Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Daphne said, keeping her gaze on the great city they were leaving behind. ‘Let’s move on.’

  Chapter 2

  Dressing Down

  P lateau City, The Plateau – 3 rd Day, Last Third Summer 506

  Shella groaned as the curtains covering the huge bay windows were pulled open, allowing the morning light to flood her princess-sized bedroom.

  ‘Must you fucking do that, Daly?’ she muttered, burying her head into a thick pillow.

  ‘My apologies, your Highness,’ her secretary said, ‘but morning is upon us, and you have a full schedule today.’

  Shella opened her eyes, bleary from lack of sleep. Two hours had passed since she had returned from seeing Daphne off at the harbour. She reached over to her bedside table and lit a cigarette, smiling as Daly’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

  The old Rakanese man left the room for a moment, and came back in carrying a tray.

  ‘Breakfast, your Highness,’ he said, laying it down on the cotton sheets in front of her.

  ‘You know you’re the only Rakanese who calls me that?’

  Daly stiffened. ‘I am merely using your correct appellation, your Highness, as ordained by law.’

  ‘Yeah, but no one else can bring themselves to say it. ’

  ‘Is it your wish that the staff be disciplined, your Highness?’

  Shella sat up, frowning. The Rakanese employees of the embassy in Plateau City already disliked her, and she could imagine the looks of disdain that would result if she tried to enforce the use of her royal title.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Very well, your Highness. Shall I go through today’s diary appointments?’

  She picked up a tiny cup containing a shot of strong black Sanang coffee and downed it.

  ‘Go for it.’

  Daly produced a notebook from within his robes and opened it. He cleared his throat as Shella picked at the sliced fruit on the plate before her.

  ‘This morning, your Highness,’ he began, ‘a delegation from the Rakanese Dockers’ Guild are here to petition you about their working conditions and pay, then before lunch you are to meet with representatives of a Holdings trading consortium who wish to set up a mercantile mission in Arakhanah City.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Shella said. ‘What are they selling?’

  ‘Tobacco, your Highness.’

  ‘They’ll make a fortune.’

  ‘No doubt, your Highness.’

  Shella stubbed out her cigarette.

  ‘Shall I continue, your Highness?’

  Shella lay back and closed her eyes. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Over lunch there is the usual correspondence to answer, then you will be attending the official opening of the Rakanese community centre in the Old Town, with a drinks reception afterwards.’

  She cocked open an eye. ‘Booze?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, your Highness,’ Daly said. ‘The Imperial Board of Standards refused permission for an alcohol license.’

  ‘Fucksake,’ Shella muttered. ‘Yet the Kellach are permitted to drink themselves into oblivion.’

  ‘Quite, your Highness. Your carriage will then take you back into the New Town, where you will be attending a dinner party hosted by Lord Holder Styre to celebrate the marriage of his youngest daughter.’

  ‘I don’t remember accepting any invitation. Do I have to go?’

  ‘It would look discourteous, your Highness, were you not to attend. However, if you are adamant, then I can prepare some suitable excuse.’

  ‘No, I’ll go.’

  Daly bowed. ‘The Dockers’ Guild are due here in thirty minutes, your Highness. I shall leave you to get ready.’

  Shella watched as the old embassy official left her bedchamber.

  A wave of self-pity washed through her.

  Why did none of the staff like her? Her brother seemed to get on fine with them. Those working in the embassy were leftovers from the previous ambassador, and she wished she could sack them all and hire afresh, rather than put up with their gossip and hateful glances. And now with Daphne, her only friend, having left the city, she felt truly alone, trapped in a job she hated amid a culture of petty rules and restrictions that were grinding her down.

  She belonged nowhere, she realised. She no longer felt part of Arakhanah, but knew she would never be accepted into the Holdings elite. A colourful but unimportant minor royal on the fringes of polite society.

  She slid off the enormous bed, and reached under the bedside cabinet, feeling for where she hid her weed. She took a stick of keenweed from a pouch and lit it, striding across the marble floor to a window, which she opened wide. She guessed the staff knew she smoked the banned narcotics, but didn’t want to make it too obvious.

