"Cordelian." Euphastolon greeted his brother casually as he sauntered into the Eukrates' audience chamber, ignoring the required formal greetings. Cordelian knew better than to expect politeness from him. He stopped while Cordelian did go through the tedious motions.

Euphastolon had dropped by as it had been too long since Cordelian had planned anything fun, and he was bored with playing the good prince. Cordelian's mood had improved over the last several months since Agathio's death, but he still was a gloomier version of himself. More anxious, less decisive. Most surprisingly to Euphastolon was that Cordelian held even more tightly onto his notions of honor and morality. He had thought Cordelian would dump his rule of not shedding royal blood once he saw how convenient it could be, but instead Cordelian was sticking to his rules. Boring, but honest.

Euphastolon made himself comfortable in his usual chair, across from Cordelian's desk, where the patros begging for favor would sit. He put his feet up on Cordelian's desk, which he knew the Eukrates hated, and laced his fingers together behind his head.

"What's next in Cordelian land?" He asked.

"Nothing, for now."

A disappointing answer, but at least they didn't have to go through a lot of "whatever do you mean, I'm innocence itself" rigmarole.

"It's been months since you've had me do anything, and Fornulus has still got the crowns on his head you know. I’m so bored."

Nothing of any note had happened since Vicca's death, and the mourning period was more than half over. Cordelian just sat there doing his work while Fornulus consumed half the wine in the capital.

"I'm aware. Just wait. Fornulus hasn't been the same since the tragic death of the Empress and his children. At this rate, he'll drink himself to death in a matter of months," Cordelian said.

Euphastolon already knew the plan. Wait for Fornulus to die off, since he was doing such a good job of it all by himself. He thought it was a pretty uninspired plan, but what could you do? Cordelian had his heart set on it, despite his attempts to liven things up.

"There's Theo, the Mekos," he said, hoping to spur Cordelian into action.

"I've said before, she's not a problem."

Euphastolon could take a hint. He sat watching as Cordelian finished up some work and called a slave in to take the document away, before leaving the two of them alone again.

"You know, Cordelian, I've been meaning to ask…" He paused. He was hesitant to broach the subject, as Cordelian might take it the wrong way.

"What is it?"

"Well, you always refuse to just kill Fornulus's children or any of the others. Like that little git Nikolonium. But you're fine with letting Fornulus drink himself to death."

"Fornulus is killing himself." Cordelian said a touch sharply. "He can stop at any time. I'm not making him kill himself."

It didn't seem like much of a distinction to him, but Euphastolon got the hint and dropped it. To his surprise, though, Cordelian elaborated.

"Do you remember that story Fornulus tells sometimes, of how I broke my favorite toy as a child and cried?"

"Sure." Euphastolon had heard it lots of times. Cordelian had a favorite ivory rattle which he had carried around for years. When it had finally broken, he had cried like a baby no matter what Fornulus did to try to cheer him up. Fornulus thought this story was hilarious.

"Fornulus remembers it differently from I," Cordelian said. He sat back into his chair and looked out of the window, off into the distance. Euphastolon waited in silence, curious to hear what he’d say.

"Mesalonas, being our father's first wife, always hated my mother, who she viewed as a usurper. I suppose she must have conveyed those feelings quite strongly to her sons."

Fornulus and Braxalus, sons of the former First Empress. Braxalus had died from some illness or accident or whatever when Euphastolon was about six or so. Euphastolon had never given a shit. He hadn't been sorry to see their mother, Mesalonas, shunted off to wait to die in the tomb wing of the palace either, the old bitch. She always sneered at him.

"Fornulus, and particularly Braxalus, took out her hatred out on me almost every day. I would try to run, but they would find me and hit me. They made it a game to see who could make me cry first."

Euphastolon raised his eyebrows. He'd never heard this side of their childhoods before. He was almost ten years younger than Fornulus, so hadn't grown up around him.

"The day that Fornulus likes to talk about," Cordelian continued, "Braxalus decided I shouldn't still be keeping the rattle, so he made me take it from my room and bring it to him. I was scared of him, so I brought it. I remember I cried and begged him not to break it, but he smashed it on the floor and laughed. I got angry, and tried to hit him, but of course he was bigger and stronger than me, and knocked me down. Fornulus laughed as he joined in - Braxalus, although younger, was always the leader. The two of them ended up breaking my arm."

