Imperium Chronicles Box Set

by W. H. Mitchell

  “Do you have the targets?” Gurkin asked.

  “Yes,” Tagus said, pushing a data chip across the table.

  Lefty Lucy watched on a jumbo display as a man caught a silver ball and another man, apparently from the other team, slammed him against the wall as they floated in zero gravity. Lucy may not have fully understood the rules of grav-ball, but she enjoyed the violence.

  She was sitting in the race and sports room of the Fat Cat Casino, an area dedicated to gambling on athletic events simultaneously taking place all over the planet. Beside her, Prince Alexander Augustus stuffed popcorn from a large bag into his mouth, spilling much of it into Lucy’s lap.

  Lucy was in her late twenties, from ancient Chinese stock, with hair pulled tight into several knots across her head. She wore silver eyeshadow and lipstick, and a black cropped top with black, leather leggings.

  On another monitor, one of the many ringing the circumference of the room, needle-shaped cars sped along the inside of a tube, sometimes passing each other along the ceiling. Lucy believed this was called tube racing.

  Alexander leaned into Lucy’s ear.

  “You’ve got popcorn in your lap,” he said. “Why are you so messy?”

  Lucy didn’t turn her head or, in any way, acknowledge the prince, knowing to do so would only encourage him.

  “What do you think those grav-ball players make?” he asked. “The guys on the West End Monarchs must make a mint!”

  Lucy grew up on the streets of Ashetown until joining the Red Lotus in her early teens. She could have ended up in one of their brothels, but she showed a propensity for fighting, especially when they suggested she become a prostitute. They taught her martial arts, turning her hands into lethal weapons. Sometimes she wondered if Prince Alexander realized that.

  “They say Maycare’s the best player,” the prince went on, “but I think he’s getting too old.”

  He continued at length while Lucy’s face remained emotionless. This game she knew very well.

  “I could’ve played,” Alexander said, “but I couldn’t take the risk of damaging my face. The money-maker I call it...” then, after a pause, “...because I’m so handsome!”

  Lucy, ever so slowly, turned her head until she knew he could see her eyes.

  Alexander’s shoulders sank as he looked away from her steady, unrelenting gaze.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be good.”

  “I say, Radford,” Woodwick nudged Lord Groen as they reclined in the chairs of the race and sports room. “Isn’t that the emperor’s son, Prince Alexander, over there?”

  Groen was staring into his vodka tonic, wondering if that Tikarin had used the top shelf brand.

  “What?” he said.

  “I’m sure it is,” Woodwick said. “He’s with that woman, what’s-her-name.”

  “So?”

  “Do you think the two of them are... snogging, so to speak?” Woodwick asked.

  “Obviously not.”

  “I don’t mean now,” Woodwick protested. “I mean do you think they’re acquainted, you know, carnally.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Groen replied. “He’s constantly getting into trouble with women.”

  Woodwick murmured and twisted his mustache excitedly.

  Groen sipped his drink. “I swear she watered this down.”

  Off to the side of the room, through a curtain of red velvet, Lord Tagus and his attaché, Lieutenant Burke, appeared.

  “Hello there, Rupert,” Woodwick said, motioning for the two men to join them. “Have a drink, eh?”

  Tagus turned only long enough to scowl in their direction as the two officers continued crossing the room to the other side.

  Woodwick shrugged. “Apparently not.”

  “The fool should look where he’s going,” Groen said. “He’s about to run into Prince Alexander.”

  The prince, getting up from his chair, collided with Tagus, spilling popcorn and butter topping over his military uniform.

  “Oh, dear,” Woodwick said.

  Lord Tagus, his mouth hanging open, looked first at the prince and then down at his own clothing, now covered in melted butter. Lefty Lucy rose from her seat while Lieutenant Burke watched like a witness to an impending disaster.

  “You idiot!” Tagus shouted.

  “Come on,” Alexander said, “It was an accident.”

  “This is outrageous behavior, even for you!”

