Chapter 5

  Varus

  Varus stood in the Hanging Gardens, looking out over the bloodstained Avictfell city square below. Dozens had died in the riot that had taken Lector Ricci’s life. Avictfell felt different since that day--more subdued. Lector Ricci’s death quashed any further chance of rebellion. His death served as a reminder to the people how the Crimson Cloaks earned their name and reputation. The commonfolk placed too much faith in the Telliusian priests. Varus had learned long ago on the Second Expedition how much divine power the Grand Vicar and the Tellisium Church held.

  Varus brushed the petals of a pink Stargazer lily. They had been Heidi’s favorite. He snipped away an encroaching fern with the sheers.

  “My lord,” Svetlana said from behind him.

  Svetlana had trained at the Arites Academy and learned Essemancy alongside Arch Magus Sabine. Unlike other Essemancers who took up temporary contracts for service to lords and burghers, Svetlana signed an exclusivity contract for service to House Karyvean. He needed someone he could trust. Someone whose allegiance was not bound by the highest bidder. Svetlana had agreed. Varus found her telepathic abilities quite useful.

  “What is it?” Varus asked.

  “Otto Medistein has arrived. He waits in your office.”

  “Show him to the gardens.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Varus liked to hold important meetings in the gardens where he could keep a clear mind. Fortunately, his office stood nearby. Nowadays, Varus gardened because he relished molding the chaos and complexity of nature into order.

  “My lord, I present to you, Otto Medistein,” Svetlana said.

  Varus turned. In his experience, men of the station were materialist, gluttonous, or promiscuous. Given Otto was a banker, the vice seemed clear. Otto stood on the path, ornately dressed as expected, with well-kept dark hair and a fine-trimmed goatee. The man looked exhausted. Deep, dark circles rested beneath his eyes. Otto swallowed hard. “Otto, you didn’t need to travel all this way. A message would have sufficed.”

  “Lord Varus,” Otto said, “I come to discuss the matter of Lector Ricci’s accounts. In the past, it was customary for me to deal with the emperor himself regarding matters of the Imperial accounts.”

  “I recall I was the one who wrote you the letter.”

  “Yes m’lord, but--”

  “Unfortunately, the emperor is in disposed at the moment, Master Medistein. Having acted as co-regent for over a decade, I assure you I am more than capable of handling such matters.”

  Otto forced a smile. “Of course, m’lord. Should we sit in your office where--”

  “I prefer the garden,” Varus interrupted. “I find its atmosphere more...relaxing.” They walked along a path past a flowering hibiscus. Svetlana followed a dozen paces behind, outside of hearing range, but close enough should he need her.

  “Very well, m’lord. Shall I begin?” Otto asked. Varus gave a slight nod.

  “With Lector Ricci’s death, let his Essence be eternal,” Otto traced the diamond over his chest. Varus shared the religion but provided no blessing. “His estate had several outstanding loans and a substantial saving account with the Medistein Bank. Settling the debt of an estate is a legal requirement once claimed. If the debt cannot be settled, the Medistein Bank is entitled to property from the estate that is equal to the debt owed.”

  “I am well aware of the laws, Otto. Let us move on to more material matters, like when house Karvyean can expect its payout.”

  “M’lord, it’s no secret House Karvyean and House Malgais have no fondness for one another. The Medistein Bank sees itself as more of a mediator in this situation. You must understand we cannot pay the same claim to two parties. The Medistein Bank has no records of any Karvyean claims on the Ricci estate.”

  “Otto, I don’t see the issue,” Varus said. “Is it so hard to imagine Lector Ricci held a large outstanding loan with the crown? That debt has now come due and I mean to collect. Given Lector Ricci held his accounts with the Medistein Bank, it falls on the bank to settle any debts.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” Otto agreed, “but legally, we require proof of that debt.”

  They ascended cobble stairs to the next tier of the garden and continued along the path under hanging willows, branches shading the path.

