Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)

by Brian Frederico

  Salena stood hastily and stepped into the hall, her boots pounding loudly on the marble and echoing through the halls. This particular hall led to the Archduchess' personal chambers, often called the Ducal Hall with a high vaulted ceiling and ornate columns. Along the left wall were huge windows overlooking the gardens below. Richard followed, his footsteps speeding to catch up. Along the right wall she passed great statues of former sovereigns, feeling their watchful vacant gazes on her back. Peter's statue would be revealed tomorrow at the funeral then installed at the end of the hall, furthest from her personal quarters which was the way she liked it. Not to say she disliked her brother, but she didn't exactly need his visage any closer to her than it really needed to be.

  She thought she'd been seeing things lately. It was just the flutter of what looked like his cape or his face suddenly replace that of an adviser. Too much stress and not enough exercise can play havoc with the mind.

  She stopped in front of the two huge wood doors and waited for Richard to assume his position in a stance that at least appeared to be confident. She motioned for the two guards, both House Teton knights, to open the doors. They were wearing full blue and gold robes and chain mail armor that clinked and jingled as they moved. Both also wore swords on one hip. In addition to the anachronistic weapons they carried high-powered rifles as well.

  They easily slid the two doors open then stood at attention while the Archduchess and her husband entered. Alos was standing at the end of the room admiring the view from one of the huge windows that overlooked the rest of the city. He ignored the entering royalty for just a few more moments than would have been proper. When he turned his face was entirely passive and completely unreadable.

  Alos was built like a soldier and towered fifteen or more centimeters over her. Like most Azuren, his hair was white and his skin a pale almost translucent color. A braid draped from his head down over his shoulder covered in small computerized beads that detailed his entire life. His pale blue eyes were hard and scrutinizing and his mouth was thin and unwavering. Salena suddenly felt her breath gone as if she had just ran down the halls rather than strolled. Oh Amrah, help me, for they are frightening, she prayed silently.

  “Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten, I am Alos Mazaridas, a special envoy of Leonidas Mazaridas,Patriarch of the House and the Faith,” he said by way of introduction. The words echoed through the hall as if his mouth were a machine gun. “I am sure you remember me from your childhood.”

  “It's an honor to meet the Azuren Legate. I do remember you from my father's court. I hope you will find your stay on Magdeborg pleasant,” Salena said.

  “I hope to find it brief, madam. I have pressing business elsewhere and I do not have time to spare on human matters. Shall we?” He asked gesturing to the chairs nearest the door indicating they should join him.

  Suitably chastened, but not angry, Salena took a seat at the head, Richard on her left. Alos regarded him as a curiosity and studied him momentarily then seemed to file away his looks and personality for later reference if needed. Alos had the combined Azuren and human history and one hundred years of experience locked away in that azure-enhanced brain of his. She had no doubt he could instantly recall facts or names from any point in his life as if he had just learned them yesterday.

  “Let me get right to the point, Archduchess Salena. While Azuren do not typically interfere with human affairs, we have expressed concern about the political condition of your Magdeborg Commonwealth. We understand the loss of Peter Sten was serious and unexpected, however, the issue of succession has taken far too long, especially in the light of the Dominion invasion. We have attempted to hold their pleas for invasion rights in check until the Commonwealth reorganized,” Alos said, settling into the chair and resting as if he were made of the same stone as her ancestors in the hall.

  “Furthermore, we understand you have circumvented the usual succession procedure by taking the capital by force. While we do not rule on issues of human law, we understand such actions can be seen as illegitimate and cause for opposition. As the Commonwealth lies on the border of Azuren controlled space we are understandably concerned about spillover violence. We have not conducted an investigation into those claims, but there are opposition elements currently operating in the surrounding territories. Would you elaborate?”

  That didn't take him long to hone in on those pesky Sørensens. “My son, Magnus, will be leading his forces to crush the opposition,” she explained. “You see, before I launched my attack I received intelligence indicating the Sørensens attempted to take the throne through subterfuge. Some survived our attack and are running a small resistance in the countryside. Their attacks are illegal and they are little more than troublemakers and bandits. They pose no threat to my rule.”

  Alos nodded, logging the information into his computer brain. “And your brother is also on planet and also had a legitimate claim to the throne, is this correct?”

  “He is on planet attending Peter's funeral. You recall, I'm sure, that he was passed over before. Damien has made no moves indicating he is attempting to foment rebellion. Peter's funeral is today and he will be in attendance. At which point, I expect him to rescind his claim to my throne, as he has agreed. He will then return to duty in the Goteborg March,” Salena said confidently.

  “”What steps have you taken to end this insurgency?” The Azuren asked folding his slender fingers together on the table.

  “Magnus is controlling the situation in the countryside. We have rooted out several camps, taken prisoners and-”

  “Numbers, Archduchess. How many camps, how many prisoners, how many weapons?”

  Salena cleared her throat. “I don't know numbers off hand, but we are making progress. Stability will come.”

  “Very well,” Alos said, standing apparently ready to conclude the meeting. Salena stood also, surprised at the meeting's abrupt termination. He wasn't kidding.

