The Darkness of Dawn

by Braden Michael

  The alliance was far more beneficial to the Kashin family than for Peter. The Kashin family was a weak vassal to the Yamamotos but the marriage had turned them into a highly influential force within the Rocklands: Peter had acquired a strategically insignificant Headland holdfast and the righteous anger of the Yamamoto family, while the Kashins were now the second-most powerful family in the Rocklands.

  Lord Daniel Kashin had dozens of children he married off to various lords and ladies throughout the Dawnlands, but Vai was the only one of his children successfully sold to the ruler of an empire. Lord Kashin had to betray his oath to the Yamamotos by seceding from the Headlands and joining the Rocklands, but the tarnish on his honor was well worth the new amount of influence he would possess. Peter had gifted him thousands of men-at-arms, dozens of new trade ships, and a massive stretch of land, all for the prize of one Lady Vaishalla Robinson.

  You dare steal my land and my subjects? You have earned my wrath, was the text of a letter to Peter written by King Hiroshi that expressed his displeasure with such a move, but Peter was unfazed.

  “If I can fight a war against the Midlands, I’m sure to handle anything the Headlanders can throw at us!” Peter had boasted to his new wife.

  “I know King Hiroshi, your Majesty,” Vai pleaded with him. “If he’s promised you his wrath, he won’t hold back until he sees us dead.”

  “Do not call me that in the bedroom, wife. Call me husband or Peter, now that we’re married.”

  Vai hated to be reminded of that. Peter was twenty years her senior and quite oafish—not in looks necessarily, given that he looked like any middle-aged man, but in how he treated his subjects, especially her. Peter was the only person that mattered to Peter: he did not even seem to care about Vai beyond using her body to pleasure himself and to provide him with a son, a task that none of Peter’s previous four wives were successful in. Although there was no proof of it, and none of his subjects would dare admit to such a thing, Vai did suspect that Peter had disposed of his past wives. If I cannot get pregnant, then he will dispose of me too, she thought.

  “As you can see, your Majesty, my daughter is quite beautiful. The ladies of the court will wish to emulate her graceful nature and the men of the Rocklands will envy you greatly,” Lord Kashin had told Peter.

  Lord Kashin was right: the ladies of the court had emulated Vai’s hairstyle, a uniquely woven Headland style, with distinct braids much thicker than the standard styling common in the Rocklands. She looked down upon those ladies, hiding her disgust with their shallow imitations. Vai sat beside Peter, who sat upon the throne, giving a royal address to all the relevant courtiers. The hall of the Robinsfort was one of the empire’s greatest architectural achievements: the floor was made of brown quartz, with great marble pillars lining up the hall every twenty feet on either side of the grand brown velvet carpet that formed the center walkway.

  “My Lords! My Ladies! It has been decided that I shall play a major part in an armistice between our great Empire and the lesserlings of the Midlands!” His voice bellowed out obnoxiously, but nevertheless, the court was cheering. Vai looked upon them all with the same forced smile that was plastered on their own faces.

  “The Northern Empires have been invited to the Furakuhold. King Yamamoto and Chairman Howell wish to appease me, to capitulate under the great Rockland might!” More cheering. Vai scanned every face below her in the crowd, she could tell they were all faking their admiration; some seemed more exaggerated than others, their smiles even less natural. I know you must hate this weasel as much as I do. He thinks he is the one making the armistice work when Emperor Miller is doing all the work.

  For the rest of the announcement, Peter boasted some more. Later, Vai would not remember what exactly he had said since she was too focused on looking proud of her husband, an excessively difficult task for her. Afterwards, she noticed that nothing had truly been accomplished that could not have been done with letters. A few vassals had begged to have the “noble honor” of attending the armistice with Peter, and a handful of Rockland Royal Guardsmen bended the knee, wanting to be part of the personal guard. They kiss his ass, despite their lack of love for him, just to get what they want. That was how the game was played, no matter how much she disliked it.

