by Z H Brown
To the young captain’s immense relief, when the Imperium leadership did arrive, it was with the agreed upon number of ships accompanying it. With the loss of the Golden Flagship, the Imperium leadership was using an older ship, the Midas Bolt, which had been used by the Golden Emperor during the third open-war phase between the Empire and Imperium. The vessel had a four-pronged front that could be charged to unleash a devastating bolt of golden energy; Ansaria had seen footage of the ship in action, though it was nowhere near as dangerous as the newer flagship had been.
With the faction representatives gathered, the Salfar had given their craft a once-over before inviting over the dignitaries. Xandarius, Ansaria and the others had of course teleported in, and were now waiting for the others to arrive via shuttle. Just as Ansaria had given up toying with the fabric strip and had started to tap her boot again, the door leading to the meeting room opened, and the senior Salfar coordinator stood before them, bathed in the pleasant glow of the room beyond. He was about Ansaria’s height, with long, thick, silvery-white hair and electric blue markings on his visible skin; looking at him, the only word Ansaria could think of was ‘beautiful’.
“Your majesty,” he said, with a soft voice that was carried remarkably well by the ship’s design, “we are ready to begin.”
Though Ansaria couldn’t see it, Xandarius smiled. “Excellent. You may announce Us now.”
The outsider bowed and turned to address the room beyond.
“Announcing the arrival of Emperor Xandarius of Xenlong, the Conqueror, the Unifier, the Great, and the Bearer of the Golden Flame!”
The Salfar then stood aside and swept his arms into the room, indicating for Xandarius to enter, which he did, closely followed by his Royal Guards. The room was bare, save for a circular table that had seating for the three leaders, as well as a single, large, overhead light. At first, Ansaria thought that their entrance had been announced to an empty room, until she saw two other Salfar, almost identical to the other and both standing in front of open doors that undoubtedly led to rooms like the one they had just been in. After Xandarius had been seated at the table, with Ansaria, Alvara and Tread standing slightly behind him to his left and Fornost, Slog and Critter (in his skeletal-looking combat mech) to his right, the Salfar at the left set of doors spoke:
“Announcing the arrival of Crown Prince Gamesh-Gil the Sixteenth, the Flameless, sovereign-to-be of the Golden Imperium of Infinite Starlite!”
Ansaria couldn’t see Xandarius’ face from where she stood, but she was certain that even his stony visage had been rocked by a tremor of surprise at the discovery that the representative from the Imperium was another prince; questions raced through the captain’s mind, but all of that fell away as the entourage entered.
Six figures, all about Ansaria’s height came marching in with military precision, walking quickly in pairs that split to fan the chair where their ruler would be sitting. Their armor was heavy though their figures were lean; each piece was easily half-again as thick as Ansaria’s, and all of it gold shined to a dull gleam. They wore capes of sparkling golden material, and they all had identical masks with a slight protrusion, just enough for a small muzzle; the eyes of the masks glowed with a smoldering, golden light. Each of them carried a spear that was just as tall as they were (and clearly capable of more than just stabbing), gripped in gauntlets with sharp, pointed fingers.
The two closest to the chair each placed a hand on the back and drew it away from the table. Emerging from the waiting area on muted, booted footsteps came Prince Gamesh-Gil himself. The prince looked around her and Eberius’ age, with the same bronze skin and long, blood-red hair, as the last Tamian she had seen, but his beard was much shorter, and trimmed to a slightly-curled point. Most of his outfit was obscured by a heavy golden robe with swirling, wavy patterns covering it. Upon his head was a golden crown, forged in the shape of a flickering flame, and beset with three, dark-red stones. His eyes, while still overflowing with energy, seemed somewhat dim, and Ansaria got the impression that this young man was very, very tired.
The prince took his seat and bowed to Xandarius, who, after a moment, returned the gesture, after which they both waited patiently for the final guest. Ansaria’s heart was racing and her stomach felt like it was trying to float away. At last, the third Salfar spoke:
“Announcing the arrival of Prince Eberius, commander of the Ebon Empire Expeditionary Forces!”
The doors opened, and Eberius walked in at a brisk pace, his ever-present black-armored guards walking just as smartly as the Imperium forces had and quickly taking their positions as their prince took his seat. Just as Prince Gamesh had, Eberius bowed to the other two royals, who each returned the gesture. Eberius wore his helmet, but Ansaria had spent enough time with a bucket on her own head to notice when someone’s looking at you, and she did her best to try not to grin too much.
With everyone present, the Salfar bowed and exited the room, ready to return should they be needed. As the doors slid closed, the room became silent, with Ansaria uncertain who would be the first to speak. Xandarius took the lead.
“First, I would just like to thank each of you again for agreeing to this conference. It is my hope that we can work together to discover how we can prepare for the future in the event that another threat on the scale of the Star Eater should ever appear. While it is true that the chances of another creature like it appearing are infinitesimal, the…expert on the topic that I have believes that the Star Eater is not unique to its own galaxy, and that ours most likely has monsters just as, if not more, dangerous; therefore, I believe the only way to properly prepare for such an encounter is a plan to pool our resources into an effective fighting force that could apply the techniques we learned defending this very system against whatever might be out there.”
