Empire of Avarice (12 page)

“Already we have taken steps to take care of the heir to
the throne, and once this has been achieved we can strike here against Astiras
and the rest of his odious family. What we will need is for you to employ
people to be ready to take the place of anyone who supports the Koros when the
time comes. But we also need to agree on a replacement emperor before we can
proceed with any further plan. There are two families whom appear to be
eligible to provide a replacement emperor, and it is from one of these which we
must agree on a candidate tonight. Each family must decide if they are ready to
back us, or if they are too afraid to join our cause, or that they feel they do
not have the right man to step into the void.”

“Then it has to be from our family.” The speaker, Ebril
Kanzet, was a dark complexioned man of sturdy physique and a background of both
military and judicial affairs.
He could reasonably be regarded as a good candidate for the throne. “I would
like you all to consider me. I know the army, I served in the east until Epros
was lost.” The others nodded. The Kanzet had been strong in Epros until it had
revolted and been lost seven years before.

“I have no objection,” Cledin replied, “but what of you
others?”

A man with dark, curled hair stood up. He had a beaked
nose and dark, inquisitive eyes. “I represent the Duras family. We would be
interested but we have reservations in your ability to carry this plan through.
Already your intentions have become known to the Koros. Your first meeting was
a disaster, was it not? One of those who went there was arrested and told Koros
everything!”

“That was unfortunate – and a little careless, yes. Fortunately
the others who went to that meeting avoided arrest and are now safely out of
Kastan. We are much more careful, as you have seen,” Cledin indicated a guard
standing at the exit.

“That is true,” the Duras family representative
conceded, “but we would prefer to deal with this upstart general sooner rather
than later. We have a number of former soldiers in our pay – mostly the
soldiers who were disbanded a few sevendays ago – and we are ready to strike
against the Koros. Should you manage to dispose of the heir, then we will throw
our support behind you. Otherwise count us out; we have no wish to be part of a
bungled conspiracy. We shall strike of our own accord, and if we succeed we may
well choose our own candidate.”

“You would lose more should we succeed and you not be
part of our movement,” Cledin advised softly.

“Threatening my family is not a good idea, Fokis.”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, one of the
others cleared his throat. “I think we should vote on the candidate to take
Koros’ place as emperor. At least then we would have a figurehead to rally to,
and have a common cause to support.”

Cledin nodded gratefully to the speaker. “Well put,
Thesan Lazisk. May I have a show of hands in support of Ebril Kanzet to replace
Astiras Koros as emperor?”

Hands went up. After a pause, even the Duras family
representative joined in. It was unanimous. Cledin beamed. “Very well; once the
vile emperor’s son is disposed of, we will herald Ebril as emperor and march on
the palace. I shall put into place a plan to have people on the inside to open
the doors and to kill specific persons that will ensure our success. Not even a
soldier such as Astiras will be able to deal with that!”

The day had been hot and tiring, and now the army
gratefully threw itself down by the roadside to rest. Night was coming and camp
had to be made before the soldiers could relax and cook supper. Jorqel climbed
stiffly off his charger and wiped his forehead. He was wet with sweat and glad
to have halted.

They’d been through another village and the occupants
there had been less friendly, but they had agreed to send their tithe to Jorqel
after a bit of persuasion. The prince wondered what kind of reception the next
village would bring. The closer they got to Slenna the more surly the folk
became. Rebellion was a sickness that needed to be stamped out. This fool in
Slenna would be dealt with and made an example of.

Gavan stretched and sighed noisily. He looked up into
the darkening sky and inhaled deeply. “Good to be here in the summer. Very
different to Bragal in winter, isn’t it?” Then, remembering who he was talking
to, hastily adding, “sire.”

Jorqel nodded. He’d done one campaign season there, and
it had been hard. The winters were savage and the populace hostile and
menacing. Even the animals were nasty. “We’ve got some hard work to do first
before we can relax, Gavan. This province is tired of civil war; they wish to
be left to grow their crops, to tend their animals, to sell their wares, to
build their lives. You can see it in their faces. Our presence here is just a
reminder of the troubles they’ve had in the last few years. We need to show
them we’re their protectors, not their oppressors.”