  “I leave you with a warning since I don't suppose your intelligence has picked up on this, yet. The chief tormentor of the Goteborg Duchy, a Lord Morlan Pershing has been sprung from your prison system and is back at the head of the Dominion forces. In the past he has routed your crack units and defeated your best general, your own brother. We have tried to limit the damage he can inflict; open violent warfare benefits no one except for perhaps the military contractors. I advise, since you are a new head of state, that you make peace with the Dominion as quickly as possible.”

  Salena shot a look at Richard who shrugged helplessly.

  Alos held up a finger. “Stability is the key, Archduchess. Maintain order. Along those lines we will be installing an attache between your government and our embassy. I expect daily updates and that you follow any measures the liaison recommends.”

  Alos then waved into a corner. Salena never saw the second Azuren standing there, her pale features nearly blending in with the wall and the statues. There was a sudden flurry of movement and she joined Alos at the table. She was nearly his height with a braid of shorter length. She did not wear the same cloaks and robes as he companion. Instead, she was dressed more as a warrior. Her face was tight and angry. She almost looked like Cassandra when she was annoyed. “This is Legate Pergamon. She will be your direct point of contact and special observer. She has complete authority to operate as she sees fit and she will report directly to me. Do you understand?”

  Salena nodded dumbly. Two Azuren in the same place? Unheard of!

  “The peace treaty between you and the Dominion will end today. You will hear from us further. Walk with Amrah, Archduchess.”

  Alos and Pergamon then quickly walked from the hall, their long strides eating up the distance before Salena could formulate a response.

  Finally, she whipped her head towards Richard. “Pershing escaped! Why was I not informed about this?”

  Richard opened his eyes a bit wider, apparently afraid his wife blamed him for the blunder. “Filipov should have known about it,” he said, trying to shift the bl
ame.

  How in Amrah's boiling Ithix did that happen? I'll have the head of whomever was responsible! She stalked to the same window Alos had been gazing out. A brilliant sun shone down on Magdeborg and the people going about their business. Some were commoners selling wares or traveling to or from work, others were nobles hurrying to or from the Conclave and mingled among them were her plain-clothed officers getting a feel for the pulse of the capital.

  “Are you going to follow his advice, Salena?” Richard asked. “With the peace treaty ending-”

  Salena gripped the window sill and closed her eyes. Finally: “We can beat the Dominion even if Lord Morlan is leading them. Alos' meeting was a double edged sword. If we told him we were too weak internally we risked becoming an Azuren client state. Because we told him we were stable he is going to give the Dominion the green light to invade Goteborg.”

  “Are you willing to give Damien more military units? Maybe the House Guard or even Teton units?”

  She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “You sound like you've been talking to Filipov.”

  “Magnus,” he said grinning.

  “Of course.”

  “He wants to be deployed on the border, you know? I don't know how much bandit hunting he can take here. He is a fully trained knight. He wants a real war,” Richard said, advocating for his son.

  “And you're his official spokesman now?”

  Richard shrugged. “Just trying to help. I can go too, to watch over him. I don't think Damien would put him in harm's way.”

  “I need to speak with Filipov. By assigning more sections to Damien's operations we risk him gaining more influence besides the obvious increase in military hardware,” she said, watching the people again, going about their lives oblivious to the world shaking power discussions just above their heads. Have any of my ancestors thought themselves gods? Sitting in their gilded thrones pulling the strings of those toiling below them?

  “But you told Alos that Damien was no threat,” Richard said cautiously. “Was that the truth?”

  Salena gritted her teeth. Richard is catching on to this level of politics more quickly.

  “No,” she said sighing. “However, I received a report from Filipov that he met with Conrad last night.”

  Richard looked up, suddenly very attentive. “Conrad? What for?”

  Salena shook her head. “I don't know. He was there for many hours then returned to the home of Anna, some concubine or something of his.”

  “Anna,” Richard said looking up at the ceiling, thinking. “I remember her. The one that got away from him.”

  Salena resisted rolling her eyes. “Probably more the other way around. Damien has always been afraid of getting too close to people; just the nature of someone who has known fifty years of war. She's not nobility no matter how close she thinks she works with them. Damien should have known better. In fact, we should feel fortunate. He never married into any family with any influence which deprives him of allies. Peter always said he was married to the Commonwealth.”

  Before Richard could respond, the doors to the dining hall opened again and Filipov slipped inside. Salena smiled, half at his convenient entrance and half at his audacity to enter unannounced. He was wearing a simple civilian's outfit, mostly brown with a few snags and tears here and there. It was amazing he got into the palace at all looking at he did.

  “My Archduchess,” the little twisted man said, bowing slightly like the servant had before. She wondered if he was behind the attempt to resurrect the custom or just mocking those who did it. “Those Azuren are mighty intimidating up close.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “And you spoke with them?”

  “I did, yes. We assured our guests that the Commonwealth was perfectly stable and would send the Dominion packing.”

  Filipov hooked a hand under his chin. “That's a brave assertion.”

  “It didn't work,” she said. “We will be another Azuren puppet, I fear.”

