Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (21 page)

Rurik pushed
to his side, moving gently to not wake Amira. He watched her as she slept,
tracing the outline of her shoulder with his finger. He leaned forward and
kissed the center of her back, causing her to coo softly. She rolled over to
face him, returning the kiss.

“I’m sorry,”
Rurik said, “I woke you.”

She quieted
him with a second kiss. “I only wish it could be this way every morning.”

“It can be,”
He smiled. Throwing the covers off, he stood to his feet, showing his muscled back.

“Mmm…I could
definitely get used to that,” she slapped his backside playfully.

“Hey now.” He
waved his finger at her. “You play nice.”

A sudden
flurry of knocks hit the door, causing both to jump. They panicked. They
couldn’t be found together. Rurik had to figure out how to get Amira away from
Saris, but this wasn’t the time to get discovered.

“Ma’am, open
the door,” a rough voice shouted. “You have ten seconds.”

Amira looked
at Rurik wide-eyed and pointed to the babies’ room. She mouthed, “Go!”

He grabbed his
clothes from the floor and disappeared through the adjacent doorway, seconds
before the bedroom door was kicked in. Three men came barging in, waving clubs,
followed by a short, scrawny, hawk-nosed man, with a thin mustache. Out of the
corner of her eye, Amira watched Rurik dive through a low window.

Amira gathered
the blankets around her naked body. “Well, that is no way to enter a lady’s
bedchamber.”

The little man
stepped up to the bed. “Was anyone in here with you?” He motioned for his men
to check the other room. “We are looking for Corporal Kaster. And I think you
might know where he is.”

Her mouth
gaped open. “What kind of lady do you think I am? I am engaged, sir.” 

“Well, from
the look of you,” He peaked under a corner of the blanket, “The kind of lady
that would have a moonlight fancy.”

She kicked at
him and backed further toward the headboard, “Get away from me!”

Rurik entered
through the door, seemingly confused. “Excuse me, but what is the meaning of
this?” His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

The man
clapped his hands together. “Yes! Just the man we were looking for.”  His thugs
reappeared from the adjacent room, two of them each carried a baby. The third,
and biggest, moved straight toward Rurik.

The ruffian’s
speed did not match his towering stature. He moved swiftly and with precision.
Before Rurik could pull his blade from its sheath, he was caught in a tight bear
hug. Three other guards came into the room and reinforced their companion,
leaving no time for a counter-move.

A moment
later, Klaric appeared in the open doorway. “Hey! What’s going on in here?”

The man shook
his head in frustration and grunted. “We are on Empire business. Turn around,
and walk away.”

“Oh? And what
business would that be?” Klaric said, boldly stepping forward.

“The kind that
you are not privileged to know.” He snapped his fingers and, again, more men
entered behind Klaric, tying him up quickly.

“You sons of whores!”

That got
Klaric a solid strike to the back of the head, his body slumping forward into
the restraints.

The man looked
back at Amira. “We only came for Rurik and the babies. We are done. Now, go
back to whatever you were doing before I got here.” He winked.

Amira spat at
him, “You pig! You have wrong information! What could you possibly want with
the babies and our escort? The man that Saris
himself
picked to guard,
and lead, our group!”

“You ignorant,
lying wench!” He pointed at her. “Tread lightly.” He snapped and the room went
into motion. Marching over an unconscious Klaric, the guards took the babies
out, followed by a struggling Rurik, and lastly the leader, with a scowl etched
across his face.

“No!” Amira
cried out, frustrated with her inability to stop the actions being taken
against them. She scrambled to put on clothes and ran to the foyer.

At the door,
Gleb and Elop grabbed her, stopping her from running out into the pathway of
the carriage—a jail carriage—with Rurik, tied and gagged, staring at them
through barred windows. She shouted curses after them until they were
completely out of sight. Gleb and Elop walked her back inside.

“We will go
down to the jail. This has to be some misunderstanding,” Gleb tried to console
her, but she knew this was not a misunderstanding. These were the people
hunting Rurik’s underground rebellion.

Klaric came
running into the lobby, throwing off the last ties of rope. “Those sons of a
bitch! Where are they?” He huffed and puffed, looking at the three for an
answer.

“I’ll be right
back,” Amira said.

Klaric watched
them walk away. His hands held in the air. “Well, what happened?”

“We are going
to the prison. Ready the wagon,” Amira shouted over her shoulder.

