Empire of Avarice (4 page)

Teduskis stepped forward. “If I may, your majesty?”

“Of course, Teduskis. Please speak.”

“Thank you.” The retainer pointed at the terrain to the
west. Mountains, passes, valleys and winding rivers. “Ambush country. Our
forces stick rigidly to the foot soldier. Non-mounted, slow, and an easy
target. We must find another way of fighting them.”

Voices vented their disapproval. Astiras slammed a fist
into the tabletop. “Enough! I have decided it. We will train our garrisons –
all of them – in different ways of fighting. I want you to return to your
units, and plan for new ways of fighting. I want your suggestions sent here
within twenty days. Yes, yes, I know, it’s hard to come up with new ways of
fighting when we have a tradition of using foot infantry, but against the Tybar
it has been proved useless. I want units to shoot arrows, be able to withdraw,
reform, return, adapt. How, we have yet to work out, but we must do it. Got
it?”

“Yes, your majesty,” they answered, some not liking it
one bit, he could see.

“Good. Now, to the north of Niake, there is Lodria, up
in arms in rebellion. They back one of the traitorous Fokis family that held
the throne a few years ago. They’ll be the first to be forced back under our
rule. My son, Jorqel is on the border here,” he jabbed a stubby finger down on
a spot close to a river that marked the border between the provinces of Lodria
and Bathenia, the province Niake was in. “He has the imperial army with him and
as we speak a message is on the way to him, telling him not only is he now heir
to the throne, but he’s to march his army to the fortress of Slenna and take
it, even if it takes a few years. Starve them out.”

The Council members nodded. It made sense. One of them
waved a hand at the area not too far from where he was seated, to the other
side of the sea. “And here in the east? How are things in Pelponia and Makenia?
Last I heard they were still loyal.”

“They still are,” Astiras nodded. “The new governor of
Makenia, Thetos, by now will have taken control of Turslenka there,” he pointed
to the capital of the province of Makenia, “and he happens to be a former army
friend of mine, until he got wounded in Bragal and was retired from active
duty. Now he runs Makenia, and will follow my command. Then to the north, up in
Pelponia, we have the fortress of Kornith. An important place, it has control
of the seas to the north and beyond that to the east. The former governor there
met with an unfortunate end a few sevandays back.” He turned to Teduskis. “Who’s
running the fortress now?”

“Captain Anthes. He’s a good man. He’ll do what you
command, sire.”

“Good. Well, apart from far-off Zipria, that island
province far to the west, that’s what we have. We’re surrounded by enemies
either past or present – and maybe future. They’ll all be impatient in
dismembering what’s left of our empire, but I’m damned if their avarice is
going to destroy us. Maybe one day we’ll be strong enough again to stand eye to
eye with them and tell them to run back to their kennels.”

The men nodded; it was good to have an emperor at last
who talked tough. The previous few had talked a lot before gaining the throne
but once there had clung to power for power’s sake and neglected what lay
outside the palace. There was much more to being an emperor than just being an
emperor.

“What about the rebellion on Romos?” another asked,
pointing at a small diamond shaped island off the coast of Lodria. “My family
has estates there and the governor has declared for himself and set up an
independent government. He refuses to deal with Kastania anymore.”

Astiras nodded. “When the time comes, Romos will be
brought back into imperial rule. No disrespect intended but Romos is a small
province; I wish to settle the bigger ones first before having the luxury of
sorting the rebellion out on Romos.” He looked over the map. To the east stood
the kingdoms of Venn, Mazag and Zilcia, three kingdoms who had all profited
from the decade of strife within Kastania’s borders. Province after province
had been gobbled up by the three, but only when it had become clear the empire
hadn’t the ability to hold onto them. Their once mighty army had withered away
in the face of foreign aggression and petty civil war. So now they could only
field a few hundred men whereas in the past thousands had flocked under one
banner.

“We must be wary of our three neighbours. The princess
here is going to seek an alliance with Mazag, the least aggressive of the
three. I worry though about Venn. They have gained the most and are the most
warlike of them all. Their recent gains at our expense will no doubt encourage
them to further acts of conquest. Our eastern borders must be protected. Send
messages to Kornith and Turslenka to keep patrols up along the Pindar Mountains
there,” he waved at a range of mountains that now formed the frontier between
imperial territory and those of Venn. Only a few years before the mountains had
been deep within the empire. “If Venn invades, it will be through there.”

