“Figures they’d put me with the rookie- no offense, lieutenant.”
Cato kept his gaze straight ahead and level. “None taken, sergeant.”
Sergeant Enzo was a fixture of the Orczy force in Anthusa: fifty years old, a veteran of three wars and countless skirmishes who had recently reinforced his body to the second realm of alchemic transformation. His father and grandfather fought, bled, and died for the Orczy on Vintal. According to family lore which he never failed to bring up around new recruits, his twice-great grandmother was a personal servant to Duke Otto’s aunt, Lady Ascania Orczy, when she was a child.
“Just saying, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been before, and they bump me down to guarding the back door. The back door! It’s disrespect, lieutenant, a pure disrespect.”
It took at least a few weeks to stabilize one’s body after finishing alchemic transformation. Those who could afford it would take a period of bed rest and relaxation. Enzo was back on duty the next day, by all appearances because he wanted to. It made perfect sense to put him in a less visible, less confrontational position until he was ready.
Of course, to say they were guarding the back gate was something of an understatement. The tertiary entrance to the Orczy compound was a twenty-foot high slab of sculpted and rune-inscribed steel, set into a curtain wall layered with magical protections. Unlike the grand entrance, overwhelmingly ornate and built for visibility along one of Anthusa’s great roads, which was used for great events like today’s celebration and led through a network of gorgeous gardens which Cato had barely been able to glimpse, or the secondary entrance which was more convenient and allowed the Orczy and their guests to slip in and out with fewer eyes on them, this door was primarily used for luggage and supplies. That meant far fewer tips to the guards, but also much calmer days.
“I’m sure Captain Apostolis doesn’t disrespect you, sergeant. Maybe he thinks I need your example, how about that?”
“You’d best follow it, lieutenant. Let me tell you, I’ve been fighting Kolonn bastards since I could walk and carry a stick at the same time. Once, two blocks off the Lords’ Square…”
Families like Enzo’s were a bit like the furniture. The Orczy handed them down from one generation to another, and they were expected to serve their purpose without so much as an unpleasant lump. Cato thought it was a depressing comparison, but it was the one Sergeant Enzo preferred. The Orczy certainly didn’t see him as an equal, let alone a friend or companion, but they trusted him utterly, and in return he enjoyed a set of circumstances that the common citizens of Anthusa would kill for.
The Orczy provided for every expense in his upbringing, his schooling, and most recently his training and cultivation resources. Ten years ago, they found him a nice girl from the countryside and put a token of their appreciation into the dowry: for the Orczy, that meant an ordinary laborer’s entire lifetime earnings. They had three children now, all born safe and healthy thanks to midwives and doctors retained by Orczy coin. The youngest was now enrolled in an Orczy-funded school, accompanied by dozens of other children in the exact same set of circumstances. Enzo had slightly better than even odds of making it to retirement age, though that depended a lot on whether he had the talent to improve his cultivation and extend his lifespan. In the very plausible event that Sergeant Enzo died fighting in the Kolonn feud, the Orczy would cover the funeral and have a priest pray for his soul for three days straight, usually split over the course of a few weeks. His name would be inscribed onto a dizzyingly large slab of Orczy martyrs, and his children’s children would grow up listening to stories about their brave grandpa Enzo, who died defending everything they loved from the Kolonn menace.
Millions of children across Vintal fell asleep listening to stories like that, on both sides of this feud. When Cato understood that, it made him nauseous. But for Enzo and most of the people on Vintal, it was the water they swam in. They were bathed in millenia of blood and tears, and carried the weight of innumerable dead generations on their shoulders, whose sole commandment was the destruction of the other side.
“... and I swear, I sent both his front teeth flying! That’s why they call him Rabbit now, you see. ”
“So when you said you were hunting rabbits last week…”
“Aye! He’d shacked up in a cathouse, and he got some wooden teeth as replacements, but you can still tell. Here’s the best part, Cato-”
“That’s Lieutenant Cato to you, sergeant.”
“Right, of course. Here’s the best part, lieutenant, when we get inside…”
As far as Sergeant Enzo was concerned, Cato was a hired sword with no skin in the game, no ancestral blood shed for the family, and no reason other than money to not defect to the Kolonn. Mercenaries were bought, and they only stayed bought for one client if they were famous enough that betrayal would hurt their public image. A fresh-faced country bumpkin had no such compunctions.