*
* *

Lord Hyle,
Housemaster of White Mantle, scrapped at his plate, putting together the last,
perfect bite of his breakfast. Papers and reports were fanned out in front of
him. The fighting had barely started, yet Emperor Tymedious already found a way
to deplete a large portion of the treasury and the military food reserves. Hyle
was, involuntarily, put in charge of making something appear from nothing, and
if he stared at these papers long enough, maybe that would happen. He had his
doubts.

He set his
fork down and tugged at his bristled, graying beard. “What to do…what to do…”
He mumbled to himself, fingering sheet after sheet.

A knock landed
on the door to his chamber.

“Come in.”

It swung
inward, and Horcam, fellow House Member, head bodyguard, and trusted assistant,
walked in with purpose, holding a grim look on his face. “Lord, I have
disturbing news,” he continued without reply. “The men you ordered to watch
Saris’ estate have reported activity and, more pressing, an imperial raid of
some sort has occurred. People may have been taken into custody. We don’t have
a lot of information.”

The
Housemaster jumped to his feet. “Ready my carriage.”

Horcam bowed,
“Already done, my Lord.”

Hyle clapped
his hand on his guardian’s shoulder, “Very good.” He moved from his desk and
grabbed his official robe off a nearby rack. Once they appeared in the main
hall of the House, Horcam motioned for the other soldiers to fall into
formation, and the group moved out into the lobby together. They settled into
their seats. Lord Hyle sighed, “This better not have to do with her. That
damned Saris can conquer an army blindfolded, but can’t keep a quiet household
safe.” Horcam grunted in agreement.

*
* *

“Get in
there!” The jailor tossed a naked, battered Rurik into the cell.

The barred
door slammed shut, leaving him in darkness. The cell was one of many along the
narrow hallway, each filled with a sad, frail shadow of a person. Lost from the
world, for who knows how long. They had been stripped to nothing, as he was.
Scars, old and new, lined their bodies. There was no commotion over his arrival
or even acknowledgment.

Where were
the boys?

He was
separated from them at the time the wagon reached the jail. He didn’t remember
seeing them be brought out.

Were they
still with that man?

Fear for the
babies pained his heart. He needed to find a way to them. Trying to focus, he
continued to scan the room.

The main
jailhouse of the city was located back down in the outer city—the Houses didn’t
want to bear witness to such a vile lot of people. It was simple, small. One
main room that served for everything: receiving prisoners, admitting visitors,
answering inquiries, a rest area for the on-duty guards, and anything else they
might need it for. At the back of the main room, centered on the wall, was one
door that led to where Rurik and the other prisoners were being held.

He knew, from
previous experience, how the prisoners were organized. He had to serve a season
as a guard, back in his basic training—worst days of his life. The protocol was
to place the quickest turnover prisoners closest to the door while prisoners
with elongated sentences were pushed back farther and farther into the dark
tunnel. He was right at the front—number one, closest to the door. They
expected him to be taken away
very
quickly.

Being so close
to the door, he could hear the guards bantering, each inventing their own
reason why a decorated Corporal had been placed with them. Rurik heard a door
open, and a couple pairs of footsteps enter the main room. One pair hit the floor
too lightly to be the mail greaves of a guard.

“What can I do
for you?” He heard one of the guards ask, sweeter than Rurik had heard him talk
yet.

The response
given was smooth, delicate, and too soft for him to make out the words.

“Well, honey,
I can’t give out information about high-security prisoners, and from your
description of the arresting office, the suspect would be a high-security
prisoner. So, if he were here, I couldn’t tell you. I’m sorry, little darling.”

“Enough. Drop
the bullshit and the embarrassing flirting.”

Klaric!

Rurik could
hear his loud, boisterous friend a mile away. The other must be Amira. “We know
he is here. We followed the wagon and watched as they led him in. So, again,
what is he being held on? We have done nothing wrong.”

The guard’s
voice hardened. “You may not have, but he has. Corporal Rurik Kaster is charged
with heresy and treason to the Empire. He will be executed within hours of us
receiving the order from Captain Gretio; the man who you said took him—with the
mustache.”

“That is
outrageous!” A loud thump sounded from the room.

Klaric must
be hitting stuff again.

Amira was
saying something. Rurik strained to hear, pressing his face hard against the
bars. “…well then, what about the babies?”

“We didn’t
receive any babies, only the Corporal. We are not babysitters.”

“Alright,
before we leave, can we see him?”

“That is not
possible.”

“Please, I
need to see if he is alright,” Amira begged.

