Empire of Avarice (63 page)

Astiras stood, leaned forward and pointed to a far away
large dot with the words just legible to Argan. Kastan. It was so small in such
a vast map. He was shocked. He thought Kastan to be the biggest place in the
world, but it was so tiny! Astiras tapped him on the shoulder and put his
finger to his lips. Argan nodded and sat back, unable to take his eyes off the
map. He would memorise all the places and speak to Mr Sen about them. He wanted
to know everything. Off to the far left the table had a row of large bumps and
they seemed to be a range of mountains. He would have to ask what they were and
what lay beyond. Surely the world didn’t end there!

The door shut and the guards took up their places around
the room. Vosgaris strode around, scowling, making sure nobody was in the wrong
place. Astiras stood again and planted his fists on the map. “So, here we are,
in Counsel. It has been called by Vitlis Duras. As per the traditions of
Counsel, Lord Duras will now set out his reasons in calling us together.”

He sat down heavily, scowling even more than Vosgaris. The
Captain of the guard had stopped behind the rising Vitlis, somewhat
fortunately, or maybe not so fortunately. Duras eyed the hostile expression on
Vosgaris’ face. “I do not wish to sound confrontational but can you remove your
captain to a more agreeable distance?”

Astrias flicked a finger and Vosgaris stepped away, one
hand on his sword hilt. His body language was clearly telling the Duras member
to behave – or else. Vitlis nodded and then looked around at the sea of faces
all looking at him. “I challenge the authority of Astiras Koros and in fact the
entire Koros regime. I do not agree with their policies and they certainly do
not correspond with the future well-being of my House. Neither, as we have now
heard, do the Koros stand for the honour and integrity of Kastania. Tybar have
deliberately insulted our empire and yet our esteemed emperor,” and Vitlis
waved a heavy hand towards the seated emperor, his words dripping with
contempt, “has chosen to take the insult and crawl to a people who have clearly
in the past disregarded our territories, people and customs. He would rather
wage an expensive and pointless war in Bragal, naturally, as his family estates
are in Bragal. He puts his own House before the empire’s reputation.”

Some heads nodded while others scoffed and snorted in
disgust.

Isbel was sat rigid and pale, even paler than her
make-up’s tone. Argan sat waiting, not understanding fully the scarred man’s
words, but he knew that this man didn’t like his father. Suddenly Argan felt
all protective towards Astiras. His father was emperor! This man was not a nice
man. He was horrible and ugly. He must be a baddie.

Astiras sighed and looked at the men to left and right. “Any
of you wish to expand on Lord Duras’ fantasies?”

A couple chuckled. Another man stood. “I think there is
merit in Lord Duras’ words. Your majesty spends funds on keeping the army in
Bragal while fails to put right the deficiency in local funds so that roads are
not repaired, public buildings continue to crumble and weeds infest those
places people and trade once walked.”

“I see, Lord Kanzet. You have an example, of course?”
Astiras sounded bored.

Lord Kanzet looked at the Fokis and Duras House members,
then sucked in a deep breath. “Makenia has terrible roads. The province is a
nightmare to traverse.”

“I agree with you, Lord Kanzet,” Astiras said. “But we
diverted funds for building up the port of Kalkos to enable trade to flow into
Makenia.”

“Which is unable to do,” Vitlis Duras snapped.

“Only because your son is there stopping our trade,”
Astiras countered. “He would lift his blockade if you so ordered, Duras.”

Vitlis smiled unpleasantly. The Counsel immunity allowed
him to speak his mind. “Not until you step down as emperor. We Duras will not
stand idly by while you strip us of our possessions and status. You should have
gained allies amongst the nobility, yet you have alienated nearly every other
House in the empire. Now you are beginning to reap what you have sowed, Koros. So,
either surrender and commit your fate to the Council or continue to lose
support and trade until everyone else realises you’re a broken reed and comes
over to us.”

