Second Round
Between first and second bell, Martel and Eleanor met in his room. She cast a look at his cot before sharing the notes written by their spies during the night. “The commanders mostly discussed how we took Morcaster. They seem to think we had traitors in the garrison open the gate for us, and they consider the notion that you and I accomplished it to be a rumour meant to enhance our reputation.”
“If that is the accuracy of their military intelligence, I’m less concerned about facing them on the battlefield,” Martel remarked.
“The captain seems indecisive whether she wants war or not. Legate Miles appears in favour of peace, which is understandable. For them to stand a real chance, they would have to withdraw all northern legions, abandoning the territory he has spent so long defending. Legate Alexia, on the other hand, is keener on fighting.”
“Typical urban legionary,” her companion scoffed. “Never fought in a war and thinks it’s all glory while others die.”
“If we can convince her brother, maybe he can sway her.”
“Right, that fellow from Anvallum, Alexius. Did they get any idea of him?”
“On the fence, it seems. Given his city is so close to Nordmark, he obviously dislikes the idea of the northern legions being withdrawn. He would have Tyrians five miles instead of five hundred miles from his home.”
“Great. So what’s he apprehensive about?” Martel asked.
Eleanor turned to the next page. “The distance. He fears that all decisions will be made in Morcaster without representatives from Anvallum present. Or that they will be outnumbered and the Senate will favour the southern provinces.”
Martel had not considered such an issue. They would have to find a solution. “Alright. And the others?”
She leafed through the bundle. “Aquila is receptive – ever since the loss of their own empire, they have been trying to claw some power back from Morcaster. Marbury seems against. This fellow, Giles, is apparently very loyal to the emperor. More than his city.”
“If so, he should remember the emperor’s current situation.” Martel emptied his cup of ale, finishing his breakfast. “The remaining provinces?”
Eleanor glanced over the notes. “Nothing. They seemed subdued in the discussions. Well, if the three biggest provinces support us, they will have to do the same or be left behind. They cannot support a war on their own.”
“Alright. We’ll have to speak to them individually. And employ our allies, using that term loosely, among the nobility to do the same. If this Giles is impressed by the emperor, he might respond better to a duke or duchess than the Tyrian-blooded son of a smith,” Martel considered. In the distance, the bell rang.
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***
They took their seats around the table as yesterday, but this time, nobody spoke immediately. Martel took this as an encouraging sign and broke the silence himself. “What have your deliberations revealed?”
“You ask a difficult thing of us,” Honorius replied. “To be ruled by a Senate in this manner is a radical change from three hundred years of emperors.”
“More than four hundred years in addition, counting Aquila,” Giles added with a look toward his companion, Caritas, from that city.
“Quite.” Honorius looked irritated before she continued. “This seems a ploy for you to change the tale. Rather than a rebel seeking amnesty, you would be heralded as the imperator who transformed the Empire into its new state. You would make yourself a hero.”
“And what guarantee do we have you would resign?” interjected Alexia, the legate of Anvallum. “You seek to hold imperium over the entire realm to ratify your decisions, your armistice. That sounds like the road to tyranny.”
“You may hold a golden knife to my throat from the moment I am confirmed until I resign,” Martel replied dryly. Next to him, Eleanor stared at the legate while shaking her head, suggesting Alexia should not take this literally.
“How long would that be? Or would you simply continue to make excuses?” she added.
“It would happen as swiftly as possible,” he promised.
“Regardless,” Honorius spoke up with a firm voice, “it will make many uncomfortable that the most infamous rebel in the Empire is to be given such unprecedented power and glory.”
“If you want me punished, you will have to win a war against me first,” Martel proclaimed with a cold voice.
“And all the hardships are on you,” Eleanor added. “The status quo is to our advantage. The war in the east is ended, and all soldiers under our command are taken care of. We could live out our days this way if need be. The burden is on you to take Morcaster.”
“You would see the Empire split in twain just to save your own skin!” Alexia exclaimed. “Have you no regard for the oaths you took?”
“I have the utmost regard,” Martel replied with an unflinching gaze. “I swore before my legionaries to fight as the first and retreat as the last, and as a fire-touched battlemage, I have no hesitation to do so. But I also swore I would let justice guide me. I can think of no better way of fulfilling that than by making peace, abroad and within, and allowing my soldiers to start new lives. Whether through negotiations or battle, I will accomplish this.”
Silence followed as the nine delegates absorbed his words, each having a different reaction. A few looked hostile, but most seemed hesitant at the thought of civil war.
“What of the emperor?” asked Caritas, the representative of Aquila. “What is his role to be in this Senate?”
“Ceremonial,” Martel replied. “The strength of the Senate lies in its numbers and that any member can be removed if they are unfit. I wish the emperor no ill, but observe our surroundings.” Demonstratively, he looked around the beautifully decorated hall. “A man who has lived his life in this palace from birth does not understand what the people or provinces need.”
“Is he still alive?” Giles asked suddenly. He pulled on the sleeves of his magistrate’s robe before looking up at Martel. “How have you treated the man who is your better that you nonetheless describe with such derision?”
“Of course he is.” An idea came to Martel; while he preferred to keep a hostage of such value in the fortress, bringing him here provided an excuse to interrupt the negotiations, and he could speak with the delegates separately. “He has been kept comfortably in quarters at the fortress of Saint Marcellus, but I am happy to bring him here, and you may see for yourself that he is unharmed.”
“His heir as well,” Caritas chimed in.
“Certainly.” Martel looked toward Eleanor, who gave a small nod.
“I shall have it arranged at once.”
“I propose we take a break until then. Once you are convinced, we can move forward without concerns for the emperor impeding us,” the captain prefect suggested. The others gave various forms of acknowledgement, pausing the negotiations for now.