  “Me?”

  “You’re a disgrace to the crown and your family!” Tagus yelled, his face turning a bright crimson.

  “Maybe,” the prince admitted. “There are some in my family who’d probably agree.”

  At the bar, Woodwick leaned over to Groen. “I say, do you think they’ll come to blows?”

  “I hope so,” Groen replied.

  “Care to wager on the winner?”

  “Tagus is a decorated officer,” Groen said. “He can’t lose.”

  “A thousand then?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Tagus, nearly frothing at the mouth, waved his finger under Alexander’s nose.

  “Careful,” the prince said, nodding toward Lucy. “My bodyguard’s got a temper.”

  “Her?” Tagus scoffed. “Oh, I know all about her and the brothels she crawled out of—”

  Although Lieutenant Burke partially obscured the view, Groen saw a flash of anger in Alexander’s eyes, even as the prince swung and struck Lord Tagus squarely on the jaw. Groen heard the sound of fist against bone and the audible gasp that rose from the others in the room.

  Also, Lord Woodwick may have screamed a little.

  Momentarily stunned, Tagus regained his footing and followed the blow with two of his own, the first to Alexander’s stomach and the second to his face, the so-called money-maker.

  At the same time, Lucy did an acrobatic cartwheel past the two nobles, landing both feet into Lieutenant Burke’s chest, knocking him to the ground. He lay on his side wheezing, trying to breathe in the air that had just been ejected from his lungs. Lucy crawled on top of him, pulling his arm back.

  “She’s quite a handful,” Groen said.

  “Indeed,” Woodwick conceded.

  A hint of blood smeared across his mouth, Tagus raised his fists. “You’ve made a dangerous enemy.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” Prince Alexander said, throwing a punch. Tagus drew his arms up, but was too slow. Alexander’s clenched fist pounded him in the jaw like a hammer on an anvil. Tagus’ head jerked back, his arms flailing as if to catch hold of something that wasn’t there. Tagus took a step backward and fell, knocking his head against the floor.

  Groen heard Tagus groan, then Burke’s voice.

  “Please stop hurting me,” Burke said, but Lucy continued wrenching his arm as far back as his shoulder joint would allow.

  In the doorway, a large, orange-striped Tikarin stood holding a submachine gun. Several other goons were visible just behind him.

  “Gentlemen,” Big G said calmly, pointing his weapon around the room. “The police have been called and will be here shortly.”

  “That’s our cue, Lefty,” Alexander gestured toward the other door with his thumb. “Stop torturing your new boyfriend and let’s get going.”

  Lucy released the lieutenant’s arm and removed her knee from the middle of his back. Standing, she joined the prince as he walked away toward the door. Burke remained on the ground, gingerly trying to move his arm back into its socket.

  “Always a pleasure!” Big G shouted after the prince. “I’ll send my regards along with the bill.”

  Alexander gave a backwards wave and disappeared through the exit into the early hours of the Ashetown morning.

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Sophia wore a long, silk dress revealing her shoulders. Her red hair swayed back and forth across her bare, ivory white skin as she walked casually along a palace corridor. Her eyes landed briefly on everything she passed, like the golden gaze of a wolf evaluating its surround
ings.

  As handmaiden to Princess Katherine Augustus, Lady Sophia lived in her own apartment inside the Imperial Palace, a short distance from the quarters of the princess herself. Arriving at Katherine’s door, Sophia entered without knocking and found the princess finishing her bath. The floor of the bathroom was pale marble with soft blue tilework along the edges. The tub itself was raised and surrounded by slender columns topped with gold.

  A maidbot leaned over the tub to help the princess out of the soapy water.

  “Ugh,” Sophia said, sitting down on a cushioned bench. “I don’t understand how you can let a machine see you naked like that.”

  Princess Katherine, nineteen years old with amber hair down to her waist, flashed blue eyes at the robot.

  “You mean Dotty?” she asked. “You’re a fembot, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the robot said in a female’s voice.

