Enlightened Empire

"Have you heard? Prince Pachacutec..."

"Shhhhh..."

"...that’s not possible."

"But who is the father then?"

"I heard it was one of the harem warriors."

"I heard it was the prime minister."

"Quiet! The guards! You want me to lose my head as well?"

From inside his palanquin, Sonco could hear the gossip of the commoners loud and clear. He knew that Corco had men throughout the city. Within just two days, his nephew had arranged them to spread the rumor of Prince Pacha’s illegitimate status throughout the streets of Arguna. He also knew his nephew wouldn’t be able to commit to more serious action, but he himself couldn’t bear see so much potential wasted.

In principle, this had already crossed a line for Corco. The prince had talked about preserving the reputation of his house, but Sonco was aware that his nephew was just being far too soft on his family, again. During his younger years in the palace, the first prince hadn’t received much attention from anyone other than his own mother, and the years of exile had done nothing to reduce his longing for familial warmth. Thirsty as he was for the acceptance of his own, he refused to oppose anyone related to himself. Even before, this attitude had caused them problems. Despite all of his abilities, Corco had shown an unwillingness to openly oppose his competitors.

While Prince Amautu had tried to block them every step of the way, and still hadn’t handed over the treacherous little bastard who had cost Corco his crown prince title, all the first prince had done in response was try to convince his second brother through argument, to win him over to his own side. Even worse, he had almost become the advisor to the false prince Pachacutec, had the other not so thoroughly disrespected the late emperor at the banquet.

Within the palace, there was only one man left alive who had always treated Corco as part of the family: Elder Caelestis. Of course Corco wouldn’t want to believe the outrageous revelation they had received two days ago. Sonco had believed that with time, his nephew would calm down and look at matters more objectively, as was his usual nature. This time however, he had completely shut himself into his own world, creating rationales for all his unlikely theories. No matter what his own men said, Corco would rather construct his own reality than accept the betrayal of his grandfather.

Sonco on the other hand had never liked Elder Caelestis, but it had nothing to do with the way his sister had been treated. That burden still lay square on the dead emperor’s shoulders. Instead, he had always known the elder to be a cowardly, incompetent and selfish man, someone perfectly capable of all the acts described by Corco’s spies. However, the first prince’s unrealistic delusions of his own grandfather were the least of Sonco’s worries.

With his unhealthy self-confidence, Corco had convinced himself that their preparations were more than enough. That doing any more than spread a few rumors and win a few arguments would only damage the strength of the empire he would soon inherit. Sonco was much less convinced. The prince had even said it himself not too long ago: In a fight for the throne, the one to fight the most dirty would have the best chances for victory, and both Amautu and Pachacutec had done more than enough to show their dirty nature.

If his nephew didn’t want to sink to the same level, Sonco would just have to take more risks to balance out their disadvantage. He knew that today’s invitation was strange on many levels, but it was a risk he would have to take for now. If worst came to worse, he could always fight his way out of danger. He wasn’t considered the fiercest warrior of Sachay for nothing.

Sonco thought back to the tiring months since Emperor Titu’s death. He sighed again, one of countless times since then. By now, all he wanted was for this horrible state of limbo to end. He looked forward to his home. To the son, wife and father who were waiting for him there; and of course he looked forward to the lost son who was on his way home this very moment. Seven years it had been. He had become proper man, that was what Corco had said. He really wanted to meet his kid again soon and apologize for the cruel decision he had made seven years ago.

His view through the drapes and onto the gossiping commoners was blocked by another palanquin passing them by in the opposite direction. Sonco held up the curtain and looked outside, as he ignored one of the foreign warriors his nephew had sent along for this visit. Sonco gave a short nod towards the passenger across the road, which the balding man replied in kind, with a smile and nod of his own. Lord Rapilo, the first visitor on his way to Prince Corco’s big banquet in the outer city.

As one great lord after another passed them by, it felt like their own troop was swimming against a stream. Almost half the Lords of Medala would travel through the entire city, inner and outer rings, flying their colors with great fanfare, loud enough so even the ancestors deep down in their moist caverns could hear their support for the lawful crown prince of Medala. Sonco hoped it would be enough, but if he could win over one final lord, the opinions of the ancestors would hardly matter anymore.

Finally, once they had passed the inner city walls, they were out of the constant flow of lords. The palanquin stopped in front of the Rubria mansion, the final estate to win their majority. The always quiet Fadelio was already waiting up ahead, ready to be Sonco’s shadow just like the warrior always was his nephew’s. Sonco got back onto his own two feet, finally, and put on his best smile to greet the already waiting warrior servant of House Rubria at the door. Whether or not Lord Rubria was serious about his invitation, making a good first impression could never hurt.

"House Rubria is greatly honored to greet the Governor of the South as a guest," the warrior said. While leaving only a warrior to greet them could be considered as rude, Sonco had never cared much for etiquette and he knew that Callo Rubria, the tough northern Lord, was exactly the same. Thus, he gave a casual reply, in defiance of the rules.

"No need to be so formal. We life in unusual times, friend, so we should be less constrained."

Sonco gave the servant a slap on his arm. The man did not budge an inch from the friendly pat delivered with the strength of a bear. This was a true warrior, Sonco realized, one who had studied cultivation. Similar to the way the emperor had treated Great General Atoc, this warrior should be a true confidant of House Rubria, rather than a simple servant. Maybe Callo Rubria was more serious about the meeting than Sonco had thought.