  Peter commanded Vai to wait in the bedroom for him while he met with his councilors, the Lord of War Archard, and Magister Pyros. There would be no Rocklands without those two, Vai believed. She had never been in a council meeting, since her husband never permitted it, but only a fool would not notice that Peter was supported by the work and ideas of his advisers. They were the ones who planned out the voyage for the armistice, organized the logistical efforts of the war, and prevented the Rocklands from collapsing.

  While Vai waited patiently, she sipped on wine from the bedroom’s bar table alongside her handmaid, Elizabeth, a sixteen-year-old girl of a similar height and build as her own, but with much paler skin.

  While Elizabeth helped her into her nightgown, Vai stared blankly at the portrait of Peter that was hung up on the wall. The formidable Emperor was on horseback, wearing a determined glare and wielding a great sword. A highly unrealistic and glorified portrait, she thought.

  “A fine painting, my Lady,” said Elizabeth plainly, unlacing the bodice on Vai’s dress, exposing most of her back.

  A dishonest painting, Vai thought, but opted not to say. She chose to remain silent, continuing to stare at it. Elizabeth looked at her, expecting a response. When it did not come, Elizabeth looked down at the nigh-empty wine glass in her hand.

  “More wine, my Lady?”

  “Yes, sweet girl.” Vai turned around to look at Elizabeth. “You can call me Vai, if you prefer.”

  Elizabeth poured more wine into Vai’s glass. “Um… Sure thing, Vai.”

  The girl returned to Vai and gently handed the glass to her. Vai took the glass and quickly gulped down half of it. Elizabeth looked at her with curiosity as she drank the wine so quickly.

  “His Imperial Majesty will be most impressed by your beauty, Vai,” said Elizabeth.

  “That’s good to hear,” Vai replied dryly.

  “Is… Is everything well?” Elizabeth asked sweetly.

  Vai looked into the eyes of the Peter in the portrait. I am a broodmare for that man, nothing is well! she thought, but held her tongue. Just as she was about to speak, the door to the bedchamber thrust open.

  Peter looked at Elizabeth sternly. “Out,” he firmly commanded. Elizabeth scurried past him and took a moment to look at Vai with mild concern before she closed the door behind her. “Clothes. Off.” Peter looked at Vai impatiently.

  “As my husband commands,” she replied softly, hiding her disgust. She slipped out of her silk robe, revealing no clothing underneath.

  Peter looked at her with smug satisfaction, eyeing her body lustfully. He began to take off his clothes as he approached the bar table. He poured himself a glass of wine then went to stand beside the edge of the bed. He was now shirtless with his pants around his ankles. Vai began to gently touch his torso, but he grabbed her shoulders and forced her onto her knees. “Start warming me up.” He gestured towards his crotch.

  “Of course.” She rolled her eyes unnoticed as she wrapped her hands around him.

  “This armistice will undoubtedly go off without a hitch. Even an idiot like Howell would know that fighting both me and the Emberlands would result in his destruction.”

  “Really?” Vai spat on her hand and continued to stroke. “If he had any sense, he would’ve surrendered to you ages ago.” Peter was too busy staring at the obnoxious portrait of himself displayed on the wall of the bedchamber to notice Vai’s lack of enthusiasm.

  “You would think, right?” Peter’s satisfied face became annoyed as he looked down at Vai. “Use your mouth, woman.”

  Peter grabbed her painfully by her hair and pulled her into his crotch. Hiding her disinterest, Vai moved her mouth over to the head of his cock and procedurally licked it all a
round. Peter exhaled in ecstasy as Vai took into her mouth what little of him there was. She slowly massaged his shaft with her tongue and lips. Less than a minute passed until he started moaning thunderously, filling her mouth with his seed. Thank the Stars he never lasts long, she thought.

  “Open your mouth,” he commanded.

  Vai opened her mouth for him, slowly. Peter cockily chuckled as he looked down at the self-perceived accomplishment he left inside. He pulled his pants back up and proceeded towards the bar table.

  Vai swallowed his seed and painfully tried to hide her gagging and disgust. She quickly rushed over to the table and gently grabbed Peter’s arm.

  “You shouldn’t have to pour your own drink,” she said softly.

  “Once I’ve recovered, I shall put a child in you.” Peter smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the curves of Vai’s body. “All my past wives failed to bear my children. I pray you don’t fail too.”

