Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Agang shook his head. He strode to the front of the company of armoured soldiers.

  ‘We’re going in,’ he cried. ‘Secure the streets, find the source of the fire, and kill any rebels you see.’

  He turned, and drew his sword.

  Behind him, he heard two hundred soldiers get ready.

  ‘Clear the way!’ Agang bellowed, and started for the gate.

  Peasants scattered at the sight of the company charging towards them, some throwing themselves off the side of the road, others sprinting back into the town.

  Agang passed through the cleared gates and into Broadwater.

  The smoke was coming from the area beyond the market, in the direction of Temple Square. The main street was filled with running townsfolk, screaming and shouting, but Agang could see no enemy warriors, or any signs of organised fighting.

  The company formed a wedge, and rolled through the crowds towards the source of the fire. They reached the market, which was deserted, and continued on, past the front of the courthouse, and down towards Temple Square. The crowds had fled from the vicinity of the fire, but up ahead Agang saw more soldiers, barring the road in a thick line.

  At their rear, an officer stood, directing the soldiers as they faced down the street.

  ‘Captain,’ he said, striding towards the officer.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the officer bowed.

  ‘Report, please.’

  ‘House-fire we think, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘Spread to a whole block. Folk were shouting about the firewitch, and started running. I ordered my men in to restore order, but we encountered opposition up ahead. Seems a crowd of pro-rebels also heard the shouts, and thought it was the signal to start fighting. We have them sealed up in the square, your Majesty. Shall we move in?’

  Agang gazed down the street, but couldn’t see past the wall of soldiers’ backs. To their left, more soldiers stood in a long chain, passing buckets of water down to the block of houses where the fire burned.

  He nodded.

  ‘Shall we show any quarter, your Majesty?’

  ‘Take a few captives for later. Kill the rest.’

  The captain nodded, and signalled to a young herald, who raised a horn and gave a sharp blast.

  The soldiers ahead roared and charged down the street. There was a crunch, followed by the sound of steel and men dying.

  Next to him, Giles flinched, and Agang put his hand on his shoulder.

  ‘There is one good aspect to this ugly business, your Majesty,’ Hodang said, as he and Agang strode through Temple Square an hour later, stepping over the broken bodies of dead rebels and soldiers. The fire was out, though the housing block to their left was still smoking.

  Agang frowned.

  ‘The panic flushed the rebels out early,’ Hodang said. ‘We knew there were more of them in the city, laying low and biding their time. They showed their hand, and we destroyed them. Imagine, your Majesty, what damage they could have caused had they risen up while Broadwater was actually under attack.’

  They stopped in front of a line of soldiers, who were guarding a small number of prisoners. Agang gazed at the faces of those who had been captured. Defiance and fear mixed as one in their eyes. Many had injuries, but were being denied access to the hedgewitches that were attending his own soldiers.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the captain said, ‘shall we organise more crucifixions?’

  Agang opened his mouth to speak, when he saw Father Pieper approach, his face strewn with tears.

  ‘Your Majesty!’ he cried. ‘Please, I beg you to come with me.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Something your soldiers have just discovered, your Majesty. Something unholy has occurred.’

  Agang nodded, and he and Hodang followed the priest to the front of the small temple to the old gods that sat along one side of the square. There, on the steps leading up to the entrance, lay scattered limbs and body parts, hacked and bloody. Dark-skinned heads, arms, legs and torsos were mixed in with strips of torn black cloth, covering the wide steps.

  Agang recoiled.

  ‘Witness,’ Pieper cried. ‘Witness this atrocity. Unarmed preachers, men and women beloved by the Creator, ripped to shreds by those savages.’

  He knelt, sobbing, and put his hand on the head of a Holdings woman, the rest of her body strewn in pieces with the others. He closed her eyes.

  ‘Deacon Julia,’ he wept. ‘Twenty years old. Martyred for the faith.’

  ‘There must be at least a dozen bodies lying here,’ Hodang said, ‘maybe more. Is this all of the missionaries that were in Broadwater?’