"Not bad," the governor commented with a smile, both towards the warrior’s toughness and his own treatment.

The warrior only offered a stoic face to answer Sonco’s frank smile.

"This servant thanks Lord Saqartu for his compliment. Please follow along with me, to the family salon. The Lord of the house already awaits."

Sonco took a calm look behind, towards Corco’s ten poleaxe wielding devils and towards his own men. He couldn’t very well bring them inside with him, especially not the foreigners. However, there was little to fear. Rubria wouldn’t risk starting an open war. If he killed a governor in his own home, even his own allies would leave him.

"You stay outside for now. We won’t be long."

His guards ordered, Sonco gave a nod towards Fadelio and made his way inside the Rubria family mansion. As they walked around in the halls, Sonco observed the surroundings. Truly as expected. While the outside had been as luxurious and pointlessly opulent as any other inner city mansion, the inside could only be described as pitiable.

Only the barest of furniture filled the rooms, to make sure they could provide basic use, while the walls were left blank, with none of the decoration one could expect from a lord’s home. Entire rooms rooms were left empty, serving no function but to inflate the outside appearance of the complex. No servants could be found in the large halls, with dust quietly gathering in the corners. None of this was too surprising to Sonco.

After all, House Rubria had never been known for its wealth. Not to mention, as one of the northernmost provinces of Medala, they were engaged in constant battle with the barbarians from the northern mountains. Once again, they had reached the end of winter, the time in which the bearded hordes would make their way down from their forts and seek their luck within the abundance of Yakuallpa.

It was unsurprising that the impoverished house would only spare the bare minimum of their already strained treasury to keep up appearances in the capital. It was just as unsurprising that Lord Rubria had been a firm supporter of Prince Amautu.

After all, it had been the second prince who had promised to create a northern trade network to connect the two great seas. In his plans, the Rubria territory of Yahuarra would play a crucial role, since the experienced troops of the lord would be necessary to defend the caravans to the south from bandits and barbarians. Thus, Amautu had promised ample funding for House Rubria, to build up their armies and compensate their losses.

Finally the Rubria estate would move up from among the weakest and poorest of the houses. Finally, they could raise their heads in pride and face all other lords of Medala as equals. This had been the reason Corco had been suspicious of their motives. On the surface, they had nothing to gain from switching sides. However, Sonco had a tendency to see the good in people, and the feisty Callo Rubria had always been a man after his own heart. At least he would hear them out on what they had to say.

Sonco had attempted to start a conversation with their guide multiple times, but the curt warrior had always cut the talks short. Thus, after minutes of silent march, they finally reached the center of the mansion. There, they found what might have been the only well-decorated room in the entire Rubria mansion.

To their feet lay a thick, soft rug made from alpaca wool. A comfortable looking set of furniture was placed around a fireplace, the glowing warmth and soft cracking of the wood inviting them for a seat. Even against the bright backdrop, Sonco could recognize the sturdy silhouette of Lord Rubria sitting in a chair by the hearth.

Evening had long come and with the darkness, cold had spread as well. Sonco moved in closer, to warm himself up and make sure his host would see him before they gave their greetings. Only a few steps away from the seated lord, a gust of wind, lost in the corridors and halls, had found its way into the room and towards the flames. Brought to life, the fires rose and revealed what the night had hidden.

"Divines be with us," Sonco mumbled as he stared down onto the corpse.

There Lord Callo Rubria sat, slumped into his chair. His body was covered in wounds over and over. The experienced warrior must have put up the fight of his life, but had finally succumbed to his foes as the loss of blood had sapped away his famous strength.

After a second between confusion, pity and sadness, Sonco’s mind went alert. The governor spun around as he drew his hand ax to face the false servant who had brought them here. He was pleased to see that Fadelio had done the same. Two against one, and his companion was an accomplished warrior as well. Whoever had organized this attack, whatever they had planned, he wouldn’t make it easy for them.

The servant seemed unperturbed by his disadvantage. All he offered in response was a mocking smile. He already held a dagger in his hand, drawn while Sonco had been distracted with his find, but rather than face his foes, he put the weapon to his own neck.

"Everlasting glory to the united lands of Sachay!"

Following the man’s mad scream, warm blood spurted across the room and onto Sonco’s hand and chest. The lunatic had cut his own throat. Quick witted, Fadelio ran up to the downed opponent. He would be worth more alive. However, the attendant’s attempt would be in vain.

"The wound is deep. He can’t be saved anymore. Lord Saqartu, we should leave. Now."

"Yes, let us..."

Halfway through his answer and already turned towards the exit, Sonco caught something in the corner of his eye, from outside he window. Around the mansion, he could see a bright, flickering glow. Fire! Someone had ignited the entire mansion around them!

With frantic thought, Sonco searched for a way out, but a series of sharp bangs interrupted his attempt.

Sonco knew that sound, like dozens of fire crackers had gone off all at once. He had heard it back at the banquet, when Corco’s devils had mowed down the Ichilia troops. Fadelio stood up from the corpse and put down the visor of his heavy iron helmet. Sonco tightened the grip on his trusty ax.

They were trapped.

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