Chapter 78
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"My prince," Bouro rasped from his hidden spot amongst the bushes. "I have… concerns regarding your brother's sincerity."
"Oh? You think my brother is a schemer?" Zorzal laughed, uncaring if he was overheard, sitting 'alone' in his palace garden. "Next I suppose you shall tell me you fear that water is wet, or that a Ma Nuga takes a shit?"
Bouro sighed. The idiot was pliable, but he didn't pretend to be the fool he was beneath his muscled exterior around those he trusted. Unfortunately, counter to Bouro's goals, that trust extended to Diabo.
"No, Your Highness, I am referring to his deal with you," Bouro carefully maintained a respectful tone, yet kept a measure of concern laced in. "I have noted that he has been… crafting favourable deals, yet he has been excluding you from them, nor mentioning them to you, while at the same time, positioning them so that it would be… simple for the emperor to enact them. I fear he intends to supplant you to keep them."
"Or use me to fulfil them, keeping to his word," Zorzal pointed out, making Bouro mentally curse. "Whatever. Tell me about them later. My father has, to my surprise, invited Diabo and I to a meal. Without Pina, who he sent off to Alnus. Something about slaves. Whatever the reason, I should head over now."
The prince gave a brief laugh.
"Hah!" He grinned as he stood. "Perhaps my father has changed his mind about Pina, or her crusade against corruption angered him somehow?"
With an uncaring shrug, Zorzal cheerfully walked off without a further word.
Bouro ground his teeth.
Pliable Zorzal might be, but he was too wilful now that Tyuule was no longer whispering in his ear, feeding him lies to bolster his ego. Not to mention his arrogance and temper made him prickly to manoeuvre into place.
With a sigh of weariness, Bouro decided to make it a priority to find some whore for Zorzal to knock up. Who, it didn't matter anymore. Just so long as an heir was produced. Once that was done, Zorzal could be discarded, and Bouro's puppet-emperor could be raised heeding the whispers from the shadows until all the nobility were brought into the Haryo through blood. Then, a Haryo bride for the emperor to tie his bloodline in, assuming the child's mother isn't a Haryo, and they would have their rightful place atop all the other creatures of this world. Undisputed masters, as they should be, superior even to the other chimeras.
Molt greeted his sons as they entered the hall. It was one of the smaller dining halls, meant for the Imperial family to share meals in. In the past, it had been used constantly, for every meal as the Imperial family of that time had been close. Molt himself remembered when his family had shared their meals before they grew up.
Silently, he regretted that it hadn't been possible to keep the family together, but the Empire demanded service to keep it together, so he was forced to journey elsewhere far too often. It would have been cruel to force Pina's mother to endure being around the boys without him, they were not her children, nor did they like her, so Pina and her mother had spent their time at the Jade Palace, while Diabo and Zorzal spent their time at their own estates.
He wondered how things might have been if they had been of a lower station, without the calling of stately affairs to distract them from their family.
Molt dismissed the idle thoughts as he sat down. Diabo on his right, Zorzal on his left. A faint flicker of some unreadable emotion flew across Zorzal's face as he noted Diabo's placement. Doubt, perhaps?
As they sat down, servants brought out the first course. Perhaps it would have been better to talk first, but Zorzal's mood always improved when he had food in his hands. Diabo was politically savvy enough to catch this, so Molt felt that he would not be slighted.
Zorzal, with a second helping of bread and meat in his hand, was the first to start talking much to Molt's surprise.
"So, what is this about father?" He took a bite before continuing. "Pina is off at Alnus for some reason, and you decide to invite us to a meeting?"
"I should have expected you would have no interest in playing games," Molt chuckled to himself. To buy himself time to compose his response, he took another helping of food. After he took a bite, he chewed and swallowed it, giving himself a moment to enjoy the spiced meat. "You are correct in assuming that this is not, as much as I might which it to be possible, a simple family gathering. The both of you have been trying to gather support to put Zorzal on the throne, correct?"
He shifted his gaze from one son, then to the other.
Diabo swallowed the last of his first course, leaning back to wait for the servants to bring out the next course.
"One might perceive it as you changing which of us you prefer as heir," Diabo said. He frowned as Zorzal snatched a glass from the servant as they brought out the wine. He waited until Zorzal finished pouring himself the wine, before continuing. "But that isn't the case, is it? No, I suspect you want us to stop."
"Not quite," Molt picked up his glass as the servant finished pouring it. "Rather, I am disappointed in how you are going about it and wish to inform you that if you intend to actually be considered potential heirs, you need to improve. So far, you have displayed none of the qualities necessary to rule. You have cut deals, sold power to acquire more, traded favours, and whipped up support. How does any of that solve the issues of the Empire?"
As he spoke, Molt's voice hardened, raising in volume, but not quite reaching a yell. He gave a weary sigh.