  ‘I haven’t counted them yet,’ said Pieper. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘For this,’ Agang said, ‘we will allow you to personally execute one of the captives we have taken.’

  Pieper stared at Agang.

  ‘Your royal justice will suffice, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘Just make sure they suffer.’

  ‘They will,’ Agang said, ‘have no doubt about that.’

  ‘I curse that damn fire mage,’ Pieper said. ‘I fear this is the fate of all missionaries in Sanang, wherever that bitch rules.’

  The priest stood, his eyes red, and his fists clenched.

  ‘You will grind your heel into her corpse,’ Agang said, ‘as I will do to B’Dang D’Bang. By now Mandalecht will be at the River Tritos. The rebels will find our army a different proposition from the farmers and missionaries they have slaughtered so far.’

  Pieper nodded. ‘This evening I’ll look out with my vision to see if I can discover what’s happening. As you know, your Majesty, the forest cover can make it difficult to see anything, but I will try again for you.’

  The sound of someone approaching reached Agang’s ears, and he turned.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ bowed Imperial Legate Robban. ‘The riot is over?’

  ‘It is,’ Agang said.

  ‘I heard the news about the missionaries,’ he said, gazing down at the gore-covered steps of the temple. ‘I came to see for myself.’

  ‘Killed by rebel spies and sympathisers,’ Hodang said. ‘A most tragic occurrence.’

  ‘The security of Holdings personnel within Broadwater is your responsibility, I believe?’ Robban said.

  ‘The citizens panicked,’ Hodang said, ‘and stampeded through the town. There was no way to protect everyone under such circumstances. ’

  Robban glanced at Pieper. ‘The Lord Vicar must be informed immediately of this massacre.’

  ‘Of course, Legate,’ Pieper said, ‘though I have promised his Majesty that I will try to find the Sanang army first.’

  ‘That will have to wait, father,’ Robban said. ‘I need word passed on today of what has occurred, and any news of the alliance army’s approach.’

  Hodang frowned. ‘The location of the rebels and Mandalecht is the priority, I would have thought, Legate? If B’Dang is close, we need to know.’

  ‘Pieper’s vision is almost useless when scanning miles of forest,’ Robban said. ‘The rebels could be right under his nose and he’d never see them. No, his powers are under the authority of the empire, and since I speak for the Emperor the decision is mine.’ He nodded to the priest. ‘You will escort me back to the citadel, father.’

  Pieper turned to Agang. ‘Your Majesty,’ he bowed.

  Robban did the same, then the two of them turned and strode from the square.

  Agang stared at them, biting his tongue.

  ‘They’re upset, your Majesty,’ Hodang said. ‘This slaughter has made the legate anxious. And he has a point you know, the chances of Pieper actually being able to…’

  ‘You can stop, Hodang,’ Agang said. ‘I know when I’ve been out-ranked. It’s happened to me for most of my life, after all.’

  ‘You are the King of Sanang, your Majesty,’ Hodang said, ‘but you have no power over those from other nations.’

  ‘It was much the same when I was chief of Beechwoods,’ Agang
said, his face dark. ‘The other chiefs would say I had no authority. Where are they all now, eh?’

  ‘You desire to be emperor, your Majesty?’ Hodang whispered.

  Agang said nothing, his heart racing.

  He heard boots approach.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the army captain said. ‘The prisoners? ’

  ‘Something more than crucifixion this time,’ Agang said, glancing at the officer. ‘Burn them. Slowly.’

  Chane paced the office, a written report in her hand.

  ‘Forty-seven rebels, sixty-three civilians, fourteen soldiers and nineteen Holdings missionaries,’ she said. ‘All over a fucking fire in a storeroom?’

  Agang sipped from his cup of wine.

  ‘My mistake,’ Chane said, turning to face him. ‘Thirty-nine rebels. The eight prisoners haven’t been executed yet.’

  ‘They will be our spectacle for the evening,’ Agang said. ‘The seats are being set up in the square now.’

  ‘Must you burn them?’