“Not an easy task, given we have to smash the rebellion
in Slenna, sire.”

“I predict many of the rebels form the garrison. We’ll
be fighting people trained similarly to us and using the same weapons and
tactics.”

“But not as experienced, sire. We have veterans of the
Bragal War; whereas they are provincial garrison troops. Untried, unbloodied.”

“You speak the truth, Gavan. The men - are they
confident? Do we need to train them more?”

Gavan shrugged. “They are in good spirits, but once the
summer fades and we have to endure yet another winter in the field, we’ll find
out for sure. Do you think Slenna will fall easily, sire?”

“That I do not know. I have never been here before. I’m
told Slenna has wooden walls and a wooden castle. Not all that strong. But we
do not have any siege equipment, so I suspect we’ll have to starve them out.”

“Would that be a worry, sire?” Gavan asked, a smile
across his face.

“No,” Jorqel answered in kind. He looked at the men
digging the ditch to mark the camp’s perimeter, and at those erecting tents and
building fires. “Such a small number of men with such a large responsibility.”

Gavan looked at the men, too. He said nothing. He was
confident they would do their task. Even though they numbered less than six
hundred, they should be better than what awaited them ahead at Slenna.

For Isbel, the palace slowly took on the appearance of a
home over the next few sevendays or so. More people they approved of and
selected from the many applicants who wished to work there were taken on, and
those they thought sympathised with the previous regime released.

One of the new arrivals was Vosgaris Taboz. He’d finally
decided that being captain of the Palace Guard was preferable to that of town
guard captain, particularly when Teduskis had begun to recruit a new army to
take part in the new campaign in Bragal. The very name sent shudders down his
spine. He left the chaotic world of the barracks and found himself in a more
serene, controlled environment.

Isbel took on the task of teaching him his duties. Astiras
was happy for her to do so, having the typical regular army attitude that the
palace guard were toy soldiers and not to be taken seriously. Isbel didn’t want
him upsetting the new captain, especially as he looked absurdly young, although
he did insist he was eighteen and old enough.

When she wasn’t showing Vosgaris his duties and
functions, she handled the letters sent to the palace. Once the entire empire
realised they had – yet again – a new emperor, letters of congratulations and
appeals came to them from the provinces. There were even letters from those
areas not currently under imperial control but which had been, until recently. It
seemed there were still plenty of supporters in the rebellious areas who wished
for a return to imperial rule, no matter who was on the throne.

Isbel realised she would have to employ scribes and
secretaries to handle the correspondence. The sticking point was affordability;
she approached Frendicus who told her there was precious little available for
salaries since much of what there was had gone into the military pot. She would
have to wait until the tax collectors had gone out, collected what was due, and
the coming year’s expenses calculated. Only then they would know what was in
the treasury and what could be afforded.

The other worry on the horizon was her husband’s very
public announcement that he was to lead a new army into Bragal to end the
uprising there. Since the withdrawal of the army in the early part of the year,
Bragal had almost assumed the role of an independent nation. They had even
begun to send out ambassadors to other kingdoms trying to secure trade deals
and recognition. What Mazag and Venn, the two other nations bordering Bragal,
thought, was not known. Both would probably prefer to own Bragal than see it
rise as a new nation.

Isbel knew he would be gone before the end of the year
and in his absence she would need to run the empire from the palace. So there
had to be in place some sort of structure to enable her to manage affairs. Her
consistent appeals to him to include her in matters of state were met with firm
rejections at first, but finally she persuaded Frendicus and Pepil to support
her and their voices added to the pressure to allow Isbel access to the council
meetings.

One newcomer was of interest; the released prisoner
Sereth, a counsel of some skill and experience. Once he’d assured her that he
was loyal to the new regime who, after all, had released him from an unjust
period of captivity, and that he knew the intricacies of palace politics, Isbel
took him under her wing and kept him close to her. This was partly due to her
not wishing to let him out of her sight, as she didn’t entirely trust the oily
smiling man, but also partly because she wanted such a man working for her and
nobody else.

Sereth was introduced to the other members of the
Council, Frendicus, Pepil, Vosgaris, Amne and Astiras. Isbel now had an
overwhelming number of people hectoring Astiras to allow her in on the meetings
and Astiras grudgingly gave in. Amne was after all a member, so it couldn’t be
argued that because Isbel was a woman she couldn’t be allowed in.

