“Oh, this seems to be a common affliction amongst your people, brother,” Pachacutec said with a look at Fadelio's bandaged arm. With the fake concern in his voice as obvious as the real mockery on his face, he moved in for a hypocritical slap. “How is your servant's hand, brother?”
“Hit his arm and you can try how it feels for yourself, brother.”
Again. The honest-to-god bastard had tried to pull the same stunt at the banquet. Even the words were almost the same. The hero didn't go through with the blatant attempt to injure Corco's attendant, not because he had been intimidated by Corco's words, but because he had, once again, felt slighted by his tone.
“Oh, and how would you do that, southerner, now that your beast has been defanged? You should feel honored to just stand here and watch my ascension. We shouldn't let the monkeys into the Ziggurat in the first place.”
“Ascend to what, exactly? Even if you win the throne, you'll be nothing but a puppet. The only estates still left at your side are the ones who will use and exploit you.”
“Prince Corco should see the allegiance around himself and recognize the truth. Prince Pacha's support extends far beyond all others, all the way into my dear departed husband's own retinue.”
With a sneer and her trademark shrill voice, Spuria Ichilia barged into the conversation. Another one Corco had more than one score to settle with. However, her words weren't untrue.
After Corco and Fadelio had made their way into the waiting hall, they had been followed by Amautu and his teacher soon after. Both princes had found their younger brother, or maybe uncle, Pacha ready and waiting right in front of the ornate stone door which would lead to the ancestral assembly hall. In truth, a fourth group of royal officials under the former emperor should have been represented as a separate, neutral entity from the princes, but the officials around prime minister Chaupic and Empress Mother Spuria were huddled around the third prince.
Chaupic glanced over to Corco's side with an awkward look. In front of the late Emperor Titu's grave, he had guaranteed his cooperation to the first prince, but now he had broken his word without so much as a warning and once again joined the Ichilia faction. Not only the prime minister, all officials seemed to have sided with the youngest prince, against convention. Still, no trace of anger could be found on Corco's face, only determination. No matter how smug they felt for now, he would guarantee his victory at any price. Step one, rattle the Furia. Normally, he would have to consider etiquette in his insults, but here was the palace. They were in a place far beyond any civility. All he had to do was make sure her reaction was even less civil than his own provocation. Easy enough.
“It's surprising that you would even dare show your face here, former concubine. Shouldn't you be worried about your affair first? It's all over the city after all.”
As expected of mother and son, both Spuria's and Pacha's eyes grew as their faces turned red at a mere mention of the truth. There was little more forbidden in the palace than spilling blood within the Moonlight Ziggurat, so Corco was already looking forward to whatever damage they decided to do to him. He would play blood fountain for a while if it would ruin House Ichilia. However, before they could do the irreversible, a loud noise saved the furious pair.
With the crunching of stone on stone, the large gate into the ancestral hall swung inside to open the path ahead. In a large semi-circle, a long stone table grew right out of the ground. The ancestors of Medala had taken seat at the table, with the oldest furthest towards the middle. A total of forty-five elders sat on stone chairs and observed the newcomers with eagerness. In the very middle of the table, opposite himself, Corco found the seat for the grand ancestor, the most senior of all the elders in Medala.
The grand ancestor should have been the one to steer the discussion and proclaim the final nomination, but to Corco's surprise, he found the seat empty. To the left of the of the high and imposing backrest sat a bald, old man with a large, gnarled walking stick. The elder stared Corco down, the malice in his watery eyes barely hidden. Across, to the right of the center, the prince found his grandfather Caelestis, the man Corco had expected in the middle. The old man met his grandson's eyes and gave him an encouraging nod. The prince looked away in disgust. He wouldn't forgive his grandfather. Not any more. Instead, Corco noted the strangeness in the atmosphere.
While Caelestis had focused on Corco, many of the assembled ancestors had their eyes on Amautu. Apparently his brother had told the truth: He really had worked hard to win over the elders. Strangely, the eyes of the old men seemed resigned or consoling, as if they had given up on Amautu's claim already. The room's entire ambiance felt as if some heavy, invisible force had laid itself on everyone's shoulders and pressed them down to force submission.
Finally, the three groups had taken position within the semi-circle, exposed to the stares of the elders from all sides. Of course the great hero would demand the place in the center, but Corco didn't mind. Today's discussion wouldn't be decided on first impressions.
Tension built between the rows of old men and the youngsters in the center, as everyone waited for the start of the discussion. In the end, two loud knocks of wood on stone broke through the room to announce the start of the ancestral assembly. Caelestis wasn't the one to lead discussions, another surprise. Rather, the bald-headed old man to the throne's left opened the assembly with a raspy voice.
