Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  Jorqel smiled briefly, then resumed his usual no-nonsense expression. “Thank you Captain, for your concern, but I am perfectly happy to escort my sister around this palace, and I,” and he slapped his sword hanging in its scabbard by his side, “am more than prepared to deal with any situation that may arise. From what I have seen and experienced here so far, your security measures are enough. I do not wish to be smothered by too many guards, and it may well be that too many guards are counter-productive. You understand me, Captain?”

  “Sire,” Vosgaris bowed low. Jorqel nodded curtly, then resumed his walk, Amne’s arm in his. Amne stole a quick look at Vosgaris and smiled, then she was all attentiveness to her older brother who was speaking of the Council session to be held that morning in the Map Chamber. Vosgaris waited till they turned once more out of sight before walking on towards Alenna’s chamber. As he went along the corridor that housed the bedrooms, the number of guards increased visibly. If anyone wished to enter any of the bedrooms they would have to battle through a large number of volgar-wielding soldiers.

  Lalaas was in Amne’s chamber, the door open. Both Amne’s handmaidens, Selana and Kiri, were busy tidying up the day chamber. “Ho,” Vosgaris greeted his friend, “anything happened this morning?”

  “Nothing much. Usual verbal sparring; I’m getting used to the Prince’s moods. Seems a serious fellow but he’s worried to the heavens underneath.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. I hope he gets Sannia away from that rogue Soul. He must be itching to get back to the West and to deal with it.”

  Lalaas nodded. “Has Lord Elas arrived yet? I hear he’s making his first attendance in the Council.”

  Vosgaris tutted. “Is nothing secret around this damned place? Yes, he’s downstairs looking as if someone’s dropped a pile of dung underneath his nose.”

  Lalaas chuckled. “I don’t envy Amne; she’s going to go mad with him as a husband.”

  “Maybe Elas is the one to pity,” Vosgaris countered, a wicked smile on his face, “trying to contain that wild spirit. She’s got even more wicked with her words since Prince Jorqel turned up! You notice how close those two are?”

  “Yes,” Lalaas nodded, “like two naughty children – reminds me of Argan and Kerrin. Poor Argan, he’s not going to be able to make the wedding, is he?”

  Vosgaris shook his head. “It looks pretty bad for the young man. I’m so upset for him; the apothecary doesn’t hold out much hope for Argan’s future. It’ll be a tragedy if he dies.”

  “Let’s pray to the gods he recovers.”

  “Yes, I think that’s all that’s left for us now.” Vosgaris moved on, passed another six doors and arrived at one that had a single guard standing by it. Vosgaris nodded and the guard opened the door for him and Vosgaris passed into the chamber, the guard shutting the door behind him.

  Like all the accommodation in the palace, it was a suite of three rooms. The day room which was the first chamber, then at the rear a door to the bedchamber and off to one side the bathroom. Alenna was seated in the day room, busy writing at a desk to the right, opposite the door to the bathroom. She stood up as Vosgaris entered the chamber and waited for him to speak.

  “How are you this morning, Lady Alenna?”

  Alenna smiled slightly. “I’m not a Lady anymore, Captain, remember the Empress’ command? I’m just plain Alenna now.” She sounded downcast, and looked it, too.

  Vosgaris cleared his throat, not entirely sure as to what to say. “I’m sure she’ll reverse that decision in time, Alenna. So….. is everything here to your satisfaction?”

  “Oh, yes, not bad for a prison,” she said dully. “At least I have decent food and a comfortable bed, and the prison warder is polite and presentable. I hear the dungeons here are somewhat barbaric.”

  “Well, I’m glad we meet your approval,” Vosgaris said, wondering whether a bit of levity may help lift the woman’s mood. “Writing a diary?”

  “What? Oh, yes. I’m so bored there’s not much else to do. I’m actually writing my life history to this point. Who knows, one day it may be a useful reference to the life of a disgraced noblewoman.”

  “You make it sound really bad,” Vosgaris said, uncomfortable with the way the conversation was progressing, “you’re not being sent to the mines, and neither have you got a death sentence hanging over your head. In fact, of all your family, I think you’re the one who has come out the best of all.”

