That damn fool, she thought of her son and his duel with the Sørensen nobleman. Thaddeus could have killed him. He's lucky to come away with just a scratch. More importantly, my only son, my heir, could have been taken from me before we ever reached the palace. Then what?
She pushed the thought from her mind. As much as Magnus was his own man, he was still her only son, her child. His loss would be far more than a political setback to her.
Is that how Peter felt when Arthur was taken from him? I know he and Damien talked about it, but they never shared their thoughts with me. Peter always seemed so strong like Arthur's death hurt him, but did not cripple him. No, that had happened to his wife. She killed herself in grief, but would I ever succumb to that? No. Never. No one is that important that I couldn't go on. Even if I am the only one that remains....
She gripped the arms of the throne for strength. She could almost feel the energies of the former dukes who ruled before her from this seat. They exercised power and kept the Commonwealth strong for a millennium and now it was her turn. They were now an extension of her power to bring the wayward Sørensens to heel and also to handle Damien.
While Damien failed to act, I moved decisively to save the Commonwealth from itself. Although the coup was costly, the ends will justify the means, she thought and relaxed her grip on the throne just slightly.
But would Damien actually follow her directive? He thinks it a trap, but he could turn this into a great political opportunity for himself. Killing him would only serve his own purposes on the border and boost support for the remnants of his command. Not to mention the Dominion would overrun the border entirely without him leading the defense.
She knew Damien had gone after Kristoffer either to kill him or intimidate him to partake in his own plans. She had considered allowing him to achieve that goal for her, but that wouldn’t do. If she wanted a job done correctly she had to do it herself. Eliminating the twins before they became political rivals was key. She had already ordered their deaths to Filipov. With any luck they would already be dead by now. Two schoolchildren were no match for her assassins.
Damien, meanwhile, was bulletproof. For now.
The doors to the great Throne Room rumbled open on ancient rock gliders that had been worn down over the centuries. They squeaked irritably. One more thing to fix.
Lord Dietrich Sørensen was being led into the chamber by two armored knights. They were more like guides than actual guards, watching him carefully as he limped into the throne room. He stood before, her favoring his damaged leg after having been relieved of his walking cane. It was a weapon in and of itself, but, knowing the Sørensens, he likely had other nasty surprises inside of it.
There would be no more surprises, Salena vowed.
“My Lord Dietrich, welcome,” Salena greeted and spread her arms wide.
Dietrich took a breath and seemed to bite his tongue. “I thought for sure when your thugs came to my cell you were ready to have me executed. Looks like I was wrong, but there is still time left in the day, I suppose.”
“You haven't lost your candor in my prison.”
“I've had only time to hone it,” the old warrior snarled and coughed. It took him another moment to catch his breath.
“Do you know why I called you here today?” Salena asked him, annoyed at his tone. She leaned back in the throne and steepled her fingers.
“To gloat, I suspect. You pulled off a stunning military coup, murdered my kinsmen and installed yourself as Archduchess. Others have tried and failed with great bloodshed and, yet, here you are.”
“I am not a violent person, Lord Dietrich.”
“No, you have others to do your dirty work for you,” Dietrich grunted. “Your son murdered my brother.”
“Thaddeus challenged my son to a duel. Perhaps Thaddeus was not aware of his age or his capabilities. My son is a fully trained knight, many decades younger, stronger and ambitious. Thaddeus' life was in its twilight while my son's is just dawning. Maybe you thought I was a fool as well. That I would not see through your pitiful ploy to allow Peter to die and your own house to step into the vacuum. With Damien distracted by a war on the border, me safely eclipsed by House Teton, and Peter with no heir, the timing was just perfect to launch your coup. You almost had me believing that cute story about the child Stens.”
When Dietrich spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. Salena had to lean closer to hear him. “You are delusional, Salena. I had no ambitions for the throne and those children are Peter's rightful heirs.”
“Hardly. Their heritage does not matter. They will soon be out of the picture.”
“You're a killer, Salena. Nothing more. How long do you think it will be before Damien catches wind of your actions? He will storm Magdeborg and take it from you and give you a traitor's death.”
“My dear Damien? No, Damien will be very busy soon. Just after he returns to Magdeborg to declare his loyalty to me, he will face the Dominion attack we all know is coming. He cannot hold Goteborg or any world on the border and turn his attention to me. My brother's purpose is to defend the border and he has no place or role here.”
“They would prefer him to your tyranny.”
“Hmm, the Gray Knight, they call him. Just as old and washed up as you. There's a reason my father skipped Damien and selected Peter as his heir. Damien is half mad, a pyromaniac and a worshiper of false idols and dead gods. He will find no love of his Vagabond religion and backwards ways in the capital of the greatest human state.”