  Filipov seemed to brighten suddenly, changing the subject abruptly. “I am sorry your day has not gone well, my Lady, but you should be happy to know your brother spent a comfortable night with his, whatever she is. He has not left, yet.”

  “Cavorting around with a concubine on the eve of Peter's funeral? How just like Damien. Allow him to attend the funeral of my brother – it's the least we can do. After he returns here, we will accuse him of using the funeral to gain allies for a rebellion and have him arrested.”

  “A bold move. You changed your mind from before,” Filipov pointed you.

  “Before, I didn't have two Azuren threatening to turn the Commonwealth into a client state. I must show decisive resolve here.”

  “Then it will be good that his daughter doesn't grow up an orphan.”

  Salena narrowed her brow, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. “Explain,” she said.

  “There is a daughter, probably about ten years old. They only met last night, but she is a gorgeous little thing. Very innocent, totally unaware of who her father is. Or what he is.”

  “Fascinating,” Salena mused quietly. “My brother has a bastard child.”

  She walked over by the window and looked out over the city, as if trying to find the girl from the palace. “With a peasant concubine no less,” she added. “It would appear Damien is not the cold, calculating brute I thought him. He makes mistakes, has weaknesses.”

  “Everyone has weaknesses, my Lady. What shall we do about them?”

  “They are too valuable to leave in the open. Have them brought in, Filipov,” Salena said, returning to address the crooked assassin. “Do not allow any harm to come to them. None. Is that clear?”

  “Of course, Archduchess,” Filipov said with a wicked grin.

  “I'm seriously, Dmitri. I'm very eager to meet my niece and her mother.”

  Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten

  Knight Scion of House Mercer

  9 March, 23,423

  Scarlet Light, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  Aaron sighed as the the buzzer went off yet again, another junior officer needing some direction. He called out for the officer to enter. The door opened slowly and a young female knight poked her head in. She glanced around quickly, saw Aaron at his desk and Reyna's naked form draped across his bed. She blushed a deep crimson. “Uh, sorry, sir. Captain Kristoffer is requesting a meeting.”

  “Again?” Aaron sighed tossing his pen back on the desk.

  “Yes, sir. He seems rather agitated,” she said clearing her throat.

  Can't blame him. I would be, too, I suppose.

  “Thank you,” he responded, dismissing the knight. He pushed away the paperwork and stood up, feeling his joints pop and tendons strain. All this technology and yet I'm still drowning in literal paperwork. I'm thirty years old and I feel like Damien's age.

  “He is quite a pain, huh?” Reyna said, with some mirth at Aaron's frustration.

  “I'm tempted to put him out an airlock. Him and that entire spacer crew of his,” Aaron growled, rubbing his face.

  “That's a bit of an overreaction.”

  “I don't think so.”

  Aaron made a half-grunt, half-bark and stood up.

  “Need some more stress relief?” She asked suggestively. She rolled over on Aaron's bed and rested on her elbows. Her dark eyes twinkled alluringly.

  Aaron glanced over at her. “Put some clothes on already.”

  Reyna feigned a hurt expression and dressed quickly in what would have barely passed for acceptable attire for a Commonwealth officer. She was no knight, but she kept high level company which required a certain level of composure. Aaron often let that slide when they were alone.

  Reyna walked over, her feet padding lightly on the carpet and hugged Aaron from behind his chair.

  “We will catch him again, my sweet,” she whispered into his ear, guessing at the subject of his stress.

  “And we will do it properly this time,” Aaron
growled, gripping his pen. “For all the atrocities Pershing committed. No trials, no prisons. Just a simple battlefield execution.”

  “Is it true, what happened on Haberton?” Reyna asked, slinking down onto Aaron's couch. “We never were sure.”

  “When they showed up at Haberton, my family put every militia, man-at-arms and knight we could find in the field. Damien and I were tied down repelling another attack at Skagen; he couldn't send any more troops to help even when I asked to return myself.”

  Aaron put the pen down and turned to face Reyna. “It wasn't his fault.” He said firmly. He believed it when he said it even if it took him some time to convince himself.

  “I wish you could have seen Haberton. It's a B-class world, a bit warm maybe, but perfect for us. I grew up looking at the mountains in the distance from my bedroom. I always wanted to climb them, but my parents forbade it. Too dangerous.

  “It's a wealthy system, too, though it's not all nice views. Some supernova remnant seeded the planets with heavy metals in their formation and over the course of a few million years the entire solar system migrated to its current location. There is, or was, a lot of mineral mining activity, whole forests of drilling and cutting rigs working away at the mines. A lot of my family's vassal houses own territory on the system's moons and asteroids. They all became very wealthy from their mining operations.”

  Aaron draped a leg over his knee and leaned back. “Pershing put about sixty sections in the field with more in reserve. There were mercenaries pouring into the system, accepting my mother's offers to defend the world. Enough to live on for the rest of their lives if they survived. The battle was going well initially. My brother, Franklin, whom you've never met, and father led the battles across the world under my mother's direction. They smashed several of Pershing's elite sections including a section from House Torvald.”