The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  "Sure," I replied.

  "I am Count Wolstan Daubernoun."

  "Good to meet you," I said.

  He faltered slightly, the smile on his face slipping ever so slightly as he suffered dealing with me. "Yes, it is good to make your acquaintance. I was hoping I might have a word with you."

  "Brought a few of your friends with you I see?” I asked.

  "I wanted you to see the support here."

  "Support for what?"

  "The new Emperor."

  "I wasn't aware there was a problem with the old Emperor," I lied.

  He shook his head and gave me a knowing smile.

  "I cannot imagine for a moment that your late father did not share the details of his arrangement with you, his only son and heir.”

  "We didn't talk much. Just wasn't that kind of relationship."

  "Now, now Lord Coggeshall—“

  “Well damn,” I said, looking at my wrist where there had once been a watch, “will you look at the time? I am afraid I've got a thing, so I do have to cut our little chat short."

  "This will take but a mere minute of your time."

  “Fine. You have a minute.”

  "I would appreciate it if you would consider pledging your support to Valamir Glaton."

  "Support in what?"

  "Assuming the throne."

  There it was: the beginning of the push for power. Let the courtly games — the games I had no desire to take part in — commence. But I was mired in them now, all because of my willingness to take on the problems of a dude I'd known for, like, two months or so.

  "Fuck me," I said quietly, unconsciously externalizing my internal monologue.

  "Pardon me, my lord?" Count Wolstan said, confused.

  "Just thinking out loud," I replied with a wave of my hand. "Don't give it another thought. But, I mean, speaking of thinking, I'm going to need to think about this. It's just so new to me, you know? I expected my father to hold power, so I really didn't do my due process, I mean diligence, in regards to this, uh, the court. Or where my support should go.“

  "I am glad you will consider supporting Emperor Valamir."

  “I think you mean to say ‘consider supporting Valamir for Emperor,” I interrupted. “He's not on the throne yet. Wouldn’t want to jinx it for the man."

  I gave Wolstan an awkward jab on the shoulder and tried to push through his men.

  "You forgot this," Wolstan said, pushing a blue tabard into my hands.

  "Oh, how silly of me," I said as I accepted the tabard. I made a show of putting it carefully into my belt, tucking it in, making sure it was snug while ensuring I wasn't actually wearing it. And then I looked to Lee and nodded. He walked through the crowd, followed by Skeld and Ragnar. I gave Wolstan a smile, which he did not return, and strode on. Not quickly, but with purpose. I could feel everyone’s beady eyes watching me as I walked away.

  Chapter 101

  Large fires roared in oversized braziers outside the Legion House, providing a spot for the guards to warm themselves while also keeping darkness at bay. These Legionnaires wore heavy cloaks over their armor, and didn't look quite as alert as the day guards. I wondered if these men had been in the fighting earlier in the day. They looked pretty clean, so I doubted their involvement. Plus, the Imperial House was a good distance from the Emerald Sea wall. Seemed like a bad idea to send the House guards to fight. I mean, unless it was an emergency.

  No one bothered me as I walked into the building. I gave a cursory glance around the interior, noticing there were a few more people sporting blue crests than I’d seen before. Most lacked armor, so there weren't tabards about, but there were smaller accents. Blue arm bands, blue ribbons in hair, blue jewelry. Small statements of allegiance. There were other splashes of color, but exceedingly few and far between. It made me wonder if there was anyone else actually vying for the throne.

  I walked up to the young woman at the desk and gave her a smile.

  "I'd like to speak to the Viceroy if I might," I said.

  "Just a moment," she said, then hopped up from her chair and disappeared.

  I looked at Lee and the Otters. “Mind, uh, just waiting here?” I asked.

  “Saw a tavern across the street,” Ragnar said. “Might prefer grabbing dinner to waiting in this lobby.”

  “Good plan,” I said.

