Quirian nodded. "I fear so. Beggars, urchins, orphans who had not talent to serve me in the Lost. Brutal and bloody, I confess, but necessary. I could not die until I had seen the Empire brought to justice. For the sake of Aureliana. For the sake of all my people.
"The world, you see, has not been kind to the memory of my home. It is said that the Aurelians were manipulative and devious, that we toyed with the affairs of nations, toppled kings at a whim. But we only did what was necessary to survive in a world that begrudged us even to live in it. Within the walls Aureliana was a place of peace and learning, art and culture. In Aureliana there was no poverty, no crime, no conflict. We all lived lives of peace and prosperity. The Empire boasts of its greatness, that it has raised mankind's happiness and prosperity to its highest state, that its institutions are the finest creation of the human mind. But even were the Empire as great as it claims to be it would not equal up the paradise that was Aureliana. Looking back upon my childhood years there, I can hardly believe that they were not a dream. They were a dream, and it was the Empire that forced me to wake up."
"They conquered Aureliana?"
"They destroyed it," Quirian corrected her mildly. "They sent an envoy to demand the submission of the city. Aureliana refused, so the Empire sent its armies: they razed the city to the ground and killed everyone inside the walls, saving only myself. I, and your own ancestor Cynane, were the only survivors, and that because she had fled the city before the siege began."
"How did you escape?" Miranda asked.
A look of melancholy passed across Quirian's face as he rose from his seat. "Come with me, Filia, if you please."
Miranda got up, her leg wincing from stiffness, and she followed him to a room with a red door at the far end. Quirian opened the door and stepped inside. Miranda followed, and found a room filled with painted statues, their features filled with colour and with life.
"I used earth magic to fashion these likenesses myself, from my own memories," Quirian said softly. "I wanted them to be exactly as I remembered them."
"Who are they?"
"My kinsfolk and my friends," Quirian said. "These are my parents, and this my younger sister Arista."
Miranda studied them. Quirian's father was a tall, muscular man who was depicted clad in a white toga just as Quirian now wore. Based upon the paint used it seemed Quirian had inherited his father's eyes, though his father's hair was so thin on top as to have almost vanished. His mother was dressed in a simple dress, verging upon drab, with a scholar's cast to her thin features and a slight smile upon her pink lips. Between the two statues stood the likeness of their daughter, a pretty little thing who barely came up to her mother's waist. Her golden hair was worn in curls, her hazel eyes were incredibly large, round and wide.
Quirian stared at the trio mournfully. "When the Empire besieged Aureliana, I was seven years old. I did not really understand what was happening, though I knew that some sort of monsters had come to hurt us. On the night the walls fell I was woken by my mother to the sounds of screaming and the smell of smoke. I didn't know it at the time, but my father was dying at the gateway along with the other men trying to hold off the wolves. Mother carried me down to the cellar, stuffed me into a pantry cupboard and told me to be absolutely silent no matter what happened. She told me that she had to go, but she would be back with my little sister. She shut me in. I heard our door being broken down, heard more screaming. I think I started to cry when I realised that my mother wasn't coming."
"You survived because they didn't find you," Miranda said.
"Oh no." Quirian laughed mirthlessly. "That isn't the worst of it, you see; they did find me. I am alive today because of the Empire's pity. They found me, you see. Probably they heard me snivelling. The pantry door opened and I saw five legionaries staring down at me. They stared, I cried, and then they shut the door and left me there. I am alive because five soldiers of the Empire took pity on a snivelling boy and spared his life. I think, in a way, that is what I find most unforgiveable of all. And so I will cram their pity down their throats until the whole Empire chokes upon it."
Miranda was silent for a moment. "I am sorry for the fate that befell your family and your people... our people. But you cannot condemn the people of today for the sins of their long dead ancestors."
"I can when they still profit from those sins, and I shall," Quirian said. "I must destroy the Empire or all that was done to resist them will have been in vain."
"All that was done to resist them?" Miranda frowned. "So far you have described nothing that was done to resist the Empire, unless it was the doomed stand of Aureliana."
