by A. C. Cobble
The rest of the city contained remarkably similar architecture to Indo, white stucco buildings with black trim. The profusion of vegetation and colorful flowers wasn’t as dramatic in the city, but many of the windows held planters that sprouted herbs or vegetables.
The palace of the emperor stood above it all. A sprawling compound of white, pink-veined marble structures, it sat atop the highest hill in the city. At the top of the towers, all of Indo would be visible, from the port to the southern gates.
The hill below the compound’s walls was covered in a forest of sharpened stakes. They sprouted like a hedgehog’s quills. From a distance, Ben could see that men patrolled the walls with long wooden bows. Every hundred paces, towers rose even higher. Ben guessed a sharp-eyed lookout could see for leagues up there.
“I wouldn’t want to attack that place,” murmured Ben.
“In Ooswam, the emperor is the supreme power,” said O’ecca. “It is imperative that he shows that power to the world. If the other lords or foreigners see him as weak, they may be tempted to strike.”
“Having power is frequently about projecting power,” agreed Amelie. “If the people and the other lords perceive that the emperor is unassailable, then they won’t try.”
“Has anyone ever attacked the compound?” wondered Ben.
“Not with an army,” answered Towaal. “Many an assassin has tried. A few have been successful. The emperor shows his might because he needs to. The other Houses are almost as powerful as the imperial line, and they chafe under that yoke.”
“What happens when an emperor is assassinated?” asked Ben.
He was mildly curious about the answer, but he was more interested in distracting himself from their mission. Convincing the emperor to meet the demon threat to the south, to confront the Red Lord, and then to lend them a ship was going to be near impossible.
“His son will inherit, the same as any House. If there is no son, then a daughter, a cousin, and so on,” replied O’ecca. “The emperor has only one legitimate son, so the succession will be clear and is expected to be bloodless.”
“Do you know the son?” asked Amelie.
O’ecca nodded, her face tightening.
“You don’t like him?” guessed Ben.
“Chesson is not yet ready for rule,” she responded. “He also does not yet have a wife, and he believes that every girl in Ooswam should want the position. There have been some scandals as you can imagine.”
O’ecca fell silent, but her face grew darker and darker as they walked.
Amelie surmised the reason. “With the news about your family, you are now the Lady of your House.”
O’ecca nodded. “Chesson has already made advances toward me. My unexpected inheritance will only entice him more. He lives in his father’s shadow with no formal authority. By marrying me, he’d take control of a significant prefecture. The problems we have with the Red Lord would vanish as soon as a betrothal is announced. Merchants would come flocking to do business with us at generous terms, and lords would trip over themselves to ally with us. Chesson is, after all, the future emperor. Gaining his favor now would pay dividends for a lifetime.”
“Can you say no to him?” asked Amelie.
“We shall see,” responded O’ecca quietly. “He would be a powerful ally, and my people need help.”
Ben shuddered.
* * *
They marched up the twisting walkway to the gates of the emperor’s compound. An approaching army would be exposed the entire way. Ben mentioned as much to Rhys.
“That’s true,” agreed the rogue. “Of course, by the time an army got here, they would have already pillaged the entire city. Notice how the emperor’s walls are twice as high as the city’s? He’s not worried about foreign invaders. He’s worried about an attack from within.”
At the gates, a dozen men wearing the black and gold armor of the emperor stood watch.
“Back again so soon?” one of them asked O’ecca’s representative. “House of Iyrron must need even more assistance than is rumored.”
O’ecca’s official offered a curt bow of the head. “I’m back as often as required.”
The guard rolled his eyes and waved them through, apparently trusting O’ecca’s man wouldn’t bring in anyone who didn’t belong.
Inside, the top of the hill was covered in extensive manicured gardens and squat, pink-veined white marble buildings. Ringing the hill were heavily manned walls. They didn’t have the soaring intimidation of Whitehall’s massive barriers or even the thick utility of Frisay’s, but the emperor didn’t need that. As Rhys said, he wasn’t worried about siege weapons. He was worried about assassins. He was well protected against those. Scores of his men were visible, patrolling the walls, walking the grounds, and standing guard at every door. Ben estimated they’d seen a full company of the men by the time they made it to a two-story side building.
“Not the throne room?” asked O’ecca.
“You didn’t want to be noticed, did you?” asked her man. “The emperor will meet us in his library. I’m told he spends many afternoons reading, so no one will suspect he’s seeing us.”
More guards were stationed outside of the library, but they appeared to know the party was coming. They didn’t speak when Ben and his friends followed O’ecca inside.
The building was a single open room. In the center were plush rugs, couches, stuffed chairs, and polished wooden tables holding oil-filled lamps. The space was surrounded by thousands of finely bound leather volumes. Each of the four walls were covered in bookshelves. There were only two doors on either end of the building and no windows, but the room was brightly lit by skylights above them.
“What do you think the emperor of Ooswam reads?” wondered Rhys, meandering over to view some of the titles.
Ben drifted toward a table in the center of the room. It was painted with a magnificent map. It detailed much of the South Continent, though the desert of Qooten appeared to be underrepresented. Out of curiosity, he looked for the Purple’s fortress or Frisay, but both were missing.