  “You of all people should know house Karvyean supported Lector Ricci as a candidate years ago, Otto. I believe it was the Medistein Bank backing of Grand Vicar Rodrigo that ensured his selection.” Varus pointed the sheers in his hand at Otto to emphasize his point.

  Otto swallowed. “That was nearly two decades ago.”

  “A dragon never forgets.” He let Otto stew over the words. “But if the Medistein Bank requires proof, the Medistein Bank shall have it.” Varus turned. “Svetlana, bring me the records of the outstanding accounts for Lector Ricci. They are in my desk, top drawer.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Svetlana rushed off.

  Otto plastered on a smile like a merchant hawking poor wares. “If m’lord can provide proof, certainly that would change things.”

  “Certainly.” Varus agreed coldly.

  Otto looked away. “The estate assets must first pay the debt Lector Ricci had with House Karvyean and the Medistein Bank. Afterward, the estate beneficiary may receive the remaining value. However, there is an issue. The Grand Vicar has also claimed the estate on behalf of the Tellisium Church.”

  “An issue for the Medistein Bank, not the crown.”

  Upward they went to the third terrace. A waterfall gently trickled from above into a large pond with benches surrounding it. Lily pads floated on the surface of the water.

  “M’lord, unfortunately, the law is clear. Any lands, accounts, and estates held by members of the Tellisium Church revert to the church upon that member’s death.”

  “Yes, but withstanding any outstanding loans, the lands Lector Ricci had received were gifted directly from the Imperial demesne. By law, any Imperial lands return to the crown upon the death of the owner if no legitimate heir can claim those lands. Given Ricci was without an heir, naturally, those lands would return to the crown.”

  Otto sighed, his frustration beginning to show. “M’lord, the Medistein Bank has done a great deal of business with the Imperial Crown. Lector Ricci’s estate is minuscule in comparison. Can you not simply drop this matter and let everyone move on with their lives? The Medistein Bank will remember such a favor in the future.”

  Varus glared at Otto. “And I assure you, the Imperial Crown would remember as much, should the Medistein Bank support the crown’s claim. Is house Karvyeans favor of any less value than house Medistein’s?”

  “Of course not, m’lord,” Otto said and shuffled in place. He looked away, feigning interest in a nearby fountain. “Perhaps we should wait for Svetlana to return to evaluate the validity of the claim.”

  “Are you questioning my house’s honor?” Varus scowled.

  “No, m’lord,” Otto said with smooth confidence. “One should ensure such things when competing parties make claims.

  They waited a moment until Svetlana appeared and handed the documents to Otto. “Here you are sir,” Svetlana said and retreated to her usual following distance. Otto read over them. Varus kept quiet, studying Otto while he waited. His brow changed shape several times. Finally, after a minute, Otto looked up and cleared his throat. “It appears lands were gifted in good faith between Lector Ricci and House Karvyean. The outstanding debt lent to Lector Ricci listed his estate accounts as collateral, not the land itself. Thus, the estate’s gold would pay the debt.”

  Varus nodded.

  “Perhaps we could come to some arrangement, m’lord,” Otto offered in an almost pleading tone. “I propose the empire’s lands revert per Imperial law and the Ricci savings accounts regress to the Tellisium Church. The church would appreciate such generosity. Sharing is one of the five virtues, after all.”

  “Thank you for reminding me. I’d almost forgotten.” Otto smiled a full-teethed smile. “But I’m afraid that is impossible. The crown cannot forgive that debt. A banker should understand that more than anyone.” Otto’s smile vanished like gryphon flying against the sun.

  “Indeed.” Otto paused, thinking to himself. “M’lord, this has become a far more complicated matter than simple inheritance law dictates.”

  “Not as I see it,” Varus retorted. “Tarona is an Imperial Free City. As such, it holds Imperial immediacy and is only subordinate to the Avictean Emperor.”

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  “But there is no Imperial seal to press this claim. Should one present a seal, I would obey the emperor’s command; however, until such time, I insist we follow the inheritance laws.”