  The drugs cleared her head, giving her the false feeling of wakefulness that she knew she would pay for later. She went to her dressing table, and sat. The reflection in the mirror glared back at her. There were dark rings under her eyes that she would need to cover up, and her hair was a disaster.

  She sighed. Another day to get through.

  ‘Why do you always wear black, Shella?’ said Sami, as they walked towards the reception hall. ‘Makes you look miserable.’

  ‘Shut up, Sami.’

  ‘Feeling a bit rough are you?’ her brother went on. ‘Out last night?’

  ‘Was seeing Daphne off at the harbour.’

  ‘She’s gone?’

  ‘With the dawn wind.’

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Wait till the One True Path find out. They’ll have a fit.’

  A servant opened the door to the hall and they entered. Daly was the only person waiting in the grand chamber.

  ‘Where are the Dockers?’ Shella asked.

  Daly approached. ‘I’ve had to cancel their appointment, your Highness. Your entire day has been cleared.’

  ‘Should I be happy,’ Shella said, ‘or has something even more tedious come up?’

  ‘The Emperor has summoned you, your Highness. You are to go to the palace immediately, and wait upon his Imperial Majesty’s pleasure.’

  ‘Fucking great,’ Shella sighed. ‘Another day of hanging around with desperate sycophants.’

  ‘Your carriage is waiting for you outside, your Highness.’

  She glanced at her brother. ‘You coming, Sami?’

  ‘No way, sis,’ he said. ‘I’ve got stuff to do.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to get drunk all day?’

  Sami grinned, and slipped out of the room.

  ‘I preferred you when you were sick,’ Shella called after him. ‘Should never have let that fucking Sanang mage heal you.’

  Daly coughed. ‘Shall we, your Highness?’

  She turned back to her secretary.

  ‘Yeah, let’s go see old Guilliam.’

  Daly accompanied Shella into the ornate ambassadorial carriage, along with Jayki, who was in his embassy guard’s uniform. Horses pulled them through the wide, paved streets of the capital, where large tenements and townhouses lined the main boulevards. Many areas of the New Town were still under construction, but the pace of building work was rapid, and more houses and shops were being put up each day. The palace was almost complete, with only one wing still under heavy scaffolding. Its great dome shone in the morning light, its surface gilt with silver mined in the Holdings, hammered into thin plate by the best metalworkers in the empire.

  They pulled into the main palace courtyard, the steel gates swinging shut behind them.

  An imperial courtier opened the side door, and Daly stepped out first, then offered a hand to Shella as she descended the steps.

  ‘Greetings, your Royal Excellency,’ the courtier said, bowing. ‘His Imperial Majesty has requested that you be escorted to the Hunting Room, and there await his pleasure.’

  Shella nodded.

  The three Rakanese followed the courtier into the palace through one of the lesser entrances, and were taken down long marble corridors to a modest chamber, decorat
ed with the heads of various wild beasts slain by the imperial household.

  ‘Refreshments have been laid out for you, your Royal Excellency,’ the courtier said, pointing to a table filled with food and drink. ‘Someone will be along when his Imperial Majesty is ready to receive you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Daly said, as the courtier left.

  Shella tutted. ‘Why does it feel like I’m here for a telling off? I don’t remember doing anything that bad recently.’

  Daly went over to the table and began pouring tea, while Jayki sat down by the door.

  Shella lit a cigarette, and gazed up at the stuffed animal heads adorning the walls. Most were unfamiliar to her, outlandish beasts with leathery skin and sharp horns.

  ‘Poor bastards,’ she muttered.

  The three Rakanese waited. They ate the food, and drank the tea and scented water that had been put out for them, and still they waited. The sun was low in the western sky when the door opened.

  Shella yawned, and stood.

  ‘Your Royal Excellency,’ a courtier said, ‘if you would please come with me.’