  “See?” Katherine said, stepping out onto the cold marble and wrapping a towel around her hair.

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “Just because it sounds like a girl doesn’t make it one.”

  The princess sat at a vanity built into a corner alcove. She turned her head from left to right, examining her complexion. Dotty stood beside her.

  “I don’t see the problem,” Katherine said. “It’s not like I want a robot with all the plumbing down there. Alexander would turn it into a sexbot.”

  Dotty shuddered slightly.

  “Sorry,” the princess said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

  “It’s alright,” Sophia said, sighing. “I’m over Alexander.”

  “Really? Since when?”

  Sophia stood and crossed her arms while watching the maidbot apply makeup to Katherine’s face.

  “Speaking of your brother,” Sophia said. “Apparently, he got into a tussle with Lord Tagus last night.”

  “Isn’t he in his fifties?”

  “No, not the father. His son, Tagus III.”

  “Oh, well, I hope he didn’t get hurt.”

  “Who?”

  “Whoever,” Katherine shook her head. “I really don’t care honestly.”

  “Do you think Rupert is handsome?” Sophia asked.

  “If you mean the father, no,” the princess said. “If you mean the son, also no.”

  “Well, I think he’s quite dashing in his uniform.”

  “I suppose,” Katherine remarked. “He seems a bit conventional.”

  “I guess...” Sophia murmured.

  “My Lady,” Dotty said. “There’s an audio message from your mother.”

  “Shit,” Katherine said and then, after a pause, “Play it, I suppose.”

  From Dotty’s head came the voice of someone else, someone older and refined.

  “Katie,” the voice said, “I’d like you to come to Revenna and see me as soon as possible. We need to talk about Lord Molesworth of the Palatine Molesworths, you know the ones? He’s a very dignified gentleman with excellent connections. I think the two of you should meet.”

  “Oh, my God!” Katherine fumed.

  “I know you’re shouting right now,” Katherine’s mother, the empress, went on, “but you’re not getting any younger and you really need to start thinking about these things.”

  “Stop the message!” the princess shouted, and Dotty complied.

  “Well, she’s persistent,” Sophia said. “I’ll give her that.”

  “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!”

  “We haven’t been to Revenna in a while. It might be fun...”

  “I’m going to talk to Richard,” Katherine said. “Maybe he can make her stop.”

  Sophia’s eyes looked away. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t want to get married!”

  Lady Sophia’s lips curled into a half smile, but said nothing.

  When Prince Richard Augustus reached his office in the Imperial Palace, his execubot Cornelius was waiting inside.

  “Good morning, Your Highness,” the robot said. His casing was almost entirely chrome and his faceplate a smooth, featureless curvature of shiny metal.

  “Morning,” the prince replied. “What do you have for me today?”

  “I’ve queued up a news report about an incident in Ashetown last night.”

  “You could just tell me,” Richard pointed out.

  “True,” the robot said, “but I’m not very good at breaking bad news.”

  “You’re a coward, Cornelius.”

  “A fault in my programming no doubt, Your Highness.”

  Prince Richard went to his desk, made from the same cherry wood as the rest of the furniture in the office. He sat, taking a moment to look through the curtains on the opposite wall. With the Regalis river in the foreground, the sun was rising over the haze of Middleton in the distance.

  “Computer on,” he said. “Play news report in the queue.”

  The monitor on his desk winked to life and a picture of a woman’s face filled the screen. As the video started, her azure hair began moving while she spoke.

  “This is Sylvia Flax reporting for VOX News,” she said. Behind her, the facade of the Fat Cat Casino was visible in glowing neon. Richard could see Tikarin goons milling around the entrance. “Late last night,” she went on, “an altercation occurred at this popular gambling house between two members of the Five Families, Lord Rupert Tagus III and none other than Prince Alexander Augustus himself.”

  “Ah, crap,” Richard said.