  Curse you and your laws. You dare send me to the emperor to grovel. “I’ve presented a valid claim, and the law is clear. The Avictean Empire is the law. The crown is the law, and house Karvyean sits upon the throne that makes that law.”

  “My understanding is the throne enforces the law as an ultimate arbitrator, but what of the Imperial Assembly? Do they not also govern and dictate the law?”

  “They do.” Otto was trying his patience.

  No thanks to his weak father’s policies. His father was a mere puppet. The Lectors held as much power as the emperor, perhaps more. He held his hand out, motioning for him to sit on the bench overlooking the pond. Otto sat. Varus remained standing, towering over Otto. “But I am afraid they have no rights of jurisdiction in this matter.”

  “And you understand that the Tellisium Church also has laws concerning such matters, m’lord. I will ask you one last time, my lord, then I shall take my leave. What would it take for you to drop your claim on the Ricci estate?”

  “Otto, house Karvyean does not wish to harm the relationship with the Medistein Bank. I understand how you feel, and how difficult a position it must be for you. But, unfortunately, I cannot drop the claim. This would set a significant precedent for the realm. The crown cannot afford to look weak, especially to the church. The realm sees them as two equal powers. Should one ever gain prominence over the other, it would upset the delicate balance of power within the empire. I hope our decades of banking and the relationship house Karvyean has built with the Medistein Bank over the years continue to endure.”

  “M’lord, who am I to determine whether secular or ecclesiastical law has precedence?”

  Varus waited in silence, letting the question linger in the air. Finally, he spoke. “It appears you are indeed the man to make that very decision, Master Medistein. Will you support the crown or the church?”

  After Otto left the gardens in an uncomfortable and agitated state, Varus went to his office and drafted another letter. The letter was to the Grand Vicar reiterating his intent to press the claim. He handed it to Svetlana. “Send this letter to the Grand Vicar,” Varus ordered.

  She took the letter in hand. “At once, my lord.” Bowed and turned.

  “Svetlana,” Varus called out. Svetlana spun back around. “Use Essemancy first. But have a rider deliver the formal letter. I want to ensure Rodrigo Malgais Essemancer receives the telepathic message before Otto speaks with him.”

  “Understood, my lord. I’ll arrange for a rider to deliver a formal request as well.” Svetlana repeated. Varus had trained Svetlana well. It was a habit for her to repeat certain orders to ensure she understood them. One of the many reasons Svetlana was a great scribe.

  Varus took a swig of wine and departed his chambers to visit the Imperial throne room. He hated visiting his father, but he still had a single use--the imperial seal. He needed that to press the claim.

  The palace stood atop the hill. Tall spires stabbed the sky above. Flying buttresses supported the massive structure. Long stained glass windows beneath pointed arches ran almost the entire height of the wall. The guards opened a pair of sturdy iron doors adorned with a golden gryphon sigil. The gryphons always guarded each other’s backs, looking in opposite directions. Forward facing the right gryphon held a sword meant for future conquest. And the backward-facing held a scepter, signifying the justice and prosperity of Imperial rule. As soon as the doors opened, the smell of incense from the golden burners filled his nostrils.

  Varus strode down the long room between gigantic, intricate carved stone pillars as tall as the city walls. Painted on the ceiling were images of Tellius and Avictus among the heavens. Polished black marble lined the floor. A gold carpet silenced his footfalls running from the door to the throne.

  The elongated hall had huge stained glass windows depicting the twelve triumphs of Avictus the Great. Each one cascaded rainbows of light along the floor. The locations of Avictus’s victories still held their original names from centuries ago. The legacy I aspire to.

