Chapter 69
charclone
Well-known member
A.N. No jokes about the number, please. Not that kind of story.
"I am surprised, brother," Diabo said, reclining aboard Zorzal's carriage, facing his brother. "That you are not more… upset at father taking your trophy."
Zorzal merely grunted, staring at the half-empty goblet in his hands.
"So, I have a few ideas about who we could bring over to our side," Diabo shrugged and carried on with the reason he wasn't using his carriage. "Most of the senators are either jingoists, spineless, or blindly follow our father. The former will side with us if we can give them a target, perhaps building up the military and stealing secrets from NATO. The spineless can be persuaded once they see the way the wind is blowing. We can deal with our father's fanatics once those are behind us."
"Bah!" Zorzal scoffed. "You know I have no head for politics. I'll handle the soldiers and generals. My service in the Legions should swing some of them. I can get the rest to see sense, remind them why they should be patriots of the Empire."
"I agree, brother," Diabo sighed. "But we need to present a united front. Now, General Virilis' son, he was one of your aides, yes?"
"Yes," Zorzal groaned, rolling his eyes. "We often go out hunting together. Why?"
"Ah, you are still in contact with him? Good. See if you can persuade his son to join our camp and convince his father to do the same."
The pair lapsed into silence. Diabo frowned at his brother, still staring at the cup.
"Something bothers you?"
Zorzal was silent for several more moments. The sounds of marching feet, whinnying of horses, and barks of orders from sergeants were muffled by the covering around the carriage.
When Diabo's older brother spoke, it was with a quiet, pained tone.
"Do you… remember Kati?" Diabo winced at the mention of their deceased 'brother'.
"I do," Diabo sighed. "… I believe father has… softened significantly since then, and we are only looking to force the issue of the heir, not seize the throne from him."
Kati had been the son of Molt's third wife, brought into the family after he had seized the throne before Pina had been born. Shortly afterwards, Kati made a play for the throne, seeking to overthrow Molt. He had no claim, beyond being Molt's adopted son through marriage. The consensus was that, combined with Molt having only reigned as Emperor for four years at that point and thus being seen as vulnerable, Kati's mother had pushed for him to make the attempt.
Kati had been tortured to death. His mother had been smart enough to keep poison nearby, rather than be captured. Exile was deemed too light and too risky, for someone to bring forward a claimant later.
Molt, as well as the other nearby members of the Imperial Family, had watched the execution. For three hours, Kati had screamed under the cruel ministrations of the best torturers in the Empire. In the end, he bit his tongue off and bled out, rather than endure it any further.
For that mistake, the torturers were beheaded.
Molt married Pina's mother, later that year, and she herself was born thusly in the purple as a member of the Imperial Family, swaddled in rich purple silks and cloth.
Both Zorzal and Diabo had been present for both events. While Diabo had been young enough to slowly forget the horror, Zorzal still found himself, on lonely nights, remembering Kati's cries.
"But," Diabo continued. "That just means we need to be careful not to be caught doing anything that might antagonise father. He believes Pina is the better heir, we merely need to change his mind."
Zorzal slowly looked up from the goblet. His face twisted into a smile.
"May none of our family ever spill its own blood," Zorzal raised the cup.
Diabo smiled, nodded, and poured a small amount of nearby wine into his own goblet, raising it to join his brother's toast.
"May father and our sister be reasonable," Diabo said.
Zufmuut undid the bindings, one at a time.
It wasn't difficult work, as the god that had been sealed away had done so voluntarily, on certain conditions.
But Zufmuut didn't trust him. Their domains were too similar, yet also contradictory in application. The sealed god was also far too ambitious.
But the conditions of his imprisonment were now jeopardised.
The God of Light reached out, and the sealed god awoke, pulled from its slumber.
"Hail, Sol Invictus, August one of the Empire," Zufmuut greeted. "The Empire you forged from the scattered castoffs from your ancient home of Roma is threatened. Will you aid my cause, and save it?"
The first Emperor of the Saderan Empire, who had taken the name Sol Invictus when he became a god, smiled.
"What god of the sun and the Empire would I be if I abandoned it in its time of need?" The once-Roman citizen asked rhetorically. "I presume that given its risk of falling to something you dislike, the other gods are with us?"
"No," Zufmuut sighed. "Let me tell you of Apocryph and NATO."