The Council met every other day or daily if an emergency
arose. At the meetings, which usually lasted the entire morning, all the issues
of the last few days were aired and discussed. Each member presented a list of
issues they wished to be talked about, and they would then thrash them out in
turn. Some needed just a few moments to discuss while others took quite some
time.

Astiras was chairman, as was expected, and Pepil the
minute taker. Frendicus was there because as the chief finance minister he
would need to veto anything that proved too expensive. Amne was representing
the diplomatic office while Vosgaris was there as internal security minister, a
post that came with being captain of the Palace Guard. Sereth was surprised to
see how few people there were, an indication that things had changed in the
time he’d been imprisoned. Astiras informed the newcomer that as the empire had
shrank so much in the last few years and costs had to be cut, he’d got rid of
all the unnecessary people who didn’t seem to represent anything. The other
cost cutting exercise he’d performed a few days ago was to get rid of the
bloated look of the various palace offices, reducing their numbers down to the
bare minimum. Both Pepil and Frendicus looked aggrieved but Frendicus had been
reminded, quite forcefully, that he ought to know better as finance minister
that it was just not sensible financially to retain staff in such numbers when
they could do the job more efficiently with fewer people.

The end result was that nearly a hundred officials had
been told they had to leave the palace. That had caused a huge row and the
palace guard had to intervene to eject some of the more aggressive of the
dismissed staff. One positive result had been Teduskis taking on thirty of them
into the new army. They’d been faced with little choice; either join the army
and earn a decent wage, or probably starve along with their families.

The remainder had been given a choice of accepting lower
paid jobs cleaning the streets, working in one of the lower menial occupations
in sanitation, the city watch or in repairing the roads and buildings and so
on, or finding a job themselves. With little chance of the latter, these
scribes and civil servants mostly took whatever jobs were offered. But they
were not a happy lot.

“We’ve lost a lot of good staff,” Pepil complained as
the Council meeting got under way, “and I fear the efficiency of the palace
will be affected.”

“Nonsense, Pepil,” Astiras wagged a finger at the man. “There
just isn’t the work for all those who were working in your offices and you know
it. If things improve, then yes we can recall these people. Most of them were sitting
around doing little other than discuss the weather or what their children did
yesterday. I won’t pay them to do that!”

“With just fifteen staff, how can you run the palace effectively?”
Pepil whined.

“Hard work, Pepil. You and your staff have grown soft. We’re
not going to solve our problems by sitting on our bottoms and complaining; hard
work is what’s needed. We need to be leaner and meaner.” He smiled at his
inventiveness. Isbel, sat alongside him, winced.

“Don’t be surprised, your majesty, if things take longer
to do and are not done properly, that’s all I’ll say.”

“If they do, then we’ll get rid of those working in your
offices and replace them with the first fifteen we let go.” Astiras smiled at
Pepil but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And if these fifteen don’t improve matters
then you should expect to be the next to be dismissed.”

“Your majesty,” Pepil bowed his head in submission.

In the awkward silence that followed, Sereth cleared his
throat. “Ah, now I think we ought to direct our attention to our lack of funds.
How do we ensure that trade comes in and goes out? With five provinces this is
somewhat reduced from the time I was last here.”

“Taxation,” Frendicus began. “The fastest and most
guaranteed method of obtaining funds.”

“But not popular with the masses,” Sereth folded his
hands across his stomach. He was disappointed that it was nowhere near the
girth it had been before his imprisonment, but perhaps a few bouts of dedicated
feasting might readdress that situation. “Never a popular move and any new
regime should look to reduce taxes and tithes.”

“Which we cannot really indulge in,” Astiras countered,
“unless we stop spending anything. We must be seen to repair roads and
buildings; they’ve been allowed to rot.”

“The corrupt practices of paying to avoid taxation are
being tackled,” Pepil said. “We know who they are.” He smiled apologetically. “I
had to – accept – these ‘gifts’ under instruction from your predecessor, sire,”
he bowed. “But we are noting down who these people were and Frendicus and his
office will soon be armed with this knowledge to start collecting back taxes.”