  The two Lutra headed out immediately. Lee waited a half beat longer to give me a look, then followed my hirðmen. I’d have preferred if he’d said what was bothering him or what he was thinking, because I got precisely zero meaning from his look.

  True to her word, a moment later, the desk attendant came tromping down the stairs with the Viceroy right behind.

  Léon held his arms wide and gave me a firm embrace.

  "Come, friend," he said, and guided me back through the building to his office. As soon as we were out of the public area, he quieted down, and seemed subdued compared to the previous day. He had to know about Cleeve.

  I sat in the chair directly in front of his desk, exactly where I’d been earlier that day. I looked over at the empty chair, and I couldn’t help thinking about Cleeve. He looked over at me with a wan smile, then dropped in his chair with a sigh. He pulled open a drawer and retrieved a crystal decanter from within, setting it on the desk and slipping two crystal glasses next to it. Neither of us spoke while he poured two glasses of the murky maroon liquid out for us.

  "To good friends," he said. “May they live in our hearts forever."

  I nodded, not exactly knowing what to say. But apparently it was enough for Léon, because he smiled again, and drank it down. The liquor burned going down my throat. Like real burning. I felt like my throat was legit on fire, and I couldn't help but cough heartily. Something I noticed Léon was doing as well. Then he let out a small belch of actual smoke.

  "What is this?" I asked through clenched teeth.

  "Chodd."

  "Which is?"

  “Distilled fermented wyrm's blood," he replied.

  My stomach roiled. I swallowed once, firmly, reminding my stomach that it wasn’t the time to throw up.

  "You know, then," I said.

  "I knew the time was coming," Léon replied. "Benedict Coggeshall was a man of purpose and war, but not a man of travel. I knew his visit here, with such urgency, meant something larger was afoot.”

  "Did you know what was going on with him and Emperor?"

  “I only know Benedict must have aided the Emperor in some phenomenal manner to be granted such a title."

  "So you don't know the full story.”

  "Know what?”

  "If Benedict Coggeshall is dead—“

  "Which he is."

  “—then the Emperor is also dead."

  Total silence.

  "I have had no word of that," Léon finally said.

  "I don't know how fast you can communicate with the capital, but trust me, the Emperor has passed on. Cleeve—”

  "Cleeve?"

  "Sorry, Benedict traveled under an assumed name: Cleeve. And while I was supposed to keep this secret, I suppose that Cleeve, I mean Benedict, now that he’s dead, it’s not exactly important to keep things secret any longer. The whole reason why Benedict got made duke was because of an assassination attempt. Benedict was in the tent with the Emperor when the assassin struck, and I guess there was some magic required to keep the Emperor alive. Obviously, it worked because you know that the Emperor lived, but it tied the two together. So if one died, the other would as well.”

  Léon pushed back from the desk and stalked over to a panel in the wall. He fiddled with things over there, and, after a moment, he pulled forth the sword I'd sworn on. The one that had, theoretically, transformed me into Royalty. But as Léon held the sword up, it was immediately clear that whatever magic had powered the sword in the morning was gone. It was just a normal blade in his hands.

  "Gods," Léon said softly. He dropped the sword. It clanged on the ground bouncing over once, the metal’s ring han
ging in the air. I looked up to see his eyes meeting mine.

  "I assume this is going to complicate things," I said.

  “That is the best case scenario,” he replied with a shake of his head. "With the Emperor dying now, the throne sits empty with no clear line of succession. The princess is currently missing, so we lack even her worthless hide to toss up there for a stopgap. Likely, my uncle will finally get his lifetime dream to seize the throne."

  I pulled out the tabard from my belt, and tossed it over to the Viceroy.

  He caught it in midair and shook it out.

  “Quick to choose a side, eh?" he asked.

  "I've made no such choice, Léon," I said. "That thing was given to me by Count Daubernoun today. But look around: you'll notice blue is the new hotness in the Imperial House right now."

  "Valamir knew."