That was why Lieutenant Cato of Inillo was charged with guarding the little-traveled back door into the Orczy compound, and why one of their most trusted lower officers was assigned under him.
This was a test. Cato had no doubt that Enzo was reporting to Captain Apostolis about everything he did. It wasn’t just his possible loyalties: Enzo was poking at him, complaining, forgetting titles, trying to see which offenses Cato was willing to punish and which he let slide, and whether he would let a subordinate walk all over him. Like everywhere else in this world, the explicit rules of military discipline were just the first layer of how the Orczy forces worked, and they mostly bound rookies and outsiders. Complex bonds of loyalty, family, and camaraderie held the core of the force together, and a canny commander knew that he didn’t have complete control over his men. He had to navigate old expectations and unwritten contracts, the kind which let the more senior soldiers get away with the kind of behavior that rookies would get whipped for, so long as they did it out of the public eye. That was why Cato accepted Enzo’s invitation to join an after-hours gambling club, accepted losing some of his dearly-needed money, and didn’t report it to the captain. Now he was complicit. He could be trusted, at least a little bit.
“... and that’s why he showed up in front of the cathedral begging for the archbishop to exorcize him.”
“Doesn’t Archbishop Forna have better things to do than ‘exorcize’ a random guy’s syphilis?”
“Of course he does. Rabbit’s not thinking clear though, on account of the syphilis. So if you see a guy with two wooden front teeth give him a good sock in the jaw for me, lieutenant, but wash your hands afterwards.”
“Noted, sergeant. Archbishop Forna is coming today, isn’t he?”
“Sure is. I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it, he’s got his own guards with him. Right now, you and me, we’re more like decoration.”
That wasn’t totally wrong. The Orczy compound was a sprawling castle built in the center of one of the most densely populated cities on Vintal. High walls, gardens, fountains, subterranean dungeons, they had it all. It wasn’t their biggest castle, not by far: the Orczy branch family had residences all over the planet, and the main family on the planet Konigsphare hollowed out an entire mountain in ages past. But for how scarce and desirable open space was in Anthusa, the Orczy family’s ability to maintain such a property inside city walls spoke to their undeniable influence.
It was under constant guard, both against Kolonn saboteurs and regular thieves, but the sheer scale of the magical defenses should ward off all but the most powerful or foolhardy opponents, and to hold out indefinitely in the face of a siege or city-wide rioting. Security was tight because the archbishop was visiting, but seeing as he was publicly accompanied by the knights of St. Trajan at all times, this was less because the Orczy worried about an attack on him and more because they worried about appearing too careless with such an important guest. Even after many weeks in the city, the details of events like this escaped him. But unlike his ignorance of cultivation, this was something he could just ask about.
Cato put on his very best country bumpkin act and leaned towards Sergeant Enzo.
“Let me get this straight, sergeant. What’s all this business with the archbishop about? And why would he come to a five year-old’s birthday party?”
Enzo looked at him with just the mix of pity and smugness that Cato was aiming for.
“Listen up, boss-”
“Lieutenant.”
“Fine then, listen up, lieutenant. What do you know about the Forna family?”
“Big shots from the Holy City, right?”
“That’s putting it mildly. They were big shots in the Holy City since before the Holy Son first settled there. Sure, the Orczy family and the Kolonn bastards control more of the planet, but if you want to see the Holy Son you’ll need to pass through a lot of the Forna family’s friends to do it. Before the Manzi showed up, they had more money than almost anyone else on the planet, and even afterwards they had more power and influence than you could shake a stick at.”
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“If he’s so important that makes his attendance weirder.”
“Hey, I’m getting to it, don’t rush me. The birthday girl is his niece, Teresa Forna, his sister’s daughter.”
“And her father is an Orczy?”
“Ha! You’d think, but no.” Enzo beamed, just like he did every time he was about to tell a particularly nice piece of gossip. “Back before the last Holy Son died, there was this big alliance between the Forna, the Manzi, and the Tor families to put one of them on the throne next. Forna wanted to be a cardinal so he’d be eligible for the throne the time after this one, but he got made Archbishop of Anthusa instead.”
“That doesn’t sound like such a bad deal to me.”