  Varus knew the triumphs by heart having read Avictus’s writings on war. Every time he walked by, he hoped to achieve a fraction of the greatness he had stood before. Avictus conquered Lyrea first, winning a glorious victory at Pylopolis. The window had a bright orange sun. He rode westward into the Expanse and defeated the horse tribes along the Scarlet Plains--the frame dominated by shades of red. The next Battles of Black Harbor and Night Rock--near Rhavlon--contrasted the prior window, consisting mainly of violets and deep blues. Avictus continued his conquest and swept across the Nightwood. The next pair of windows differed harshly. A kaleidoscopic window of Rêveville contrasted with the dullest drear gray of Hailstorm Ruin--reminiscent depictions of the Void. The succeeding two showed great fortress victories. Avictus took Sytosium with simultaneous attacks from the north and south and with the help of gryphon riders. Afterward, they quickly captured the coastal castle of Avictea--the same castle he now stood in--later renamed by his wife Hiomi to Avictfell after his death. Over time, it had transformed into a magnificent city. The next two windows were lush green and fertile turquoise waters of Tivoli and Tarona. Tarona’s skyline had changed a lot. The final window pair portrayed Avictus as godlike. Pushing the Vanavians all the way north and slaughtering them at Hvithul in a cool tone of icy pale blue and white. Finally, he returned to the besieged city of Ryvium and secured his last splendid victory. The last ornamentation depicted the Great Titan of Avictus.

  A giant baroque-styled throne sat atop a raised dais. The ascending staircase matched the floor’s polished black marble. The Avictean Empire sigil depicted on the doors also guarded the throne--twin gryphon statues stood back to back, their wings rising high into the air. Their tails circled the dais. The golden throne itself also resembled a gryphon. Emperor Viktor gripped the eagle-headed armrest. He lay against the wing-styled throne backing. The black Imperial Banner emblazoned with the two gryphons hung from the ceiling behind the throne. A round window centered high above the throne depicted the diamond of Tellius. Varus admired the magnificence of the Golden Gryphon Throne in all its glory, tainted by his deranged, rotund father.

  The Imperial Guards stood at the base of the dais in their ornate black and gold plate mail. Atop the throne sat his senile father--the Avictean Emperor--hunched over, asleep. His hair thinned and turned gray and his skin became mottled and scabbed, as expected of a seventy-eight-year-old man. Varus knelt before him. “Your Majesty,” Varus bellowed. His voice echoed throughout the throne room. Still groggy, Viktor sat up and blinked his eyes open.

  “Developments have occurred I must make you aware of.” Varus had no genuine respect for his capricious father. Nor did he care to keep him informed. Varus had been co-regent for a dozen years, acting as emperor in all but name. Anything Varus shared with his father was to keep up appearances of his rule or drive him to a stressful heart attack. If only he would die.

  “What is it?” Viktor mumbled.

  “A survivor of the Fourth Great Expedition has returned, the only known survivor. An inquisitor who brought word concerning your namesake grandson’s death.”

  “My grandson is here? How I would love to see him. Approach.” Viktor struggled to move his arm.

  Varus scowled. “No, Father, Viktor is not here. He is dead.”

  “Dead?” the emperor asked, confused.

  “Yes. He died on the Expedition to Sojun.”

  “Ah yes, the Expedition. You bring word of our victory?”

  Varus heard an Imperial Knight shift uncomfortably. The scrapping of steel echoed across the hall.

  “No,” Varus said again, suppressing his frustration at his tone.

  “I am not dead yet!” Viktor spat. Spittle flew from his mouth. He struggled to stand. Hands pressed against the armrest, and he rose to his feet. “You embarrass me every chance you get. You fathered that illegitimate granddaughter by that whore of yours.” Viktor, speaking of Heidi in such a manner, enraged him. Viktor’s words mumbled incoherently in rage. Varus only made out parts of his ramblings. Something about “dishonor” and “marriage.” Viktor became easily agitated more and more often. Varus learned it was best to let him ramble. Varus would have strangled him if not for the Imperial Guard’s presence.

  “I formally legitimized her in the eyes of the All-Father and the law. She even married a cousin. Danika is more Karvyean than you.”