That all made sense to Ansaria; even if the threat was decades or centuries off, it was clear that fortune had smiled upon all of them more than once and ensured that they hadn’t been beset upon completely unawares.
Eberius leaned back in his seat and tapped the place on his helmet where his mouth would be with the side of his finger as though he was composing a thought. However, it was Prince Gamesh that spoke first.
“Emperor Xandarius, while I am receptive to the idea of allying against future diabolical attacks, we must first find a way to permanently put an end to the conflict that has raged between us these last thirty-eight years; and that, I fear, may be the most difficult task of all.”
Ansaria was impressed by the young ruler: while he certainly sounded just as tired as he looked, the prince’s soft voice carried with it the steel of one who is used to wielding absolute authority. Clearly, despite being on a level somewhere between Xandarius and Eberius, Gamesh would not be cowed or intimidated by the older, more experienced monarch.
Xandarius leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers; his gaze was peering intently at the Imperium ruler, his burning, golden eyes inscrutable.
“While I knew that a formal peace treaty was in order, our previous cooperation had led me to believe that the Imperium was open to peaceful coexistence.”
The prince laughed, a bitter laugh, with the only mirth being in some irony that only he could see.
“That was before my father died in the most disastrous military operation in our millennia long history and you saw fit to acquire the source of his and my family’s power.”
The mood in the room changed like someone had flipped a switch; one moment, the feeling was one of polite cordiality with a little (understandable) tension. Now, Ansaria felt her hand tightening on her sword hilt, and she was fixing the gold-plated Imperium guard across from her with a steady look. The guard didn’t appear to have changed his stance any, and yet a critical eye revealed that the guard’s hand was wrapped just as tightly around the spear, equally prepared to act.
The tension lingered on until Eberius finally spoke.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am confused: how can you attend
a meeting in support of peace and cooperation if your government does not support such an action?”
Prince Gamesh was silent for a few moments before leaning forward. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words died away before he could get them out and he sunk back in his chair, rubbing his forehead just beneath where his crown rested. He was quiet for another few moments before he sighed and started talking.
“The loss my people sustained during the battle with the monster has thrown our entire empire into disarray. From what I understand, it was only seeing the beast with their own eyes that convinced the troops there to continue the fight after the loss of my father: they knew that if even the Golden Emperor could fall before such a creature, then what hope was there for them if they fled? While it’s true some of them gave into despair and madness, the rest fought with an intensity that burns bright in all citizens of the Imperium!”
He seemed to find some strength in his patriotism, as his voice rose as he spoke and he straightened in his seat, for a moment no longer a weary prince, but the true ruler of an interstellar empire. Then the weight of reality settled back on his shoulders and he shrunk back down as he continued.
“Then at last, the faint hope became a reality: the Star Eater was dead, and the Imperium was safe…but also bereft of its ruler, much of its military leadership, and the symbol of our strength.” He now looked intently at Xandarius, who was listening silently, his fingers still arched in front of him. “The survivors made a hasty path home, where they delivered both the glorious and horrendous news.” His gaze drifted off of Xandarius until he was now looking at nothing in particular, slumped back in his chair and speaking as if he didn’t care if anyone was actually listening, as long as he could get this all out.
“The loss of the emperor, his source of power, and his two oldest heirs sent shockwaves throughout the Starlite Empire. From every corner, word came of those seeking to exploit the vacuum: uprisings on both troublesome worlds and those that had been stable for generations. Religious factions turned on one another, with some decreeing that the loss of the Flame was a sign of the end times, and that another, even worse creature would descend upon us. Opportunistic military officers engaged in private vendettas, while others tried to carve up small fiefdoms for themselves and a few planned to launch a coup against Tamia itself. For days, word continuously poured in that the Infinite Imperium was on the verge of tearing itself apart.”
Here the prince paused, though whether it was due to exhaustion, or if he was composing himself for the next part Ansaria couldn’t tell.
“And it likely would have, if this had been just a few generations ago. However, the universe saw fit to set the board in such a way that this wound would not be a deathblow.” Once more, Gamesh-Gil seemed to recover some strength, and he straightened a bit in his chair. "Reform movements had long been brewing within the Imperium, but most were too ineffectual to actually accomplish anything, or give into anger and resort to terrorism, thus harming their cause even more.”
“What was different this time?” asked Eberius, who seemed just as enraptured by the prince’s tale as Ansaria was. Gamesh-Gil smiled.
“This time, they had the support of a prince that was third-in-line for the throne.”
Ansaria’s eye’s widened in understanding and she strained so as not to miss a word.