His eye moved to the west. The west. It was always the
west trouble came from. So it had been throughout the empire’s thousand year
history. “In time, we will move against the tribes of Tybar and retake that
which is rightfully ours. The lost provinces there do not belong to those
barbaric murderers. The Tybar will not move yet; they are busy extending their
hold on those provinces they have recently conquered from us. And like all
barbarians, it’s far easier to be on the move and strike where and when you
will, but it’s something entirely different when you have towns and cities to
defend and a static line to hold. Perhaps we will now have the advantage.”

One of the men, an elderly, rough looking man, pointed
to the far south west. “And the rebels in Taboz? It threw off imperial
allegiance two years ago. We need to bring it back into our realm, your
majesty.”

“Taboz can wait,” Astiras said. “We don’t have the
manpower to cover that as well. All we can do, gentlemen, is to hold onto what
we have and send the field army into one place at a time.” He looked at the
marker that had been placed on the map for the field army – a purple and white
flag on top of a figure of an armoured knight. He wondered if his son would do
what was expected of him. He damned well hoped so.

The wind blew gently through the hair of Jorqel Koros. A
tall, upright figure of a man, dark haired, bearded, with a strong square jaw,
he looked the part of a general. Although young to command the imperial field
army, it was something he felt he was born to do. He had been lucky to have had
a father such as Astiras, who had made sure that, besides the usual courtly
education all members of the imperial nobility received, he also got a good
martial one too. That was something many families these days sadly neglected. They
fought with words, not swords. All very well in the court, but when you’re
facing an enemy intent on pillaging your towns, raping your women – and men in
some cases – and taking everything you had, then you had to meet them with
steel.

He stood on the edge of a hillock, facing east, allowing
the breeze to ruffle his hair and to watch as the blood red sun rose over the
distant Aester Sea, a glittering expanse of water that separated the empire
into its two halves. He breathed in deeply. He felt good. The omens were good. Some
of those with him had worried unduly over the past few days about events in the
capital, Kastan, but Jorqel had no fears. If something had gone wrong, he’d’ve
felt it.

He turned to the men who stood close by, waiting on his
command. “A new day, a new era, gentlemen,” he said calmly. “If events go as I
believe, then a message will arrive today from Kastan and my father. We must be
ready to move. Go prepare the men.”

The men bowed and turned away to attend their various
duties. One remained, a heavily armoured, sword-carrying man who looked as if
he’d been hewn out of granite. “More practice today, General?”

“Practice, practice, practice,” Jorqel muttered testily.
“No, Gavan, no practice today. Make sure the chargers are fed and watered and
that the supplies are stored tidily on the wagons. I have a feeling in my bones
we’re going to be moving. We’ve tarried here for too long.”

“Very good, sir. Where do you think we’ll be going?”

“Probably north, though don’t count on not getting an
order to move west. I like the thought of testing the army against some Tybar
canines. About time we gave them a sound beating.”

“With only five hundred and eighty men? Hardly a force
of conquest, is it, sir?”

“It’s all we have, Gavan. We have inherited what our
predecessors left after squandering the biggest army in the known world. Fools.
Quality endures; no matter we’re a tiny force now, we can beat enemies twice
our number, eh?”

“Of course, sir!” Gavan nodded, then left to pass on
Jorqel’s orders. Jorqel sighed at the back of the bodyguard. These men all had
faith in him to bring them a victory. Such responsibility. What did he have? A
troop of the imperial bodyguard, with their armoured chargers. Shock troops,
but ones to use only in an emergency. Lose them and you lose your most
effective weapon. Other than that, he had two companies of spear infantry, the
backbone of imperial armies these days, and two companies of the elite imperial
archers. Archery was a feared weapon and the empire had prided itself on
developing very highly trained archers. Because of the lack of money to train a
large sword carrying infantry pool, they had relied more and more recently on
cheaper spearmen, designed to hold an enemy along their front while the archers
picked off the opposition at arm’s length, or send cavalry in to hit them on
the flanks or behind. Poor souls, they were merely arrow fodder. But he’d
trained them and trained them, taught them how to stand and face charging
cavalry, how to turn in a moment, how to fight a withdrawal, how to form
circles and so on. They may be arrow fodder, but they were damned well trained
ones.

