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

by Brian Frederico

  “You mean marriage,” he stated simply. She detected a trace of reluctance as if a child being told to go to bed.

  Salena nodded and smiled. “Don't sound like it's such a terrible thing!”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Isn't that something for older people?”

  “And you're so young? You're nearly thirty! Most are matched ten years younger!”

  “There's a lot I have yet to do. With the rebellion still active here, shouldn't I tend to those matters before, you know, think about heirs?” Magnus frowned deeply, his face crinkling like his father's. But there was thought there. That was the real difference. Richard was too much an oaf sometimes.

  “We must have allies, my son. Strong ones. And we must look proactive. We are not sitting on the throne to keep it warm for the next ass to sit on. We plan on holding it, permanently.”

  “But, mother, the wedding is only a year away-”

  She wheeled on her son. “No, Magnus, it is not something that can wait!”

  Magnus stopped and looked away, seeming to bite his tongue. Salena held her glare a moment longer.

  “Stop being insolent. The sooner your children come of age the more secure the throne will be for us. I will not see my family's future be threatened because you're nervous.”

  “I am not nervous-” Magnus started tersely.

  “No. You won't be. And I won't have you risking your life until the bloodline is secure. That's final. The sooner you get to business the sooner you can have your war,” she said, then continuing on to the throne room.

  “I'm sorry, mother-”

  She held up a hand, silencing his apology.

  “I've been tired. I can't sleep. Don't tell your father,” she said.

  Magnus followed in her footsteps a few moments more before asking, “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want to push up the date of your wedding to next month. I was always partial to April fifteenth.”

  “Your anniversary,” Magnus said.

  Salena smiled and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Ah, so you remember now. You never did before.”

  “That's hardly a month, though. That's not enough time to plan a wedding,” Magnus complained.

  “You planned the assault on Magdeborg and threw out the Sørensens in less than a month, correct? Surely a wedding will not be as taxing.”

  “Those are very different battlefields. I've trained to fight my entire life. I don't know anything about weddings.”

  “The Masons control the most important military factory anywhere in the Human Core. Their armies are outfitted with Harding technology. With them as our allies, we can purchase that material from them more cheaply and give ourselves the edge against my brother and the Dominion. We need their alliance now more than ever. If Damien has taken the House Guard and is rallying the border houses to his cause then we will need the weapons and manpower.”

  Magnus seemed to sigh.

  “You like her?”

  Magnus shrugged. “I suppose so. She's pleasant enough. Pretty, but I don't know her. What if she's...weird?”

  “Oh stop it. We need their help and this is the best way to get it. Kendra is an intelligent woman. She will be a fine adviser for you and hopefully bear you many heirs. Though, I wonder if her parents know they will not take the Mason name. Although Sten-Mason has a particular ring to it, yes?”

  Magnus smirked. “A lot goes into a name, but we are Tetons.”

  “Don't ever forget it,” she said pointedly.

  They passed yet more statues of ancient Sten dukes and duchesses. Salena imagined they were listening in on their conversation and she wondered just how many others they'd have heard over the thousands of years. How many other conspiratorial discussions took place in these halls?

  “I imagine Duke Frederick Mason supports the new date?”

  “Duke Frederick Mason would support any date that brings him more wealth and power. And you'd be wise to remember that. Respect that power, Magnus. Titles aren't the only thing that brings power.”

  Magnus nodded and seemed to file that note away. “A month,” he echoed.

  “You will do us proud, my son,” she tried to reassure him. “It is a good match. Kendra Mason will captivate the commoners; they love her. Of course, I'd prefer if it were our own Cassandra who wielded such power, but her time will come. The cards are just not arrayed for her yet,” Salena said sadly.

  “She had a hand in this, didn't she?”

  Salena thought back on her daughter, surely spinning some political web of her own right now. She was so reliable, so hard working, so clever, just like her mother. Her foresight served her well, even more so that her suggestions were spot on with Salena's plans. There were times Salena regretted not naming her the Teton-Sten heir. But tradition demanded the first born, the warrior, take the throne, regardless of gender. The sword displayed so predominately in the Sten seal was not there just for show. House Sten and the Commonwealth were forged by the sword in the fires of war.

  She remembered Damien's anger again at being passed over for Peter. I don't suppose I can blame him. The thing he had coveted and trained for his entire life was snatched away. I could not do that to Magnus.

  “Of course. Cassandra has her finger on the pulse of the Conclave. It will serve her, and you, well after I am gone. She looks out for you, Magnus. Do not forget her, do not do to her what my brothers did to me,” Salena said. “Cassandra is your sister and she has your best interests at heart.”

  Salena let that thought sink in then dismissed it from her mind. I will not be gone for some time. Not unless I am assassinated by Damien or if Magnus thinks he deserves the throne earlier than he already does. He is sharp, but not sharper than I. I have a long and glorious reign ahead of me, she thought, more to reassure herself than anything else.

  “Once you and Kendra are married and an heir is on the way, you can return to the field and clean up the remaining Sørensens though I'm surprised it's taken this long.”

  Magnus stopped short.