  “As far as Benedict believed, Valamir was aiming to have him killed. I think Valamir planned for a different timeline is all."

  Léon nodded. "I am sure he would have preferred his brother's permission to take the throne."

  "What's the whole process with taking power in the Empire? I mean, can't he just seize the throne? If the princess is missing, who's to stop him?"

  “First, power in the Empire and being Emperor are not the same thing. Often not the same thing, in fact. It just so happens that our last Emperor, the one we lost today, was a strong and smart ruler. Assuming the throne is, ultimately, a two-step process. A candidate must first present him or herself before the Senate. There, they speak on behalf of themselves, presenting their lineage and accomplishments. Then the Senate votes."

  "So this is an electoral system?"

  “Yes, though with some caveats. The Senate as a whole has 401 votes. The higher your title, the more votes you may cast. The Emperor holds 200 votes. Every other member of the Senate must agree to overrule the Emperor, and as far as our history is written, there have been two Overrules, both of which had enough historical consequence that they are still remembered today. Whomever the Emperor chooses as his heir has always been viewed as the Imperial vote upon the Emperor’s death. But when there is a sudden death and the Emperor has no set heir, those 200 votes are not cast. Then it becomes a political battle, likely to tear the Empire apart before it comes back together. If it comes back together. At least, that is what has happened in the past. This is certainly the first time I will experience the shitshow.”

  “So what's the second step?"

  "I know the least about that. Most everyone knows the least about it, as the secret is shared only among the Emperor and the Keepers of the Blood. The candidate is put to the test — what that test is, no one knows. Those who fail the test do not emerge from the testing chambers. So, when someone does pass the test, whatever that might be, that someone is given the throne. After that, coronation, celebration, and usually, fertilization to make sure there’s not another political war for succession. And thus, the Empire continues on."

  “And you think there’s going to be some problems with the voting?"

  “Too many cannot imagine it will be anything but horrific for the Empire. The princess is the next in line, technically, and was the Emperor's choice until she abdicated said choice. But it is unclear if the Emperor accepted her abdication. Either way, it matters little as she still maintains her title, Crown Princess. Which gives her quite a few votes in the Senate. Valamir has as many as she. But then there are a host of others, all the way down to the elected citizen, who has but one vote. And you, Lord Coggeshall, as an Imperial Duke, you will hold votes in the Senate."

  “But wait — I’m a new noble. How do I get votes? Won’t that unbalance everything?”

  “As new titles are given out, new votes are added to the Emperor’s total. He receives an additional vote for every vote you receive. I believe the official word is that the emperor is gaining the land as you do, so that is why he deserves more votes.”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking, “with all this happening, what happens to you?"

  “Ah,” he smiled wistfully, “the bureaucracy of the Empire keeps me in place until such time as a new Emperor comes along, and then, likely, they will decide upon a new Viceroy. Which, to be honest, will likely be me. Provided, of course, I keep my head down. Hence why what I imagine you are here to ask will provide us no end of problems.”

  “I came for two reasons, really. Biggest was to get someone out of jail."

  "The someone who slew Lord Duhamel?"

  "Slew? Maybe. Lord? No. I took his lordship. I'm count of whatever it was he was now, so, I mean…Whatever, semantics."

  "Are you now? Collecting titles at quite the clip, I do say."

  "I'd prefer to get rid of them if I could."

  "Now now, no need to make foolish statements like that."

  “Dude, I am not cut out for this shit. I’d be more than happy to pawn it off on someone else.”

  “Precisely why you are so perfect for such a job.”

  “Fucking Benedict said the same damn thing.”

  “He was a very smart man. For an elf,” Léon added with a smile. He looked around the room, poured another snifter full of Chodd, and then held the bottle up to me as an offer.

  I shook my head. “Preferably never again,” I said.

  He shrugged, then said, “To each their own.”

