Princeps
— Prince Zaid, Kashmar —
A summons from Father was rare. Zaid saw him often enough at ceremonies and during regular business. There should have been no need to summon him from Bodrum. Certainly not when he was training new soldiers.
The new men had finally learned to set their tents, march, set a wall of spears, and perform all those tasks in straight lines. The spear wall was the best and cheapest defense against Calique light cavalry, but spears were no good if they weren't where the commander needed them. So the men marched up to eighty kilometers in a day while lugging food, tents, bedrolls, and water. All of it together was heavy. Under ideal conditions their gear would be carried by gurantor train, but wars were seldom ideal. So they made fast, heavy marches from field to field, where they pitched their tents in straight lines and practiced maneuvers until they dropped. They were allowed to eat, rest, recover, and then marched to a different field another eighty kilometers distant.
Tishk wasn't lying when he said he liked to fight. Most men could fight if you put them shoulder-to-shoulder and made them face an enemy together, but fighting in open melee required someone more accustomed to violence, more eager for the kill, so men like Tishk were tapped by the training sergeants and instructed as more rounded fighters, with extra weapon drills on rest days and numerous practice bouts. Such men were often too eager and had to be cautioned against injuring each other too badly. There wasn't enough time for serious hurts to heal before the corps moved south. A broken bone was a ticket home, with a shamefully small purse of final pay on the side.
Besides two thousand men who needed training and supplies, Zaid had a bevy of Lordlings to watch over, low-ranked princes who managed towns under his tutelage. He didn't want them to fail while he was away fighting rebels. That would only be more work for him in the long run, and endanger his ranking.
With so much to prepare and regular encounters with Father already guaranteed, Zaid was surprised to receive the Tyrant's summon. As he passed through Kashmar's gate, guards handed him a second summons from the Prime Minister, his old tutor Gobert. He wanted to meet on the Princes' Wall.
The western battlements of Kashmar's citadel were a popular gathering spot for the men of Hadith's Line. The castle occupied a tall hill overlooking the harbor. Six men could march abreast on those battlements with room left to spare. The buildings within the castle's walls were grand and made of stone. Only the highest-ranking princes, their families, and their servants lived within the castle walls. And the Tyrant, of course, who occupied floors of the citadel.
From the top of the wall and the steeply carved hillside beneath it, there was a hundred-fifty-meter drop to the city streets below: a dizzying height. From that commanding point a prince could see the harbor district of the city, the ships in their docks, and the Bay of Tyrants beyond. The bay was a little less crowded than a month ago now the land routes were open again. Some older ships, pressed into service when transportation commanded sky-high prices, sat idle or abandoned at anchor. They were too unreliable when safe land routes were available. The far mouth of Tyrants' Bay was guarded by promontories surmounted by the Horns, twin defensive towers bristling with ballistae. Each horn was topped with a heavy trebuchet capable of sinking warships.
More of the city spread north and south of the citadel's hill, spreading wide along the gently sloping land until it met the bounding hills. Grand estates occupied high ground around the city, imitating Kashmar's keep. The castle overlooked the only easy entrance to the city's protected valley.
When Zaid climbed to the battlements and saw what company he was in, he noticed all of the Founding Hadith's great works were present. First, the princely corps commanders represented the destined blood of Hadith, the line favored by Olyon to rule Kashmar. They stood upon the second Great Work, the castle walls of Kashmar that were never breached. And their view was of the harbor, the third Great Work. A river used to run through the area, but most of it was diverted to the north, with a measured remainder permitted to flow down its old course through the city. The land was reclaimed with hard work and an incalculable amount of imported soil.
Ten princes greeted each other as they arrived. All of them were commanders of armed corps, from fifteenth-ranked Dino and his five hundred to sixth-ranked Zaid and his four and a half thousand. There were thirty thousand spears represented, the greatest host Kashmar had ever assembled. Half of those troops were recently recruited, minimally trained, and equipped with basic gear. Zaid was gratified to see none of the usual backstabbers. Father normally liked to pit them against each other, watch them form alliances, and observe as those alliances fell apart. He wasn't playing games, this time. He wanted to reclaim the South and unite Kravikas.