Astiras drummed his fingers on the table top. Argan
noticed he was tapping the Southern Sea. He wondered whether waves would ripple
out from his father’s fingers, but somewhat to his disappointment, nothing
happened. “You only have a few hundred poorly trained soldiers in your employ,
Duras. I’ve already whipped one of your so-called armies, and in time I’ll beat
your son and his force as surely as I did the first. He should see sense and
disperse. We don’t need a civil war now, what with the Bragal War entering a
vital phase and delicate negotiations currently under way with the Tybar and
Mazag.”

Duras snorted with derision. “Bragal is a lost cause; it
has cost too many lives and only your family will benefit should you succeed. Could
you face your people knowing your family’s wealth was built on the blood and
lives of their kinsmen? How many more of your people will you sacrifice to
further your own family’s well-being?”

Astiras got to his feet, his face dark with fury. “Don’t
you stand there and tell me of building a House’s fortune on the lives of
Kastanians, you bare-faced hypocrite! You and your fellow serpents sucked the
vitality of Kastania away, withering the army and public services and diverting
the monies due to them into the vaults of the Duras and your feckless allies,
the Fokis, as well as who knows how many others? A handful of luxury-loving
selfish blood-suckers caused the demise of so much and directly led to the loss
of so much territory. You and your House are, as far as I’m concerned, directly
responsible. As are the Fokis. And the Kanzet.” He cast a baleful look at Lord
Kanzet, sat nervously next to Lord Fokis. “In time, all of you will pay for
your part in Kastania’s decline. But first Kastania must stand again, and I
intend bringing that about. Already we have wrested Lodria from traitorous
elements and soon, if the gods allow it, Bragal will follow.”

“And Lodria is a mess!” Duras shouted, jabbing a finger
at Astiras. “I have it on good authority that you have torn down the castle
there and left Slenna defenceless! Are you mad?”

Astiras laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. “If it
is in a mess, as you say, then direct your scorn at Lord Fokis here; his nephew
held it in rebellion for three years, I believe. In that time, according to my
son, he siphoned off all tax revenues to the Fokis family estate, and not one
coin came to the central Imperial Treasury.” He switched his attention to Lord
Fokis, sat with a face as hard as stone to his right, on the other side of the
table. “Well, Fokis? Where’s that money? Spent it on cheap street strumpets?”

A few sniggered. Fokis gritted his teeth. “Insulting me
is the best you can do, Koros. I’m here to ensure you fall. I care not what you
say, or insinuate. Your destruction is all I care about. My nephew is still
being mourned. Your son will stand trial for murder.”

“One leech less to suck the lifeblood of Kastania,”
Astiras said dismissively. “From what I know of your late nephew he won’t be
missed by anyone outside your family. So, Lord Duras, you say we have torn down
the castle. You are correct but a new and bigger one is being built. You
neglected to say that, didn’t you? You don’t change; you only say half a story
to back up your false and scurrilous statements. If you actually spoke the full
facts you’d be exposed as a charlatan and liar, but you daren’t. Your family is
all lies and falsehoods. We’re spending funds to put right the abuses of the
years Kastania suffered under your kind – you, the Fokis, the Kanzet and all
the other self-seeking corrupt thieving scum.”

Fokis shot to his feet and banged the table top. “You
have no class, Astiras Koros! You’re just a brute of a soldier ill-fitted to
the robes of emperor. A bully you were as a general and a bully of an emperor
you are today!”

Astiras clenched his fists. He turned to the half-seen
figure of Frendicus standing behind the emperor in the shadows. “Tell the
Council here of our building programme.”

Frendicus stepped forward into the light. He cleared his
throat. “Thanks to funds received from the Imperial Council this half-year, the
treasury reported a profit of over four thousand furims for the half year to
the end of summer.”

The Council sucked in deep breaths of shock. Even Lord
Duras seemed taken aback. Fokis stared incredulously at the taxman, then turned
on Astiras. “Four thousand profit? Where in Kastan did you get all that? Stealing
from us, no doubt! Thievery from the temples, the merchants, the lawyers!”

“Tax revenues have been up,” Frendicus commented. “We
have recently reported the completion of the port of Kalkos, the repair of all
roads in Pelponia, a new grain exchange in Niake and a new imperial leather
workshop in Kastan City. We are currently sending funds to Kornith and Niake so
temples can be built, we are enlarging the port here in Kastan to handle more
trade and to build bigger and better ships. In Turslenka we are rebuilding the
town hall that was burned down four years ago and not replaced by previous
administrations.”

