navaro is no less a player of the game than we are. He will, of course, want something in return for his support.”

  Stiger glanced over to the wine. He considered for a heartbeat getting some more, then turned his attention back to Aetius. “And what will that be?”

  Aetius gave a sort of shrug.

  “Navaro is wealthy,” Treim said. “He will desire something else beyond just money as a reward for his service. Whatever that is, it will be for you and him to negotiate at the proper time. The important thing to know is that Navaro will prove a loyal and steady ally. Once on board, he will not betray us, nor will he ask for more than you both agreed to. His honor is strong and unassailable. You can trust him, as you do me.”

  Stiger gave a nod of understanding. Navaro might want a reasonable reward, but others would crave more … demand more. It pained him that many would not be motivated to do what was right for the empire, but what was right for themselves alone.

  “Once the letters have gone out, our agents will then go to work,” Aetius continued, “stirring u
p the mob and spreading the wondrous news of Lorium’s deliverance by the new emperor, who is Champion of the faith and blessed of the High Father. With the confederacy bearing down on the capital, word should spread like wildfire. It will be difficult for the senate to conceal what has happened here, not to mention the miraculous return of the lost Thirteenth Legion. Couple that with your victory over the enemy … not once but twice … and excitement will grow to a fever pitch as desperate people begin to believe in you. That will be a power unto itself.”

  Stiger rubbed at his jaw as he thought about all that was being set into motion. For much of the day, the four of them had planned carefully. All of the letters had been written directly by Aetius, Restus, and Treim. Stiger had only written one himself. That was to his father. It had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done, and he had no idea how it would be received.

  “They will not be able to ignore you,” Aetius said. “That is for certain.”

  “Impossible is more like it,” Treim said. “After the funeral, and as soon as practical, you go directly to the capital. Doing so will deny the senate sufficient time to react to the news of Tioclesion naming you his heir. The men in that chamber love to talk and debate before taking any action. It is a painful and tedious process. With any luck, that will work to our advantage.”

  “The more they debate, the more time we have,” Aetius said.

  “The dragon you arrive upon”—Treim paused and glanced at Father Restus—“not to mention being the High Father’s Champion, should only add and strengthen your claim to the emperor’s chair.”

  Stiger shifted his gaze between the two men. Much of what they were now discussing had already been exhaustively covered. It was almost like they were reviewing a plan of battle, making sure they’d not missed anything. Only this wasn’t battle, it was politics. Like war, there were no rules. Going forward, politics would forever be part of his life, no less important than breathing. There was nothing to be done but to embrace it, which he was beginning to do. Still, he felt like he was being dropped naked into a pit of vipers.