“Princes! Officials! Permission to greet the ancestors shall be granted.”
In front of the ancestors, princes, officials and warriors were all the same. In unison, they went down on their knees and spoke up in one voice.
“This mortal greets and reveres his ancestors.”
“You may rise,” the old man with the staff said.
With a look of pride and contentment, he waited until everyone had gotten on their feet again before he continued.
“Before the ancestral assembly can be initiated, the ancestral hall will have to clarify one of its former decisions. Not long ago, a vile thief sneaked his way into the minds of the elders. His traitorous lies forced the ancestral hall to make correct choices based on untruths. To the great fortune of the hall, second prince Amautu uncovered the lies and caught the traitor, to be judged by the hall.”
As the elder was speaking, a warrior servant entered the room from within the back of the hall and walked around the semi-circle. He moved in front of the princes and placed a covered basket onto the floor.
“Thus, the ancestral hall judged the traitor guilty and left him to his deserved destiny.”
Without a word, the warrior pulled the cloth off the basket and presented the horrific contents to the princes and officials. Stuffed inside the basket was the head of Quirinu di Pluritac, face-up. Corco wasn't sure if the terrified look on the warrior's face was just his imagination. He heard his attendant tense his muscles in his back, but didn't expect any further outbursts. Unlike his master, Fadelio knew how to control himself.
Corco's biggest worry had become a reality: The ancestors had dealt with Quirinu behind closed doors. Not only could he no longer interrogate the warrior in his current state, he had also not been allowed to bring the issue up before the ancestors on his own terms and connect Quirinu's betrayal with the reinstatement of his status.
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Now the issue was already handled. They hadn't even mentioned his name, let alone returned his status as crown prince, but any complaints would be considered rude and only lower his chances for nomination. Throughout the assembly, he would only get one chance to say his piece. He was determined to take it.
“hrmhrm...” Caelestis cleared his throat to make his presence known. The elder with the staff turned to look at his peer before Caelestis continued: “Elder Ichilia, what of the matter of first prince Corco?”
Ichilia. No wonder the old man had looked at him like that and tried to gloss over his reinstatement. Corco hadn't expected the help from Elder Caelestis, but he was happy to take it. He assumed that the old man was trying to ease his guilt and would make best use of the chance. With an unwilling look on his face, Elder Ichilia turned back to the front to address the princes.
“Of course, now that the lie of Prince Corco's death has been uncovered, his status as a prince of Pluritac and potential heir to the silver crown shall be reinstated. However, Prince Corco's status of crown prince cannot be returned, as there is no such precedent within the annals of Medala. Thus, in accordance with the ancestral laws, the title will not be returned and the number of princes to be considered for nomination will be three: Prince Corcopaca Primu, Prince Amautu Secundu and Prince Pachacutec Tertiu. Now, the ancestors will decide on which prince will receive the honor of their recognition. If the princes feel that there are words left to appeal to the hall, they may do so before the hall's proclamation.”
A quiet murmur disrupted the peace within the hall. Foregoing any discussions in front of the outsiders was highly unusual. It seemed like the ancestors had already decided on a candidate and this meeting was little more than a show.
Still, they couldn't deny the princes their traditional chance to speak up. This was his chance! On the surface, everything was already decided at this point. However, all Corco needed to do was provide a sufficiently large outrage to disrupt their little theater. He was willing to oblige.
“Honored ancestors, first, I would like to submit this: Official seals from 43 of the estates, all of which have been cast in my support.”
Fadelio put down the metal cone he had been nursing all this time and stepped forward to present the paper with the official seals to the ancestors. However, once again in spite of proper conduct, Elder Ichilia dismissed them outright.
“The opinions of the estates have no sway at this time. The ancestors alone can decide on a suitable new emperor. No outside voices will be considered until nomination is pronounced.”
Fadelio came to a halt and took a few seconds of care to look around the table. Since none of the elders made any attempt to speak up for him, he had to return to his spot without a word. This was something Corco had expected. The ancestral hall had bluntly ignored his influence on the estates. If he wanted the old men to reconsider, Corco would have to make much harsher moves. Of course, he had much more ammunition than just this. As the old Ichilia breathed in to proclaim the hall's verdict, he was interrupted by Corco's voice.
“Then what about the rumors floating around in the city? Should those be ignored as well?”
This time, the old Ichilia didn't even have to move himself. A storm of outrage erupted from the officials who had grouped themselves behind Pacha.
“How dare a prince promote this slander!”
“Entirely unproven!”
“No one would believe it!”
“A shame on the royal family!”
“The words of commoners have no bearing on the honorable ancestors!”