"Let me guess, dear old Dad thought this was hilarious?" Euphastolon said. He knew well the brutal and unloving nature of their father.

Cordelian nodded, before going on, "my mother was angry, but could do nothing since the Doukar dismissed it as normal youthful behavior."

He stopped, and smiled, almost dreamily. "The joy I felt on the day when Braxalus died, a few years later. I had always feared death. Every time one of my mother’s babies died, I was afraid, even though people told me it was normal. But when Braxalus died, I was happy. Happy for him to no longer hit and bully me. Happy Fornulus left me alone too, due to his grief. It was a revelation: sometimes death could be joyous. I learned that the world is better off without some people in it."

Euphastolon didn't think Cordelian had ever shared this much of himself with him. He wasn't sure what to say, so he stood and walked over to the gold wine bottle on a side table and poured himself a cup before offering one to Cordelian.

Well, I'll drink to death," he said, before draining the cup. "I know I felt the same way when Dad died. Holophian, Braxalus, Vicca, hope you all enjoy rotting in the underworld. We're happier without you."

Cordelian raised his cup and drank to his toast.

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Theodorian watched as the forty-seventh Doukar Fornulus, the supreme ruler of the entire Melancthon world, sat in his personal chamber and wept like a child. He fumbled towards his wrought gold goblet to pour another cup of wine for himself, much of which splashed onto the table. Fortunately, there was no one to see him in this state, just the current Mekos of the empire his sister Theo, his lover Munas, and the usual coterie of slaves and servants. The room was dark and stuffy with cloying incense which did not totally mask the stink of Fornulus' unwashed body and alcohol.

Theo bit her lip in frustration as she watched Fornulus empty the goblet in a few short gulps. She felt sorry for him, but the Doukar did not have the same luxury of time a normal man might have had to wallow in his grief. Fornulus was their ruler, and yet all he had done for months was drown his sorrows in wine, mead, and beer. Fornulus was now an impediment to the functioning of the empire, and without Cordelian and Meronion, the business of the empire would have ground to a halt.

He could meet with dignitaries only when he was sober, which was not often, and they struggled to get him coherent long enough to sign documents. He had been understandably devastated by the deaths his wife and children at the hands of bandits. Theo herself had not accepted any visitors for a week afterwards. But rather than easing over time, as her grief had done, his grief only seemed to intensify.

At first Cordelian and Meronion had been beating down his door with work for him, perhaps to occupy his mind, but that had stopped over a month ago. Meronion, she knew from the woman telling her directly, had given up on Fornulus altogether. No doubt Cordelian felt the same. Theodorian knew they were bypassing the Doukar to do their work. That was illegal, but what choice did they have?

Munas fussed over Fornulus like a child and Theo's eyes narrowed as she watched the woman. Over the last several months she had come to dislike Munas, no longer for Vicca's sake but because she was a selfish, manipulative, callous little trollop. Theo didn't believe she cared for Fornulus at all and was just using him to secure her own position. Normally Theo wouldn’t have held this against her, but she couldn't approve of somebody taking advantage of her brother's current state. The one positive thing about Fornulus being such a mess was that no matter how often Munas tried to steer the conversation towards marriage, she could never get a straight answer out of him.

"Brother," Theo said, to distract him from Munas's cloying attention, "why not come and have dinner with us? The family is feasting tonight, as it is Livinisan's Day."

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"Family?" He said in a thick, drunken voice, "I have no family anymore."

"You still have us, your brothers and sisters," she tried to be gentle.

"You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to." Munas cooed at him.

Theo barely resisted rolling her eyes. The woman always tried to get in her way, as if Theo was a threat to her plan to become Empress. She was Fornulus' sister! What threat could she possibly pose?

She stepped forward towards the chair Fornulus was slumped in. The reddish-purple robes of the Doukar hid the wine stains well. The same purple she now wore, as the Mekos, the heir apparent. It was strange to not wear the olive-green robes she'd worn her whole life.

"The feast will begin after dusk as always. Please come if you feel able, we'd all like to see you there. Lady Munas can accompany you."

The other woman gave her a quick look, and Theo smiled at practically being able to see the calculations going on in her head. On the one hand, having Fornulus to herself would let her sink her claws further into him, but on the other, every time she was seen with him in public further solidified her position at his side.

