It was deep black night when Clifford Hilldon, Budgetary Advisor for the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Valuan, ran clumsily across the royal keep towards the palace gardens. Only a few stars and an overcast moon threw light on the pergament stripes that he was losing in his wild run again and again. Though it mattered little. What were a few pieces of information in the grand scheme of things? He had urgent matters to report now.
He hurried up the slight of stairs towards the palace gardens and immediately stumbled into something hard. Parchment flew in all directions as he flinched. He sighed internally. Now he was going to be delayed further.
Cliff grabbed the strewn about papers frantically as the soldier bowed to help him. “Apologies for my carelessness. The queen mother had sent me to pick Nexi-Berries for Princess Violet and I did not expect anyone to walk up here at this hour.” Apparently the two meter tall giant was more than amused to do have been tasked with such low tasks, that were normally given to a slave or a servant.
He eyed the soldier briefly and immediately recognized him. How could he not? It was Narodin Veltor, the Sword of the Sea. A Legend in its plate armor, right before his eyes. Immediately he bowed to show him the respect the hero deserved. “I apologize, I am very much in a hurry. Please excuse my impoliteness and don't let me stop you.” Then he bowed again, grabbed all his parchments tightly and continued his clumsy form of running. The giant only nodded serenely.
The famous warrior did not linger in the thoughts of the advisor though. When he arrived at the nearby entry to the large guard tower, all his thoughts were focused on the recent reports. He climbed the spiral staircase up the tower and arrived breathing heavily. Exhausted he downright threw himself against the heavy wooden door, that opened with a creaky sound. Unloading his utensils on a nearby table, he immediately approached the desk of the minister.
Jarya Zhulan was located in a bed directly behind said desk. The health of the old man had deteriorated in recent years and he had not left the tiny office for quite some time. Clifford saw, that Jarya was awake and immediately started to report. “Minister, the-” But his stomach was revolting.
It took a few moments, before Clif had his dinner under control again. The hasteful run was showing him his bodily limits. It had been too much and he would plan to avoid that in the future. Under the impatient gaze of the old man he continued.
“Minister, the negotiations took the turn that we expected. The Union of the States of Vereil have signed the sue for peace. With this the war is officially over and the city state of Daró Varamir will be a new vassal state under the rule of the valuan empire. We expect revolts within the year and our estimated costs for peacekeeping are calculated around 30.000 gold coins. More if we really have revolts.”
The old man nodded attentively. “Make sure that the assassins of the temple are all deployed towards Daró Varamir. The blood of the Valurén could exist there after all. And… open diplomatic ways to the other members of the Union. If they are sheltering Valurén this could be the perfect time to negotiate. After all they just had to pay for a war and now they have to buy us off as well. How high were the spoils of war?”
Clifford nodded, while he wrote down the instructions on a piece of parchment. “Our diplomats wanted seven million gold coins first. Though the high sum was putting serious strains on the negotiations, so they gave them the choice of giving away Daró Varamir and the spoils of war were negotiated at almost two million gold coins. The Union of Vereil would have never been able to cough up seven million in the first place. A lot of people view this final result as a triumph.”
Clifford eyed the old man wistfully. “The rumors we have sown that an heir to the Valurén bloodline is hidden away up north is gaining more and more ground within the populace as well. Minister… do you really want t-”
Jarya Zhulan barked at him with a rasping voice. “Yes. I’m sure. Bring me the bottle. And get rid of it afterwards. Remain focused towards our goal.”
Clifford opened a small coffer that had been stored away high up in a shelf. A small vial with sallow green liquid lied in it. He handed it to the minister carefully and helped him swallow the content. Jarya smiled before he cheered Clifford up.
“Don’t be sad, my friend. Follow the plan. My life isn’t important anymore, really. My death however…” The old man coughed for a brief moment before dropping back down into his bed. He continued with brittle voice. “...my death will bring the empire to its knees.”
Then the old man grabbed his chest in a series of spasms. Clifford watched the death of his mentor silently. He showed a worried face, until he was certain that Jarya Zhulan had passed to the other side. Immediately afterwards his expression changed to a indifferent and very cold one.
He stepped over to the window, grabbing a stone that usually served as paperweight and crushed the vial with hundreds of rhythmic beats until only glass dust remained. Then he opened the window briefly and blew the remains into the wind. Evidence eliminated.
A deep feeling of satisfaction filled him as he fixed his attire in a dusty old mirror that was hanging from the wall. After he made sure that his clothes were spotless and he had recovered from the heavy run earlier he began with his next task. He had to report the death to the emperor.
This moment would decide everything. If the ruler perceived him as weak or incompetent, then everything would be for naught and he would have to start over again.