  “We are not equipped to fight a guerrilla war here. We don't know the terrain, the city, or even the planet as a whole. The Sørensens in the countryside are well armed and enjoy the support of the people. We can't leave the city without the alarm being raised and Sørensen ambushes targeting my troops,” Magnus said through clenched teeth. “They are stronger than we previously believed.”

  “Then a change in strategy is needed. If the enemy goes to ground, leave no ground to go to,” she said firmly.

  “Are you giving me carte blanch to start burning the countryside?” He asked.

  “Do what must be done.”

  “It will never work,” he said closing his eyes and sighing in frustration.

  “I have assurances from my other generals that such a strategy will cut off the resistance from its supplies and its support.”

  Magnus took a moment to collect his thoughts. “It is not as simple as you make it to be. We are foreigners here, no matter what name we hold. We won't win supporters by killing civilians and crushing the local population. They must be lured out of their hiding places. Going after them will make us look like fools as we stumble blindly over foreign ground.”

  “What makes you think you know all this?”

  “I am a general, mother. You have done your best to keep me out of combat, but I have a firm understanding of it.”

  “General,” Salena said softly with great scorn. “You are no general, yet.”

  Magnus narrowed his brow, red hot anger flashing behind his eyes. He was standing up to her, something he hadn't done before. He bit his tongue, wisely, being content with his minor victory.

  Salena closed her eyes and breathed. The stress of the day was beginning to overwhelm her. As much as I know I did the right thing, I can't help but wonder if I am captaining a sinking ship.

  “Enough. Come with me,” she demanded.

  They turned down the last corridor and the throne room doors loomed large befo
re them. The statues felt oppressive here, like a heavy blanket. The throne would give her comfort, reassurance. The power inherent in it would flow through her and give her strength.

  Things will be fine, she thought. Filipov will be found, Anna and the child will belong to me. The Dominion will crush Aaron Mercer-Sten and his army on Goteborg and, in turn, he will cripple their advance. Then I will send Magnus to crush Damien once and for all.

  She reached the throne room doors and composed herself. The two guards saluted smartly and opened the doors for her. A split second after the doors closed behind her, she noticed a man in her throne. Slowly, like waking from a dream, she recognized him. She saw the pale dead eyes of Peter Sten look up at her. He blinked as he regarded her, his face contorted in confusion then turned into anger. He began to stand, raising his fist, finger extending accusingly toward her, and opening his mouth to yell. Then the image faded.

  Salena screamed and took a step back, bumping into her son. He caught her, the anger gone, replaced by a mask of concern. Salena felt her grasp on reality fade and she clutched at empty air. Darkness closed in around her. She felt like she was dying. Breaths came in short ragged gurgles.

  She collapsed into Magnus' lap. Above her, he was shouting orders, like any confident commander would. As the darkness took her, she knew Magnus would become the Archduke she had trained him to be. When she died, he would rule in her place, a captain's strong hand on the rudder. He would do well.

  But it is not his time yet.

  Sir Magnus Teton-Sten

  Knight Scion of House Teton, The Iron-Handed

  18 March, 23,423

  Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  Magnus Teton-Sten glared daggers at the Azuren officials who were conversing quietly in a corner of the hall. They towered over those near them, though most gave them a wide berth. Their white robes stood out among the many, but muted, colors of the attending nobles. There were five of them now clustered in a small group. It was rare to see a single Azuren, but five was unheard of. It was a sight not likely to be seen again in the lifetimes of those present. The Azuren had been ignoring everyone else in the room for the entire evening and the attendees were beginning to notice. It looks like conspiring, he knew they were all thinking. This will not do.

  The ballroom was packed with people, great lords and their attendants, knights and celebrated sergeants-at-arms, courtiers and probably enough spies to hold a convention in subterfuge. Most of them were engaged in alcohol-fueled conversation, but Magnus refused to join them in their indulgences. It would not do for a general to be inebriated. Besides, they played silly games, wars of words and half truths. Magnus despised them. Politics was for those who unversed in war and battle was the ultimate form of negotiation. Unconsciously, he rubbed the synthetic arm. Sometimes he could swear he feel it itch.

  He tried to ignore the other nobles and focused his attention on the masters of the universe and the watchdogs of the human race. They were truly adept at war, each Azuren the pinnacle of combat, like an entire army in human form. The stories of their abilities on the battlefield dazzled the common people and struck fear into the hearts of the nobles. One Azuren could change the course of a battle, he only imagined what the five of them could do. Change the course of a war most likely, but we do not need them here. They make us look weak.

  Indeed, the results of the jailbreak last week by Lord Conrad were being felt as the Sørensens gained access to new leaders, weapons and equipment. Recently, it had claimed the lives of more sergeants in bombings, raids and assassinations. Just yesterday two knights were killed right in the city. Their dead bodies were found strung from lamp posts near the checkpoint that led to the palace itself. It infuriated him to see nobility handled in such a manner by mere commoners. The Sørensens were growing more dangerous and more daring with each passing day. People were afraid and Salena had cracked down, increasing checkpoints, random searches and detainments. The populace was restless.

