Chapter Three

Carann, Royal Palace

If Arta had still retained any illusions regarding the council of the Dozen Stars as being an august, dignified body composed of noble leaders who worked selflessly for the good of the realm, today’s meeting would have certainly been sufficient to erase them.

Shortly after Karani had escorted her to the council chamber and Arta had seated herself on the throne, the holo-images of the council members had flickered into existence above their chairs, which faced her in a semi-circular pattern – all save for Duke Mardoban, who was physically present, and three other dukes who were conspicuous by their absence. No sooner had they appeared than they had begun arguing, and as of yet showed no signs of stopping. If the sympathetic looks Mardoban shot Arta’s way were any indication, this was not unusual behavior for the Dozen Stars’ highest nobility.

The current topic of debate, so far as Arta could follow it, regarded the issue of trade between Tantos Duchy and Kern Duchy. Duchess Kallistrae ast Tantos, recently instituted following the murder of her cousin Hiram, was apparently being pressured by the guilds to protest the high levels of taxation regarding goods that Tantos was exporting to Kern; Duke Menandrus ast Kern was in turn complaining about the low quality of the Tantos goods presently flooding his markets. The details of the argument had long since passed Arta’s ability to follow, however, and so far as she could tell both parties were simply going on circles without actually resolving anything. It was beginning to give her a headache, and she could only thank the Lord that the situation hadn’t, as yet, devolved to name calling.

Finally, she decided she couldn’t take it any longer. “Enough, both of you!” Arta shouted, standing from her throne – the eyes of the council members turned towards her, some looking murderous, others looking merely bemused, though the elderly Duchess Laodamia looked genuinely pleased that someone had finally managed to get everyone quiet. “If you can’t actually manage to come to an arrangement, the throne at least can request you stop wasting everyone else’s time! Despite what the two of you seem to think, yours aren’t actually the only two duchies in this Kingdom.”

“Your Majesty,” Duke Menandrus said, his tone oily, “you are young and new to your position and I will, therefore, refrain from taking offense, but I will courteously remind the throne that the charter of the Dozen Stars, as signed by Artax the Founder and the first council, allows the dukes of the realm full leeway to handle the affairs of their duchy insofar as they see fit, so long as those affairs don’t affect the kingdom at large…”

“You’re giving me a headache and wasting the council’s time,” Arta said coldly. “I don’t object to how you choose to resolve your argument, my lord and lady; I do object when you’re doing it in such a way as to keep anyone else from making use of this meeting. Am I clear?”

“Of course,” Menandrus said, though he looked decidedly nonplussed.

“The guilds have rights and obligations as well,” Kallistrae put in. “I am the first to admit that I am a soldier, not a politician or businesswoman; however, my duchy is deeply indebted to the guilds thanks to my late cousin’s actions, and they demand that their concerns be heard.”

“If the guilds have issues they wish to bring before us,” said Mardoban suddenly but firmly, “then they have the right to petition this body for an audience. Until that time, I agree with the Queen – we only have a limited time together, and no single duchy should be permitted to monopolize it.”

“I understand,” Kallistrae said, looking dissatisfied – not, Arta suspected from what she knew of the woman, because her argument with Menandrus had been broken up, but because she’d been forced into a position where she had to represent the interests of the guilds rather than those of Tantos Duchy. Of course, Arta had firsthand experience with how much influence the powerful business organizations actually had over that Duchy’s politics. Generations of Tantos dukes, of whom Hiram had only been the latest, had surrendered much of their power to guild interests in return for wealth and leisure – if Kallistrae wanted to extract herself from the arrangement, she’d have a very hard time ahead of her.

“Speaking of obligations to this council,” Arta continued, “I have to note the continued absence of a quarter of it. This is the third meeting Dukes Naudar and Respen, and the Duchess Sateira, have missed. Does anyone know where they are or what their excuse is?”

“Respen’s probably still pouting,” Duchess Vashata, one of the council’s younger members, said with a broad smirk. “He so wanted that throne, and I don’t think he’s gotten over the fact that someone else got it after so long.”

“Naudar troubles me, though,” Mardoban said. “It’s not like him to miss a council meeting – certainly not three in a row. At the very least, even if he wasn’t able to attend himself, he’d have had a representative fill in for him. I don’t know Sateira as well, but I certainly never got the impression in all of our interactions that she’d be one to abandon the chance to influence politics either. I don’t like this.”

“What are you suggesting, Mardoban?” Kallistrae asked, raising a brow.

“I’m not sure, but it’s not sitting well with me,” Mardoban said. “I would recommend that the council demand an appearance from the three or a personal representative at the next session and launch an investigation into their reluctance should they still refuse.”

“Do you think that’s really called for, Mardoban?” Laodamia asked, her voice pointed. “Isn’t it more likely to just make them even more resentful than they already are?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” said Mardoban firmly. “But I know that Naudar and Sateira are always plotting and Respen has one of the strongest military forces in the Kingdom, and all three of them are ambitious. I, for one, would sleep better knowing for sure what they’re up to. I would like to put the matter to a vote.” He turned towards the throne and nodded at Arta. “With the permission of the crown, of course.”