In response to Corco's objection, the officials around the third prince and the Ichilia clan simply tried to drown out Corco's words, to guarantee that the rumors would never reach the ancestors. The tactic was as obvious as it was cheap, but of course, Corco had expected no better from his competitors. Usually, the shameless tricks of the court were very useful to bury opposition under faked outrage, but Corco had come prepared. In response to the cacophony before him, he bent down to the ground and, with a sly grin, picked up the metal cone they had managed to smuggle inside.
“OKAY, LET'S CALM DOWN, FOLKS! YOU'RE NOT GONNA WIN A SCREAMING MATCH! NOW HOW ABOUT WE RESPECT THE OCCASION AND GO ONE AT A TIME?!”
The blaring sound of the megaphone droned throughout the hall and first overpowered, and then silenced the voices. Everyone looked at Corco in bewilderment, unsure of what had happened. Satisfied, he put down the megaphone and continued in a normal volume.
“You wanna keep bickering, do you? I can do this all day. I'll burst your ears before I let myself get censored by this crap.”
He looked around the room, his eyes scanning over everyone who had played along in the little charade. He saw many unwilling faces, but not one sound came in response.
“Good. So let's first state the rumors, for the sake of completeness. First, after Emperor Titu's passing, the third prince and second prince have shown an utter lack of respect towards the customs of Medala. They've never visited their father after the start of his journey. Do I need to prove that? That's just an open secret in the city. Everyone knows. If you feel unconvinced, you're free to ask the Pachayawna. He'll tell you all about it.”
“That is not enough reason to rescind a prince's qualification to the throne. Thus, it is irrelevant.”
Elder Ichilia responded with a hard look and a stern voice. He was determined to let an offspring of Ichilia land on the throne, no matter what.
“Not convinced, are you? Okay, then let's continue with the easier one first. Prince Amautu has repeatedly shown to have no respect for any of our rules or customs, again something that's easy to prove. How could someone like that, someone who spits on our traditions, be considered as heir to the throne? He can't be considered a potential candidate, right?”
“There is no proof for any of these claims,” Amautu replied from the side.
“...there isn't? My uncle, the Governor of the South, was killed by your followers.” Corco pointed at Amautu. “He identified his killer before his death! How's that for proof?”
“Ridiculous! How could the word of a southern barbarian count more than the word of a royal prince!” Amautu shot back. His look had turned stern, as he realized that Elder Ichilia would make no attempt to defend him. However, while he didn't have the officials or House Ichilia on his side, the second prince still had allies in the room. This time, it was the ancestors around the table who did their best to support Amautu and bury Corco's claims.
“There is entirely no proof of this! Why would a prince sink so low!”
“They were the deeds of the lords, not the deeds of the prince! Surely lord Rubria must have had a personal grudge with-”
“ARE WE STILL DOING THIS!? SERIOUSLY?!”
Corco's second use of the megaphone brought an end to the second act of the play. This time he wouldn't wait for dramatic effect. This time, he immediately fired his next shot. This one would prove deadly.
“Okay, let's forget about rumors and hearsay. Let's go with things I can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt. On my way here, I saw my good brother, Prince Amautu, sitting on the royal throne. I wonder if that's enough for the honored ancestors.”
Corco watched the elders with narrowed eyes as they traded nervous glances. They had been prepared for the rumors on the street, but they hadn't expected this one. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of the elders open his mouth, but a quick twitch of Corco's megaphoned hand silenced any criticism before it arrived. The old men seemed unsure of what to do, but Amautu was still calm, still adamant in blocking whatever Corco had planned.
“This Prince truly hopes brother will be able to provide solid proof of this outrageous claim. Otherwise, it will be considered a great sin against the ancestors. The last liar against the ancestral hall still lies at your feet, so choose your words wisely, Prince Corco.”
The entire table seemed to heave in a collective breath of relief. It seemed like the prince had found the perfect answer to his brother's scandalous revelation. If Prince Corco couldn't provide any proof, his own crimes were enough to remove him from the line of succession. Once the disturbance would be disposed of, the assembly could, finally, proceed as planned.
“Proof? Sure I have proof. I'll have to trouble someone to get me some writing utensils. You know, paper, some ink or coal, a brush and oh, a small knife.”
“Prince, this servant will provide assistance,” Prime Minister Chaupic said.
Another surprise for Corco within this day of surprises. Even before, he had seen that the old politician hadn't played along in the little screaming contest he had engaged in with the other officials, but at most, Corco had expected the opportunist to stay neutral. Confused, he watched Chaupic leave through a side door which housed an office, before he began the attack which would destroy one half of his competition.
“Now then, who knows what a fingerprint is?”