The nightly chill in the air was calming his nervosity a bit as he walked across the palace gardens. It picked up a bit again as he reached the imperial guards at the palace, though his face only showed grief and regret.
“Please bring me to the emperor. I come with important news.” Clifford spoke glumly.
The guards did not bother to move. “The emperor is resting. It can wait.”
Clifford sighed internally and tried his best to showcase anger and sadness as the same time. Rage and anger had always been the emotions he had the biggest difficulty with. He just did not feel that fire naturally. “It cannot wait! The emperor is to be informed immediately. The minister is dead.”
The second guard shook its head. “Your funeral. The emperor will not be amused to have been woken and the minister will still be dead tomorrow morning.” But when he saw Clifford's persistent gaze he shrugged. “Alright, follow me.”
The imperial soldier lead him through a narrow hallway into the palace and towards the audience hall. On their way the broad man sent a half dozen servants to the royal chambers and they continued their walk. The rooms of the emperor and his family were strictly off limits and only a few chosen guards and servants were given access.
The palace was impressive. Wide open rooms that towered a few meters high, adorned with columns, wall paintings of triumph and defeat of the preceding emperors and overwhelming riches. Cliffords own little home was by far not as magnificent, even though he did his best to imitate exceeding wealth.
Where the imperial family decorated with gold, Clifford had used dyed steel. Where murals were murals of famous artist embellished the walls, stylish wall hangings could be found at the home of the advisor. They faked a rich family history. One that he had thought of entirely on his own.
But it had been enough to impress the niece of the great Jaryan Zhulan at a early age and to ask her hand in marriage. A engagement he had planned to enter when he first started working under the previous advisor for the ministry.
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The imperial guard opened a heavy steel door with a artistical coat of arms made of jade. The symbol of the Thersin family. The imperial dynasty had style, that much no one could possibly argue with. The soldier palpated him thoroughly for possible hidden weapons, just to make sure the ministry official wasn’t armed.
Clifford stepped out of the wall lit palace into a rather dark room, that offered audiences with the most powerful man in the world. The room itself was impressive and fear inducing. Columns made from dark duraksteel that had been adorned with skillfully crafted patterns led up to a low hanging ceiling, that only seemed to grow towards the sky as it got closer towards the throne room up ahead. Brightly shining magic crystals gave said room the look of daylight while the darker corridor of the audience hall was sparsely lighted with the light blue magic crystals.
This was done intentionally. It gave petitioners, diplomats and soldiers that the emperor received a immediate feeling of respect towards the crown.
The area between the columns led in a broad passageway towards the throne. Walls, ceiling and the flooring outside of this passageway was made of cold, rough slate, that only in the immediate surrounding of the throne room started to be replaced by polished sandstone tiles. The golden stone gave the area something devine. Something sublime. And yet it was stylisch. The passageway in the middle of the corridor was made with wooden panels that had been overdrawn with soft leather.
These very expensive coatings, that were certainly more valuable that any comfortable chair Clifford owned at his home, also served a psychological purpose. Visitors were forced to take their shoes off, walk over the cold, rough slate floor over to the soft leather and they had to kneel in front of the emperor. It was enjoyable to kneel here, soft and nice as the leather was. A effect that was well-thought-out. It showed symbolically, that it was more comfortable and easy to kneel and be within the empire, with all the riches and advantages it gave, rather than walking on rough stone that felt uncomfortable.
These things were gadgetry, that hoped to inspire loyalty. Clifford appreciated this room. It was simple, yet effective. He walked up to the end of the leathery flooring and left a bit of room to not appear respectless as he knelt down. The imperial guard that had followed him before, left the room. Apparently it was not necessary for them to keep him under surveillance?
A few minutes later he realised why this was the case. Guards marched into the room, heavily armed with spear, shield and a shortsword that draped their hips. The golden plate armor with the imperial sigil had an intimidating effect. The Thersin snake, that held a broken sword in its maw, as its body snaked around the splintered blade.
The guards formed a solid line right before the staircase that led up to the throne and dozens of soldiers stepped between the columns in the audience hall. Clifford ignored them all. He was waiting patiently for the only man that mattered. The emperor however, was making him wait for another thirty minutes before he arrived.
The emperor was clad in golden robes with a simple, stylish silver crown and he was carried into the room on a enormously big shield. He stood proud and tall above the old relict, that was said to be owned by a legendary giant of a man. Zardoz, the Titan of Erád Sûl.
The emperor itself was a slim man in his fifties with bored and tired expression. Which was mainly Cliffords fault. It was concerning to him and he worried quite a bit now. Apparently the room’s aura also influenced him subconsciously. As the emperor stepped off the gigantic shield towards the throne and redirected his attention towards him, Clifford pushed his fists into the soft leather in front of him and bowed deeply.
