“Father, please. If we are not careful, they will grow to resent us. And if they resent us, they may strike at us. I know Kara, and I know how she feels, and—”
“All the more reason to keep a watchful eye on them. I, too, know Kara, and I know that she is not a mage that can be trusted. We must observe them and handle them with care. And I want you to handle that task, my son.”
Suddenly, his father spoke once more with affection and doting for his son. It left Tyus in an awkward spot. He disagreed vehemently with what his father was saying and implying.
But he had spent a significant portion of his life fighting for the attention and care of his father. He cared greatly about becoming an emperor someday. He wanted to bring the empire glory as his ancestors did. If his father requested that he do something, how could he say no?
How can I say yes when I know this isn’t genuine?
“What is that task, father?”
The emperor smiled as he chewed another grape, slowly crunching it and swallowing it, allowing Tyus to ponder the possibilities.
“I will tell you more when the time is appropriate. But for right now, I want you to lead the ceremony today honoring the magi for what little accomplishments they have done. I want you to be our line of communication to them. The less I have to do, the better. Is that something you can do? Can you begin the process of becoming worthy of being emperor?”
Tyus felt used. He felt like he wasn’t good enough to know what his father was doing. He didn’t feel like a son. He felt like a pawn—no, pawn at least indicated that he was a piece on the board. He felt like crumbs on the board, present, but soon to be wiped away. What kind of a role was leading a ceremony?
But, yes, it was a start. At least this crumb was being acknowledged at that very moment. Perhaps, absent other pieces on the board, that crumb would take the role of something more important. For now, he would have to hold off on resuming his duties with the Dragon Hunter’s Guild.
“It is something I can do, yes,” Tyus said, bowing his head.
“Good. You are on your way to becoming fully worthy of the empire,” his father said. “Now, go and meet with whatever wizards and witches you need to to get today set up. I have other matters to attend to.”
His father did not even say goodbye as he left his bedroom. A single guard waited for Tyus to exit, and the son of the emperor did so, but only after feeling complete unease about what would happen next.
Whatever his father had planned, it was either too important to share with his only son, or his only son was seen as too weak to be trusted with the news.
Either way, whatever sense of connection Tyus had developed in his few minutes in his father’s room proportionally vanished the further away he got from the room. But it was rapidly replaced by a sense of ownership. He would have to take charge of the day ahead. He would have to communicate with the magi. He would open the ceremony. He would deliver the words that would change the relationship between the empire and the magi.
He walked past the guard outside the room, waving his hand to dismiss him. He headed straight outside the palace walls and stopped at the entrance, the remains of Indica no more than a couple dozen feet away. He vehemently disagreed with his father on the decision to leave the dragon out, but then again, he didn’t agree on much with the old man.
He gazed up. It was a sunny morning, one with nary a cloud in the sky. Perhaps, he thought, it would mark a new day in the relations between the magi and the empire. Or, even better, it would mark the beginning of his influence and reign over the empire.
“Tyus.”
An older mage appeared, wearing thick brown robes. But when Tyus saw his deep blue eyes and stoic composure, he immediately knew who he was.
“We wish to begin within the hour.”
“Gaius,” Tyus said, nodding his head. “Very well. We will proceed within the hour. I will give the first speech. I… I want you to know, Gaius, I will do my best to honor what you’ve accomplished. My father is uncomfortable with praising you for your accomplishments, but I know the truth. I’ll do what I can.”
Gaius did not display any overt reaction, but at least he had not outright rejected what he’d said.
“I would like to believe you,” Gaius said. “You speak genuinely, and you are young enough to have your own ideals but old enough to stand up to your father. But I have also witnessed your father take the same path, and as a historian, I know the same path has been taken by many an ancestor of yours. You may yet break the path. But your actions, not your words—at least not your words without an audience—will determine your legacy.”
“I know.”
“Good, then we will see you in one hour. Do what you must.”
Gaius whirled around and headed into the library without a sound. Was it enough to ensure a peaceful ceremony? Was it enough to ensure that the magi saw him as an ally, or at least someone willing to talk? Tyus couldn’t say. But it was at least a start.
He headed back into the palace and had a guard inform his father that the magi would be prepared within the hour. It would happen sooner than expected, but Tyus hoped his father would see it as a chance to get them out of town faster. The rest of the military organized for the ceremony, with guards getting into position according to plan. Tyus didn’t think the magi would want to fight, but proper security was needed just in case. Especially if Kara is there.
He headed to his room and immediately changed. He wore the most regal clothing which he had adorned himself with in years. His silver and black robes felt silky, almost blissful to the touch. Just touching the clothing felt like a feathery massage to his fingertips. His father had not lavished him with such clothing since he was a young child, too young to be aware of the fortune that his birth had given him. His father had not even paid this much attention, in fact, since those days, before Tyus could realize his father thought him weak and unworthy.
But the clothing was perhaps the only part of today that Tyus felt he could enjoy without dark voices in the back of his mind.