  “Maybe so, Captain, but it doesn’t stop me wondering what is going to happen to my mother and father, or my brothers, and what will happen to me. I can’t see the Koros putting up with me here indefinitely. Once my family is – taken care of – what then for my own future?”

  “I wouldn’t dwell too much on that, Alenna, I’ll see if I can provide you with a companion or some other distraction if you so wish.”

  “You’re very kind…” she said, her voice catching, then she burst into tears, putting her hands to her face. Vosgaris, taken by surprise, stood there for a few moments, then, wondering whether he was doing the right thing, stepped forward and put his arms round her. Alenna clung to him, her fingers digging into his shirt and she sobbed into his chest, releasing all the pent-up emotions she’d endured over the recent past.

  Vosgaris held her close, not doing anything else, for he really didn’t know what to do, and decided it was best not to say anything either. It seemed Alenna needed him there for the moment, for she was clinging to him for dear life, while she vented her feelings into his rapidly spreading wet patch on his shirt. He wondered whether he ought to quickly change before the Council meeting, but realised he didn’t really have the time to get to his quarters, select a decent shirt, change and then get to the chamber where the session was to meet. He would have to stand in the shadows and hope nobody noticed, especially the Empress!

  Down in the Map Chamber the first of the Council attendees were already gathering. The Empress Isbel was seated in her usual chair, the one next to her which was normally her husband’s, was occupied by Jorqel, much to her disapproval. She had been about to chastise him but one look from him had aborted that in her throat. He didn’t look in the mood to compromise, and he appeared to be trying to take the chairman’s role, which was not his due. She would have to take control of proceedings as soon as possible. Another barrier to the way she wished to run the palace. Why was it all her family were doing their utmost to undermine her authority?

  Next to Jorqel, on the other side to Isbel, sat Amne, saying little, looking at the arriving people with interest, and then in came Elas. He looked very severely at the assembly, then nodded as a guard pointed out his seat, two away from Amne. A bearded man with an immense chest rolled into the chamber, someone whom Amne hadn’t seen before, and he bowed deferentially to the Empress and Jorqel and Amne before sitting way down the table. Amne wondered who he was.

  A few moments later the head of the clergy in Kastan City turned up, a serious looking white-haired priest called Suton. He’d been recently elected by the Temple Council as the religious representative to attend the Imperial Council sessions, and was as good as a High Priest, even though in Niake Burnas was still the incumbent. Since he was disgraced and in exile, the Temple was without an effective leader, and this was likely to continue as long as Burnas lived. What would happen after that was open to conjecture, but Astiras Koros had made it clear he was opposed to a figurehead in principle – they were too powerful and a danger to his authority. The Temple was simply not permitted to elect a clear leader.

  Isbel knocked a paperweight she had on the edge of the table, calling everyone to their places. The door opened again and Vosgaris entered, looking breathless. He appeared to have run to the meeting. Isbel looked disapprovingly at him briefly but he took up a guard position by the door, arms behind his back, his upper half darkened by the shadows. Isbel shifted her attention away from him to the people sitting at the large map table. “I bid you all welcome to this Council meeting,” she said. “There are four newcom
ers to the Council today, who need introducing. Firstly, Prince Jorqel Koros, heir to the imperial throne.”

  Jorqel bowed gravely. All eyes were on him with deep interest; here was Astiras’ successor, the future emperor. It would be advantageous to succour favour with him at the earliest opportunity, for when he ascended the throne, he may well wish to replace those Astiras had in power with those of his own choosing. A change in ruler nearly always resulted in mass changes of administration and positions of responsibility. Those who were not holding any favourable posts now would be wise to befriend and swear loyalty to Jorqel, for in the future it may reap rewards.

  Isbel waited for a moment, then nodded to her right. “Lord Elas Pelgion, betrothed to my daughter Princess Amne.” Elas was even more severe-faced than Jorqel. He nodded once to acknowledge the bows of the others. To him, this was a mark of honour for him and as a future member of the Koros dynasty, it was rightful that he should attend the meeting. After all, once he was married to Amne, the governorship of Frasia would pass to him. These Councils would then require his attendance as his post would dictate that necessity.