Richard yawned as he watched the Long Patrol sort themselves out under Tara's direction as they boarded the helicopters.
With the festival done, there was no reason to stick around. Others would handle the actual negotiation of the treaty, with the preliminary discussions complete.
But he wasn't sure why it was so damn early in the morning that they were leaving. Possibly something related to Molt having left around the same time?
"Ah, Sir Richard," King Duran called out, walking over to him and abandoning some of the nobles from his kingdom. The king with prosthetic limbs stood next to the Canadian, watching the Long Patrol march aboard. "Honestly, I can see the utility in these vessels, but the ride… well, I suppose horses would also seem uncomfortable to those unused to them, but I'm too old to adapt to these."
"The usual method of air travel is more comfortable," Richard said. "But jets require a great deal of infrastructure to build and maintain. You've seen the runway at Alnus?"
"Yes," Duran nodded. "That long strip of concrete?"
"Asphalt, or tarmac, I don't remember the distinction, but they are similar, and both are used for runways."
Duran hummed.
"Speaking of infrastructure, I received an… interesting proposal," The king said. "Now, as I understand it, your nation is still debating whether or not it is legal to grant you the lands offered for the death of the Ancient Fire Dragon?"
Richard blinked, frowning.
"I had heard there were rewards put forward by several nearby kingdoms," He admitted, confused. "But as far as I was aware, there wasn't anything put forward to me specifically."
"Ah, I see," Duran chuckled. "Well, yes, a few titles were put forward for you and other officers. As I understand it, several… guilds, I believe they are roughly equal to, want those to go through, and for them to rent the land using you as a way to get around several laws in place."
Richard winced.
"I've heard quite a few debates on the matter of uplifting," He said. "But the work needed to even get basic industrial steel production would be difficult and time-consuming. From what I know, it would require specific tools as well, just to work with that more modern steel."
"A few groups have said the same thing," King Duran nodded. "It is expected to take five generations before we can stand near your people, but not doing so, I fear, would be a grave mistake. Thus, I want your thoughts. In the Northern part of my kingdom, where the Dark Elves live, there is a large mountain range. I expect the Elves to abandon it and return to their valleys, more arable land. But those mountains are rich with mineral wealth."
"You are offering me a holding there," Richard blinked. "… and because I helped kill the Fire Dragon…"
"Not just that, they worship Hardy."
Richard blinked as the realisation sunk in.
"Oh… you haven't been able to access that wealth, but because of my reputation and connection to their goddess, they will likely permit it," He realised. "And with support from Earth, you could exploit it at a greater degree… and it would pay for itself in short order."
King Duran of Elbe grinned, nodding his head.
"I would, of course, hand the land itself over to NATO, separating it from my Kingdom, in exchange for material compensation and the 'industry'," The king explained. "In addition… I have organised a gift for your Long Patrol. A celebration of the peace. Your Long Patrol lacks cavalry, yes?"
"Horses are no small gift, your highness…" Richard said. "Is this a bribe?"
"Oh… just a little," Duran snorted. "But it isn't just horses. The Kingdom of Elbe might not have the size of the Imperial Rider Corp, but our Wyverns are just as good as any of the aerial mounts in the Empire."
Richard froze.
Tara walked over to them, moments later.
"The Long Patrol is aboard," She said. "We're just waiting on NATO to get the last of the dignitaries."
She glanced between the two of them.
"King Duran," Tara sighed at the older man, his face showing how hard he was trying to not laugh. "Even with the proposed support, we have no way to train or maintain such a gracious gift. We could care for the horses, of course, but Wyverns, especially of such a fine breeding, require a great deal of care."
"Ah, true, but many of your people have expressed an interest in studying the breeds," Duran countered. "Ah, NATO, that is, my apologies Lady Tara. I am sure you can count on support. Further, they would make for greater ability to protect the land from bandits, without needing NATO's larger craft or infrastructure."
The King waved them off before either could reply.
"All I ask is you consider the idea of the fiefdoms. I'm sure both our people could benefit from the wealth buried there," Duran chortled before heading off back towards his nobles, and the helicopter awaiting them.
Richard sighed.
"We're not going to escape politics, are we?" He groaned. "And doing nothing is worse. My own advice comes back to bite me in the ass."
Tara snorted, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Come on," She said. "We can stress about it back at Alnus. At least there we can rely on other friends and do so in comfort. I wonder what Tyuule will think of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, Queen Boudica, and Zulu?"