He looked around at the camp below him. A large circle,
a sea of tents. Men were rousing themselves, ready to eat their breakfast or to
perform their morning ablutions. Those on guard duty were yawning and stamping
their feet restlessly. They’d done their bit through the dark of the night, and
now were looking forward to filling their bellies and having a rest. Jorqel
smiled and looked away, back to the east, over the rolling terrain to the distant
glittering sea. He’d trained the men hard, but he felt it had been worth it. They
were more confident now, and once more were taking pride in their profession. Under
most of the recent emperors and their courts, the military had been looked down
upon and allowed to wither. An absurd policy, Jorqel thought to himself. When
the army was the only thing that kept the empire safe, why neglect it?

Recent courts had put more emphasis on the law, or
merchant classes. Jorqel snorted in disgust. What was the point in putting time
and effort into those things if the very fabric of the state was allowed to
rot? Senior members of the military had been derided and over taxed, and
starved of funds to allow them to train men. So now the army was a shadow of
its former self. The stupid thing was that these very same emperors and courts
then blamed the army for the shortcomings and cut them even more. Every defeat
was blamed on the army and their leaders, even though they were fighting with
inferior numbers and equipment. Generals were fired if they protested, and so
the senior echelons of the military had become staffed by court toadies and
sycophants who had absolutely no strategic or tactical knowledge.

What that had done was to create an arm of society
almost universally mocked and derided. But one good thing had come of it; it
had allowed people like Jorqel and his father to raise small well trained units
to rout the rebel forces in the recent civil war, and so that finally there had
been no force left to face them. Not that the court was unduly worried, they
had blithely carried on as usual, not caring that there were now no longer any
units left to stop anyone marching on the capital. All they cared for was to
make money and to enforce the law for law’s sake. Jorqel’s lips twisted in
contempt. Bureaucrats. How he hated them! About time the lawyers learned that
they administered the law, not made it. If his father had indeed seized power
as had been planned, then now he would be starting to change all that. It just
remained for the messenger to bring him the first imperial order under his
father’s regime. Now it would be the merchants who got taxed, rather than given
tax avoidance permits from emperors who came from that class or had family
interests in trade. For the first time in decades, a military family had made a
bid for the throne. And if it had succeeded, then may the heavens help those
blood suckers.

Jorqel took one last look at the eastern horizon,
stretched, then turned about and walked back to camp, escorted by two stern
looking men, members of his personal bodyguard.

____

The coronation had gone well, as expected, and Astiras
had been crowned in the High Temple by Gaurel Burnas. There had been little in
the way of pomp and ceremony however, for Astiras had announced there was
little in the treasury and spending it on unnecessary ceremony was uncalled
for, especially in the new era of austerity he had just announced. The people
hadn’t liked that piece of news, for they now feared more taxes, taxes that had
been put upon them more and more in recent years. What these taxes had gone
into paying for was actually more expenditure in the upper reaches of society,
more luxuries for the top few court members, palace officials, merchants and
lawyers.

Astiras had called for a meeting in the throne room in
the early evening after the coronation. All the top officials had been ordered
– not requested – to attend. Astiras now sat on the throne, flanked by smaller
chairs. One was for the empress, Isbel, the other supposed to be for the heir,
but as he was not there, Amne had been allowed to sit in his place. She was
pouting a little; her new clothes had still not been made, and her father had
warned her there was little in the treasury to spend on luxuries like that. She
would be given an allowance, and could spend out of that, but if she spent it
all quickly, then she would have to go without for the rest of the next
sevenday or so.

The throne room was filling up; people thronged the
chamber around the edges, leaving a clear place in front of the throne. Nobody
had the courage to get that close to the new emperor. The chamber was huge,
running the length of fifty chargers at least, and the width was perhaps a
quarter of that. The middle part of the floor was covered in a thick red carpet
that ran from the entryway, a pair of ornate gold leafed doors, all the way to
the steps that led up to the dais the throne was placed upon. Behind the throne
were screens, all of beautifully painted wood and decorated with hunting scenes
and murals of the glorious past of the empire. People could stand behind these
screens and peer out through the many small holes in them, and see the room
beyond yet not be seen themselves.