Arta recognized what he was doing – by seeming to defer to her and introduce the idea with her blessing, he was tying their positions together, and she needed all the support she could get. And while she might be a neophyte in this level of Kingdom politics, she didn’t trust the three absent council members either – especially Naudar, whose younger son had cheated during the recent tournament and seriously injured Karani. “You have it,” she said. “I’m very curious myself as to what is going on here and would like to see this council get to the bottom of it.”

The council members glanced at one another, and then slowly, hands raised. In addition to Arta and Mardoban, Kallistrae’s, Laodamia’s, and two other votes were cast in favor of the ultimatum and investigation. As two-thirds of the present council members, the proposal passed.

Arta thought that perhaps, she should feel relieved, but the only emotion that welled in her heart was a tense apprehension.

///

“Well?” Karani asked, standing with her arms crossed in the hall outside the council chamber with Duke Mardoban’s son Pakorus by her side. “How did it go?”

“Awful, I think,” Arta muttered, pulling her crown off her head and shaking her hair out. “I don’t know how you put up with them all those years,” she added to Mardoban.

The duke chuckled darkly. “They’re a difficult bunch, I’ll admit,” he said. “As regent I didn’t have much actual power to make them do anything besides show up, but at least they all knew me and had time to get used to me. You haven’t had the opportunity for that yet. It’ll come.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I hope,” Arta said skeptically. “At least they did show up for you, though. How in the Lord’s name am I supposed to run a Kingdom when a third of my dukes aren’t even going to bother appearing at council meetings? Queen Aestera didn’t… my mother didn’t have that problem, did she?”

Mardoban smiled wistfully. “Not normally,” he admitted. “Of course, Naudar was on our side back then, which probably made quite a difference.”

“They’re not even coming!” Karani exploded angrily. “Arta, you’re the Queen! Can’t you just, I don’t know, clap them in irons for that, or something?”

Pakorus coughed. “Technically,” he said, “the Queen is first among equals, not an absolute ruler. Though the throne can command the Dukes’ obedience during times of crisis, or on matters affecting the entire kingdom, in peacetime they have the right to rule their duchies as they see fit, and technically aren’t obligated to attend council meetings unless a state of emergency is declared…”

“Well, fine then,” Karani said, throwing up her hands. “Don’t clap them in irons, I suppose. But seriously, who has the time on their hands to come up with all of this nonsense, anyway? They could be doing something productive and spare us all from having to deal with it.”

“Unfortunately, it’s all in the Great Charter, dating back to Artax,” Mardoban said. “That’s not the sort of thing that’s easy to throw out, even if we wanted to, which is probably an… extreme reaction. Our government was set up to prevent a situation like that of the Empire, where the Emperor is ostensibly answerable to the Senate but, in practice, only pays lip service to it while ruling as an absolute despot. Unfortunately, we seem to have avoided putting too much power in the hands of one person only by putting that power in the hands of a small group of people. Sometimes I wonder if the Realtrans don’t have the right idea with their parliamentary system. At least it has enough members that they can counter each other, unlike the council.”

“And the dukes took pains to remind me of their privileges in council today,” Arta said wearily. “At least, once I got them to pay attention to me at all. I think as far as most of them are concerned, I’m less a queen than I am a pretty doll in a crown they can put up on the throne to improve the scenery and then happily ignore. At least we were finally able to get them to look into whatever Respen and the others are up too, though I think that was more down to you than me.”

“Yes,” Mardoban said slowly, “and there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, too. I didn’t bring it up in council because I don’t want word to get out yet, but I’d already dispatched some of my intelligence service to investigate our three missing council members. Their absence is… troubling, to put it mildly.”

“Well?” Arta asked, letting her impatience show a bit more than she’d intended. “What did they find?”

“Aurann, Sakran, and Tashir duchies are locked down tight,” Mardoban said. “None of my spies were able to get onto any of the three main planets; it doesn’t look like anyone is getting in or out of there. But they were able to report on troop and ship movements. Apparently, Respen is massing his military around Aurann. Maybe he’s just being paranoid and deciding to show off his strength; he did that sort of thing several times when I was regent. But with the current political situation, I’m worried it could be much worse.”

“Rebellion?” Pakorus asked in a quiet, disbelieving voice. “Do you really think it could come to that?”

“I don’t know, son,” Mardoban said. “I’m not sure I know anything anymore. But I fear that it’s not just Respen involved, if it’s true. Naudar and Sateira have vanished as well. I wouldn’t have thought those three would be able to stand each other long enough to work together on something like this, but I’m afraid it’s where the signs are pointing.”

“Do you think Naudar would really involve himself with something like this?” Pakorus asked.

“Yes,” Karani said bluntly. She’d never forgiven Galen ast Sakran for cheating against her at the tournament and didn’t think there was much villainy that was beneath anyone in that family.