“Less the bribe money?” Sereth asked.

“Excuse me?” Astiras frowned.

“Bribe money,” Sereth smiled smoothly. “That could be
argued as taxation. Money paid to the governing body is a taxation, whether it
be from income or not. Some who have paid these bribes may argue these were
taxes and should not be asked to pay that amount again.”

“Are gifts taxed?” Isbel asked.

“No,” Frendicus answered. “Gifts are voluntary and
consequently not included in taxation.”

“There you are then,” Astiras pounced. “They bribed a
government to exempt themselves illegally from taxation, gifting certain
members of the government. They’ll have to pay up.”

“It could also be argued,” Sereth said loudly, then
softened his voice, “that those who received the bribe should pay a tax, as
this is income. Are all receipts of wealth taxable?”

Frendicus paused, then nodded sharply.

Sereth looked pleased with himself. “Therefore the
treasury is owed a fairly large amount from this income.”

Eyes turned to Pepil who gave Sereth the benefit of a
hostile glare. Astiras raised his eyebrows. “Pepil?”

“The money was shared between the emperor and his
family,” Pepil growled. “We saw none of it, I can assure you.”

“And they are all dead,” Astrias said. “Therefore that
line of enquiry can be ended.”

Isbel caught the exchange of looks between Sereth and
Pepil. Neither seemed to like the other. Something to watch indeed. She knew
there was no point in approaching her husband over this as he wouldn’t be
interested. But as the emperor’s substitute when he would be absent, she would
watch and deal with it as she saw fit.

“Trade is also an important means of getting income,”
Sereth said. “Duty on imports and so forth brings much needed income to the
treasury. We should take steps to ensure this occurs.”

 “Frendicus?” Astiras turned to the financier.

“We have no existing trade agreements with anyone. Mazag
won’t send anyone through Bragal as long as the insurrection is going on, and
Venn is concentrating on building up its new bases on Cratia and in Kral. Perhaps
they will be open to a trade agreement in a short while.” Frendicus sighed. “Nothing
from the Tybar, of course. They aren’t interested in trade; they take.”

“And we have the regions lost to civil war,” Sereth
added. “Lodria, Epros and Romos to name but three.”

“Lodria will be pacified before long,” Astiras
predicted. “My son is there with the army. We will declare officially that it
is our intention to return Lodria to the empire and that those who oppose such
a move are traitors.”

Vosgaris nodded. “And Bragal?”

“We should be more cautious towards Bragal,” Sereth
said. “Lodria is Kastanian through and through, but the Bragal people are not
Kastanian.”

“What difference does that make, counsel?” Astiras
asked.

“Other nations may accuse us of suppressing a foreign
people. A foreign people moreover who have made huge efforts in obtaining
independence from us.”

“Bragal has been Kastanian since the empire was founded seven
hundred years ago out of the chaos of the old empire breaking in two, and
before that it was part of the old empire for another three hundred. A thousand
years!” Astiras glared at the council member.

“Things change, sire,” Sereth smiled easily. “The Bragal
people were not there a thousand years ago; they migrated from the south west
into the region.”

“So what?” Astiras snapped. “They want to live there –
fine! But they don’t come here and then want to take it for themselves! They
can go elsewhere.”

“It’s their home now, sire,” Sereth pointed out.

“And they can live there, as I said,” Astiras replied,
“and live as freely as they like, provided,” he jabbed a finger into the
tabletop, “that they pay their taxes to us and respect our right to continue to
rule that region! I will not stand for any part of our empire being invaded by
a foreign people who then demand that those parts they settle in no longer form
part of it!”

“It’s happened to the west; the Tybar now control much
of what was the empire,” Sereth said mildly.

“And we will take it back in time!” Astiras shouted. “We
just haven’t got the military strength to tackle both at the same time! Once
Bragal is subdued then we can turn on the Tybar.”

“If this is your avowed policy, sire, then it is
essential we secure alliances and trade deals with the east,” Sereth said.

“Princess Amne here is shortly to travel to Mazag to
seek such an agreement, Counsel, rest assured. I am not going to subject this
empire to a war we cannot win,” Astiras promised.