Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

Saris sipped
on a glass of liquor, something the Emperor sent over from his personal
collection—a caramel colored liquid that burned all the way down. He sat in an
overstuffed chair, enjoying the outdoor sitting area of his suite. Tymedious
ordered him to wait in the palace till he sent word.

The parade
ended in front of the Emperor’s viewing pavilion, but few words were spoken.
Tymedious declared victory and honored his champion, but Saris knew the real
drama over his return was about to start.

Thandril waited
by the door. Saris wanted quiet, and his druid knew when to stay away.

A warning
knock landed on the door, and a string of attendants entered without
hesitation.

“We are here
to get you ready for the council.” The lead attendant announced.

“What?” Saris
got to his feet. The alcohol had gotten to him a little more than he expected.
“I was under the impression that there would be more time.”

“You had the
wrong impression.”

*
* *

Saris walked
down the hallway to the ornate door that marked the great hall of the Emperor.
He had been included there many times, but none of his visits had carried the
weight of his future.

The door
stretched from floor to ceiling. Gold inlays wove their way through the stained
and polished wood. He rested his palm on the door and, with a deep breath,
pushed the door open.

The chamber
was usually filled with sound of arguments, intrigue, and scandal. The
governing leaders of the Empire used it as their own, personal watering-hole of
information and gossip.

Today was
different.

Saris’ boots
echoed on the stone floor. His breath seemed to scream out across the silence
of the room. Light trickled in from the door behind him. The windows were
covered and only a few candles burned near a long table set up in the center of
the floor.

“Light.” A
voice ordered from the darkness.

A biting sound
came from a single ceiling tile being drawn back. A narrow beam of light
appeared and spotlighted the Emperor sitting in a high-backed chair ten feet in
front of the table.

Saris knew his
place and took a bow.

“Rise.”

Saris faced Tymedious
but scanned the room quickly. Few were there. He saw Lord Hyle, who caringly
nodded to him. Next to him, stood Lord Drokel and some man he didn’t know. That
was all who attended the meeting. The smallest assembly those walls had ever
seen.

Tymedious
stood to his feet. “Today we settle things in a more informal setting. A more
undignified manner.” His voice suddenly rose. “For that is what this is!” He
motioned for the other men to sit at the table. All were to sit as equals.
“General Saris, firstly, I welcome you home and congratulate you on your victory.
Secondly, I shake my head at your casualty numbers. And, thirdly, I tell you
honestly, if you do not make me an ally by time this meeting dissolves, you
will not leave this room alive.”

Saris noticed
the slightest hint of a smirk on Drokel’s lips.

The Emperor
clasped his hands together. “So! Let’s get underway.” He gestured to the man
that Saris had not recognized. “You have the floor—table, whatever.”

The man
cleared his throat. “General Saris, my name is Gretio, Captain of City Watch,
and head of internal matters. Part of that is monitoring the activity of
underground, Harmite efforts to incite rebellion among our citizens. It has
come to my attention, and in turn, the Emperor’s, that there is some hard
evidence pointing to you having a hand in the rebellion’s dealings. What do you
have to say for yourself?”

Saris blankly stared
at the man, showing zero emotion. He was prepared for the accusations—nothing
new.

After a moment
of silence, Gretio turned to Tymedious to see if he should continue. The Emperor
nodded, irritated by the Captain.

“General,
these are serious accusations.”

“I haven’t
heard anything that was serious.” Saris cocked his head. “Imaginary storytelling
is far from a serious thing, and that is all I have heard so far.”

“Sir, we have
a man in—” Gretio shifted his weight. “There is a man who was arrested because
of his ties to the underground movement. He was under charge, by you, to lead
your fiancé’s convoy. Either you knew about his involvement, and supported it,
or you were incompetent with your most trusted relationships, which is the truth?”

“Truth?” Saris
asked. “Hmm…let’s see. You know…my memory is a little foggy at the moment. Why
don’t you bring forth your suspect? We should ask him for the truth.”

Gretio’s nose
flared. He flicked a quick glance at Lord Drokel.

“Why do you
look to Drokel?” Saris pointed at the little man. “Never mind that! I would
like to ask you a different question!” He stood to his feet. “Why have such
outrageous accusations been made against my boys? I just lost my wife, and I
will not stand to have any harm are stain inflicted on her children or their
names.” He finished with a saddened look toward Lord Hyle, playing on the heart
of the aged Lord.

“Right!” Hyle
stood to his feet. “This is the first sign of truth here! We are overlooking
the fact of the children’s wellbeing.”