“Because you don’t know squat. The Forna are from the Holy City, born and bred. The Holy Son is also the Archbishop of the Holy City, so if Forna was made archbishop of anywhere, he had to leave the center of his power. There were riots! Half the city almost burned down. But in the end he and his sister both got shipped over here, and all of a sudden they’re not the top dogs anymore: the Manzi run the city and the Orczy do what the Manzi say.”
Cato still wasn’t sure what to make of being made archbishop, let alone of a place like Anthusa, as a punishment.
“Anyway, everyone says they got kicked out of the Holy City because the archbishop pissed off the Holy Son something fierce, but I hear different.” That excited grin spread even wider. “See, the girl’s father was Tenorio Kyno, Prudence IV’s bastard.”
“Is it all right to call the Holy son’s kid a bastard?”
“You seriously haven’t heard of him?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Oh, you are in for a treat. So, this bastard, he’s the most spoiled, rotten, worthless jackass in the Holy City. He was born when his father was already a Cardinal, and he became the Holy Son not much later. And because he’s the only son, he gets all the money and gifts you could imagine. His father makes him a knight of St. Trajan, gives him land from the church territories, and makes him a count when he’s barely out of diapers. And what does he do? Kyno drinks, whores, and gambles it all away. Not only does he lose it all, he winds up in so much debt he tries to rob the Holy City’s treasury to pay it off, and when the guards arrest him he beats them bloody.”
Enzo paused.
“But does his dear, holy daddy punish him? No! So he keeps doing it! It was outrageous! He would go to the Tors, the Fornas, the de Resols, spit in their faces and call them pig bastards, and they had to take it. No matter what he did, no matter how drunk or indebted he was, he always got bailed out. I heard that once the Manzis tried to collect on his debts and he had them imprisoned and whipped for a week. I heard that when a priest in the city preached against him, he got the priest beaten, tarred, feathered, and shipped to Petron. I heard…” Enzo looked left, right, and up to make sure nobody was listening in.
“I heard that when they were both younger, he threw horseshit in Ursula Tor’s hair and made her cry.”
Even Cato knew that Ursula was the only daughter of one of the two competing Holy Sons, an extremely wealthy and powerful aristocrat and, rumor had it, one of the three most powerful cultivators in all of Anthusa. It was one thing to have political enemies, but personally offending so many wealthy and influential people was… unspeakably excessive. Cato was very, very glad he didn’t have enemies like that.
“And then, get this: he had an affair with Julia Forna. The most beautiful, beloved woman in the Holy City! Worse, she gets pregnant. Well, their parents get a hold of this and force them to get married, though it only becomes public when Teresa is born. You can’t imagine the scandal! And right afterwards, out of nowhere, Archbishop Forna gets assigned to Anthusa, and you know the rest.”
Something about this didn’t add up for Cato.
“But why send them away? I mean, I bet Kyno would want to see his kid.”
“Like hell! I bet he chased them out so he wouldn’t have a kid messing with his whoring and gambling. It’s a tragedy when kids don’t meet their parents, but in this case it’s a blessing. I hear he was ugly as a dog too. Just seeing her dad would probably traumatize the poor girl.”
That… was certainly an explanation.
“And I take it the Fornas crashed in the palace here, and Teresa got left behind when her mother went up into the tower.”
“Too right.”
It was effectively impossible to ignore the tower of the Cathedral Severe. Anthusa was dotted with dozens of colossal towers, mostly belonging to powerful old families or to church orders, but there was one capital-T Tower. Every two years, nine of the city’s elites were chosen by lot to go up and govern the city from a position of total security and almost total isolation. Cato could hardly imagine a less effective form of governance.
“What’s the point of it anyway? You said it yourself, the Manzi run the city these days.”
Enzo spat on the ground. That was one regulation Cato wasn’t supposed to enforce.
“Don’t get it backwards, lieutenant. The bankers might have bought everyone off and rigged the lots, but that doesn’t change what Anthusa is. A free city, an independent city, by Anthusans for Anthusans. You’d do well to remember that.”
Cato held up his hands in defeat.
“Noted, sergeant. But tell me, how do you know they rig the lots?”
“It’s obvious. Just as the old Holy Son is on his deathbed, who goes up?” Enzo counted off on his fingers. “One, Leo Manzi, the heir to the whole fortune. Two, Giorno Tor, the youngest son of a frontrunner for the Holy Son’s throne. Three, Julia Forna, the most beloved woman in the Holy City, even after her scandal. The other six were nobodies.”