Fornulus mumbled something barely coherent about trying to be there. Theo didn't wait to be officially dismissed, but simply left with a quick bow. For now at least, she'd leave him to Munas. She simply didn't know how to help him, and nobody else in the family was bothering themselves with him either. She'd always known her siblings were a cold, selfish bunch, but she didn’t like having it so clearly confirmed.

----------------------------------------

Nik strolled into Ophelion's chambers after being announced, and found her with her older full sister, sitting at a small table and sharing a bottle of watered-down wine. Meronion's daughters were a few feet away, playing in the sun with some wooden toys and their cat, giggling with each other, while an attendant hovered over them.

Both his sisters stopped talking and turned to regard him, and Nik got the feeling he had interrupted something. He stopped first to talk for a moment with his nieces, keen to head off another lecture from Meronion. The older girl, Doricassian, replied with a charming childish ramble, while the younger, recently officially named Heraclasus, was struggling to stand up and take a few faltering steps, and could only reply in nonsense syllables. They quickly grew bored of him and turned back to their games, and Nik turned to his sisters.

"I am sorry to intrude, I did not realize you were here sister," he said, nodding his head to Meronion. "Would you like me to come back later when you're alone?" He asked Ophelion, since it was her room.

"No," she said.

Meronion shrugged. "It's fine. We were just talking."

"We were talking about boys." Ophelion smirked.

Meronion rolled her single remaining eye. "We were not."

"Then let's start now."

Nik sank into a chair across from them and chuckled. "I must admit, I find Meronion talking about boys to be hard to imagine." A slave filled a wine cup for him too.

Meronion snorted in good humor. "I enjoy a pretty face and broad shoulders as much as anyone. There are many patros offering themselves to me."

Come to think of it, Meronion probably did have suitors vying for her attention. She was powerful and respected, and while not beautiful, her looks were pleasing enough given her position. She had also proven capable of bearing heirs, and was still young enough to have more.

"Who's the most handsome man in Trigon?" Nik asked, playing along.

"Toressia!" Ophelion chirped, naming a patros who'd recently come from a faraway province to try to make his fortune in the capital. Nik had met the man a few times and found him to be too smooth for his tastes, a grasping parvenu. He reminded Nik of Cordelian. So, she thought he was handsome, did she? He tried not to let it bother him. It didn't mean anything.

Meronion raised her cup to salute Ophelion's choice.

Nik raised his eyebrows. "You are full of surprises aren't you Meronion? I would have guessed you'd prefer, well, I don't know really."

"Let me guess," she said smiling, "a big ball of muscle and scars standing seven feet tall who can bite a spear in half?"

"Well...yes." He felt foolish saying it out loud.

Meronion craned her head behind her to look at her imposing strigulos Lomberd, who was standing near the door. "I think he's talking about you Lomberd. What do you think, would we make a perfect couple?"

Expressionless the man only said, "I do not like this idea."

Nik was taken aback at the man's bluntness, but Meronion burst out laughing, and Ophelion joined her.

After they calmed down Nik remarked, "you’re in a rare mood sister."

"I suppose I am. In a month or two I will need to go North to fight the Lorgorin again. I need to appreciate my time here, with my family."

"I wish you didn't have to go," Ophelion said. "I worry about you all the time you're out there fighting."

"It's necessary to keep you and them safe." Meronion gestured to her daughters, who weren't paying any attention to them.

"You could let someone else lead the soldiers. The Milem could command from here. Or even if you're there, you could stay with one of the local Primuses, rather than head out onto the field."

Meronion dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "I won't ask anyone to fight if I'm not prepared to fight myself."

Ophelion sighed. They'd clearly had this conversation before.

"Would you worry about me Ophie, or just your big sister?" Nik grinned.

"Of course I'd worry about you. Mer, you won't take Pel with you, right?"

"Why would I, because he's the Decim?" Ophelion nodded. "He's needed here. If the Milem falls, he must lead the armies. We can't have both of us lost in one battle."

"I'm surprised battles are still being planned," Nik said, "given the, well, absence of leadership in the empire."

Meronion grunted, her mood lowering, and she put her wine down. "Fornulus is useless. I've had to work around him. He's in no state to look over the campaign. Still, he's hardly the first Doukar to be a useless general. It will take more than one drunk to topple the empire."

The room turned gloomier as they all thought about their elder brother.

"I'm worried about him," Ophelion said. She was always the most kindhearted of the family.

Meronion shrugged. "He was always weak. You two weren't around at the time, but he was almost as bad when Braxalus died."