He slowly made his way to the throne room, but to his surprise, he ran into his father just outside it, escorted by about a dozen guards. He nodded to his father, who barely acknowledged him with a nod, and joined him by his side. His father looked oddly nervous, about the last thing Tyus had expected. Bored, probably. Aggravated, yes. Offended, certainly. But nervous?
He came to the edge of the entrance, where the shadows of the palace kept him invisible from the slowly-gathering crowd outside. He glanced back at his father, who did not acknowledge him. He looked to a few of the guards, who nodded that they were ready. Tyus took a quick breath of air, closed his eyes, thought of the moment as his first step toward becoming the emperor, and exhaled. Walk into the light. Lead the empire into the light.
He walked out first to the crowd of hundreds who had come to witness this strange scene. He noticed immediately that the size of the crowd was significantly less than his last speech to the masses. Surely, the most ardent of Syrast supports must have wondered what they were here for. The magi, to be thanked for what they had done? The Shadows of the Empire, to be given utter freedom to go to Dabira?
To the citizens of Caia, it probably sounded like a terrible joke. Had the magi taken control of the empire? Why had the empire suddenly changed its mind when the street rumors stated the empire had killed Indica?
Tyus was given the responsibility to assure the people before his father spoke that they still ruled the empire. No one with magic had wrested control from them. He would speak to the crowd and assuage their concerns and fears.
But if the point was to establish the empire as still having control, wouldn’t the emperor himself go first? Doesn’t matter. You have an opportunity. Make the most of it. Change the path your father and others have set.
The people turned their attention to him and some applause broke out, but it was uneasy cheering. It wasn’t that they were uncomfortable with the presence of Tyus, he thought—no, he
hoped. He just figured they would need some more proof. He smiled and bowed to the people as they applauded, but the applause went silent, the sound of a band playing to the side the only thing that prevented this moment from turning into complete awkwardness.
But then, suddenly, the people erupted into a roar. He turned just enough to see his father descending the steps. His father did not so much as glance at him, instead giving the arrogant smile that the citizens of Caia had come to love.
As Tyus turned back, he understood what he had to do. His father had not just become the emperor through effective leadership. If anything, that was laughable; Eric had better leadership skills, and he wasn’t even the head of the Dragon Hunter’s Guild. His father was just too impetuous and emotional to be a good leader.
No, he’d become the emperor of the people through the cult of personality. His hard-lined stance; his lack of fear or the lack of filter; the willingness to condemn the magi as being the ones who brought bad ills to the city… they were all things that may not have actually served the city well, but when they accounted for the loyalty they bred, it was as if they had done something good. Manipulation of the masses came not through accomplishment or logic, but through an illusion of control and emotional demonstration. Of course, his popularity decreases with each passing day. But it got him here.
His father reached the platform and finally gazed to his son. His father wore a hard look, one of impatience and annoyance. Tyus knew that it would be all that he would get, but to do it in so public a venue… granted, no one would remember, not with all that was to still happen on this day, but at least his father had finally recognized him in a situation like this.
Then, far in the distance, he saw them emerging from the library.
The Shadows of the Empire. The ones who had “supposedly” saved the empire from Indica, a thing that seemed rather likely given that proof of it was lying right there in the middle of the streets. Tyus was surprised to see there was only a few of them, including a couple of very young-looking girls. He didn’t know what he had expected, but this was definitely not it. Maybe twenty, thirty, a hundred? No one had an official tally on how many magi there were in Caia, and Tyus had a hard time believing anyone would ever know as long as they continued their deadly, violent stance toward the magi. Maybe most of this crowd is magi. They are waiting to join the Shadows when they know it is safe in public.
Tyus shifted his body to face the magi as they came. Most of them, he did not recognize. Gaius, certainly. Kara, definitely. Almost everyone else, though, he glossed over.
But there was one. A young girl. She looked nervous beyond all measure. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen if she looked young for her age. Tyus had seen her somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it. She had long, beautiful blonde hair and a face that he could tell had seen too much, easily more than he had despite being younger. He’d… where? Where had he seen her before?
He felt sympathy for the young girl. This was a bad spot to be in with this crowd. All it would take was one rogue soldier or one rogue citizen, something far from out of the question. Were he in her spot, he knew he would have felt the same way.
The band began winding down their music, a march that carried an ominous overtone, as if they were welcoming the enemy. Which, Tyus was sure, many people felt that way. Even he, having fought with the magi and knowing more than most, could not quite shake the nagging, deeply embedded distrust of the magi—Kara, specifically.
He walked forward to the middle of the platform. He cleared his throat, remembered how to speak to a crowd, and raised his chin to better speak. Earn your spot in the future. Show the people what is to come.
“Good afternoon,” he began. For some strange reason, he had expected the crowd to applaud him at this point. But he didn’t even hear a cough. You are not your father. Just be yourself. Compel with the truth of your words, not with your tone or emotions. “I know that many of you are looking at this stage right now and feeling very confused. Some of you have spent your lives trying to hunt wizards and witches. In some cases, that was justified. But here today, I can assure you, even though it may seem odd to say, that it is not.”