"The empire faces a foe unlike it has ever seen and we have not enough information about it," The emperor said, taking a sip of wine to settle himself. "Not to mention the unrest from losing large numbers of agricultural slaves, revolts in the Warrior Bunny homeland and piracy in the south being on the rise. And what have either of you two done about it?"
Diabo held his tongue. His face betrayed his emotions, but he remained silent, at least trying to appear as if he were thinking.
Zorzal didn't even bother using the meat between his ears.
"And what has Pina done?" He demanded, his tone belligerent. "I've been rallying the people, reminding them of the greatness of the empire, of how we have faced hard times before and come out stronger!"
"Words mean little compared to action," Molt retorted. "Pina has been acting as a negotiator, mediator, and point of contact. She understands NATO better than us. More, she is learning. She is also committed to the Empire over her own benefit. While not conducive to her long-term health, it speaks well of what she would do as Empress."
Molt leaned back in his chair, taking a few bites of the second course before resuming.
"I am not angry. I am not going to disinherit my own sons," Molt said, relaxing and taking another sip of the wine. "I am just disappointed. So I am just going to say this final note; Pina asks for my advice and help. If I have given my implication that I will withhold it from you, then it was in error."
Diabo frowned and picked at his food for several moments before he resumed eating.
Zorzal just huffed, quaffed his wine, ordered more from a servant, and then began to stuff food down his gullet.
Molt gave a disappointed sigh.
By the time the third and final course was brought out and placed on the table, a disquiet mood had settled in the room, keeping anyone from speaking to each other. Zorzal gave shooting glares from the corner of his eyes at Molt as he shovelled food into his mouth, while Diabo gave him an exasperated look.
A pit formed in Molt's stomach.
The moment the meal finished; Diabo made polite excuses before he left. Zorzal didn't bother saying a word.
Molt sighed in defeat. His sons were stubborn, it would seem. If they refused to adapt to the differences between the requirements of a prince and an emperor, despite his attempts to train them with responsibilities, it would not end well for the empire.
As he stood, something hit the ground outside the room in the hall with a meaty thud. Molt heard Diabo cry Zorzal's name, but he had no time to process this fact as a sudden agony exploded in his gut.
His insides felt like they were ablaze. He stumbled in shock, leaning against the table for support.
His eyes, as his guards rushed to help him, fell upon the cups they had drunk from, remembering the servant. He had paid it no mind at the time, as he never bothered to memorise every face in the palace, there were too many, but something about them had seemed off. Unfamiliar.
He suddenly coughed, feeling a coppery wetness in his mouth.
"Get me a scribe," He rasped as he felt the fast-acting poison burn his insides, ignoring the guards calling for a doctor. "Now!"
"Oh? You think my brother is a schemer?" Zorzal laughed, uncaring if he was overheard, sitting 'alone' in his palace garden. "Next I suppose you shall tell me you fear that water is wet, or that a Ma Nuga takes a shit?"
Bouro sighed. The idiot was pliable, but he didn't pretend to be the fool he was beneath his muscled exterior around those he trusted. Unfortunately, counter to Bouro's goals, that trust extended to Diabo.
"No, Your Highness, I am referring to his deal with you," Bouro carefully maintained a respectful tone, yet kept a measure of concern laced in. "I have noted that he has been… crafting favourable deals, yet he has been excluding you from them, nor mentioning them to you, while at the same time, positioning them so that it would be… simple for the emperor to enact them. I fear he intends to supplant you to keep them."
"Or use me to fulfil them, keeping to his word," Zorzal pointed out, making Bouro mentally curse. "Whatever. Tell me about them later. My father has, to my surprise, invited Diabo and I to a meal. Without Pina, who he sent off to Alnus. Something about slaves. Whatever the reason, I should head over now."
The prince gave a brief laugh.
"Hah!" He grinned as he stood. "Perhaps my father has changed his mind about Pina, or her crusade against corruption angered him somehow?"
With an uncaring shrug, Zorzal cheerfully walked off without a further word.
Bouro ground his teeth.
Pliable Zorzal might be, but he was too wilful now that Tyuule was no longer whispering in his ear, feeding him lies to bolster his ego. Not to mention his arrogance and temper made him prickly to manoeuvre into place.
With a sigh of weariness, Bouro decided to make it a priority to find some whore for Zorzal to knock up. Who, it didn't matter anymore. Just so long as an heir was produced. Once that was done, Zorzal could be discarded, and Bouro's puppet-emperor could be raised heeding the whispers from the shadows until all the nobility were brought into the Haryo through blood. Then, a Haryo bride for the emperor to tie his bloodline in, assuming the child's mother isn't a Haryo, and they would have their rightful place atop all the other creatures of this world. Undisputed masters, as they should be, superior even to the other chimeras.
Molt greeted his sons as they entered the hall. It was one of the smaller dining halls, meant for the Imperial family to share meals in. In the past, it had been used constantly, for every meal as the Imperial family of that time had been close. Molt himself remembered when his family had shared their meals before they grew up.