  Shella shared a glance with Daly, and they followed the courtier out of the chamber, and through more guarded passageways towards the rear of the palace.

  The courtier paused at a door.

  ‘This is the lesser reception hall,’ he said, ‘where his Imperial Majesty receives smaller parties of guests.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m short?’ Shella said.

  The courtier stammered.

  ‘Only joking.’

  ‘Ha, yes, of course your Excellency,’ the courtier frowned.

  He opened the door and they entered.

  ‘May I present her Royal Excellency Princess Shellakanawara, Ambassador of Arakhanah City to the Imperial Court,’ he announced with a bow.

  Shella stepped forward. The chamber was decorated in gold and deep reds, with a pair of raised thrones at one end. In one sat Guilliam, his thick lustrous robes piled about him, while next to him sat his queen, Mirren Blackhold, in an elegant dark green dress. Each had a crown upon their heads, and to either side were gathered officers, advisors and priests attending the court.

  Guilliam frowned.

  ‘Princess Shella,’ he said.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ she bowed.

  ‘We are tired, we are busy, we are hungry,’ the Emperor said, ‘but yet we must find time to tend to wayward children.’

  Shella said nothing, her cheeks reddening.

  Guilliam nodded to a man on his right, and Chamberlain Prior bowed and took a pace forwards .

  ‘Your Royal Excellency,’ he said, gazing down at Shella, ‘this morning the Imperial Court received confirmation from your government in Arakhanah City that they have failed to meet the legal requirements as set out in the treaty that binds us together.’

  Shella frowned. ‘Which requirements, Lord Chamberlain?’

  ‘Clause nine,’ Prior said. ‘The obligation upon Arakhanah City to provide volunteer mages for the institute here in the Holy Capital.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Your government claims that every Rakanese flow mage is essential,’ Prior said, ‘and that they cannot spare even one.’

  The Emperor snorted.

  ‘We are tempted to cease all deliveries of aid to your wretched land,’ Guilliam said. ‘We saved your nation, fed the starving and clothed the poor when your society collapsed. We have asked for almost nothing in return, and what we have requested is thrown back in our face.’

  ‘I understand your frustration,’ Shella said. ‘I will speak to my government, and enquire what is causing the delay. May I ask your Majesty if there is a reason for the urgency? Could this request not rest until Arakhanah City has stabilised its sea defences, and cared for this season’s spawn pools?’

  Guilliam’s eyes went wild. ‘Absolutely not!’ he cried. ‘The sheer impertinence.’

  The chamber hushed into silence.

  Shella bowed low. ‘Apologies, your Majesty.’

  ‘The institute,’ Prior said, ‘cannot begin its vital work of research and enlightenment until representatives of all the world’s mages have been gathered.’

  ‘And the institute has all but Rakanese mages?’ Shella asked.

  ‘That is none of your concern,’ Guilliam said. ‘Now go, and speak to your needy, grasping government, and demand that they meet their obligations to us.’

  ‘At once, your Majesty,’ Shella bowed, and began stepping backwards. A courtier opened the door, and she, Daly and Jayki left the hall .

  ‘We took a bit of a roasting there, boys,’ Shella chuckled. ‘Come on, we need to draft a letter.’

  Daly wiped his forehead, his hand shaking.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked him.

  ‘No, your Highness,’ he said. ‘If the empire stops sending aid back home, thousands will starve.’

  ‘Well, let’s write a really good letter.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can take it so lightly, your Highness,’ he said.

  ‘She’s always been like that,’ said Jayki.

  ‘We need to play along,’ Shella said to her secretary. ‘The Emperor can shout and rage all he likes, it means nothing to me, but every day we can hold off from delivering our mages to him, is another day Arakhanah City can rebuild.’

  Daly nodded.

  The door to the hall opened again and a man in long black robes came out and joined them.

  ‘Lord Arnault,’ Shella said.

  ‘Good afternoon your Highness.’

  Daly bowed low. ‘Lord Vicar, how may we assist you?’