O’eccca, noticing where he was studying, remarked, “The emperor’s mandate is to protect Ooswam from external forces, but as long as those areas outside of the border and are not sending armies, I don’t think he cares about them.”
“And why should he?” asked a high-pitched tenor.
Ben looked to the opposite end of the room and saw a young man standing there. He was clothed in a bright white robe and had his long hair slicked back with some type of oil. A sharp nose and receding hairline dominated his face. He waved behind him, and two soldiers exited out the door.
“Chesson,” said O’ecca, sketching a quick curtsy to the newcomer.
“My father told me you were here,” said Chesson. “I’m disappointed you didn’t write to let me know. After the Spring Gala last year, I thought I made it clear I’d like to see you when you were in Shamiil.”
Ben wasn’t sure whether he should consider the emperor’s son a man or a boy. He must have intended his haughty demeanor to add years and gravitas to his appearance, but he came off as immature and petulant to Ben.
“Where is he?” asked O’ecca.
“He’ll be here,” assured Chesson. “I wanted to see you first.”
O’ecca waited.
“Your family is dead,” declared Chesson abruptly. “I’ve informed my father to support your claim for the House seat. It is the least I could do.”
“Yes,” agreed O’ecca. “That is the least you could do.”
A slight frown marred the fop’s face, but he pressed on. “You knew already, didn’t you?”
O’ecca nodded.
“Good,” said Chesson, stepping closer to O’ecca. “After you are done speaking to my father, I suggest you stay and dine with me this evening. It has been a long time, and I believe there is much we should discuss.”
“I’ll see how the conversation goes with your father,” replied O’ecca slowly. “You are right. Ther
e is much to discuss.”
Chesson opened his mouth to respond, but a relentless clanging sounded from outside. An irritated glare fell across Chesson’s face, and his mouth snapped shut. He shot a look to the door where his guards were stationed, but none of them were coming inside or shouting alarm. After several moments, the clanging stopped.
“This is not good,” muttered Rhys.
“It may have nothing to do with us,” protested Amelie quietly. Gesturing at Chesson, she added, “It’s not like we snuck in, this time.”
“If not us, then what does it have to do with?” worried the rogue.
“That sequence is an alarm,” explained the former guard captain Crai. “It signifies an attack.”
Chesson waved a hand to quiet them, fighting to wipe the perturbed pout off his lips and appear regal.
“Some fool must have accidentally struck one of the gongs,” he claimed. He moved toward O’ecca. “Do not be alarmed, my lady. You are with me.”
Ben glanced at Rhys and could tell the rogue was thinking the same thing he was. No one accidentally hits an alarm gong over and over again for that long.
Chesson reached out to take O’ecca’s hand but was interrupted when one of his guards burst inside.
“I told you to wait outside,” snapped the young lord.
“Sir,” quivered the guard, “something is wrong.”
“Go fix it,” insisted Chesson. “Do not bother me again!”
Chesson turned to O’ecca and a false smile slid onto his face. “Do not worry yourself about this disruption. Maybe we can go somewhere…”
“Sir!” shouted the guard from the door.
Chesson spun to the man but didn’t get the chance to admonish him.
The guard grunted and staggered into the room. His face registered shock. He stumbled into a table, knocking it over, and fell face down on the floor. A red-feathered arrow stood from his back.
The blood drained from Chesson’s face.
“This is not good,” said Rhys.
“Go see what is happening,” instructed Towaal.
She bustled over to the fallen guard and fingered the feathers of the arrow.
Rhys ducked his head out of the door then immediately pulled back in, cursing.
“We need to go,” he said.
A scream sounded from the open door, and Ben saw black-armored men rushing by with swords drawn.
“Out the other way,” clarified Rhys needlessly.
Ben drew his longsword and trotted to the door they’d come in. Luckily, the gate was out that door. Whatever was happening, Ben was certain they’d be better off away from the palace.
Outside, he saw men rushing toward the main building. To the emperor’s quarters, he guessed. He nodded to himself. They certainly had no reason to go that direction. He gestured to friends that the route was clear.
“O’ecca!” called Chesson. The young lord was standing in the center of the library, wringing his hands. “Stay here with me. This place is defensible. My men are outside. They’ll quickly sort out whatever is happening. It’s best we stay in the building.”
Another of Chesson’s guards ran inside. “Sir, we have to leave.”
A scream sounded behind the man.
“That door,” he added, gesturing to the one Ben was peering out.
“Looks like we’re together for now,” muttered O’ecca.
They dashed into the bright sunlight. Around the grounds, the emperor’s guards were swarming toward the palace. It wasn’t clear who was attacking.
A shout drew Ben’s attention and he saw another one of the guards fall to an arrow.
“There,” he said, pointing to one of the towers that dotted the walls.
Under the shade of the tower, it was impossible to see who was inside, but arrows flew out. The shafts struck the guards as they raced across the lawn below. Outside of the tower, guards were pounding on a wooden door, trying to get inside.
“Another one there,” called Rhys, looking to the other side of the compound.
“Stay low,” growled Chesson’s guard.