“Ever since I was old enough to begin learning my royal duties, I have seen - time and time again throughout our history - countless citizens on countless worlds crying out for improvements to the system, and every time being ignored at best, and ruthlessly put down at worst. I saw this pattern appear again and again, and once I learned how to truly listen, I found out that the same cries for progress were going unanswered yet again. I set about traveling throughout my empire, going to those that had petitioned our world for assistance in a hundred-million different matters, and yet their pleas went ignored year after year. Finally, after a three-and-a-half-year sojourn, I returned to Tamia, ready to begin the monumental effort of reinvigorating two-thousand years of self-interested bureaucracy.” He laughed that bitter laugh again. “You can guess how well that went over.
“While I found many allies amongst sympathetic members of the Imperium elite, including many of my own siblings, the majority of those within my father’s court regarded us as troublemakers and upstarts…including my father himself. My father had never been one to devote much attention to ‘minor’ matters of state, and once the war between our two peoples started, his focus became almost exclusively on the defeat and assimilation of the Xenlongian Empire. This of course only exacerbated the problem amongst the populace, as a four-decade long war does little to improve already sub-standard conditions; more material was diverted for the war effort, more conscripts were called up, more worlds started to be ignored as the Emperor’s attention turned to the, if you’ll pardon the expression, ‘poisonous wyrm upon our threshold’. Our voices continued to grow, but we simply didn’t have the support needed in order to affect any real change: a prince twice-removed from the throne and a rabble of disgruntled aliens? Nothing for the Golden Imperium to be concerned with….until the battle with the Star Eater. With both my older brothers having accompanied my father, and having fallen in battle along with him, that left me as the legitimate heir to the throne. And it was that fact, combined with my reform support that has kept the Imperium alive for the time being.
“As I said, with my father dead and the Flame in the hands of our once sworn enemy, there were many amongst my people that felt that this was the end for us. While a number of ships and armies mutinied, just as many stayed loyal, if only out of a need for direction. While there are many even on Tamia that questioned how I could rule without the Flame, my supporters argued that there was nothing within Imperium law that said I needed the Flame in order to assume the throne, and for those that were still reeling from the loss of nearly everything they knew, that was enough. Almost overnight, I had the support of much of the ordinary citizenry and the majority of the military (including the survivors of the battle); between those two we were able to…‘encourage’ the allegiance of some of the more uncertain religious and political leaders. For the time being, I was recognized as the legitimate ruler of the Golden Imperium, and would be crowned emperor at such time as was deemed appropriate once the current crisis had abated. And that was the situation I was dealing with, until I received your surprising request to attend a summit on future apex predator attacks.”
Silence once again filled the room, though this time it was mercifully less tense. As Gamesh recovered from his tale, Eberius spoke again.
“An inspiring story, Prince Gamesh, and one I would like to hear in greater detail when time permits it. But, forgive me, you still have not explained why peace between Tamia and Xenlong is still elusive at the moment.”
The prince looked guilty for a moment; as though he couldn’t believe that he had said so much without actually answering the question he had been asked. After taking a rejuvenating drink from a golden goblet, Gamesh-Gil cleared his throat and continued once more.
“Part of my power base comes from traditionalists in the military that cling to the continuity of the royal bloodline. However, a good number of those military leaders have been fighting the Xenlong their entire careers, and see any peace as a dishonorable capitulation; in fact, my father had to make an example of a small group that planned to sabotage the alliance against the Star Eater purely because they refused to work with Xandarius’ forces. This puts me in a very precarious position, made all the worse by the rumblings from the religious caste. They see the assumption of the Flame by an outsider, and what’s more a ‘barbarian brute’ (if you’ll once again pardon me, my host) that, again, has been our most dogged enemy, has caused a crisis of faith for many of the devout. They are also pressuring me to find some way to get you to give up the Flame, preferably over to me.”
From where she stood, Ansaria couldn’t see Xandarius’ expression, but she had spen
t enough time in his service to imagine how he reacted to that fact; his eyes, narrowed, and the glowing power within increased, not by much, but in a noticeably discernible way.
The look did not go unnoticed by the Imperium delegation. Every single helmeted head of the prince’s guards were looking directly at Xandarius. The two closest to their liege had leaned slightly towered him, as though preparing to dash forward to shield their ruler with their bodies. While Prince Gamesh held up his hands, it was in tired placation, not fear.
“Please, Emperor Xandarius, I have no desire to wield the Flame; as I said, I am a reformist, and part of that includes relinquishing the source of my family’s megalomania and never-ending hunger for more subjects and territory. I have studied my family history extensively, and I have seen that every ruler, no matter how kind, well-meaning or benevolent at the start of their reign always devolve into the same patterns of egotism, oppression and paranoia. I do not know the exact reason for this, and as such, cannot say whether the same will be true for you, Your Majesty, but if history has taught me anything, it is that the Flame will ultimately consume the host, until they are nothing more than a narrow-minded husk always craving more.” He lowered his hands. “Perhaps that won’t happen to you; perhaps your unique physiology or psychology will somehow prevail, but if I were to offer you my honest opinion, as one sovereign ruler to another, I would advise you to give up the Flame now, while you still have a chance of saving yourself.”