“So what?”
“So what? Out of thousands of people who might be chosen, you get the three most influential young people in Anthusa outside of Duke Orczy himself, all of them powerful and ambitious. I bet their parents wanted to keep them out of the Holy City to keep things predictable. ”
That… really didn’t sound right to Cato at all. It felt like when Father Andrea was misinterpreting the Book of Zevon, that deep irritation calling up intense disagreements he couldn’t remember.
Was this body’s old owner involved in this business somehow? That would put him closer to some of the most powerful people in the city, perhaps closer than he would like.
Three of Cato’s followers came running down the street towards them. It was unfair to call them villagers anymore; though they were all brought up in Inillo, they left it behind and managed to find a place for themselves in Anthusa. They wore the Orczy white-and-red and, officially, were no longer Cato’s subjects. As citizens of Anthusa, they were no longer bound to the land but to the city itself and the authority of the Nine Governors in the tower.
Of course, citizenship for three thousand people was bought with their service to the Orczy family. New members of the faction needed someone to organize and lead them. So they were freed from their old feudal obligations to Cato, and then given to Cato as subordinates whose service and loyalty he was tasked with managing. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Given that their ‘feudal obligation’ to Cato was a sham from the beginning, it was rather convenient to have a more legitimate, legible bond between them to mask their belief that he was a living saint, but the irony did not escape him.
“Francesco, Mirtilio, Diogo!” Cato called out to the three young men, strapping and proud in the Orczy uniforms.
“Lieutenant Cato, sir!” They stopped, lined up, and saluted. He let Enzo step forward and correct their posture before giving them ease.
“What news, privates?”
“The archbishop made it in safely, sir.”
“I wish you could have seen it! All the knights were riding winged horses, and the archbishop rode an eagle-horse!”
“Hippogriff,” Enzo corrected.
“Right! They were carrying piles of gifts too, and when the gates opened we saw the gardens inside.”
“Just the smell of them, it was like being smothered in- erm!”
“Perfume, private?”
“Uh, yeah, um lieutenant. Sir!”
Enzo cracked up with laughter, and even Cato had to stifle a grin. As much as they liked to pretend, these boys were a long way from being real soldiers.
For their sakes, Cato hoped that day could wait a long, long time.
⚜ ⚜ ⚜
“Are you serious?”
Abbreviator Caro Alidosi was rarely anything but serious. The stark, plain decorations of his office, on the eighteenth floor of the Golden Rose Order’s tower in Anthusa, did not clash with his personality. But sometimes those with little imagination assumed he was joking.
He did not joke.
“Miss Checco, I-”
“Chekodorovna.”
“Miss Checco. I am serious. The advance will be transferred to your account as soon as you agree to the job. I assure you, both the instructions and the reward are real.”
Lio Chekodorovna was not a trusting woman. That would be a foolish quality in a career criminal.
“This isn’t my specialty, Alidosi.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve pilfered larger items. The porphyry columns in Achae were your handiwork, were they not?”
“This is a kidnapping, Alidosi. You’re asking me to ‘pilfer’ a child, not some Orczy jewels.”
“I’m not opposed to taking some jewels if you can. Consider it a bonus.”
“This isn’t my kind of job! What part of that don’t you get?”
“The part where any job that pays off the ransom is your kind of job.” Alidosi shuffled through some of his letters. “What was the price on Kiyel’s ransom again? Five thousand gold anthems?”
It was six thousand. He just liked watching uppity thieves squirm.
“You know better than I do that Petron isn’t very stable. No telling when a new faction might take power. One that would rather hang prisoners at the gibbet than sell them back to their families.”
He pointed down at the instructions again. Four thousand gold anthems, half up front. If she sold everything else she had, she might scrape together just enough money to buy back her older sister from the gibbet.
To her, it was a colossal sum of money. To the Order of the Golden Rose and their backers in the royal court of Fleur, it was chump change. To her, it was the price of seeing her sister again. To them, it was the cost of a little girl’s freedom.
And she could get it all with just one night’s work.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“I’m glad to hear, Miss Checco.”
She stormed out of the office a minute later, a bloody thumbprint and her name upon the contract. Was it hypocritical to deprive Teresa Forna of her freedom to gain back her sister’s? Absolutely. But that hardly mattered anymore.