  “The man with the priestly garb is Cleric Suton, the Temple’s representative to this Council.” Suton inclined his head and looked slightly nervous; his fingers twitched on the surface of the map. Isbel lastly nodded towards the bearded man with the barrel chest. “And the healthy looking individual there is our senior naval officer, Admiral Drakan.”

  Drakan smiled and leaned back comfortably. It was about time the navy was represented at these meetings, to his mind, and he’d make sure these people were made fully aware of the empire’s deficiencies on the water. Something needed to be urgently done about it since what he’d learned over the past few years from sailors, boatmen and other people worried him immensely. He knew he’d have to wait for his moment today, however.

  The introductions of the newcomers done, Isbel began the session briskly. “If there are any issues arising from the last meeting, now is the time to bring them to our attention.”

  A hand raised itself down the table. Isbel noted who it was. “Yes, Counsel Pandris?”

  Pandris, a white-haired elderly man, cleared his throat. “Your majesties, honoured council members, my concern is of the continued destruction of arable land in Frasia and Bathenia by the rebel forces of the Duras and Lombert Soul. Since the last meeting these two groups have not been stopped and indeed, from what I have learned, they are still recruiting people to their forces. There have been no attempts to disperse them or to stop their destructive actions. May I ask what the Koros are going to do about this continued state of affairs?”

  There were rumbles of agreement around the table. Jorqel frowned heavily. Amne put a hand on his arm and he looked at her quickly, then nodded and apparently relaxed. Isbel waited until the buzz of noise had subsided before answering. “A fair point, Counsel. I am led to believe that at this very moment my husband, your emperor, is marching to deal with the Duras in Makenia. Once he has defeated the Duras, the way will be once more open from Makenia to Frasia and our forces will be able to patrol the roads effectively. Banditry and brigandage will be stopped, I swear to you.”

  “And of the revolt in Bathenia?” Pandris asked.

  “I believe the Prince here will be the best man to answer that inquiry,” Isbel turned to Jorqel.

  The prince leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Council members, as you may well know, this beast Lombert Soul, along with his co-conspirators the Duras, has my betrothed captive in his camp in Bathenia, and I will not risk her life in any precipitous action. Rest assured however, I am finalising my plans to deal with this monster and his cohort’s hideous plan to lay waste to Bathenia and Niake. Once I have dealt with him and hung his corpse from Slenna’s main gateway, peace will return to the empire.”

  “Thank you, sire,” Pandris said, although he did not appear to be entirely convinced.

  “Any other issues?” Isbel asked.

  “Ma’am,” another man stood up, a man with rich clothing.

  “Yes, merchant Piran Tukk? Is there something on your mind?”

  “Ma’am, your majesties, councillors. Trade is still difficult. We have heard from the Koros that all our difficulties would be eased, but I for one am still finding it terribly hard to make a living. Contracts are still not coming through, the people are still not buying much and the opening up of Bragal and the Tybar lands has yet to bring any discernible change.”

  Isbel took a deep breath. “Merchant Tukk, the current difficulties are linked to the insurrections of the Duras. They have the port of Kalkos in their hands which has a huge impact on the flow of goods from the eastern portion of the empire, and Lombert Soul’s army is also affecting the trade to Aconia, even though the Niake militia are doing all they can to keep that route open. I think you’ll find once these two revolts are crushed then trade will flow again freely. It has taken a lot of time to gather forces together to face these rebel armies, but now we are able to do so.”

  Tukk looked gravely at the empress. “I trust this will come to pass, ma’am, for unless it does not, we shall be even worse off than we were before your family came to the throne.”

  Isbel did not look best pleased. “It appears memories are short, merchant Tukk. Your class were especially hard taxed, if I recall. We are asking for one-fifth rather than one-third. If you wish to be worse off than before, then I could easily ask for the tax to be raised to one-half.”

  A muttering rolled along the assembled group. Tukk looked aghast at the empress. “Then we would all cease to trade! I beg of you not to take such a step!”