Astiras jabbed a triumphant finger at the three lords
opposing him. “There! What works did your puppet emperors ever do? None! The
imperial treasury has almost doubled its funds in the three years I’ve been
emperor, and apart from a few companies of militiamen the army has not
increased one jot. What financial benefits did the last five emperors achieve? None!
Apart from securing scandalous underhand agreements with you scheming greedy
bloodsuckers to rob the empire of its wealth, of course!”

“I’ve heard enough,” Fokis snapped. “Time we agreed to
veto this Tybar treaty. What say you, gentlemen?”

Argan was sitting with his eyes wide. The arguments
frightened him; men’s raised voices were scary. His father had a very loud
voice but it wasn’t aimed at him, that he knew. He was more afraid of the
others standing up and shouting back. He looked at his mother, whom he could
just see around the figure of his father, who was leaning forward on his arms
that were still planted in the Southern Sea. She was sitting still, her lips
compressed, in that way Argan had seen many times before when she was upset. He
looked back to where other men were looking at each other, speaking in low
voices that he couldn’t hear.

Lord Kanzet tapped his fingers against the map. “If the
vote goes against the treaty then we must decide if Koros is fit to continue as
emperor. I say we vote against him on both counts.”

Astiras laughed unpleasantly. “With the army behind me? You’re
a fool, Kanzet. This isn’t one of your rigged Courts of law. Try to depose me
and you’ll be squirming on the end of one of my guards’ volgars. Time they were
used in anger, anyway. A gold coin to the first guard who runs that pompous
fool through on my command.”

Ten guards snapped into the ‘aggressive’ stance. Kanzet
paled and flopped back into his chair. “This is Counsel! Safe ground!”

“Then, Vosgaris, drag him outside and disembowel him in
the corridor.”

Vosgaris grinned and stepped forward.

Kanzet shrieked. “Fokis! Duras!”

“What are they going to do?” Astiras asked menacingly. “If
you’re going to replace me it’ll only be at the point of a sword. Your words
are useless. So is the vote. This isn’t a republic. I’m in charge and what I
say goes. I’ll hear your counsel but it is I who make the final decision, not
you or your odious comrades. Now, get on with this pointless vote.”

The nobles looked at one another helplessly. “Then what
is the point of this vote?” Lord Pelgion, a grey-haired sun-tanned man asked,
his arms wide in a pleading manner. “Are we nobles of no use anymore in
Kastania?”

“Of course you are,” Astrias replied, staring at him
intently. “But you must all know exactly how strong my position is and that I’m
determined to pull this empire out of the mess that the Duras-Fokis-Kanzet
families and their other allies have made in the recent past. Don’t you all
realise that we’re facing extinction? We have to save this empire now, not
tomorrow or next year. Now! We have to stop seeking to feather our own nests
and put our money into the imperial treasury. Buildings need repairing or new
ones erected. Roads and ports have to be built. And, finally, the army has to
be built up to resist the wars that will come. All this needs money. Money that
can’t go to the nobility’s vaults.”

Pelgion nodded heavily. “Yes, sire, I realise the
gravity of our situation. But we noble families must have influence, or you
lose the support of the landowners and without that even the army won’t be able
to function for long. Where will your money come from? Taxes won’t cover
everything.”

“Indeed, Lord Pelgion. Which is why this trade agreement
is vital. Listen,” and Astiras turned to all the other men there. “Tybar
territories include former imperial provinces. We need the wool they have. The
sulphur mines around Imakum will provide trade. In return we send timber, textiles,
wheat. This will bring much needed money into imperial coffers. Lords Duras and
Fokis, when Bragal falls to our forces, their timber will come to us all. And I
mean all. I’m sick to death of the civil wars, and so is everyone else. Yet,
I’ve had to fight the Duras and my son the Fokis in the past year. Why? Why do
you still persist in keeping alive a war on behalf of people who are in their
graves? You lost. Get over it.”