  Léon drained the glass in one go, shook his head, and let the smoke out of his mouth. Then he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

  I let him sit there for a moment, figuring he needed the time to be on his own.

  “Do you have a moment?” he asked.

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “You have no other evening plans?”

  “I mean—”

  He stood up quickly, wavering just a little before righting himself by putting one hand firmly on the desk, and started walking.

  “Follow,” he said.

  He led me to the wall, where he pushed a hidden button. A hidden door popped open. He walked on through, bringing us to a drawing room of sorts. His private office. Much like everywhere in the Imperial House, it was larger than it needed to be, and remarkably posh. But unlike anywhere else I’d seen in the House, there were windows. Windows looking out onto a beautiful garden lit with delicate glass lanterns. It was a tranquil oasis in the midst of this big city. Verdant, beautiful, huge leaves and big flowers. It was almost tropical, and different than any vegetation I’d seen in Osterstadt. Or, for that matter, in my trek across the Glatonese Empire.

  Léon opened the glass door, gesturing for me to go first.

  It was hot inside, and I noticed a glass roof above us. A greenhouse.

  Léon shut the door behind him. “Do you mind if I just,” he started to say, moving past me to get to the center, where there was a tall green metal column covered in vegetation. A small knob hid amongst the vines, and with a little twist, water fell from the ceiling, filling several pots and bird baths. All of a sudden white noise filled the room and I felt the stress start to melt off my shoulders. It was a beautiful and welcome tranquility, immediately broken by Léon speaking.

  “We have, at the outside, two minutes here before a guard will come and check on us,” Léon said, “so listen to me carefully. You are here asking for my help, and I am going to respond by asking for yours. I cannot intercede directly, not anymore, but I think I may be able to help you help your friend.”

  “What do you need from me?” I asked.

  “I will need you to shield me.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You are a duke now, an imperial duke. Right now, you answer to no one. You are beholden only to yourself. I, on the other hand, exist on a tenuous thread, one that reaches back into a time when there was someone to give authority unto me. I fear war is destined for the Empire, from within and without. With no one to wear the crown, the continued existence of the very Empire must be in doubt.”

  “Wait—”

  “Allow me to finish. Even now, there are those
who will be trying to get closer so they might listen to what we are saying, and this will likely be the last time you are so easily overlooked by those playing court games. From now on, assume you are being spied upon.”

  “Lovely—”

  “In fact, I will be sending someone I trust with you, and I will tell you now, they will spy upon you.”

  “Not exactly spying if I know they are reporting back to you.”

  “I prefer honesty, at least with you.”

  “Okay, so a person is coming with me. Are they going to work for me?”

  “She had better. She will follow your orders, fight for you, and do whatever you ask of her.”

  “Hey man, works for me.”

  He nodded at me. “You agree to help me?”

  “I do.”

  A slight smile came over his face. “Then we best be quick about all of this. Your man is inside the prison, on the lowest of the levels. Midday tomorrow, he will either be thrown into the oubliette or he shall be executed, depending on the whims of a man hundreds of miles to the south. A man who has no love for the Thingmen of his brother.”

  You have found a quest:

  Saving a friend I

  Nikolai, the man who agreed to be your mentor, has been imprisoned, and will likely be executed upon the morrow. You must free him from prison.

  Reward for success: Increased standing with Nikolai, and a guide through the courtly games and the Empire of Glaton.

  Penalty for failure (or refusal): [unknown]

  Yes/No

  Obviously I had to accept it. I needed to get Nikolai out, and not just because he was a friend. He was also the only person who knew the Empire and could provide advice I could trust.

  “Okay, well, what are the messaging systems here? Maybe there’s a way to block Valamir’s message for the, you know, execution or whatever.”

  “It is most common for governmental agencies and nobles to engage magic, paying guild members for that privilege. So it will likely be a direct line from Valamir to the head of the jail. And there is no way I know of to block that form of magic. Your man’s fate rests upon Valamir’s whim.”