Tyus could feel eyes trying to burn him from all sides. The magi, for saying that some of the hunts for them was justified. The citizens, for wondering where this was going. Even he felt sharply self-critical. He had thought some of what he wanted to say, but the pressure of the moment was making it difficult for him to stay focused on what he intended to say.
“My father,” he began, drawing applause for the first time. I have a ways to go in getting people to follow me, not my father. “He will speak soon. For now, though, he wanted me to speak on behalf of the magi.”
He cleared his throat. Though the crowd may not have loved him as they loved his father, he wanted to command the stage as his father would. He wanted to speak loudly, passionately, and with the perceived fire that his father had while delivering his lines. And if it took invoking his father’s name to get their attention, so be it.
He could not, however, match his father in the volume of his voice. He had yet to learn that skill.
“Over the past couple of weeks, we have witnessed the near annihilation of our empire. Many of you lost homes. Many of you lost family and friends. The damage that the dragon Indica caused is evident even to this day, and for that, we must never forget what has happened or forget those who perished in the actions. We must not let the legacy of the fallen fade.”
He paused. He was surprised to feel emotion sweeping through himself. He’d expected some sort of reaction from the crowd, but he didn’t imagine his own words would reach him. Not when he’d thought about them many times before today.
“I fought alongside a specific guild designed to hunt down dragons so that we may live in peace. The Dragon Hunter’s Guild. If anyone could have defeated Indica, it would have been them. Us.”
Should I have said that? Too late. Keep going.
“On our side, we had some of the greatest hunters I have ever seen. Artemia Theros, head of the guild. Abe Wallace, the longest tenured veteran of the guild. And Eric Garland, a young hunter who surpasses even my skills.”
Tyus couldn’t believe he had just said that. He felt his father’s eyes boring into his soul. No Syrast ever admitted weakness or that someone else was stronger. Never. It left open the possibility of people doubting you. This was not what he was trained to do.
But what was he supposed to do, lie?
Yes, his father would say, you lie.
“The people are fools and, as long as you maintain your aura, will always believe anything and everything you say. You do not give them a chance to doubt you. You do not give them any openings with which to question you. You charge ahead with your statements, and if someone calls you out for the lie, you ignore them. Or, better yet, you cut them down and teach others to remain silent.”
Well, Tyus thought, it was time for a change. A change in which proper vulnerability was seen as a strength. That did not mean he would weaken the army or command with meekness, but if the truth showed they had a weakness, covering it up with bravado would not work any longer. They had to change what was going on in the imperial halls. It would ultimately make the empire stronger to recognize its flaws, not to smooth them over with strong language.
“And yet, and yet,” he repeated with emphasis and a slowed speech. “We still could not defeat Indica alone. We had our greatest soldiers, and yet we could not defeat it. We needed help from a group that could give us a boost in a way that no other group could. We… yes, it is true. We needed the Shadows of the Empire.”
He paused. He had succeeded in one aspect—the audience was captivated and riveted by what he had to say. Most didn’t gasp in horror, but they also weren’t talking to each other. All eyes were entirely on Tyus and the platform. He had succeeded in the first step in capturing their attention. He just hoped that he hadn’t made his speech so pacifying and so
agreeable with the magi that his father would kick him out of the palace once more.
“The Shadows of the Empire and the empire have long had a contentious relationship. They have caused much grief to us. And we them.”
He tried to hurry over the point, though he felt sure that he could not say anything more, lest his father punish him mercilessly.
“For those reasons, it would be easy to expect them to refuse our request. But just like we saw past our differences, they saw past our differences and saw the need to save a city, no, all of humanity. This was not about magi and citizens, but humanity as a whole.”
Tyus knew he couldn’t speak all kind words to the magi. He had to remind everyone present what the image and legacy of the empire was.
“Understand. The magi behind me, the wizards and witches, are not heroes as you might say my father is.”
This drew some scattering applause, which Tyus felt sick about. Even as he thought about it, he couldn’t find the balance between the truth and the “emperor’s truth.” There probably wasn’t such a thing where he would find that balance and still feel like he could look himself in the mirror. Someone would have to look like a liar at the end of the day.
“But these magi did perform a heroic act. They helped in the destruction of Indica. They played a role in saving this city and humanity from complete and utter annihilation. So for that reason, as I give ground to my father to reward them, I ask that you remember that though we have had our differences, we have one great thing in common. In our struggle for survival and victory over Indica, we fought for the common good. Thank you.”
There was applause, yes. But… it wasn’t the kind of applause that Tyus had expected. It was lukewarm, present, but not riotous like his father could command. But what could the boy expect? Decades of mistrust of magi could not be erased with a single act, even if that mistrust was based on nothing more than rumors and second-hand accounts. That, and he wasn’t his father.
Demons of the Hunter (War of the Magi Book 2) Page 9