As the emperor sat down he began to report immediately. He had heard from many sources that Dalton Thersin was not a patient man. “My emperor! The minister is dead!”
The ruler slightly raised his eyebrow. “Jarya is dead?”
Clifford returned to his kneeling position with a face full of grief. “Yes, my emperor.”
The ruler rejected into his throne and brought his index finger towards his upper lip. He seemed more thoughtful rather than he felt sorry for the old minister. Apparently the death of Jarya Zhulan did not have the effect they had hoped for. He scaled back on his grief a bit and replaced that with a bit of worry.
“Why did you ask for this urgent audience? Is there a reason to interrupt my prayers and meditation?” The voice of the emperor was less than amused.
“My emperor. The death of Jarya Zhulan was very…” Clifford used his most worried expression here. “...very unusual. He was old, yes. But nowhere near sudden death! It is a even more disturbing occurrence with the current reports that we received in recent days. I wan-”
The emperor issued him to be silent with a hand gesture. Apparently he had no patience to hear “important” reports. “Laif Thar! Go and find me Mirtuk Gyajur. The faster he finds himself sworn in as minister, the better.”
A broadly build imperial guard immediately left its post and ran out of the audience hall with quick paces. The plate armor weighted easily more than thirty kilos, yet the big soldier ran faster than Clifford could have ever managed.
He had to smile internally. Who would have thought that the emperor would chose the firstborn of the Gyajur family to resume the work of the deceased minister? Probably some other budgetary advisor. At least this was going according to plans.
Clifford took the following silence as a invitation to speak again. “My emperor, excuse my insolence… but regarding the remains of the deceased mini-”
The emperor spoke bored. “Sure, go ahead and take the liberty to bury the man in the imperial graveyard. But make it a quick and fast ceremony. I do not want possible enemies to know that one of our highest offices has taken a… setback.”
Clifford bit his lower lip. No, no, no. This was not good. He needed the body later! He could accuse someone of murder and conspiracy in the near future if he ever needed a trump card. So he did something that only a few men in his position had ever done.
“No.” He refused the emperor. Said no to the most powerful man in the world. The word reverberated throughout the hall and all the imperial guards suddenly looked at him curiously. The emperor seemed very surprised.
Clifford brought out a tear with effort, before he continued with slightly mad voice.
“My mentor, under which I had served the empire for over twenty years has now died suddenly and unexpectedly. If there is even the slightest possibility, that this was an unnatural death... “ Clifford breathed heavily. “Then I owe it to him.”
Then he pretended to suddenly realise who he was speaking to and threw himself into the leathery floor again.
“My emperor! My life is your, my wealth is yours, my soul belongs to you!” Clifford clawed his hands into the soft underground. “Please! Grant me my wish to make sure his death was natural. For the safety of the empire!”
When Clifford returned to his sitting position, the emperor stared into his eyes gently. And the advisor returned the stare, hoping, praying that his emotions had been interpreted correctly. His loyalty towards his dead mentor should have been a good sign for unconditional loyalty that every ruler craved, while his refusal hopefully added a bunch of respect.
The emperor eyed him for what felt like entire minutes. Then the door to the audience hall was opened once again and another visitor hurried forward to kneel down next to Clifford.
Finally the gaze broke, as the emperor eyed the new arrival. The emperor did not waste any more time. “So be it. Do as you wish.” He continued to speak more formally towards the man next to Clifford. “Mirtuk of house Gyajur. Hereby I, the emperor of Valuan, declare you Minister of Internal Affairs. Next to you, you will find your future advisor. He had been the same to the former, deceased minister Zhulan.”
“Yes! My emperor!” The man bowed deeply, yet the emperor already rose from his throne. Immediately his personal guard was next to him and presented the gigantic shield again for transportation.
Dalton Thersin spoke one last time as he was carried out. “I expect a report by breakfast.”
“Yes, emperor” Clifford and Mirtuk spoke simultaneously.
The imperial guards left the hall before and after the emperor and Mirtuk sat down, seemingly overwhelmed and Clifford turned towards him. “I’m afraid it's going to be a long night, minister.”
The newly appointed official frowned. “The most important things? Summarized?”
Clifford nodded and had to hold back a demonic grin, that he hid behind his serious gaze. “Pirates to the western isles that raid up and down the coastline. Bandits in the eastern mountainside and woodlands. Three reports of children born to the Valurén bloodline. They have already been dealt with, though. Sacrifices to the gods. The parents are under surveillance. A trading guild that reportedly had engaged in war tax evasion. And the most dire news off all... “ Clifford waited for a second to give his message more meaning.
“... our northern ally Zenshin is harbouring a young Valurén, that now has reached his thirteenth life cycle.”
Panic spread on the newly appointed minister, and Clifford enjoyed every moment of it.