The Prime Minister joined them, a yellow-clad scholar close behind. "There's been news from the river lands," he said without preamble. "The construction crew returned. They had to bypass Satoma because the rebels now occupy it, and they aren't letting anyone near the oasis. We haven't heard from Princeps Samir or any other advanced forces in weeks, so we must assume the worst. Our Tyrant will decide on a commander to lead the campaign today, and tonight will be a lament for Samir."
"My gold is on Zaid," said one of the corps commanders, "any takers?"
"Okber," said another, "but I want good odds." The other princes laughed, even Okber. Zaid might be sixth, but he was ranked higher than any of Ormaz's other children. Ranks two through five were held by ministers, who were all the Tyrant's brothers and half-brothers. Zaid had half-expected to serve as one of Princeps Samir's ministers until he got the bright idea to build an advance base at Satoma and live there part-time. If Zaid were a rebel, he would have attacked Satoma, too.
Princeps Samir had prepared both Zaid and Okber to take over for him in case the uncertainties of war took his life. This was coming sooner than expected, but it had been planned for. Zaid was ready to lead the campaign.
"Why the urgency?" ninth-ranked Okber asked. "We haven't heard from him in weeks, so this isn't a total surprise. Why call us on a half day's notice?"
"An Enclave Guardian is here. She had an audience with the Tyrant. Not even I know what they talked about, but
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"A woman?" There were mutterings among the top-ranked princes gathered. What was the point of letting a woman speak in the Assembly of Princes?
"Not just any woman, but Enclave Leadership," the prime minister corrected them. "You'd do well to listen to what she says. Our Tyrant thinks she's important enough to bring you here."
A message runner found Zaid as the gathering broke up. He was a lad with Hadith markers, especially the tufted tail. He knelt and offered boards to Zaid and ran off again as soon as they were accepted. If the boy showed uncommon promise, he might earn a rank someday. If he became a problem, he'd be disposed of. A tyrant had to prune weak branches from the family tree to make way for the strong ones.
The message was from Jaida, Zaid's lovely concubine. She was done mourning their son and would receive Zaid again. It would take a few days to make time for her, but she was something to look forward to. Both of his wives were political matches, needy females who always demanded things from him. Money. Favors for their families. Better conditions. More clothes. The best tutors for their children. Tickets to the theater. His time. His attention. A pretense of love. Sinecures for their families. Money. It was endless and exhausting.
Jaida was his escape. He gave her a respectable house in the wealthy merchant's district near the castle, where she was convenient to visit while remaining out of the way of all the princes' wives. Her house was his private oasis, where he neededn't worry about anything. She was the model woman: beautiful, attentive, and undemanding. He would write to her when the Assembly of Princes was finished.
"Princeps Samir has fallen. He died as he fulfilled his duty to Kashmar and our Tyrant. He will be remembered." The Prime Minister's voice filled the long Assembly Hall, where most of the seventy-nine current princes gathered. Above their heads hung banners of the first twenty-five of them. The foremost banner was taken down, a field of blue with two white franango. Three victory streamers hung from it to represent Samir's military successes. The banner was neatly folded, and the square of cloth was handed to Gobert, who transferred it to Tyrant Ormaz. Ormaz kissed the banner of his dead son, the one who, for a time, was his chosen successor, then passed the banner on to a yellow-clad scholar. The banner and a record of Samir's life would be stored where later princes could visit them and learn. Not many princes spent time down there, but Zaid had visited long enough to locate the banners of famous princes resting atop the boards memorializing their deeds and read them. There were thousands of such banners, almost to the beginning of Kashmar, atop stacks of boards waiting to be read. Being stricken from the Hadith line meant one's record would not be stored in the archives. To be removed from the family line was to be intentionally erased.
The Tyrant spoke. "In normal times would let the first rank remain unoccupied until at least the lament was done. But, as Hadith's line prepares to win back the South for all time, there must be a Princeps to lead
Zaid acted calm, but his heart pounded like he had thrown himself into battle. He knelt before the Tyrant on both knees and placed his head on the lowest step of the dais. This was as close as anyone could come to Father during Assembly unless they were an immediate functionary. But, Zaid could not presume he was gaining the first rank. Sometimes, a Tyrant called a prince forward to take their heads. On such occasions, the Tyrant cut first and explained after.