"I am surprised, brother," Diabo said, reclining aboard Zorzal's carriage, facing his brother. "That you are not more… upset at father taking your trophy."
Zorzal merely grunted, staring at the half-empty goblet in his hands.
"So, I have a few ideas about who we could bring over to our side," Diabo shrugged and carried on with the reason he wasn't using his carriage. "Most of the senators are either jingoists, spineless, or blindly follow our father. The former will side with us if we can give them a target, perhaps building up the military and stealing secrets from NATO. The spineless can be persuaded once they see the way the wind is blowing. We can deal with our father's fanatics once those are behind us."
"Bah!" Zorzal scoffed. "You know I have no head for politics. I'll handle the soldiers and generals. My service in the Legions should swing some of them. I can get the rest to see sense, remind them why they should be patriots of the Empire."
"I agree, brother," Diabo sighed. "But we need to present a united front. Now, General Virilis' son, he was one of your aides, yes?"
"Yes," Zorzal groaned, rolling his eyes. "We often go out hunting together. Why?"
"Ah, you are still in contact with him? Good. See if you can persuade his son to join our camp and convince his father to do the same."
The pair lapsed into silence. Diabo frowned at his brother, still staring at the cup.
"Something bothers you?"
Zorzal was silent for several more moments. The sounds of marching feet, whinnying of horses, and barks of orders from sergeants were muffled by the covering around the carriage.
When Diabo's older brother spoke, it was with a quiet, pained tone.
"Do you… remember Kati?" Diabo winced at the mention of their deceased 'brother'.
"I do," Diabo sighed. "… I believe father has… softened significantly since then, and we are only looking to force the issue of the heir, not seize the throne from him."
Kati had been the son of Molt's third wife, brought into the family after he had seized the throne before Pina had been born. Shortly afterwards, Kati made a play for the throne, seeking to overthrow Molt. He had no claim, beyond being Molt's adopted son through marriage. The consensus was that, combined with Molt having only reigned as Emperor for four years at that point and thus being seen as vulnerable, Kati's mother had pushed for him to make the attempt.
Kati had been tortured to death. His mother had been smart enough to keep poison nearby, rather than be captured. Exile was deemed too light and too risky, for someone to bring forward a claimant later.
Molt, as well as the other nearby members of the Imperial Family, had watched the execution. For three hours, Kati had screamed under the cruel ministrations of the best torturers in the Empire. In the end, he bit his tongue off and bled out, rather than endure it any further.
For that mistake, the torturers were beheaded.
Molt married Pina's mother, later that year, and she herself was born thusly in the purple as a member of the Imperial Family, swaddled in rich purple silks and cloth.
Both Zorzal and Diabo had been present for both events. While Diabo had been young enough to slowly forget the horror, Zorzal still found himself, on lonely nights, remembering Kati's cries.
"But," Diabo continued. "That just means we need to be careful not to be caught doing anything that might antagonise father. He believes Pina is the better heir, we merely need to change his mind."
Zorzal slowly looked up from the goblet. His face twisted into a smile.
"May none of our family ever spill its own blood," Zorzal raised the cup.
Diabo smiled, nodded, and poured a small amount of nearby wine into his own goblet, raising it to join his brother's toast.
"May father and our sister be reasonable," Diabo said.
Zufmuut undid the bindings, one at a time.
It wasn't difficult work, as the god that had been sealed away had done so voluntarily, on certain conditions.
But Zufmuut didn't trust him. Their domains were too similar, yet also contradictory in application. The sealed god was also far too ambitious.
But the conditions of his imprisonment were now jeopardised.
The God of Light reached out, and the sealed god awoke, pulled from its slumber.
"Hail, Sol Invictus, August one of the Empire," Zufmuut greeted. "The Empire you forged from the scattered castoffs from your ancient home of Roma is threatened. Will you aid my cause, and save it?"
The first Emperor of the Saderan Empire, who had taken the name Sol Invictus when he became a god, smiled.
"What god of the sun and the Empire would I be if I abandoned it in its time of need?" The once-Roman citizen asked rhetorically. "I presume that given its risk of falling to something you dislike, the other gods are with us?"
"No," Zufmuut sighed. "Let me tell you of Apocryph and NATO."
Richard yawned as he watched the Long Patrol sort themselves out under Tara's direction as they boarded the helicopters.
