I was grateful for the small victories. So far, everything went according to plan. I carried a few regrets but nothing that would keep me awake at night. I didn't sleep anyway. One such regret was my mother performing her marital duties. As tradition dictated, the [Emperor] shouldn’t bring any of his concubines to her Palace and the most powerful man in the world wouldn’t go a night without some comfort. She deserved better than that cold-hearted psychopath of an [Emperor] I called father.
But Rhiannon didn't freak out and he didn’t mistreat her. The girls weren't bothered with plenty of video games and books from centuries past to read. Neither of my four female guests, including Amina and Marion, left my apartment. Nobody died, nobody was executed, and the [Emperor] seemed to be in a good mood. All was well in our home despite what I considered a hostile occupation.
Maybe I should discard the notion this was our home. This was one of the [Emperor]’s many ancillary homes. Not even Raswaria would offer us absolute protection. I felt trapped, tangled in this web of byzantine snickering, self-important people. I could pick up my people and leave if not by one single detail. Rhiannon was adamant we should stay. The Empire was her home, her universe. Despite my own opinions, she declared she didn’t mind the [Emperor]’s attention. I couldn’t abandon her, I couldn’t take her with me. My only path was a maze of thorns and broken dreams until I reached the other side.
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Three members of the Imperial family sat on the top of the dais. Father in the middle, mother at his left, and I took the honor spot at his right. The throne room in our Palace wasn't small but it couldn't be compared to the opulent and majestic one back in the Imperial Palace. Nevertheless, it was crowded.
Today was the first day of the debutante week, and father would hold court like any other day. The difference, location aside, was that it was the first time the general public could take a look at me. It is said that any Imperial citizen can attend court although they must defer to those of a higher station. If the room is crowded, commoners must give their spot to knights, knights to lesser nobility, the lesser nobles to their superiors, and anyone to a member of the Imperial family.
During a prince's debutante week, no other Royal aside from the [Concubine-Queen] and the [Emperor] could visit the palace. They would be welcome only during the ball at the end of the week. This was so they wouldn't obfuscate their younger sibling.
The throne room was crowded with the high nobility and their younger daughters. About two dozen ladies came to check on the fresh meat. They were pageant pigeons, better, pageant peacocks strutting and displaying their gaudy court gowns with a myriad of petticoats and enough gems and jewelry to feed a village for a year.
Their hungry attention made me queasy. What they wanted from me was obvious. Sex in the Empire was not something ensconced on taboo and religious significance. It was a bonding activity like dancing or sparring together. A few nobles didn’t even find pleasure in sex, thinking of it just as a tool to perpetuate their bloodline.
But those who did find it pleasing, the vast majority, engaged in it anytime they could find. The debauchery and wine-fueled orgies in the Empire's high society created a whole new moral code, disparate from what I was used to. At least the ladies weren't leashed to that stupid concept of virginity and purity. They were free to seek worthy sex partners and to those standing in the throne room’s massive nave, none was worthier than the young [Prince] on display. Like the maids, they sought pregnancy with a Royal bastard. They would be set for life if they achieved that.
Succession wasn’t like the British Monarchy where the line went down a branch before backtracking. There, Harry would be King only after his brother William and young nephews George, Charlotte, and Louis. Here, the sons of the current [Emperor] all had a go at the throne before any grandchildren. This was a necessity to avoid infant rulers and all the troubles that came with it, infanti-regi-cide being among the top five.
Some of my brothers had almost a hundred offspring, a veritable army of loyal minions to do their bidding. All of them and their mothers were supported by the taxes the commoners paid. Like Ouroboros, the Empire's head devoured its own tail as the people had their life’s work to pay for these blue-blooded freeloaders. To maintain this legion of heirs, taxes weren't enough. The Empire depended on constant expansion. Conquest and pillage of neighboring kingdoms helped pay for such a lavish lifestyle.
But again like Ouroboros, it also devoured itself in this aspect. Tax embezzlement was done at all levels, and outwardly impoverished fiefs often had a deep treasury filled with gold. Under some stupid pretext, a coalition of dissatisfied greedy neighbors gathered to attack said fief and pillage it. They lined their own pockets and sent some gold to the capital, a bribe to make the Empire overlook that act of savagery.
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It led to a complex and fragile balance. A fief with no standing army was a sitting duck. A fief with too many soldiers and militia impoverished itself because of upkeep costs. And everyone needed to keep an eye on their neighbors, trying to prevent a disastrous alliance from coming to life.
Here entered the ladies and their Royal bastards. In the Empire, if the parents didn’t live together the child was usually was raised by the mother, just like me. After confirming the birth of a Royal, mother and bastard would go to the fief and stay there like a reverse hostage. Attacking a member of the Imperial family, threatening the life of the Emperor's grandchild was to court death.