Salena smiled as Dietrich struggled for words. Like a ship that had failed to find the wind, he stood adrift in his emotions, his eyes empty and defeated. She felt a pang of sadness, inexplicably bubbling up inside of her. Dietrich and his brother, Thaddeus, had always been the cornerstones of his father's bodyguard and constant presences in the palace. She still remembered sitting on her father's lap as a child in this very throne as Dietrich would arrive to discuss some strategy. He would bring her a gift, usually some foreign sweets and comment on her beauty before turning to more serious matters. For a moment she wondered if she'd pushed too far mocking his dead brother. At some point she was simply terrorizing a tired old man.
But the Commonwealth required a strong hand, especially when it came to rebels and fifth columnists like Dietrich. She could show him no mercy.
Collecting herself, she continued. “Despite your failings, you can still do me some use. You can still recover your lost honor and save yourself whatever dignity might still exist in your head. The survivors of your house have gone to ground and started a guerrilla campaign against my son. Call them out and end this conflict before it costs more lives. In exchange, I will spare your life, and those of your kin. You will go into exile, either to the Averi schools, the Fringe or another great state. I don't care. Perform this last service to the Commonwealth, prove to me you still have some honor left in you.”
Dietrich face was wet, his tired eyes appeared red. He gave a tremendous sigh and Salena knew she had won. She settled back and waited.
“My lady Salena. I would never do anything to harm my own people, my home, my liege. I have loved your family and mine and I would never desire any harm to come to them. I hope, with all of my heart, that they destroy your palace, kill your wretched son, and drag you out of this place screaming before throwing you to face the blood lusting justice of your people. Now, your majesty, I would like to be returned to my cell. I have no more words for you.”
Salena felt as if she had turned to liquid and was slowing dripping out of the throne into a puddle on the floor. The room spun and she gripped the throne itself like a life raft. “How dare you speak to me like that,” she growled at him. “You've just forfeited your life! I find you guilty of treason, crimes against your liege and I sentence you to death.”
Dietrich looked up at the paintings on the ceiling and refused to meet her gaze. He remained stoic and silent like the statues of the dukes and duchesses that lined the halls outside.
&n
bsp; When it became clear that he would save no more, she waved her guards to remove him.
Sørensen stumbled with some difficulty towards the massive throne room doors so suddenly that the guards were momentarily too stunned to stop him. Finally, they moved forward and grabbed the nobleman, more to assist his unsteady gait than out of fear he may attempt to escape.
Once the doors had creaked shut behind the Sørensen commander, Salena leaned back in the throne, rubbing its unfamiliar arm rests and feeling his anger begin to melt away. The whole room still seemed cold and foreign to her even though she'd been in it plenty of times since her father then her brother reigned as Archduke. It had seemed warmer then, almost homely. But now there was a certain emptiness about it that startled her, even scared her.
There are ghosts here.
“Filipov!” She called for her chief adviser.
Dmitri Filipov had remained half hidden behind the throne in his subordinate position. He walked into view now as his lady's beckoning. Of course, Filipov didn't so much as walk from place to place as he positively slithered.
Filipov stood before her throne silently awaiting her command. He looked haggard if that were possible as if he'd been involved in the combat, though more likely he'd been awake all night overseeing the operational details of her ascension to the throne.
“What do you think about him?”
Filipov closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “He won't help you. But he won't lie to you either. There will be a lot of opposition.”
“From whom?” She asked quizzically.
“The Conclave,” Filipov said then considered his next thoughts before speaking. “Some support you, no doubt, but others preferred Damien on the throne and some, I'd imagine would even prefer your nephew, that Kristoffer fellow. A weak Archduke invites more Conclave control of policy and most importantly the war.”
“And I suppose you have lists of allies and adversaries?”
He nodded and reached into a pocket. Of course, Filipov had no need for an actual physical list; its existence was for her own benefit. He'd be insulted if she thought he actually needed a reference to make his report. He handed it over to her then resumed his strange still posture like a machine that had been switched off.
What she noticed immediately, with a flash of anger, was those grouped under suspected adversaries greatly outnumbered those grouped under allies. She also was not surprised to see House Sørensen at the top of that former list. Even though the initial prognosis looked bleak, the houses grouped under the heading “undetermined” was longer than either list. And House Sten is curiously absent from the page entirely, she mused.
“And your analysis?”
Again Filipov closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “There are many who can be swayed if you prove yourself to be of no threat to them or their territory; they are selfish of course. House Sørensen will oppose you the most, well, the survivors anyway. Their remaining fleet was granted safe passage by the Azuren and they are leaving the system for a destination unconfirmed, probably to your brother. The survivors here are either in custody or went to ground.”
“And what of House Sten? I don't see them anywhere,” she said waving the paper in the air. She knew this was significant and not a simple omission. Filipov did not err.
Filipov kept his eyes closed, breathed deeply again. “House Sten represented a computing impossibility.”
This is new, Salena thought as she crossed her arms. “Explain, Filipov.”
“The Archduke or Archduchess is always the head of House Sten. As duchess you are the House Master of the Stens, therefore logically, you would have its support. However, Damien will obviously not support your bid to power and Conrad's thoughts are entirely unknown. Therefore, House Sten can be said to support you, as well as be opposed and undetermined. Because other houses and factions may support Damien, House Sten cannot be definitively placed in any category.”