“Really?”
Drokel stood too. “You old fool! You are being played.”

Tymedious
shook his head. “Quiet! All of you sit down.”

Everyone
followed his order.

“Gretio, is it
true that you lost your suspect?” Tymedious asked.

“But, Sir, we
have information that puts—”

“Answer the
question!”

“Yes. We no
longer have Corporal Rurik in our custody.”

Tymedious
remained quiet for a moment.

“Then what
else do you have to put forth on this matter?”

“We have
obtained testimony that Saris had, in fact, only one son, born in the city of
Hillsford.”

“Is this testimony
from some sort of spy or citizen, paid by—let me go out on a limb—a rival Lord
to my position?” Saris asked.

“That is
irrelevant,” Tymedious said, “Even if the man were of complete, upright
standing, I would not take one man’s word against the word of my General.”

My
General.
Saris heard the words and knew that the tables had turned. “Emperor, I ask you,
drop your unwarranted fears. This man clouds your mind with false accusations
and slanderous speech. I achieved victory, fighting and leading in your exalted
name. I would like to return to my home, kiss the faces of my boys, and make
arrangements for the wedding. I hope you would be the first to accept my
invitation as an honored guest at our head table.”

“This is
unacceptable.” Drokel slammed his fist on the table.

Tymedious
hissed at the House Lord. “
You
are unacceptable! You will refrain from
talking until spoken to, or mark my words; you will lose all power and ranking
so fast, that you will find yourself sleeping with the pigs tonight.”

Drokel bowed
his head. “I apologize, Sir.”

The Emperor
rose to his feet. “General Saris, from what I see and hear today, there is no
cause to find you guilty of any treason or plotting against the empire. I
dismiss all accusations. Let it be done in my mighty name.”

With that, the
men stood to their feet. Drokel grabbed Gretio by the arm, and drug him out,
whispering harshly into his ear.

Hyle moved to
Saris’ side.

“I’m not as
harmless as you think my son-in-law. I know you freed Rurik—as you probably
killed him yourself afterward. But, you better take care of that woman and
those boys. I will be watching.” Hyle patted Saris’ arm. “You have a good
night.”

A back door
swung closed as Emperor Tymedious exited through his private hallways, leaving
Saris alone in the dim room. He had won, but what exactly had he started? He
ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “Onto the next tedious
obligation—another damn wedding.”

Amira stared
at herself in the mirror. “Ready?” She asked herself.

A soft knock
landed on the door.

“Yes?” She
called out.

An attendant
pushed the door open slightly. “Lord Hyle is here. He would like to see you
before the ceremony. Can I let him in?”

“Yes, thank
you.” She smiled, even that felt fake.

It took Saris
a month to sort everything out, and now it was here. Today was her wedding day.
This was the day that every girl dreams about from childhood, but
this
was not going to be the way she had dreamed.

“Oh, my!” Hyle
clasped his hands together. “You look stunning!”

She saw the
look in his eyes. He truly cared about her. If his daughter was anything like him,
she must have felt the same way about marrying General Saris.

She started to
tremble.

“Darling,
Darling,” He wrapped his arms around her. Hot tears dripped onto his tunic.
“Are you alright?”

Amira didn’t
know what to say to that, so she only said, “Nervous is all.”

“Everyone has
those feelings on their wedding day. It will be alright. Plus, Saris is
typically away on empire business. You can bring the boys over to my estate for
long visits.” He smiled.

She managed a
smile back. “That sounds nice.”

“Let’s get you
married!”

*
* *

“Well,
friend,” Saris was shaving in front of an ornate mirror in his suite. “We are
definitely in the Emperor’s graces for him to let us use his citadel as the
wedding location.” He ran his finger along the gold framework of the mirror.
“It has an air of elegance that is unrivaled.”

“Indeed,”
Thandril said.

“You will
stand at my side today?”

“If you wish
it, master.”

“Then I wish
it! Ha! I don’t know why I’m in such a good mood. I hate weddings.”

“Well then I
am sorry to bring down the mood,” Thandril started, “but what is your plan for
the Harmite boy? Will there be an accident of some sort?”

“Why the hell
do you need to bring that up now?”

“Because we
haven’t had an opportunity talk about it in private. And, it
needs
to be
discussed.”

“Fine.” Saris
washed the residual soap from his face. “We can talk. I’ve decided to go along
with it. Take the boy in as my own and treat him as such. He will grow to be
the son of a mighty General and, alongside his brother, fight for his people.
What is better than having one son to make you proud? Two!”