  ‘They’re being crucified first,’ Agang said, ‘for tradition’s sake. The pyres will be lit under them while they hang.’

  Chane shook her head.

  ‘Do they not deserve to die?’ Agang said.

  ‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘But to inflict such suffering first, I don’t know, it seems…’

  ‘You people are so squeamish at times.’

  ‘But,’ she said, ‘as king, you’re the one setting the example. If people see you order barbaric acts, then they’ll think barbarity is permissible.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘It puts fear into the hearts of the rebels, and shows the people what happens to traitors. Rulers must be ruthless at times.’

  She sat by the low table next to him and picked up a weedstick from an ashtray.

  ‘Did you enjoy your outing with Giles?’

  Agang half-laughed. ‘He told you, did he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have I just fallen for one of your tricks?’

  She shrugged and looked away, smoking .

  ‘I needed a break,’ he said, watching her. ‘Giles is pleasant company.’

  ‘And my company is unpleasant, presumably?’

  ‘Don’t make this about yourself, Chane.’

  Her hand wiped her cheek, but she kept her face turned away.

  ‘I’ll make an effort to spend more time with you,’ he said.

  ‘You shouldn’t have to make an effort,’ she replied. ‘You should want to.’

  Agang felt his temper rise. He stood.

  ‘You know,’ he said, ‘too many times recently our conversations have turned out like this, with you complaining and moping and I’m getting a little tired of it. You need to stop these emotional outbursts.’

  ‘You’re the one shouting.’

  ‘Maybe you should have gone back with Rebecca and Gertrude,’ he said. ‘You’ve never gotten over the fact that you don’t control me, or possess me, and as soon as I start spending time with anyone else, you start weeping and whining.’

  Chane stubbed out the weedstick and got to her feet.

  She gazed at him for a second, beautiful despite the tears falling down her cheeks.

  ‘Fuck off.’

  She turned and walked from the small chamber, leaving Agang standing alone.

  He sat down and picked up his wine. He took a sip, then hurled the glass as hard as he could. It shattered, sending a spray of dark red across the wall.

  A servant rushed in.

  ‘Is everything all right, your Majesty?’ he said.

  Agang strode to the door. He passed the servant, who bowed low, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Agang spat. ‘Clean up that mess.’

  As Agang took his seat on the podium, he noticed that Chane was missing from the officials and dignitaries assembled to watch the executions.

  Hodang glanced at the empty seat and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You know how she hates this sort of thing,’ Agang muttered. He scanned the square before him. Eight upright beams had been set into the ground, each with firewood piled round its base. Hundreds of townsfolk had gathered, standing at the edges of the square, held back by a solid line of soldiers.

  To Agang’s right sat Prince Gadang, and next to him was Imperial Legate Robban and Father Pieper.

  ‘How’s married life?’ Agang asked his nephew.

  ‘Strange,’ Gadang said. ‘Is it normal for wives to never say a word to their husbands?’

  ‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ Agang said. ‘Maybe she’s just shy. She’s still to get to know you.’

  Gadang leaned over to the king.

  ‘And at night,’ he whispered, ‘she just lies there, in silence, and doesn’t move a muscle.’

  ‘But I assume you have…?’

  ‘Of course, uncle,’ Gadang said. ‘She’s my wife, and I take what I’m due, but she seems…’

  ‘She needs to learn her place,’ the king said. ‘It’s your job to show her.’

  Gadang frowned.

  As Agang glanced at the troubled expression on his nephew’s face, the doors of the courthouse jail opened and the eight prisoners were escorted out. They were naked, and each had their wrists bound to a crossbeam, their shoulders bowed under the weight of it. Whips lashed out, and guards marched them into the square.

  The crowd roared their hatred as the prisoners were led out to the row of stakes.

  ‘They are hungry today,’ Agang said.

  ‘They hunger for justice, your Majesty,’ Hodang said .

  The soldiers escorting the prisoners halted in front of the podium where Agang sat, and the crowd stilled.

  He nodded.