“If he is, or
is not, here, I’m sure he is fine.”

“Okay, you son
of a bitch, you are going to let this woman inside there right this—” A
struggle sounded in the room. A shout came from the guard. Rurik yelled out in
frustration. Seconds later two guards came back to the cells, dragging a
twisting Klaric. “I’ll kill both of you! Oh, hey Rurik. I knew you were back
here!” A grin spread his face, as they shoved him into the next cell over. “He
is alright Amira! Now go find the boys!” Klaric shouted through the open door.

Rurik yelled
out, “Amira! Amira! Don’t worry about me! Be careful when dealing with—” His
last words were cut off by the sharp slamming of the door. “—these bastards.”

Klaric reached
through the bars and put his hand on Rurik’s shoulder. “It will be okay. She
will be fine. She’s a smart one.” Klaric took his pants off, leaving him in his
under clothes. “Take these, at least. Then I won’t have to look at your scrawny
ass while we are in here.”

 Rurik took
the offering and slipped them on. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment,
collecting his thoughts. “Klaric, I need to tell you something—something
important. You are not going to believe it, at first, but I need you to. I need
you more
now
than I ever have.”

Gleb watched Amira
stumble out of the prison, overwhelmed with emotion. Rurik was taken away to be
killed, and Archaos and Aeronais could be anywhere. She crumbled to the ground,
weeping. Gleb ran to her side. He had been waiting with the wagon.

“What happened
in there? Where is Klaric?”

She couldn’t
respond. Sobs choked her throat.

A commotion
came from down the street. Gleb turned in the direction and watched as the
street full of people parted to let through a carriage accompanied by six riders.
He knew from his studies of the Houses that the markings signified it was the
Lord of White Mantle—no one else would be permitted to take it from the House
grounds. Gleb searched his memory.

Who was
High Lord at the moment? Lord Hyle! A good man—a scholar.

A trait that
was quite different from the other, power-hungry Lords.

What would
he be doing in the lower city?

The carriage
aimed straight for the jailhouse, stopping just shy of himself and Amira. Gleb
pulled the oblivious Amira back as the door swung open. Four soldiers rushed
out and secured the walkway, and then some ranked officer emerged from the
coach, scanning the area. Under his heavy cloak, shone a polished chestplate
marked with the White Mantle emblem—a four-pointed, gold star, draped with a
pearl wreath. When he deemed the public area safe, he stuck his head back into
the cabin.

Lord Hyle came
stretching out of the door. His tall, lanky body stood out in the crowd. His
stature and handsome features, combined with his reputation for being the
“good” High Lord gained him much applause from the audience.

The first
thing that the Lord noticed was not the ever-growing, cheering crowd or the hurrying
of his bodyguard, but, instead, his focus fell instantly on the weeping mess at
his feet. Amira remained with her face down, hidden in her hands.

“What is the
matter, Miss?” The Lord asked, wrapping his words in kindness.

She sniffed
and ran her hand under her nose. “Sir, I beg your forgiveness.” Amira climbed
to her feet and bowed slightly, showing respect to the High Lord. “This is not
the proper way to welcome a Lord’s presence, but I am not myself at the
moment.”

Hyle laughed
gently and tilted her face up to his. “I can see that. It is quite alright, my
dear. Maybe I could help with whatever is the matter.”

Gleb noticed
Hyle’s bodyguard swaying anxiously. He guessed the man didn’t want his Master
out in the open for so long. The man stepped forward and tapped Hyle’s
shoulder.

“Yes, yes,
Horcam. I know.”

Amira stood
quietly for a moment before answering. “Sir, there is something you may be able
to do for me. I’ve come from General Saris’ estate. One of my protectors has
been arrested as a traitor, and the General’s boys have been taken off to some
unknown location. I am beside myself—lost in fear.”

Lord Hyle’s
face turned serious. “Quickly, back inside.”

Amira jumped
from the sudden order. Gleb grabbed at her arm and inclined his head back
toward the jail door. She nodded. They went back in, followed by Hyle and
Horcam, while the remaining soldiers and riders blocked the entrance.

*
* *

As the four
walked into the jail, Amira had already started plotting in her head, piecing
together her plan.

A Lord
surely held weight in these manners.

She would play
the needy female, for the gallant Lord to save.

The jailer
recognized Amira from a few minutes ago. “I told you to leave!” He shouted.
“I’ll throw you in there with your friends if you don’t—”

“That is quite
enough,” Hyle raised his hand, flashed his imperial signet ring. “Leave us to
talk for a time.”