Thandril let a
small grin come to his lips. “I am happy with your decision.”

“Hmm…maybe I
should reconsider then!” Saris laughed. “Come on! Let’s go get them a mother!”

*
* *

Amira’s suite
door opened, and out she went.

It took six
Harmite attendants to carry her flowing train. Lord Hyle walked beside her,
holding her arm in his. They snaked through the long hallways of the Emperor’s
palace. The head usher escorted them, and if it wasn’t for him, she was sure
they would be lost. The walls were boringly ornate. Such an overwhelming amount
of riches actually worked the opposite effect on her.

They rounded
what seemed like the twentieth corner when the usher stopped suddenly at the
sight of a man wearing a leather hood and cloak. Hyle was the only one of her
entourage with a weapon, and a decorative, ceremonial piece at that. Still, he
drew it and waved the people back.

A raspy voice
broke the silence. “I have no fight here. But… to ensure your cooperation.” The
man snapped his fingers, and a dozen men shifted from behind pillars, through
side doors, and from the corridor behind them.

The hooded
figure slowly approached Lord Hyle. His hands raised in the air, showing no
weapon.

“I will kill
an unarmed man,” warned Hyle.

“That would be
most disappointing.”

The man
snapped forward and disarmed Hyle with ease, tossing the sword back the other
way. Hyle lunged forward, but the assailant spun him around and caught him in a
hold.

“Relax.”

Amira started
to recognize the voice. “Rurik!” The name came bursting out. She ran over to
him.

Hyle realized
that the situation had changed and started to relax within the man’s hold.

“Can I let you
go?” Rurik whispered into Hyle’s ear. He nodded in return.

Rurik released
his grasp and turned to catch Amira, leaping into his arms.

She kissed him
deeply.

He held her
off the ground effortlessly. “I made it in time.”

At those words,
her smile faded. Tears formed. She shook her head. “I…I have to.”

He took a step
back. “But, you do not love him. I will not be so brash to say that you love
me, but I would scream from the mountains that I feel a depth of love for you
that has no compare.”

His words only
brought more tears.

She pulled him
by the arm, away from the ears of others. “I have the little boys to consider.
I have you to consider, in the way that as long as I go along with this, Saris
will stay away from you…and…”

“What?” Rurik
wrapped her in his arms.

“There is one
other that I must protect above all.”

“Who?”

She placed her
hand over her stomach.

Rurik’s eyes
followed and then steadied back into hers. “Truly?” He couldn’t help but smile.

She nodded and
kissed him once more. “Rurik, I love you too.” Tears flowed freely down her
cheeks. She touched his face for the last time and turned to walk away.

Shouts came
from down the hallway.

Saris appeared
in the doorway, flanked by Thandril and a company of palace guard. “Get them!”

Rurik’s men
ran passed, making for an escape, but he did not move an inch. He gained, and
lost, everything he ever wanted in but a moment. The profound confliction
anchored his feet to the ground. The palace guards gained ground with each
second. He watched as his doom approached. He wouldn’t go without a fight. He
would take as many of them as he could before going down. He would destroy
lives.

With a shrug,
his cloak fell away.

He pulled two
blades from his back that extended from his closed fists like knuckles. The
first two guards reached him and, with a fluid uppercut, he sliced through the
throat of one, and with a measured landing, impaled the chest of the next. One
by one they approached, and one by one they fell. Each opponent distracted him
for only a moment, his attention focused on the woman he loved.

Each foot he
gained, she faded out of his life by three.

She reached
the doorway where Saris stood and turned back in Rurik’s direction. She wiped the
last tear and then wrapped her arm inside the General’s. A smirk arched across
Saris’ face.

Rurik let out
a roar that echoed his anger through the corridors. He slashed his blades
through the air with blistering speed. But still, his many kills were for
naught, constantly reinforced by an endless army of imperial soldiers.

A shout came.

Klaric rushed
to his friend’s side, adding his sword to the fight. “Time to go,” he said
through gritted teeth.

Rurik growled
and raised a finger to Saris while finishing another guard to his left. He
kicked the man off of his blade and tapped Klaric’s shoulder. They pulled down
a nearby candelabrum, breaking the line, and sprinted away from the bloody mess
of soldiers.

The only
memory Rurik Kaster could remember from that day was the face of his lover,
transformed into a martyr for her children.

He was forever
tied to her in more than one way and now he was an outcast from her life.

Lines were
drawn. She had decided to stay with the enemy.

The future
would hold more than a few challenges. He was willing to overcome those.

All in good
time…

The End