  “Eye witnesses reported that the two so-called noblemen encountered one another inside the casino and quickly came to blows in what can only be called a bare-fisted brawl.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  “Although the exact cause of the fight is unclear,” Flax said, leaning towards the camera, “it seems a woman may have been involved.”

  The video ended, the reporter’s face once again frozen. Prince Richard stared at the screen.

  “The more I learn of man,” he said, “the more I prefer robots.”

  “Why, thank you, Your Highness!” Cornelius said.

  “Are you on top of this newest disaster?” the prince asked.

  “Absolutely,” the robot replied. “We’ve released a statement saying the report is unfounded and both Prince Alexander and Lord Tagus are lifelong friends.”

  Richard grunted his approval. “People will believe anything.”

  “I’m afraid Prince Alexander is gaining a reputation for, how should I say it, colorful activities? These reports become increasingly difficult to deny.”

  “I know,” Richard said. “It’s like he’s trying make our family look bad.”

  “Could that be true?”

  “No,” the prince said, “He’s just a dumbass. Anyway, try to get him on the line. Let’s see if I can talk some sense into him.”

  Princess Katherine, dressed in a gown of red and gold, arrived at her brother’s office through a side entrance out of sight from the usual bureaucrats that permeated the palace. When she walked through the doorway, he was asking his execubot about Alexander, but both stopped as she entered.

  “You have to help me with Mother,” Katherine said. “She’s driving me crazy!”

  Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, the prince folded his fingers together.

  “What’s she doing now?” he asked.

  “She’s trying to marry me off again!”

  “Oh, that...”

  Katherine exhaled. “Yes, that!”

  “There are worse things,” he said, “I’m sure we can find you a suitable husband from one of the better families.”

  “I don’t care if he’s suitable or not. I don’t want to get married!”

  “Many a strategic alliance was forged through an arranged marriage. We think it would be best for everyone.”

  “We?” Katherine said. “Have you been talking to Mother behind my back?”

  “As the oldest, it’s my responsibility.”

  “You’re such a pompous ass, Richard!” Katheri
ne said.

  “Somebody has to keep the ship afloat,” the prince replied. “It’s not like Alexander is going to step up and do it.”

  “Speaking of which, why does he get to gallivant around, having fun? Why can’t he be the one getting married?”

  The prince raised an eyebrow. “He’s not exactly the marrying type.”

  “Well, neither am I,” Katherine said. “I want excitement!”

  “Good lord,” Richard sighed. “Excitement is exhausting. Anyway, you’re not a kid anymore. It’s about time you grew up and started thinking about people besides yourself. Actually, I’m starting to think this conversation is just a dress rehearsal for my talk with Alexander in a few minutes.”

  “At least he’s had a chance to experience life. If I was a boy, I could do what I want!”

  “Nobody gets to do what they want,” Richard said. “Not for long...”

  “It’s not fair!”

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  Prince Richard’s robot cleared its throat even though it didn’t have one.

  “Terribly sorry to interrupt,” the machine said. “I’ve reached Prince Alexander as you requested, Your Highness.”

  “Right,” Richard said, pointing at his sister. “We’ll have to talk about this later.”

  “Mother wants me to visit her on Revenna,” Katherine replied. “I’m supposed to leave immediately.”

  “Really?” the prince said. “That gives me an idea...”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Never mind,” he said. “You wouldn’t like it anyway.”

  Princess Katherine felt her nails digging into her palms. “Goodbye then.”

  “Have a nice trip,” he said, grinning beneath his mustache.

  Katherine didn’t like the ominous tone of his voice.

  In the Imperial Palace, not far from the private quarters of his brother and sister, Prince Alexander had his own suite. Lavishly decorated, the rooms contained everything except the prince himself. Instead, he woke up on a couch in the room he rented at the King’s Arms, a seedy hotel not far from the Fat Cat Casino. A buzzing noise, which he first mistook as a hangover, rattled beside his head. Slowly, Alexander realized his phone was vibrating.

  He answered and heard an upbeat voice on the other end.