“I don’t think Naudar would involve himself in an open rebellion,” Mardoban said, which surprised Arta until he continued. “At least, not unless he was certain he could win. Respen’s brash, true, but the others ought to have been able to restrain him if he was the sole driving force here. That’s part of what troubles me; even with the combined forces of Aurann, Tashir, and Sakran, they’d still be facing all of the other duchies, plus the crown, plus the Realtrans and even the Empire if they’re not careful. They might be able to win, but I don’t much like their odds – unless there’s something else going on here that I haven’t seen yet, but that makes them think they have the advantage.”

A sudden spike of dread rose in Arta’s chest, accompanied by a brief flash of a masked figure standing over her, dueling sword raised. Then it faded, leaving only an ominous feeling behind, but she was certain she’d just had an Adept’s instinct warning of danger. Not, Arta thought, that she needed it in this case; Mardoban’s words had shaken her enough by themselves. “What are we going to do, then?” she asked.

“We are going to gather the royal guard and the crown’s forces – quietly- and have them on standby, so that if something does happen, we’ll be ready,” Mardoban said. “And you, Arta, are going to be the one to give the order. Our forces need to see their queen as strong and prepared.”

“You’re the one who put it all together,” Arta pointed out.

Mardoban smiled sadly. “You’re a monarch, Artakane,” he said. “That means everything the government does is your responsibility, regardless of who actually does the work behind the scenes. You have to own it – and you have to keep aware, unless the whole thing spirals out of your control. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Arta said, suddenly feeling once again the terrible weight that was the Dozen Stars settling around her shoulders. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all you can do,” Mardoban said, “but I have to warn you – there may come a time when it isn’t enough.”

///

Later that afternoon, Pakorus ast Orlanes found Gilgam walking alone down a hallway near the guard barracks. The officer was, as ever, neatly attired in his uniform; he wore a dueling sword and blast pistol at his hip and carried his golden helmet under one arm. He was one of Pakorus’s father’s most trusted guardsmen, and the young noble hurried to his side when he saw him.

“Ah,” Gilgam said, smiling. “Young master Pakorus. And how might I assist you today?”

“I have a question I wanted to ask you,” Pakorus said, then frowned. “Maybe several questions, depending on how this goes. You still have the remains of the assassins, right? The Commander and his lieutenants, I mean?”

“Yes,” Gilgam said, a frown creasing his features. “Not that they’ve done us much good. The young queen did a considerable amount of damage to the Commander himself, and then his cybernetics self-destructed shortly after. There’s not much left to analyze; only slightly more from his minions. Whoever designed the technology didn’t want it traced. Why do you ask?”

“I was having a conversation with my father and Arta – that is, Queen Artakane – earlier,” Pakorus said, “and Father said something that, well – it got me thinking. Do you think it’s possible that whoever created the assassins is still operating in the Kingdom?”

“The assassins seem to have been active for almost two decades,” Gilgam said slowly. “They match the images of the assassins who killed Queen Aestera, and the Commander himself claimed responsibility for that attack. If they are one and the same, it’s entirely possible that whoever created them originally didn’t stick around, and that the Commander was operating on his own during the later attacks.”

“You don’t think that, do you, though?” Pakorus asked.

Gilgam shook his head. “No,” he said. “The assassins targeted one monarch, and then targeted potential monarchs. I think that they were working for the same person – or people – both times and were actively aiming to destabilize the Kingdom. In fact,” he added in a low voice, “someone stole the Commander’s sword directly out of our vaults not long after the attack. Whoever it was did it without tripping any of our alarms – the theft wasn’t even discovered until the next morning. Why they wanted the sword, I’m not certain – it was a fairly standard-model dueling sword, not remarkable in any way we determined – but I know our security, and the thief shouldn’t have been able to pass it. Unless, perhaps, they had the same stealth tech the assassins used.”

Pakorus took in Gilgam’s words and thought of his father’s suggestion that there might be something else, something unseen, driving the potential plans of the council’s absent dukes. “Do you have any leads at all?” he asked.

“If I did, your father and the Queen would be the first to know,” Gilgam said. Then he paused, seeming to consider something. “I take that back, actually. There is something that’s been bothering me, but I’ve been hesitating to bring it up with Duke Mardoban. Shortly before the battles against the pirates, he and I visited a… person, on Tantos Station. This… person is a very knowledgeable sort and gave us key information on the pirates but claimed to have no knowledge of the assassins’ origins. Your father believed him, so I didn’t press the issue. But I wasn’t so sure. And he’s had time now to conduct further investigations. I have a suspicion – only a suspicion, mind you – that this person might be able to provide us with enough information to fill some of the holes in our knowledge, if we approach him in the right way. If you could help me convince your father that we need to get in contact with him, I’d be in your debt, truly.”

“Well,” Pakorus said, “I can try. I may not be much of a fighter, but I want to do my part for the Kingdom. If I can help you, I will.”

“That’s the spirit, lad,” Gilgam said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“So,” Pakorus asked, “what’s this person’s name, anyway?”

“Well,” said Gilgam, “I’m not entirely sure what his real name is. But when your father and I met him, he called himself Specter.”