  Viktor sat back down, wheezing. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the throne room. “After your disgrace,” Viktor continued, ignoring Varus’ defense of Danika, “I had to arrange your marriage. You were lucky I could find you a wife to give you two sons. I should make my grandson Viktor my heir. There is a boy who respects his elders. The shame you brought to the family. I should--”

  “You should what?” Varus interrupted coldly. His tone was a sharp annunciation of command. The tone he used to instill discipline into his men in times of war. He refused to give in to his father’s antics. “Your grandson Viktor is dead. The Expedition a failure, and you, Father, are the disgrace. You allowed a non-Karvyean to be elected emperor before you. You’re a stain on the legacy of our family name. The only reason they chose you after Emperor Richard died was because they saw you as weak. The dukes wanted a figurehead as emperor, someone they could retain their powers from without fear of retaliation.”

  Emperor Viktor wheezed. His hands gripped the arms of the throne, his vein in his neck bulging. Will his heart finally give out? “The nobles laugh at you in the halls, the church steals your knights, and the burghers skim your profits. If only you would die, I could forge the empire into greatness. Instead, I’m thwarted by the Imperial Assembly and the Grand Vicar, but mostly I’m thwarted by you.”

  “You’re the Arch Marshal. Yet I hear riots in the streets.”

  “The commonfolk riot every year, only the reason changes.”

  “Your job is to maintain order.”

  “Allowing the riots does that. It lets the commonfolk believe they can inspire change. Makes them feel heard. The balance is in maintaining limits of rebellion. So let them grow angry over taxes. Or last year’s debt crisis, or lords clipping coins, guild monopolies, or sharecropping disputes--”

  “The reasons matter not--”

  “Or barons instituting prima nocta,” Varus continued, ignoring his father. “Land boundary disputes, trade disputes, disputes of hereditary titles and honor, petitions from Imperial Free Cities, interpretations of Imperial law under the Golden Gryphon constitution, which church has tithe rights to which lands, and the quarrels between Theogonist and Telliusians. Because it’s I, Father, not you, who truly governs the empire. So play your role as a puppet while--?”

  “I am your emperor!”

  “Tell me, when was the last time you attended the Imperial Assembly?”

  Silence. Viktor said nothing.

  “So sit there on your golden throne believing you’re the all-powerful emperor, but your reach stops at those doors.” Varus pointed. “It is I who have ruled this past decade. I have managed the high nobles. I have kept them satisfied. I make them feel involved in government while striving to limit their power. I hear their concerns and complaints. I mediate their disputes among one another, and when necessary, decide their outcome. In short, I instill fear and ensure their loyalty. The Imperial Crown is the symbol that can unify the nobles for a common goal. It’s just resting on the wrong head.”

  Viktor scowled. “I will not accept this insolence. Guards!”

  The ringing of steel being drawn filled the hall as the Imperial Knights drew swords. Varus glared at the guard to his left; his gaze pierced the helm’s eye slit sharper than an arrow could. The knight stepped backward. Varus had his sword but wore no armor. He did not doubt his skill, but there were a dozen or more fully armored knights. He could kill a few, but not all. Part of being a superb commander was knowing when you couldn’t win.

  Instead of fighting, Varus spun and walked down the black and gold carpet. The setting sun cast prisms of light through the stained glass windows.

  Varus only required the emperor’s seal to ensure the Medistein’s compliance. Given Viktor’s failing mental capacity, he hadn’t even mentioned the complexities of the Ricci estate. Doubtful Viktor would understand, more likely he would complicate the matter. Even if asked, Varus doubted Viktor would even grant such a favor. And Varus refused to grovel. He had other ways to achieve his goals, they just required more effort. Besides, nothing worth doing was ever easy. The emperor’s seal was the only remaining way his father served the Avictean Empire. No, the best way he could serve the empire is to die. Then justice would be served for the death of his late wives Heidi and Maria. All-Father willing it would be painful and slow.