“Lor…Lord, I
beg your pardon. I did not see it was you.” The guard backed away raising his
hands in defense.

“Leave us.” Hyle
waved his hands in the air and abruptly turned toward Amira. “Is Eylen alright?
Who is at the estate now? You said boys—plural—both Saris’? Who is the man they
arrested this morning? How are you involved?”

Horcam
steadied his Master, “Slowly, sir. She is shaken as is.”

“Yes,” Hyle
paused, “Sorry, miss.”

“It’s
alright,” Amira needed to stick to her story about the boys being twins. How
else would she keep Aeronais safe? “I do not know an Eylen, and no one of significance
as at the house, momentarily, for as you know, Saris is still out on the
battlefield.”

“Eylen…Saris’
wife? How long have you been in service of the family?”

“Oh,” Amira
hesitated. “That is where the misunderstanding comes. I never had the chance to
meet the lady. She died giving birth to the twins, Archaos and Aeronais.”

The blood in
Hyle’s face slipped away to his feet. Horcam physically held the Lord to keep
him standing. “My god.” Hyle ran his hand through his hair and searched out the
nearest seat.

Amira started
to say something but was warned by Horcam to stay quiet. She stood silently
next to Gleb, confused over the dramatic shift.

Hyle
eventually lifted his gaze to hers. “Eylen was my daughter. The youngest, and
last, of my children.” He couldn’t say the words with a dry eye. “She left with
Saris, insisting that her delivery would be well looked after by the doctors in
the field.” He smashed his fist into his palm. “I knew something would go
wrong!”

“I am so very
sorry.” Amira reached to comfort him.

Hyle pulled
away, calculating the scenario. “Wait...why would Saris send you back to his
estate with his newborn children? Why
you
?” His voice was accusing of
betrayal.

Amira
hesitated. What could she tell this man that would not harm him more? That his
son-in-law has already claimed a new wife and mother for his children, or that
Saris had shown no concern over his wife’s impending death?

“Quit your
silence!” Hyle burst out.

Gleb pulled Amira
away. “She will not respond to that manner of treatment.”

Horcam stared
down Gleb. “And a slave has no place in talking to a House Lord, in
any
manner.”

“Saris has claimed
me as his new wife,” Amira blurted out, abandoning her cautiousness, “Without
my consent. But, it is publicly announced, and now I have a responsibility to
these boys. I, in no way, meant any ill-intent against your daughter. The
General did not even know of my existence till after her death. He has declared
me his, and I am to obey, or else.”

Lord Hyle
paused and then stepped back to his feet. “You are very blunt with your words,
and, in compassion for your apparent trapping, I must trust what you say. Saris
is a man who gets what he wants when he wants it. Your eyes are your greatest
witness to the story. Strength. Passion. Sadness. Fear. They are all inside
you. I apologize for my outburst. I am sure you can understand the emotion
behind it.”

Amira took her
chance at an ally. “I need your help. The boys, your grandchildren and newest
members of your household, as in following tradition, are now in captivity with
a man named Gretio. He took them at the same time of Rurik’s arrest.”

“What was the
reason Gretio gave for the seizure of this man and the babies?” Horcam asked,
stepping closer.

“Rurik, for
treason and heresy against the Empire—whatever they mean by that. And, the
babies, I have no clue.” Amira started to cry, and not by pretend act. She
honestly had a newfound connection with both of the boys.

Hyle put his
arm around her, dwarfing her in his stature. “I will do everything within my
power. We will get to the bottom of this. As you say, they are my
grandchildren, and now the last lines of my blood. You have nothing to fear.”

*
* *

Agent Gretio
hurried into his office and locked the door. He scooted around his desk and
reached for the underside. With a knock, a small drawer dropped down. Gretio
fished a key from under his vest and opened the secret compartment. He rifled
through the contents, pulling out a signet ring—the same design that Galro had
been in possession of, with the flower and snake. He lit a small candle and
began to write a letter.

“There is no
need for that.”

Gretio jumped
in his seat, pulling his sword from his side.

A young man
seemed to shift into vision, walking out from a darkened corner.

“Damn you,
boy,” hissed Gretio, “Always sneaking up from that black hole in which you were
spawned.”

“You should
tame that tongue. One day, you could get yourself into a lot of trouble talking
to me like that.” The young man adjusted his heavy cloak. “I take it you have
news for my father. No need for the letter. I will tell him personally. It’s regarding
the situation with Corporal Kaster, am I right?”