That wasn't free, however. The family hosting such esteemed grandchild would be forced to ally themselves with the Prince-father, increasing the influence of said prince. No wonder the one with a hundred offspring was my brother the second Prince. He gathered allies all over the Empire, all in a mad bid for the throne.
The land was fractured and trade suffered. To carry goods across the Empire one had to pay tolls and customs hundreds of times. The case with Ena’s family was one of extreme internal predation, when the tolls became so frequent it killed internal trade.
The Empire had around a thousand barons, each ruling one small hamlet and the land at the distance of only a couple hours' walk. These barons were sworn to the regional viscount, and so on. The pyramid of nobles had fewer of them at each step up but the number of dukes was almost fifty.
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After the throne room nave filled, the session started as the seneschal called those listed on his docket. Most used their time to wheedle me and congratulate on my debutante. A few cases required a ruling by the [Emperor], often arranged ones with little actual impact, staged to be a practical lesson on rulership.
Some daring nobles brought their daughters to the front with them to present them to the [Emperor]. A few of these girls were also having their first formal social interaction this week. The year-long delay allowed them to plan ahead and hold back on their own debutante to piggyback on mine.
The young girls, around the age of high school or a college freshman, eagerly stared at us on the thrones like fangirls at a k-pop show. I avoided eye contact like the plague and instead focused on the [Emperor]. Nobody could fault me for giving my father undivided attention.
As the last supplicant was dismissed, the eager nobles lingered, hoping to catch me for some introductions or just to talk. Protocol demanded we stayed in our seats unless the [Emperor] called for us. Father instead stood and went around his throne to leave through the rear door alone.
Rhiannon signaled for me to remain seated. I caught up a few moments later. It was safer for us to stay here until the nobles dispersed on their own instead of leaving and risking bumping into a “lost” visitor that just happened to wander unchallenged into the private wing. Here, they had to petition to approach the throne even without the suzerain present. As his proxy, we could decline, accept, or ignore at our own discretion. We also had half of the Imperial Knights with us, as only half went with my father. They stayed around the dais, protecting us.
One daring young lady came to the supplicant position unchallenged, then curtsied deeply before the throne.
"Your Highness Percival, I'm Arabel Northwood of Bruschia. I am delighted to be in your presence."
Another deep curtsy, a candid smile, and a faint giggle. Then she was gone, deftly vanishing in the sea of stupefied nobles. I was impressed by her audacity. Technically, Arabel didn't breach any protocol or committed any fault.
Imperial law allowed people to stay and talk after the [Emperor] left the throne room. It also dictated that nobody shall pass the supplicant mark without permission if a member of the Imperial family was on the dais, a sensible security precaution. Arabel committed a faux pas because she raised her voice a bit too loud but nobody censured her. Since she addressed someone of a higher station without permission, it fell on me to call it to attention if I’d taken offense.
Here lied the catch. Should I censure her, I would lose a potential ally for nothing and would acknowledge her greetings. Her family would take a stance to protect her from further retaliation, souring future commitments or giving them an advantage in future negotiations as I “abused” my stance to basically scold a child who knew no better.
Right. That girl was as scheming as a three-hundred-year-old witch.
I could also acknowledge her, but it would have the opposite effect. The polite and neutral way of dealing with that was to ignore her, allowing the shrewd and daring girl free reign to introduce herself to me. A clever and well-thought loophole.
Her audacity wasn't unnoticed by the other young ladies. Some scowled, some looked at Arabel with awe. One decided that if that waif could do it, she could too. And the floodgates opened. The pageant peacocks strutted to the front, forming a line.
"Your highness Percival, I'm Victoria Proinelia of Pronielia. You inspire me."
The others felt like they'd missed their cue. Soon the line of ladies went around the throne room like, dunno, Ouroboros, as each tried to outdo the ones that went before them in their brief and witty plaudits. A new tradition during the inaugural Court session at a Prince's debutante week sprung to life. Unless said prince left the throne room with the [Emperor], he would have to appear disinterested as the ladies introduced themselves and laid praise on the young Imperial scion. A pocket tyrant that was raised hearing only praise and fawned upon by the women in his own Palace would have a hard time resisting, I had reason to believe.
“That’s wonderful for your public image, Percival,” Rhiannon whispered from her seat two thrones across.
I met her eyes and nodded with a business smile. She was right. The attention these ladies laid at my feet would make others interested and the rumors would spread like wildfire, causing other ladies to believe Prince Percival was the capital’s new hotcake, the new startup unicorn stock. It could become a feedback loop that would draw and inflate interest in my debutante ball.
I just hoped this ball didn’t turn out to be a bubble and pop like the dot-com companies.