The man was eyeing the open space between them and the palace. They’d be exposed to arrows for two hundred paces. He glanced to the main gate. The way seemed clear.
“We’ll follow the exterior wall and meet up with the gate guards,” instructed Chesson’s man. “There’s a dozen of them. They can hold the guardhouse if needed.”
Ben noticed a tiny golden stamp on the man’s shoulder, an insignia of rank, he assumed.
Rhys looked to Ben and Ben nodded acknowledgement. If the guard was headed to the gate, they may as well go with him. Ben had no interest in staying inside the compound while a war broke out.
They dashed across the open space. Ben kept his head low and tried to ignore the tickle in his back at the thought of an arrow plunging into him. The arrows had enough force to punch through the thick lacquer armor of the emperor’s troops. The heavy barbs would have no problem piercing Ben’s skin.
Amelie jogged beside him, scanning the walls above. So far, none of the towers near them were raining arrows.
They made the wall and tracked along it, staying in the shadows and hopefully out of sight for the archers. Shouts drifted across from the palace, but Ben still couldn’t see any of the attackers. Twenty paces ahead of them, he saw the gate to the compound stood open. Good, he thought. He had worried the guards had a protocol to close it anytime there was an alarm. With it open, they could easily walk out and let the mess sort itself out.
He thought that until they made it to the gate. Bodies of the emperor’s guards lay scattered underneath the portcullis. The dozen men who stood guard earlier were all dead.
“They must have been ambushed,” guessed Rhys.
“Doesn’t matter,” stated Ben. “The way is open. Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s not open,” remarked Towaal. She had walked out the gate and was looking down the path. Ben heard the stomps of booted feet. The mage turned. “We need to find shelter inside.”
Chesson’s guard looked around wildly then pointed to the palace. “The north tower. It has a side entrance, and the stairs at the top are easily defensible. There are men stationed there and weapons stored. If we can link up with those men, we could hold the tower stairs against a much larger force. You will help fight if needed?”
Ben nodded. “I don’t know who is attacking, but they are no friends of ours.”
“Good,” answered the man. “Follow me.”
Chesson tried to hold O’ecca’s hand, but she slapped him away.
She gripped her naginata and instructed the fop, “Be ready to fight.”
Chesson gripped his hands together nervously and shuffled to be near his arms man.
Ben got the impression that Chesson rarely did his own fighting.
They started to follow Chesson’s man across the lawn, but Ben snagged Crai’s arm, stopping him.
“Wait behind the guard house,” he whispered. “When it’s safe, sneak out the front gate. Alert the city watch and the barracks. Whatever is happening here, I’m sure the emperor will need those men.”
Crai nodded then ducked into the shadows behind the guard house.
Ben hurried to catch up with his companions. They were moving quickly, but suddenly picked up the pace when an arrow plunged into the turf beside them.
“Do they know who I am!” barked Chesson.
“You’re lucky they don’t,” muttered Rhys.
The young lord was huffing and puffing halfway across the lawn. The arrows started to come faster. They may not realize Chesson was the son of the emperor, but they were one of the few groups still brave enough to dash across the open space.
A shout rang out behind them. Ben glanced over his shoulder to see a line of men pouring through the gate. He didn’t take time to see how many were coming. There were enough.
Twenty paces away from the entry to the north tower, a squad of black armored men burst out of the door.
“We’re under attack!” shouted Chesson’s guard. “I have the emperor’s son. Hold this door while we get to safety.”
“The emperor’s son?” chortled the squad leader. “My lucky day.”
“Oh damn,” grumbled Rhys. The rogue drew his longsword.
Chesson’s man stepped forward, admonishing the new arrivals, “Yes, hold this door with your lives. I’ll see you’re…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. The squad leader yanked out a short blade and rammed it into the gut of Chesson’s man.
“What is this!” exclaimed the young lord.
Ben and his friends didn’t waste time talking. Rhys sprang into action, shearing through armor with his mage-wrought blade. Ben ran after him, surprising their opponents with the ferocity of his attack. O’ecca flanked Ben and twirled her naginata with lethal effectiveness. In the open space of the lawn, none of the men could withstand the speed and power of her blows. In heartbeats, the eight men in the squad were down.
“Good work,” said Amelie.
Ben grinned at her. She held her rapier ready but hadn’t joined the fight.
“Save it for when you need it,” Towaal advised Amelie. “You’re growing in knowledge and will. Go there first. Use the blade only when you have the advantage or when you are forced to.”
“Let’s go,” snapped Rhys, grabbing the stunned Chesson and dragging the young lord to the north tower door.
An arrow shattered on the wall beside them, spraying them with slivers of wood as they ducked inside.
Chesson touched his face where a thin trickle of blood was leaking down his cheek.
“I’m bleeding,” he quaked. “They fired at me. They could have killed me.”
The pounding of booted feet drew Ben’s attention and he looked out the door. Halfway across the lawn were two dozen black-armored men. On their chests, they had bright red stripes.
Ben slammed the heavy wooden tower door shut and exhaled in relief when he saw the thick iron bolt that locked it. He slid the bolt home then turned to his friends.
“The Red Lord is the one attacking.”