  He smiled. Shella glanced at his features. Everyone in the embassy gossiped that Arnault was the most handsome man in the city, and Shella didn’t disagree.

  ‘I was hoping for a quiet word with the princess,’ he said to Daly. He turned to her. ‘May I escort you to your carriage?’

  She nodded, and they waited as Daly and Jayki walked off. When they were out of earshot, Shella and Arnault followed them.

  ‘So you took my advice?’ Arnault said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Shella said. ‘Daphne left at dawn.’

  ‘Good. You did the right thing.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Her being here,’ he said, ‘only complicated matters.’

  ‘I thought you had Yosin and the One True Path under control?’

  ‘They’re part of the body of the church,’ Arnault said. ‘Every revolution needs its zealots, and necessarily there are hot-headed elements. Miss Holdfast also has her supporters, particularly among the cavalry, and I had no desire to see the two sides shed blood in the streets.’

  ‘So you weren’t really bothered about Daphne’s safety?’

  ‘I don’t wish her any harm.’

  ‘Then no assassins are going after her?’

  ‘None sent by me.’

  Shella frowned.

  ‘My dear princess,’ he said, pausing as they came to the outer doors, ‘as long as Miss Holdfast remains in exile, and doesn’t try to interfere with the work of the church, she has nothing to fear from me.’

  She glanced over to see Daly and Jayki waiting by the carriage.

  ‘If they ask,’ Arnault said, ‘tell them I was urging you about the Rakanese mages. And, for the record, let me express the church’s extreme disappointment that your government has failed us on this matter. We need those mages, Shella. Make sure you get them.’

  The Lord Vicar turned on his heels and strode back into the palace. Shella watched him leave, then turned for the carriage.

  ‘Another roasting,’ she muttered as she climbed in. Daly nodded.

  ‘It’s been a long day, your Highness,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Once back in the embassy, Daly had taken down her dictated letter to the government in Arakhanah City, informing them of the Emperor’s displeasure. The staff had then opened the windows of the large office to let in the evening air, and Shella worked her way through a great pile of correspondence and docum
ents requiring her signature. Daly kept up a constant supply of coffee and she got through several cigarettes.

  Lack of sleep, and the keenweed she had smoked that morning, were threatening to close her eyes as she stared at the papers spread out over her desk. She sensed Daly gazing at her, and picked up the remaining documents. The staff may not like her, but she would never give them any reason to say she didn’t work hard.

  ‘Almost done, your Highness,’ said Daly .

  Shella frowned as she scanned an inventory of expenses. ‘And then we do it all again tomorrow.’

  Daly sighed. ‘Unfortunately, your Highness, all those missed appointments will have to be re-scheduled. I’m afraid tomorrow might be rather busy. Would you like me to go over your revised itinerary?’

  ‘Not now, Daly,’ she said, signing her name across the bottom of the various pages in front of her.

  She stood.

  ‘As you wish, your Highness,’ Daly bowed. ‘Will you be retiring to your quarters for the evening?’

  Shella nodded. ‘After today’s scolding from the Emperor, it’d probably be better if I avoided any social engagements for a bit.’

  Daly nodded and swept up the papers and letters from the surface of the desk.

  ‘See you in the morning, Daly,’ she said, and made for the door.

  Her private residence occupied the top two floors of the embassy, a five-storey stone building set back from the street. Guards and staff bowed their heads as she passed them on the stairs. On the third floor lay her dining-room, kitchen, and a private reception room, while she and Sami had their own separate apartments on the upper storey.

  As Shella reached the entrance to their quarters she heard the sound of raucous laughter. She paused, her hand on the door handle.

  She had been right about how her brother Sami would spend his day.

  Shella forced a smile onto her face, opened the door and walked into the reception room, where a small group were sitting on long, comfortable couches. Sami was in the middle, holding court with a few of the younger embassy staff, all of whom looked sober.

  ‘She had gone completely insane by that point,’ Sami said, not noticing his sister. ‘Murdered every fucking mage we had, except for Shella of course.’