Gretio nodded.
“Yes. Rurik Kaster is in the public jailhouse, down in the lower city, and I’ve
taken the two boys to be held at a safe location. If you and your father can
link General Saris to the slave rebellion, his office would most certainly
become available.”

The young man
grinned. “No need to attack him through the deaths of his son and fiancé,
anymore. There is nothing like the sweet taste of a falsified political fall, leaving
your rival to rot in the cages.” He turned to leave and then quickly stopped.
“Rurik is to hang tonight? He will be out of the way?”

“Yes, I am to
go there next,” Gretio answered.

“I would like
to see that for myself. I must change. Look out for my father and me.” The man
bowed his leave. “For now.”

“For now,”
Gretio reiterated, tossing his ring back and locking the drawer.

*
* *

Amira watched
the sun slowly sink from the sky, sunset—the scheduled time of Rurik’s
judgment.

Lord Hyle
stood next to her. They were on a raised section of sidewalk, gaining them an
advantage at seeing the entire execution area and the bordering cages, filled
with more offenders than usual. Even
their
miserable faces seemed perked
by the present excitement.

Hyle had put
on a disguise of sorts, letting his guards off, changing into more common clothing
for the crowd, and topping his head with a satin cowl. Amira knew Horcam had to
be close by. The stern bodyguard wouldn’t let his Master stay out in the open
without his defense. Hyle held Amira’s hand like she was a sad, frightened
daughter. He had, rather quickly, seemed to peg her as his adopted offspring, coping
with the news of his daughter’s death. She didn’t mind. She wanted the
comforting and protecting.

Finally, the
doors to the jail opened, and out stepped Gretio, flanked by his thugs. Rurik
and Klaric hobbled behind them in shackles. The two were pushed to a center
position inside the clearing. Gretio took a step up along a nearby rise and
waved to the crowd.

“People of
Taluria!” The cheering washed out his voice. He hushed them down. “People of
Taluria. We have before us, two men charged with sedition against the Empire. A
crime punishable only by
death
.”

The crowd
cheered louder.

Amira watched
Hyle’s face, waiting to see a glimpse of his next move. She turned to look
across the street as another House carriage suddenly entered the intersection.
People jumped out of the way.

Hyle turned to
match her gaze. “Damn. It makes sense that he would be here.”

“Who? Who is
it?” asked Amira.

“Drokel, House
Lord of Bloodborne.”

“What makes
you assume he would show?”

“Vendetta.”

“Explain,” Amira
snapped back, already feeling so lost in this new world she had been thrown
into.

“Drokel has
been the biggest contender for the Office of General. He was Saris’ only real
opponent for the position. This may be deeper than a mere case of
misinformation. Maybe the information was falsified on purpose, or at the very
least, whispered into the wrong people’s ears.”

Amira didn’t
like lying to Hyle. She knew that the charges were at least partially true, and,
by law, Rurik would rightfully be executed, but
not
by the law of common
decency.

The carriage
door opened, and a gray-haired man stepped out. He stood strong and put on an
air of height without the actual inches. After him, out stepped a young man, in
his early twenties. Both were very well dressed and displayed multiple blades
throughout their outfits.

“Lord Drokel,”
Hyle pointed at the older one. “And, the other is his son, Drakken. A very
talented young man, but equally devious as his father.”

Amira couldn’t
get a good look at the details of his face. He wore a heavy, luxurious cloak,
tightly wrapped around his body. The two men were escorted through the crowd—a
front row seat to the display.

“Come,” Hyle
said, “It is time to stop this.”

Amira didn’t
need to be told twice. Horcam appeared beside the Lord and ushered them
forward. Lord Hyle shed his disguise as they came closer to the raised
pavilion. People quickly realized the increasing importance of the
execution—important enough to bring out two of the stronger House Lords.
Whispers floated through the air. They knew now that this was no ordinary
situation and felt giddy over their witnessing it.

Hyle took to
the stairs, taking measured, strong steps. He was a leader, and it was evident.
There would be a struggle for power, and he was ready for it. Drokel was
certainly a part of this.

At the center
of the circle, Gretio and the executioner stood over Rurik and Klaric. To the
right, stood Lord Drokel, and Drakken, who was crouching down to look at the
men. Then to Gretio’s left, Lord Hyle stood, arms crossed in front of his
chest, backed by Horcam. Amira stayed a few feet back, wanting to be out of the
center of the action.