  I pray I won’t have to. Vai lifted one of the liquor glasses. The bottom was concaved upwards, allowing for a small space to stow even smaller items: a small blue pill was revealed. It’s exactly where I left it. She picked it up and discreetly placed it in one of the glasses, then poured wine into the glass. There’s no going back from this now. The pill rapidly dissolved as if it was never even there, exactly how Naturalist Giles had promised. Peter won’t like this drink two months from now, she reflected.

  Drink in her hand, she walked towards Peter. She positioned one foot directly in front of the other with each step, allowing her hips a slight sway: a sight that Peter could not look away from. She placed the drink in his hand and got down to her knees. As he sipped from the glass, she undid the straps at his crotch and pulled his cock out, licking it gently, careful not to excite him too much.

  “Once you finish your drink—” she slowly scaled up towards his ear, “I want you to put a baby in me.” She backed away from him a hair, hands still on his cock.

  Peter enthusiastically downed the rest of the drink, then threw the glass to the side. As the glass shattered, he grabbed her and threw her onto the bed face down. He struggled for a few moments, but his cock found its way inside her, and then he grunted and heaved as he thrust himself in and out of her. Vai moaned in fake pleasure as he was wheezing and sweating over her. She cringed into the bedsheets and, after only several seconds, he released his seed into her. He rolled off her clumsily and collapsed onto the bed, desperately trying to recover his breath. That was even quicker than I expected it to be, she thought.

  “None of my past wives was successful in bearing my children, and they’re gone now,” Peter said starkly. “I hope for your sake that you’ll succeed, since I’d like to keep that body of yours around.”

  I will not have to succeed, she thought, remaining silent and staring at the ceiling.

  “I expect you to have a big belly by the time I return from the Headlands. Don’t disappoint me,” he said while glaring at her.

  “I won’t disappoint you, dear husband. I’ll pray for your success in the coming weeks. I will be counting the days until you return to me.”

  I will count the days until your corpse is returned to me, she thought as Peter began to drift off to sleep.

  CH 10 – Asher III

  Bertrand had informed Asher that he was in an unusual coma for thirteen days. Thirteen days? I don’t remember a second of it… how is that possible? One second, he was being dragged away from the Artifacts, and the next he was waking up in his bed, being observed by Bertrand and multiple royal doctors. Asher hated himself for missing the funeral ceremony of Danny and Garret. By the Emperor’s command there had been one combined ceremony, for the sake of efficiency.

  Asher decided to take up residence in his father’s quarters to fit his role as the Emperor-Regent. He summoned Steeltower’s three principal advisers: Chief Naturalist Bertrand Glover, General Jacob Miles, and Magister Dayton Bathos. General Miles had neatly combed black hair with gray streaks. He was a head taller than Asher and twice as dense. Magister Bathos wore an extravagant tunic, embroidered with every type of gemstone, covering his great fat body—his role was to facilitate the economic growth of the Emberlands.

  Of all the principal advisers, General Miles was Asher’s favorite. Whenever the Emperor was preoccupied with affairs of state, which was often, Miles was there to guide Asher. By Miles, he had been taught about warfare and state administration. As such, Asher knew he could trust Miles implicitly.

  “Please be seated.” Asher gestured his hand towards the large table.

  Bertrand scampered to his seat, wiping his sweaty hands on his red robe. General Miles confidently made strides to his chair, and the Magister sauntered gracefully towards his.

  “News of my incident has reached your ears by now, I’m assuming.” Asher leaned back in his chair and touched his fingertips together, forming a triangle with his hands. “I want you to know that I still have my wits about me.”

  “We are pleased to hear, your Majesty,” General Miles reassured. Bertrand and the Magister nodded.

  “General.” Asher looked over to Miles. “Give me a rundown of our military strength and readiness.”

  Miles straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Thirteen caravels, fourteen war galleys, and the Dreadnaught Firestorm make up your father’s fleet. A dozen frigates are at sea protecting our trade ships, leaving thirteen caravels, six war galleys, and four frigates ready for battle.” Miles shifted in his seat. “Our land army comprises 30,000 standard infantry, 20,000 heavy infantry, 10,000 ranged men, and 40,000 armored cavalrymen.”