Quirian smiled. "Do you suppose, Filia, that a seven year old child who had led a life sheltered in the extreme raised himself amidst the streets of his ruined city? Certainly not. I had help. Guardians, if you will. Friends. After the Imperial Army withdrew from the ruins of Aureliana I fled into the forest of Eena and begged the protection of the dryads. They had been friends of the White, and the Aurelian power had protected them from the Deucalians and the Antigeneans. But the dryads, though prepared to fight against the Empire, hoped to avoid battle if they could. Certainly they would not go to war for me. They cast me out, to live or die as fate decreed. It is for that reason that I took a certain pleasure in slaying their princess when I came across her amidst the ruins of my home. But their scheme would have worked, and I would have died, where it not for Silwa."
"Silwa?" Miranda did not believe it. "The same Silwa who...you tried to kill her!"
"True enough, we have had a falling out in more recent years," Quirian said. "Yet for all that I cannot deny that she saved my life and did me many kindnesses in my youth. I am eternally indebted to her for that. It was she who found me on the outskirts of Eena and brought me, through several ways, to the Tyronian city of Kieros, on the shores of the Central Sea. Once there, she secured for me a home to dwell in, servants to see to my material needs, and more importantly a place at the Lyceum, the famous school of philosophy where Pisistratus presided.
"That is the act for which I owe her more than anything," Quirian said, striding across the room. "The Tyronians have a saying: the city teaches the man. And though Aureliana will always have a claim upon my heart it was my years in Kieros that shaped me to the man whom I am now. The destruction of Aureliana birthed my hatred of the Empire, but it was my education at the Lyceum that taught me how and why to act upon that hatred. It was at the Lyceum that I met my friends, who would become as close as blood to me."
He gestured to a tableau of statues, the whole scene depicting a group of people seated around a table for some kind of lavish feast, with a huge roast boar as the centrepiece. At the head of the table sat an old man, bald but with a huge brown beard, his face wrinkled with age and combining with his beard to give him an air of gravity and wisdom. At his right hand sat a young man who was unmistakably Quirian: his face was thinner, his body less muscular, but his features were little changed and his eyes were as bright and fiery as they were now. Next to him sat another young man, with a mess of brown hair and open green eyes, who wore a sword upon each hip and a bronze pectoral across his chest. The next figure along was sitting on the table itself, her back to the other half of the table, her legs hanging down into the air. She was an aestival, a pair of huge white wings sprouting from her back. Her eyes were yellow, as Octavia's were, and sharp as a hawk. Her head had been more or less shaved, and her face was sharp and birdlike. It was not a fair face, not even handsome, but there was a strength there that made her seem attractive in other ways. On the other side of the table, on the left of the old man, sat an attractive young lady with light brown hair and hazel eyes, soft features and a dainty nose. She was staring at Quirian across the table, but his eyes were more turned towards the aestival, or perhaps towards the audience for the tableaux. He did not seem to notice her. Lastly there was another young man, who seemed rather anonymous looking compared to the others. His dark hair was ordinary. His brown eyes were
ordinary. His face was ordinary. Only his expression of utter contentment, of being comfortable and happy with his place in the world, stood out to Miranda at all.
"The young man with green eyes to my right is Socinus, the closest of all my companions," Quirian said. "He was a Prolixine, a cousin to the throne whose family had sent him to Kieros to be educated in the Tyronian fashion. He was a brilliant swordsman, a master of the Prolixine twin-blade style. He taught me how to fight in the same fashion, as I in turn taught Gideon Commenae. More importantly, he taught me how to laugh again, was the first person to bring me out of myself after my parents died.
"The aestival's name is Aeris. Aeris Farsight, the daughter of the King of Hawk's Roost, sent to learn the ways of humankind. She was so fierce, so brave. Nothing could intimidate her, nothing at all. I think we men all loved her, at least in part, but she loved only Socinus, at least romantically. That was why I took Octavia in, and kept her here after it became clear that she was an untalented dolt: because she reminded me of what might have resulted had my friends been allowed to live in peace and while away the years together.