With the festival done, there was no reason to stick around. Others would handle the actual negotiation of the treaty, with the preliminary discussions complete.
But he wasn't sure why it was so damn early in the morning that they were leaving. Possibly something related to Molt having left around the same time?
"Ah, Sir Richard," King Duran called out, walking over to him and abandoning some of the nobles from his kingdom. The king with prosthetic limbs stood next to the Canadian, watching the Long Patrol march aboard. "Honestly, I can see the utility in these vessels, but the ride… well, I suppose horses would also seem uncomfortable to those unused to them, but I'm too old to adapt to these."
"The usual method of air travel is more comfortable," Richard said. "But jets require a great deal of infrastructure to build and maintain. You've seen the runway at Alnus?"
"Yes," Duran nodded. "That long strip of concrete?"
"Asphalt, or tarmac, I don't remember the distinction, but they are similar, and both are used for runways."
Duran hummed.
"Speaking of infrastructure, I received an… interesting proposal," The king said. "Now, as I understand it, your nation is still debating whether or not it is legal to grant you the lands offered for the death of the Ancient Fire Dragon?"
Richard blinked, frowning.
"I had heard there were rewards put forward by several nearby kingdoms," He admitted, confused. "But as far as I was aware, there wasn't anything put forward to me specifically."
"Ah, I see," Duran chuckled. "Well, yes, a few titles were put forward for you and other officers. As I understand it, several… guilds, I believe they are roughly equal to, want those to go through, and for them to rent the land using you as a way to get around several laws in place."
Richard winced.
"I've heard quite a few debates on the matter of uplifting," He said. "But the work needed to even get basic industrial steel production would be difficult and time-consuming. From what I know, it would require specific tools as well, just to work with that more modern steel."
"A few groups have said the same thing," King Duran nodded. "It is expected to take five generations before we can stand near your people, but not doing so, I fear, would be a grave mistake. Thus, I want your thoughts. In the Northern part of my kingdom, where the Dark Elves live, there is a large mountain range. I expect the Elves to abandon it and return to their valleys, more arable land. But those mountains are rich with mineral wealth."
"You are offering me a holding there," Richard blinked. "… and because I helped kill the Fire Dragon…"
"Not just that, they worship Hardy."
Richard blinked as the realisation sunk in.
"Oh… you haven't been able to access that wealth, but because of my reputation and connection to their goddess, they will likely permit it," He realised. "And with support from Earth, you could exploit it at a greater degree… and it would pay for itself in short order."
King Duran of Elbe grinned, nodding his head.
"I would, of course, hand the land itself over to NATO, separating it from my Kingdom, in exchange for material compensation and the 'industry'," The king explained. "In addition… I have organised a gift for your Long Patrol. A celebration of the peace. Your Long Patrol lacks cavalry, yes?"
"Horses are no small gift, your highness…" Richard said. "Is this a bribe?"
"Oh… just a little," Duran snorted. "But it isn't just horses. The Kingdom of Elbe might not have the size of the Imperial Rider Corp, but our Wyverns are just as good as any of the aerial mounts in the Empire."
Richard froze.
Tara walked over to them, moments later.
"The Long Patrol is aboard," She said. "We're just waiting on NATO to get the last of the dignitaries."
She glanced between the two of them.
"King Duran," Tara sighed at the older man, his face showing how hard he was trying to not laugh. "Even with the proposed support, we have no way to train or maintain such a gracious gift. We could care for the horses, of course, but Wyverns, especially of such a fine breeding, require a great deal of care."
"Ah, true, but many of your people have expressed an interest in studying the breeds," Duran countered. "Ah, NATO, that is, my apologies Lady Tara. I am sure you can count on support. Further, they would make for greater ability to protect the land from bandits, without needing NATO's larger craft or infrastructure."
The King waved them off before either could reply.
"All I ask is you consider the idea of the fiefdoms. I'm sure both our people could benefit from the wealth buried there," Duran chortled before heading off back towards his nobles, and the helicopter awaiting them.
Richard sighed.
"We're not going to escape politics, are we?" He groaned. "And doing nothing is worse. My own advice comes back to bite me in the ass."
Tara snorted, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Come on," She said. "We can stress about it back at Alnus. At least there we can rely on other friends and do so in comfort. I wonder what Tyuule will think of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, Queen Boudica, and Zulu?"