  He felt a nudge in his side and he glanced to his left to see Cassandra standing close. “Don't stare. Mother would not approve,” she warned.

  “Why not?” He asked gruffly crossing his arms.

  Since her episode in the throne room, she had taken to her chambers to rest. She would not make an appearance tonight and tasked Magnus and Cassandra to take her place.

  “Because it looks like they're bothering you. They want you to stare at them because it puts the attention on them rather than us,” she explained, smiling sweetly and touching his elbow. “The attention is supposed to be on us.”

  “They mock us, Cassie,” he hissed. “They have Mother wrapped around their fingers and there's nothing we can do to stop them.”

  “Not yet, that is. They are only here to ensure stability. Once you crush Damien's rebellion and finish off the Sørensens, they will leave,” she said pulling his attention away from the Azuren. “Besides, you have other responsibilities tonight.”

  The guests here were all invited to the wedding, of course, friends and family of the noble houses plus those deemed influential though not noble. Damien's invitation would likely be lost in the mail. At first he was afraid he'd spend the evening greeting an endless line of well wishers and sycophants, but instead he found himself delightfully ignored. There was plenty of alcohol and a small band playing some carefully screened and selected pieces. Nothing too patriotic, but nothing too rebellious either. He remembered attending these sorts of gatherings when he was younger on the Teton homeworld of Danvers as his mother entertained her various subordinate nobles. He'd hated them, too.

  “Kendra is here somewhere. You should probably talk to her tonight. It would be in your best interest to appear to like each other,” Cassandra said.

  “I do like her. She's just-”

  “Not a soldier. Well get used to it. If you could hold together an empire with just an army we wouldn't have need of a Conclave and these sorts of events. Mother is trying a balanced approach to her rule. She needs it.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about her-”

  “Not here.”

  “But-”

  “Just wait a minute.”

  She took him by the hand and pulled him towards a more isolated alcove.

  “You've seen it too, huh?” She asked.

  “How could you miss it? She's seeing things.”

  “And talking to things. I'm starting to really worry about her,” Cass admitted.

  “Have you talked to father?”

  “I tried,” she hissed. “He won't listen. He says it's stress and exhaustion, but he won't see it.”

  “That means he knows, he just doesn't want to admit that he does.”

  “It's no secret that Archduke Haakon's children were a little unbalanced. Even Archduke Peter had his demons, but I've never seen anything in mother that indicated that.”

  “Before now you mean,” Magnus added.

  Cassandra nodded, concern etched in her eyes. Magnus ran his real hand through his hair, crumpling the perfection the family stylist had shaped for him. He didn't care.

  “So what do we do?” He asked.

  “She needs to relinquish some of her duties. Let me handle Conclave meetings, let you back into the field to finish the insurgency and let father do anything besides complain about the weather on Magdeborg.”

  “I tried! She won't let me go back into the field until after the wedding and after, you know-”

  “She wants a secure genetic line.”

  “Pretty much,” Magnus said, feeling his skin blush.

  “I'm worried about her. What if she doesn't get better? What if it's something more severe that's just coming out now? If rumors get out that something's wrong it could create even more problems. I've always heard Uncle Damien is a sociopath.”

  “It wouldn't surprise me. I heard rumors of an obsession with fire, too.”

  “So what do we do?” She asked again.

  “Try to keep it
hidden as best as you can,” Magnus said with a shrug. “If it gets worse we might have to do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know!” He snapped then rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Sorry. Just keep an eye on her. We'll see if things get better after the wedding. Once things calm down, right?”

  “Okay,” Cassandra said with an unconvincing nod. “Come on, Mother wanted me to introduce you to Duke Frederick.”

  “Wait. You said she was talking to things. What was she saying?”

  Cassandra bit her lip and glanced quickly from side to side. She lowered her voice. “She was talking to Archduke Peter,” she said then paused. “She was apologizing for taking his throne and forsaking his children. She asked him to tell the Sørensens she was sorry for betraying them.”

  Magnus slapped his forehead. “For Amrah's sake, Cass! She can't be saying those sorts of things to anyone real or imagined.”

  “It's worse than that, Mag. I think she's serious. I'm not sure if the Sørensens really were plotting to usurp the throne. I think Mother might have lied to us.”

  Magnus looked out over the crowd, continuing on obliviously. “Is that even possible?”

  “I don't know.”

  “She needs to keep it together. If word of that got out. I mean, if it's even possible that she lied about the Sørensens, we'd have a lot more than just Damien and the insurgency to worry about.”

  “I know.”

  “And she mentioned Peter's children? Plural? Which meant she wasn't talking about cousin Arthur. She meant the same children Uncle Damien mentioned at the funeral.”

  “I know.”

  “Is it possible they're real, too, and not some fiction Damien invented?”

  “I said I know!”

  Cassandra took a deep, calming breath.

  “For Ithix's sake.”

  “Let's go meet the duke. Take our minds off of Mother for a while. Besides, the longer we stand here the more people will think something's wrong,” Cassandra said. Then she put on a winning smile and led Magnus back out into the crowd.