  “How does our land army compare to the other empires? We also have more firedust than the rest—how much of a difference would it make should war come to pass?” Asher inquired.

  “We field greater cavalry than any other Empire, but the Midlands have roughly 90,000 infantrymen, and the Headlands have 75,000 infantrymen and greater naval capabilities. A combined Headland-Midland army still would not have as much cavalry as us, but their infantry capabilities would dwarf ours.” Miles raised an eyebrow and rubbed his chin with one hand. “Firedust is most often used for siege cannons and naval frigates. We can have all the firedust in the world, but if we do not have enough cannons or frigates to use the resource, it only stands to be used as an economic resource.”

  “As it has been for decades, selling firedust to the other empires is how we have recently acquired most of our wealth,” Bathos contributed.

  “Our armies are greater geared towards offensive attacks then?” Asher inquired. After Miles nodded, Asher continued, “We have more firedust than we would ever need, a strong naval presence, and the strongest force of cavalry in the world. Was my father investing more in these assets because he expected the need for offense?”

  “He never fully disclosed his plans to me, your Majesty,” Miles admitted.

  “That is unfortunate, General. I suppose we’ll be formulating our own plans then.” Asher shifted his gaze to Bathos. “Magister. Double our firedust shipments to the Rocklands.” Bathos nodded affirmatively, then Asher continued, “Your job may be to expand Emberland trade, but am I correct in assuming you have a keen political mind? How else would you have risen to your position?”

  “I owe my position to the generosity of your family, your Majesty.” The Magister’s response seemed reactive, like a line he had memorized and uttered countless times before.

  Asher smirked. “I prefer my ass remains kiss-free.” Bathos humbly chuckled. “Give me your unadulterated and honest opinion of the armistice. What are the chances it succeeds? If it fails, what might we be facing?” Asher asked.

  “Excellent questions…” Bathos looked down at the table in contemplation, his chin resting upon one of his palms. “In any negotiation, it is important to consider who possesses the most leverage. While the Emperor is a formidable and capable man, Howell will possess the most power at the armistice, the Midland-Headland alliance having been so recently sealed in
matrimony and being quite the threat.” He placed his palms flat on the table and looked directly at Asher. “But I suspect the armistice will be successful. The Rockland-Midland war has gone on for decades with no clear winner in sight. Both nations have lost a great deal in the war. Opening up a second front with the Emberlands would cripple their economy, even with a Headland alliance to support them.”

  “Is Howell stupid enough to start a war with the Emberlands?” Miles asked.

  “Howell is many things: treacherous, cruel, authoritative, but not stupid. He proved as much at the Battle of Mercy,” Bathos answered.

  “That may very well be the case, Bathos, but warfare is my element. The only thing that Howell proved…”

  While Bathos and Miles argued the various geopolitical implications of the Battle of Mercy, Asher thoroughly contemplated his next move. Since he already knew every single detail of the battle, he decided it was more important to strategize for the future than bicker over the past. What would I do in Howell’s position? What would I do in my Father’s, Robinson’s, or Yamamoto’s?

  “May I weigh in, Magister? General?” Upon hearing Asher’s voice, the two men were immediately silenced, and joined Bertrand in silently anticipating Asher’s words. “Chairman Howell has been treacherous in his past battles, that is true. But this upcoming event is an armistice—has he ever shown diplomatic treachery? None that I am aware of.” He stood up and traipsed around the table, looking down at his advisers. “We are also certain that a successful armistice is in his best interest. So, I ask you this…” He abruptly stopped his stride back at the head of the table. “What are we not certain of? What could potentially cause this armistice to fail? What is capable of leading us all into war?”

  Asher stared expectantly at the three men. They all avoided eye contact, looking at the table or around the room, trying their hardest to think up a worthy answer.

  “Emperor Robinson.” The three men perked up at Asher’s mention of the name. “He has four ex-wives and no children to speak of. His current wife has, allegedly, not been able to bear his children either. I don’t know anything about Robinson personally, but I imagine failing to have children for decades would have a profoundly bad effect on anyone.”