  “Rest assured, merchant, I would not think of doing such a thing,” Isbel reassured the man. “But we are steering a difficult course between keeping the taxes as low as we can and to provide services to the empire. We have not increased our army at all in the time we have been on the throne, yet we are striving hard to improve the infrastructure with better roads, ports, facilities and to effect repairs to the existing municipal and public buildings.” She faced all the council in turn. “There is a limit to what can be done; patience is all I ask of you, and in time you will see the improvements. These things do not happen at once. Time. Time is what we must allow.”

  Tukk sat down, clearly not happy, but knowing he would have to wait for a little while to see whether things did improve. With no further issues arising, the Council session turned to current matters, and in particular the forthcoming wedding. Isbel snapped her fingers and Pepil presented her with a large sheaf of papers. Isbel flattened them out before her, using the paperweight, and ran her finger down the top sheet. “The wedding in seven days’ time is nearly ready. The final details are to be announced on the streets of Kastan City and in the squares of the other towns and cities of the empire tomorrow. What I can tell you all here now is that the procession will be from the Temple to the palace across the main square which will be closed to all other activities that day. We are expecting a huge influx of visitors and traders are being asked to set up their stalls outside the city gates. The gates will be shut as usual at dusk and re-opened at dawn, so anyone outside the city walls when they are shut will have to stay outside until the morning.

  “My daughter Amne and Lord Elas here will live in the palace after the wedding and Lord Elas, who will then be Prince Elas, will take up governorship of Frasia as at that date and act as the emperor’s representative here. I shall be returning with my husband to Bragal, leaving the palace to be run by Prince Elas and Princess Amne and their administration. The governing of the empire will be run from Zofela from the time my husband and I arrive in the capital of Bragal.”

  The room exploded with noise. People argued and shouted, and lots of hand-waving went on. Jorqel tapped his fingers on the table edge and Amne squeezed his arm warningly again. Jorqel flared his nostrils, then curtly nodded to his sister. Isbel banged on the table for silence.

  “These are my husband’s wishes. The majority of the administration w
ill move with us. There are a number of reasons this is happening, one is to scatter our family to more places in the empire so that should a disaster hit one place, then the running of the empire can continue from another. A second reason is to move the imperial court to Zofela in order to keep an eye on both Mazag and Venn. The Army of the East will be based in Zofela so that it can be close to any possible invasion from either of our neighbours, and to also reinforce our rule in Bragal. We do not wish for another revolt there.”

  “Is Zofela the new capital?” someone asked harshly.

  “No,” Isbel shook her head. “Kastan City is still the capital and will always be. We are just moving the court to Zofela. Prince Elas and Princess Amne will remain here to run the palace, Kastan City and Frasia from here, and Prince Jorqel will administer the west from Slenna, along with the Army of the West. We are mindful of the empire’s vulnerability to outsiders and we must share the administration around to places close to the likely centres of danger.”

  “And what of Prince Argan? Surely he is too ill to move to Zofela?” another asked.

  Isbel’s face hardened. “That is something that has yet to be decided. My son is being tended by the best medical people in the empire, and I trust he will soon be well enough to make the journey to Bragal.”

  “Your majesty,” Admiral Drakan decided now was the time to raise his concerns. “What of the navy? There has been no effort made at all these past few years to increase the navy or to improve the dock facilities. We have but four ships and that is insufficient to patrol the waters around our shores.”

  Isbel bowed slowly to the bearded man. “Admiral, I am fully aware of how threadbare the imperial navy is. It was not long ago we had a navy feared by all in this part of the world, and it is a terrible shame that we are now in this predicament.”

  “Fine words, your majesty, but fine words do not repair my ships, recruit more men or give us more ships. I need to reassure my people that the Koros are not another Duras or Fokis who ignore the wasting away of the navy. Do you realise that Venn have a navy three to four times our size, and are regularly trespassing into our waters, short-cutting their voyages to Cratia? And Cratia itself is being built up with military supplies and more soldiers; from what I am able to discern, they are making it a forward military post from which they would be able to sail an army in any direction to conquer yet more territory, and my navy would be unable to stop them.”