"The young lady on the other side of the table from me is Euphemia, the only native Kieran in our little company save for Pisistratus. She was a fire mage, prodigiously talented, the strongest mage in the whole city. She loved me, but I did not realise it until far too late.
"And then there is Termes of Arginusa, who followed along behind us, never quite managing to walk alongside yet never complaining. I greatly regret that he is the one whom I remember the least of.
"The old man at the head of the table is Pisistratus himself, the greatest philosopher and statesman of his day. He alone in all of Kieros perceived how great a threat the Empire posed to the Tyronian city states. The Empire made its intentions quite clear: in those days it had not shortened its name and still went proudly by the Divine Empire of All Pelarius, and still boasted of its destiny, handed down by dying Aegea: to rule all peoples by command, to impose the custom of peace, to lift up the humble and wear down the proud. And yet there were so many fools in Kieros and in elsewhere who did not want to believe that the wolf that prowled so restlessly at their door was howling for their blood. They thought the Empire would stop, that it could be bargained with, reasoned with. Pisistratus was wiser than they, he saw the truth: the beast would not stop until its hunger was sated or it met a force strong enough to stave it off.
"Silwa worked with him in those days, and together they made the five of us their agents. I wondered, I still wonder, if the sole reason he took an interest in me was that I had cause to hate the Empire, but if that is the case I do not mind. I was glad to become a weapon against my enemies. While my friends dispersed to spread the word to their own cities and peoples, I was sent by Pisistratus into Saba, where he thought the next Imperial blow would fall.
"Saba was a little country, a couple of cities that were half-Tyronised and a rag-bag of fractious tribes living in the hills or taming horses on the open plains. The Empire attempted to take the country by diplomacy, but I debated with the Imperial ambassador and exposed him for the serpent that he was. As the Empire gathered its legions for war, I called upon my friends for help and, may all the gods bless them, they came. Socinus brought an army of Prolixine warriors in his train, Aeris brought the aestivals of Hawk's Roost, Euphemia and Termes brought mercenaries from Tyronia and the isles. In Kieros, in the assembly, Pisistratus thundered forth his philippics against the Empire, warning the people of the danger that approached. We knew that if we could only hold out until our old teacher could rouse the Tyronian cities to resist then the Empire would be hurled back."
"But they were not hurled back," Miranda said softly. "What happened?"
Quirian's eyes took on a downcast, mournful look. "The Tyronians would not listen. Pisistratus spoke and spoke and spoke in vain. Time and again he urged his fellow citizens to rouse themselves from their torpor, to raise an army, to fight. But the people of Kieros preferred to wallow in comforting delusions, closing the shutters and lighting lamps in response to the darkness gathering without.
"And while the people of Kieros shut their ears my friends died. Euphemia fell in the first great battle, at Sanaventum. I still recall the sight of her, blazing with fire as Imperial soldiers surrounded her. She slew dozens of them before they brought her down. The rest of us fought on for several months, before Aeris was brought down by an arrow as she scouted the Imperial advance. Socinus followed her not long after, charging headlong into the battle without his armour, mad with grief. Termes was the last to fall, commanding the rearguard of the defeat at Heraneum. Nothing we did could halt the Empire's march. I even slew the First Sword of the Empire in single combat but it was not enough. And in the end, after all our struggle, all our sacrifice, Saba fell. Hawk's Roost made peace with the Empire; Aeris' father knelt to the purple throne as though they had never killed his daughter.
"And then, the final cruel joke, Tyronia awoke. With the buffer between them and the Empire gone, Kieros realised what a peril they had allowed to magnify and grow when they could have nipped it in the bud. Pisistratus was elected general, and through great effort Kieros raised an army of thirty thousand citizens and then hired mercenaries to further swell their numbers. The ancient quarrel with Thesos was patched up, and with a host of sixty thousand men they marched forth to do battle for the freedom of Tyronia. And on the field of Keladon they were crushed. The Empire outgeneralled them, outthought them and I must say outfought them too. I saw the Chosen of Kieros overrun by the Imperial Guard as if they were nothing, watched the Sacred Band of Thesos slaughtered to the last man. The battlefield was covered with the bodies of fallen hoplites, men come to valour too late to save their city or their lives. Pisistratus took his own life, and Kieros surrendered. The rest of Tyronia did not take long to follow suit.