"What is the Tyrant's will?" Zaid intoned. "This son of Blessed Hadith will serve."
"You are
"Arise!" repeated the Assembly, "Princeps Zaid!"
With Zaid installed in his new place, standing by the Tyrant, the Enclave Guardian was called forth for her address. Most of the princes didn't have advance notice they were to hear from a woman and complained restlessly when she appeared. What could a woman have to say to them? It wasn't entirely unprecedented: foreign nations sometimes sent female ambassadors. Either they did it on purpose, or they could not find a qualified man to represent them. In the church's case, it was likely meant as a reminder their legitimacy was derived from Bahram's sanction.
Zaid's first act as Princeps was to command the assembled princes to silence. "The Enclave Guardian will be heard." They settled and resigned themselves to the awkwardness.
Guardian Maia was a stately woman late into her childbearing years and cold-eyed as any old warrior. She began in good form, spending a scarce minute (the time dial turned over only once) thanking the Tyrant for his hospitality and the chance to address them all. She spent another minute reminding them of Kashmar's shared history with the Enclave, hundreds of years of cooperation and mutual benefit. Of all the great families in the world, only the five First Families of Enclave were more blessed than the Princely line of the Free City. No country had benefitted as much from Kashmari trade as Enclave, and no other country had received more disciple support.
Her preamble done, the Guardian set to making her argument. "A historic moment is upon us, a time when far-reaching decisions must be made. A pretender rises in the South, one who casts doubt on what we know is true. He claims First Family Heritage is a lie, and therefore Blessed Hadith's Destiny is a lie. He wants to tear down the pillars that have supported civilization for hundreds of years.
"I need not remind this august Assembly of its illustrious association with the true Unity Church and our founder, Saint Bahram, who gave Olyon's blessing to Hadith's line. Generations later, your three Great Works stand strong. You give proof of Olyon's blessing through your continued rule. Your great fortress had never fallen. Tyrants' Bay, which your ancestors carved out from the sea, is the greatest port in the world and brings you riches from the farthest ends of Tenobre.
"When we speak of the Five Families in Enclave, we speak of our Fate in being chosen by divine Olyon to bear a strong spirit. But when we speak of Hadith's Line, we speak of Destiny. When Hadith first came North to this fertile but undeveloped land to bring its people under his disciplined reign, that was Destiny.
"When Hadith's sons carved the port of Tyrants' Bay, claiming deep water from the sucking mud, that was Destiny. And when Hadith's grandchildren raised this mighty fortress to command all of Kashmar, when they set the foundation of a wall that would stand for centuries, rarely besieged and never breached, that was Destiny. Saint Bahram saw your ancestor's strength, blessed Hadith's Line, and commanded the Five Families to work jointly with Kashmar. That too was Destiny.
"But Destiny is not given. It is offered to those strong enough to take it. And now, right now, it is offered once again. The Calique have never been weaker. They are led by a child, a charlatan who pretends to be a saint. He uses tricks and stolen knowledge to deceive his followers, while he secretly perverts the Creator's will and undermines the futures of all Tenobre's people. He sabotages alliances, questions long-established doctrines, and diverts the faithful with perverse songs and entertainments.
"Our enemies have united. Kashmar's rebels now fight for Enclave's false saint. The Council of Guardians offers Tyrant Ormaz assistance in the form of twenty-one disciples." The princes stirred at that number. Never had so many disciples been deployed at one time, not even when the church put down their most famous rogue disciple. The few princes who had fought with disciple backing spoke excitedly to their neighbors. One practitioner could change a monster hunt from hopeless to easy. Whatever lingering worries they felt about the strange Pasha in the south were erased.
Zaid had to calm them again to allow Guardian Maia to continue. "Enclave will not act with half-measures while Kashmar gives its all. Therefore, we have contracted twenty thousand warriors from the Hyskos Grand Company."
This time, the princes applauded, something they rarely did for a guest. Scholars would later record it was the only time a woman spoke at the Assembly of Princes and received such appreciation. As soon as Zaid got them quiet again, Tyrant Ormaz welcomed Enclave's contribution.
As the Assembly broke up, Prime Minister Gobert grabbed Zaid's arm to pull him into another meeting. His letter to sweet Jaida would need to wait.