  The crowd erupted in cheers, and the executioners began their work. One by one, the prisoners were hoisted up onto the stakes. Agang had ordered that no ankles be broken, to ensure that their suffering lasted as long as possible. The crowd laughed as one of the naked captives lost control of his bowels, though the Holdings officials on the podium remained tight-lipped.

  The screams and groans of the prisoners rose to rival the laughs and jeers, as the pyres at the base of each stake were lit. The flames were kept low enough to tickle only their feet and calves, and the prisoners flailed their legs about, trying to avoid being scorched.

  ‘Look at them,’ Gadang laughed. ‘Jangling like puppets.’

  ‘They’ll tire soon,’ Agang said.

  Gadang sniffed. ‘Smells like bacon. Mixed with shit.’

  Pieper gagged, his hand going to his mouth.

  The fire beneath one of the stakes rose out of control, the flames whipping up the beam to the height of the prisoner’s head. He screamed in agony as his long hair caught fire. Guards pulled some of the flaming logs loose, and the fire fell down, but the captive’s scorched body swung limp, a faint foamy gurgle coming from his blistered mouth.

  Gadang tutted. ‘Over too quickly for that one,’ he said. ‘Got lucky.’

  ‘He’s not dead yet,’ Agang said.

  ‘But he won’t last as long as the others,’ Gadang said, shaking his head. ‘I’m tempted to throw a couple of guards onto the fire as well, teach them to do their jobs properly.’

  The crowd gazed transfixed at the spectacle, watching as the flames burned and the crossbeams suffocated. The cries of the tormented prisoners were the only sounds in the square, and even Gadang closed his mouth.

  The smell of burning flesh filled Agang’s nose, and he wished that it was the firewitch and B’Dang that were hung up before him .

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Hodang said.

  Agang turned to his chief minister, who was gesturing down to the courthouse behind them. A scout stood there, out of breath.

  ‘I’ll just be a moment,’ Agang whispered to Gadang, who paid him no notice, his attention fixed on the executions.

  The king rose, and descended the steps at the rear of the podium, Hodang following.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the scout bowed, his eyes lowered.


  ‘You have news?’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ he said, ‘from the Sixth Royal Regiment. They are approaching Broadwater, your Majesty, and are beginning to arrive now.’

  ‘Just the Sixth?’ Agang said. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘I don’t know, your Majesty. We got separated when B’Dang’s forces attacked the army.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We were still over a day from reaching the Tritos, your Majesty,’ the scout said, exhaustion etched across his face. ‘The fires started at night, ripping through the army, cutting it in two. Lines of flame boxed us in. The Sixth were right out on the edge. We could hear the screams, but all we could see were flames. We tried to get through to the rest of the army, but the fires were too high, and too hot. We couldn’t, your Majesty.’

  The scout hung his head.

  ‘Then we were attacked from the rear,’ he whispered, ‘by another regiment.’

  ‘What?’ Agang said, gripping the scout by the collar. ‘One of my regiments rebelled?’

  ‘Many deserted, your Majesty,’ the scout gasped. ‘We who have returned are the loyal ones.’

  Agang released the scout, who put a hand to his throat.

  ‘Do you know what happened to my nephew, Prince Echtang?’

  ‘It was his regiment that attacked us.’

  Agang rocked back on his feet .

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Hodang said, pointing down the street. Down on the main road appeared the first soldiers of the returning regiment, dragging their feet, their armour ragged.

  ‘That doesn’t look like a full regiment,’ Agang said.

  ‘Barely half of us have made it back, your Majesty. The rest died or joined the rebels.’

  Someone in the crowd also saw them, and soon every eye turned from the executions, to watch as the column of soldiers filed past, on their way to the citadel.

  ‘And Commander Mandalecht?’ the king asked.

  The scout shook his head. ‘I don’t know, your Majesty.’

  Agang clenched his fists, and turned to Hodang.

  ‘Recall every company and garrison from the Twinth and Mya regions,’ he said. ‘Make sure the Sixth get plenty of food, and send them every hedgewitch in town.’