"Only I was left, and only I fought on. I was, I am, Quirian of the White, Last Prince of Aureliana and Warden of the White Tower and I will not surrender while the sun yet rises in the morning. With Silwa's help I fled to Lavissar, hoping to raise an army amongst the Lavissari tribesmen. I soon saw the folly in that. They are a hardy people, brave and strong, but they do not have the discipline to stand against the Emperor's legions in the field. It was only when I learned of Cynane's survival, of the possibility of the Aurelian magic flowering in one of her descendants that I began to conceive of how the Empire might be defeated. And then I came into my true plan: I watched and waited, I observed every child of Cynane's descent for signs of the Aurelian magic. Some I even took into my home and raised myself. But none displayed any of the true potential of the Aurelian power until you. But you, practically from birth Filia it was clear you were the one. And so I went to Eternal Pantheia, leaving my friends of the Crimson Rose to watch you carefully, while I burrowed myself into the heart of this wretched hive and waited patiently until I could find a reason to bring you here to see for yourself what a wretched place this country is."
Miranda swallowed. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she had just walked into a spider's web. "To what purpose? So that I will give you my golems for your own use."
"Golems!" Quirian snapped. "They are but childrens' toys, Filia, have you not been listening? You have power to rival that of the gods themselves! You could destroy cities at a whim if you so chose."
"And what cities would you have me destroy?" Miranda asked.
"This one, for a start," Quirian said. "The wolves will not survive long once their den is destroyed. With no capital, no Emperor to rule over them, the Empire will collapse. The other cities could be left alone, provided no Imperial proconsuls or the like sought to continue the old traditions there."
"You would have me become your murderer," Miranda said.
"Only to those who-"
"No, no, I will not allow you to say that they deserve it," Miranda snapped. "The men who wronged you are long dead; those who dwell now do not bear their parents' crimes."
"Not even when
they live on the prosperity purchased with the blood of my people?" Quirian said. "Can you honestly deny that the world would be a better place if the Empire were fallen?"
Miranda hesitated. "The Empire polices the borders. Millions of people are kept safe."
"And millions more put at risk of foreign wars."
"There will always be wars," Miranda said.
"Not under a High Queen," Quirian said carefully. "You could bring peace. You could allow each country, each city, to govern itself while still maintaining peace between them by the threat of your magic. You could be the light of the word as Aurelia was before you."
"And what of when I am dead?" Miranda said. "Aurelia's descendants were unworthy of Aurelia's throne, unworthy to inherit her magic. And I will never even have children of my own blood."
"Felix's blood is your blood," Quirian said. "His children could be your heirs."
"There is no guarantee they would possess the Aurelian magic."
"Something the world need not know so long as there are no calls upon your power," Quirian said. "If honesty matters so much to you, you could always eat hearts to prolong your life, as I have. You could live forever, an immortal arbiter of the world's affairs and protector of Pelarius. You would be a god in all but name, Filia; can you deny that you would be a more wiser ruler than Empress Portia, more compassionate than Prince Antiochus, more humble than Princess Romana?"
"To massacre an entire city and demand the submission of the world on pain of death would hardly be an act of compassion or humility," Miranda growled. "How would that make me any better than the Empire?"
"Because you are better," Quirian replied. "And you know you are."
Miranda looked away. Because the truth was that she did know it. The truth was that she feel the allure of Quirian's words pulling at her. Why should she, gifted with power derived from the gods themselves, submit herself to petty men who wished to use her to further their own ambitions? Should it not be her ambitions, her will that counted? Why should she not stand above Antiochus and Romana, when she was better than either of them?
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 19