He sounds like some Starfield Theorist, she realized, with his bizarre calculations and equations. Of course, he couldn't possibly be one. His type would be cast out of their silly organization. Even their aggressive Praxis would find him too ruthless.
Admittedly, just hearing his rationing of House Sten's position irritated her. Filipov apparently understood that Conrad and his Guard were holed up in their mountain fortress, refusing all attempts at communication. According to Commonwealth law, Conrad was required to owe his allegiance and vassalage to the Archduke or Archduchess and reaffirm it in person if the owner of the title changed. He would have to be dealt with eventually. And I haven't ruled out an orbital bombardment of his fief, yet, either.
“Very well. I must address the Conclave to explain what happened here. House Sørensen's treachery must not be forgotten,” Salena mused almost to herself. “They must be groomed properly for Damien's arrival. He will find, when he begins searching, that allies will be hard to come by.”
The Conclave was the official body of nobles that met regularly to discuss matters of diplomacy. Prior to the Conclave, noble houses took to the battlefield to settle their disputes which severely disrupted the internal workings of the Commonwealth and weakened the power of the sovereign. By no means did any Archduke or Archduchess have complete authority over the realm. The Conclave solved that problem. Battles with ammunition were replaced with battles of words and Commonwealth politics was known to be especially brutal. The Conclave had no real power, of course, but words were weapons and she had to control the dialogue.
By now the house liaisons would be sending messages back to their superiors requesting instructions in response to the Sørensen coup and Teton-Sten counter-coup. The other nobles houses would scramble for a solution, but due to the delicate nature of the balance of power, most would be content to let events play out. If the Sørensen insurgency raged longer than expected the houses may grow restless with the instability and take action to restore order.
I need to address them before they begin their own political machinations, she thought bitterly. There are going to be several major power shifts as the houses consider the new situation. I need to prevent those shifts from damaging Houses Teton or Sten. It will be like navigating a minefield blindfolded, she thought closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“And what of your brother, my Lady?” Filipov asked.
“We will have a something special planned for him. Though by the end of his visit to Magdeborg, I suspect he will be joining Lord Dietrich on a path to Ithix,” she said coldly referring to the Amrahn infinite river reserved for the damned and the most lost of souls. Ithix, it was said, flowed around the salvation land where the Path led, allowing those trapped in its currents views of Paradise even as they struggled to reach it and drowned for eternity.
“I excel in planning special occasions,” Filipov said. He smiled in such a way that reminded Salena of a feral animal realizing it had cornered its prey. She shivered involuntarily as the twisted man slithered out of her presence, his warped mind already working away.
Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten
Knight Scion of House Mercer
21 February, 23,423
Scarlet Light, Goteborg, Magdeborg Duchy
______________
Aaron looked out the window of his private quarters on the RDS Scarlet Light as Damien's flagship seemed to glow white hot then vanish as it successfully made the jump to Wastert on its way to Magdeborg. Damien left Aaron in charge of the defense of Goteborg in his absence, despite the seniority of others in both rank and status. Many of the more senior knights in service to House Sten demanded their own be appointed the commander of the border army and voiced their complaints loudly with a fair share of literal saber-rattling. For a few moments it looked as though the coalition of houses was about to shatter until Damien threatened the belligerents with military action spearheaded by the very aggravated Slader Sten.
After Damien's public display of support for Aaron, he boarded his ship and left Aaron in charge of the last line of defense fo
r the Goteborg Duchy. Despite Aaron's predicament, he did not envy his uncle's duty. He had no doubt that a trap awaited Damien at Magdeborg. Salena couldn't leave him free to gather allies, nor did she have the political clout to control him. What it meant was a public arrest and a sham trial accusing him of being in league with the Sørensens resulting in a public execution.
Damien didn't survive sixty years in Duchy politics without developing a few defense mechanisms, Aaron thought to himself as he watched the tiny ships maneuver outside.
“You know, if Salena was successful as she claims she was, House Sørensen is probably destroyed along with the Sten House Guard,” Reyna commented, seeming to speak to no one in particular.
Aaron glanced over at her. She sat in his spare chair, spinning it gently, her hands clasped behind her head. She was staring off at the ceiling, as if contemplating the strategic and tactical ramifications of the coup. He often allowed her refuge in his private quarters which sometimes proved more of an annoyance than a pleasure.
“Or Conrad took the Guard into the mountains like he did when Archduke Haakon died. Their loyalty is to House Sten, not Magdeborg or the Commonwealth for that matter,” Aaron said.
“House Sten is the Commonwealth, Aaron, and has been for a thousand years,” Reyna reminded him, only partially scolding.
Aaron shrugged. “I have no loyalty to House Sten beyond what my own family owes. I grew up on Haberton as a member of House Mercer and I'm a Sten by blood only on my mother's side. I've never been to Anarrk or Magdeborg for that matter.”
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 15