Silently, he regretted that it hadn't been possible to keep the family together, but the Empire demanded service to keep it together, so he was forced to journey elsewhere far too often. It would have been cruel to force Pina's mother to endure being around the boys without him, they were not her children, nor did they like her, so Pina and her mother had spent their time at the Jade Palace, while Diabo and Zorzal spent their time at their own estates.
He wondered how things might have been if they had been of a lower station, without the calling of stately affairs to distract them from their family.
Molt dismissed the idle thoughts as he sat down. Diabo on his right, Zorzal on his left. A faint flicker of some unreadable emotion flew across Zorzal's face as he noted Diabo's placement. Doubt, perhaps?
As they sat down, servants brought out the first course. Perhaps it would have been better to talk first, but Zorzal's mood always improved when he had food in his hands. Diabo was politically savvy enough to catch this, so Molt felt that he would not be slighted.
Zorzal, with a second helping of bread and meat in his hand, was the first to start talking much to Molt's surprise.
"So, what is this about father?" He took a bite before continuing. "Pina is off at Alnus for some reason, and you decide to invite us to a meeting?"
"I should have expected you would have no interest in playing games," Molt chuckled to himself. To buy himself time to compose his response, he took another helping of food. After he took a bite, he chewed and swallowed it, giving himself a moment to enjoy the spiced meat. "You are correct in assuming that this is not, as much as I might which it to be possible, a simple family gathering. The both of you have been trying to gather support to put Zorzal on the throne, correct?"
He shifted his gaze from one son, then to the other.
Diabo swallowed the last of his first course, leaning back to wait for the servants to bring out the next course.
"One might perceive it as you changing which of us you prefer as heir," Diabo said. He frowned as Zorzal snatched a glass from the servant as they brought out the wine. He waited until Zorzal finished pouring himself the wine, before continuing. "But that isn't the case, is it? No, I suspect you want us to stop."
"Not quite," Molt picked up his glass as the servant finished pouring it. "Rather, I am disappointed in how you are going about it and wish to inform you that if you intend to actually be considered potential heirs, you need to improve. So far, you have displayed none of the qualities necessary to rule. You have cut deals, sold power to acquire more, traded favours, and whipped up support. How does any of that solve the issues of the Empire?"
As he spoke, Molt's voice hardened, raising in volume, but not quite reaching a yell. He gave a weary sigh.
"The empire faces a foe unlike it has ever seen and we have not enough information about it," The emperor said, taking a sip of wine to settle himself. "Not to mention the unrest from losing large numbers of agricultural slaves, revolts in the Warrior Bunny homeland and piracy in the south being on the rise. And what have either of you two done about it?"
Diabo held his tongue. His face betrayed his emotions, but he remained silent, at least trying to appear as if he were thinking.
Zorzal didn't even bother using the meat between his ears.
"And what has Pina done?" He demanded, his tone belligerent. "I've been rallying the people, reminding them of the greatness of the empire, of how we have faced hard times before and come out stronger!"
"Words mean little compared to action," Molt retorted. "Pina has been acting as a negotiator, mediator, and point of contact. She understands NATO better than us. More, she is learning. She is also committed to the Empire over her own benefit. While not conducive to her long-term health, it speaks well of what she would do as Empress."
Molt leaned back in his chair, taking a few bites of the second course before resuming.
"I am not angry. I am not going to disinherit my own sons," Molt said, relaxing and taking another sip of the wine. "I am just disappointed. So I am just going to say this final note; Pina asks for my advice and help. If I have given my implication that I will withhold it from you, then it was in error."
Diabo frowned and picked at his food for several moments before he resumed eating.
Zorzal just huffed, quaffed his wine, ordered more from a servant, and then began to stuff food down his gullet.
Molt gave a disappointed sigh.
By the time the third and final course was brought out and placed on the table, a disquiet mood had settled in the room, keeping anyone from speaking to each other. Zorzal gave shooting glares from the corner of his eyes at Molt as he shovelled food into his mouth, while Diabo gave him an exasperated look.
A pit formed in Molt's stomach.
The moment the meal finished; Diabo made polite excuses before he left. Zorzal didn't bother saying a word.
Molt sighed in defeat. His sons were stubborn, it would seem. If they refused to adapt to the differences between the requirements of a prince and an emperor, despite his attempts to train them with responsibilities, it would not end well for the empire.
As he stood, something hit the ground outside the room in the hall with a meaty thud. Molt heard Diabo cry Zorzal's name, but he had no time to process this fact as a sudden agony exploded in his gut.
His insides felt like they were ablaze. He stumbled in shock, leaning against the table for support.
His eyes, as his guards rushed to help him, fell upon the cups they had drunk from, remembering the servant. He had paid it no mind at the time, as he never bothered to memorise every face in the palace, there were too many, but something about them had seemed off. Unfamiliar.
He suddenly coughed, feeling a coppery wetness in his mouth.
"Get me a scribe," He rasped as he felt the fast-acting poison burn his insides, ignoring the guards calling for a doctor. "Now!"