To either side of the carpet the floor was decorated in
colourful mosaics, and two parallel rows of pillars ran down the room, one
either side of the carpet, which supported the huge roof which was lost in the
gloom. Stout beams of wood could be seen holding it up, these beams in turn
resting upon the upper portions of the columns; it was wonderfully balanced, so
that the weight of one beam countered the weight of another. The faint smell of
wax permeated the chamber; servants had been busy polishing the wood that
morning.

One immense coloured glass window stood above the dais
where the chamber ended, and the fading day outside cast its dying glow through
the glass. Illumination was also being provided by countless candles and
torches.

Standing to one side of the emperor was High Cleric
Burnas, and on the other side Teduskis stood, sword in scabbard, watching each
and every person arriving and taking up a place so as to hear what was to be
said. Only the carpet was being kept clear, and members of the palace guard
ensured this. One could arrive and depart via the carpeted area, but one could
not remain standing there.

Finally the doors were closed by guards and the emperor
stood, his sword also in his scabbard, just to remind everyone that he was a
soldier-emperor. He fixed a stern gaze on the assembled group in front of him. Merchants,
lawyers, court attendants, scribes, officials, civil servants, officers. All
those who were needed to run the empire. All those who were needed to be given
the proper instructions to run the empire properly. Astiras grimaced, then
cleared his throat. “People of Kastan, we are about to enter a new age. A new
age in the history of Kastania that generations to come will remember with
fondness, with pride, with gratitude. Yesterday the era of retreat ended, and
today marks the start of the fight back!”

He swung his gaze across the assembled people there. Many
were still waiting for words that meant something certain to them; they didn’t
want rhetoric. “Yesterday we examined the imperial treasury,” he paused, his
own anger at the terrible state of the finances still bubbling away under the
surface, “and we found that unless we stopped spending money on useless and
pointless projects at once, then there would be no money left to spend on the
important things for the rest of the year.”

Heads turned to look at each other. Behind and to the
right of Astiras Isbel shifted in her seat. The lack of money had been
reluctantly revealed by Frendicus and a couple of tired looking assistants that
morning. Where previously there had been hundreds of thousands of furims – the
gold coin standard used by the known world as well as their own regional
coinage systems – there were now merely 5,000. The army had to be paid; the
infrastructure had to be maintained, such as the road system or water supplies;
wages for civil servants had to be found.

Astrias continued. “As head of state I will be setting
an example to everyone. From now on there will be no overspending. No
expenditure on frivolous items. And as a result, I do not expect to see any
different from any of you. If I do see displays of wealth or other such
ostentatious vulgar displays in public, be rest assured that Frendicus here and
his army of tax collectors will be paying you a visit!”

There was a heavy silence in the chamber. People were
looking at each other in dismay. Frendicus, standing a little distance off to
the emperor’s left, rocked on his heels for a moment, pleased that he had been
given more power by the new emperor. His tax collectors would soon be flooding
out from the palace treasury to claw money from those able to pay, rather than
spending and wasting their time rummaging round the houses and pockets of those
unable to.

“Furthermore,” Astiras now switched his gaze to the
wealthy looking merchants gathered in a group to the right. “Those tax exemptions
granted to various persons and institutions in this city are at an end.” The
chamber exploded into noisy protest.

Astiras drew his sword and stepped forward to the edge
of the dais. “Silence!”

The sound faded and a sea of faces turned to him. The emperor
placed the tip of his sword on the ground and leaned on it gently. “I do not
want to hear of any excuse about not being able to pay. I do not want to hear
any excuse about prior privileges. Those are at an end. Each and every business
will be assessed thoroughly and ordered to pay whatever tax is fair. What is
not fair is that the poor in this empire are expected to pay their taxes while
you wallow in your wealth and bribe your way to exemption!” He stared at them,
red-faced in indignant fury. “Your greed and stupid selfishness endangers this
empire, and as emperor I take that as a direct attack on me and my realm. And
if that is so, I will take that as an act of war! And that,” he whirled on a
surprised High Cleric, “includes the temples and priests!”