Braxalus, their other older brother, the younger son of First Empress Mesalonas, had been dead for nearly twenty years. Nik had been an infant and Ophelion had just been born at the time, so they knew the name only through stories.

"He got better eventually, didn't he?" Ophelion asked.

"Yes," Meronion drew the word out. Her gaze wandered beyond them, back into her memories. Even she had been a young child at the time.

"Looking back on it now, I think that was when he started taking to drink, even though he was a boy himself. I'm not sure he ever fully recovered. He's been...fragile, ever since. Brittle. That's why father was so disappointed in him."

Ah yes, their father. Another dead name lingering over them all. Nobody had taken to drink when he died, except for some toasts.

Meronion continued, "I'm not sure he'll recover this time."

Nik reached over to put his hand on Ophelion's hand, to comfort her. She pulled her hand away but smiled at him.

"I wonder if there's anything we should do," she said.

Meronion emptied her wine cup. "It's up to him if he wants to pull himself together or not. All we can do is make sure the empire runs smoothly. The empire is larger than one man."

With the mood effectively ruined Ophelion announced she wanted to be alone for a while, although she could look after her nieces. Playing with the children would probably cheer her up. Nik was disappointed he didn't get to spend any time with her alone, but there would be other days. Besides, he'd been meaning to sound Meronion out for a while.

The two of them walked together after leaving Ophelion's rooms. He strolled easily along, while Meronion had a harder time of it with her limp. Nik knew, though, that she would still be walking long after he dropped from exhaustion if it came to it. His chambers were not in the same direction as the Milem's, so she raised her eyebrows at him as he continued to walk next to her.

"What is it?" She didn't mince words.

"What a terrible tragedy to befall the Empress, and the children."

"And?"

"It was so soon after another tragedy, that boy's death, Agathio."

Meronion stopped abruptly, and turned to fully face him, a stern look on her face as she wordlessly wagged a single finger in warning to him.

"You can’t tell me the timing doesn’t seem suspicious to you,” he said.

She didn't answer him for a moment, only giving him a filthy look, before her pet barbarian rumbled from behind them, making Nik jump slightly.

"The boy has a point. I do not know politics, but I know what revenge looks like," Lomberd said.

Boy?

Meronion sighed and rubbed her cheek directly below her eye patch. "We shouldn’t be having this conversation in a corridor," she said. She didn’t reprimand her man for speaking out of turn.

"Let's say you're right." She turned to Nik. "What do you want to do? Do you have any idea of the damage you could cause to the empire?"

Nik snorted. "The patros aren't stupid. I'm sure plenty of them have made the same connection we've made." Meronion had probably had the same suspicions for some time.

"Those weasels won't dare move against Cordelian. He owns them."

Nik stepped closer to her and lowered his voice.

"At the very least we must find out if Cordelian really did have something to do with it. We can decide later what to do. But it's our duty," he used one of her favorite words, "to discover if we have a traitor in our midst."

Meronion pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eye shut. Finally, she growled in frustration and threw her hands up.

"Fine. You're right. I've been trying to talk myself out of these thoughts for months, but I guess I'm going to have you whining at me about it too. No peace anywhere I look." She paused. "Keep your mouth shut about it. It will break Ophelion's heart if she even knew we were thinking this."

"I know." He did know. He'd been thinking about it a lot. He wanted Ophelion to keep her sunny purity, but soon he feared she was going to see what lay beneath the masks some of them wore.

"The truth will probably kill Fornulus. Then our useless elder sister will have the crowns," Meronion grumbled.

Nik shrugged. They needed to think about what was right, not about the consequences. Anyway, he wasn't concerned about Theodorian having the crowns: he thought she would listen to him more than Fornulus, and he'd be able to steer the empire in the right direction. That didn't mean he wanted to try to get her help taking down Cordelian. She was far too meek, and Cordelian's full sister too.

"If we can even get Fornulus to listen. Which I doubt," Meronion said.

"If it comes to it, I can have the church fathers arrest Cordelian in the name of the faith." He said.

No secular authority had the right to arrest a member of the royal family without the Doukar's explicit order, but the church possibly had the moral authority to do so. The church had never directly subjected their authority to such a stern test, but the patros might accept it, and the noumens would. If they all did, even Fornulus wouldn’t be able to argue.

Meronion had a sour look on her face. Nik suspected she'd rather not allow the church to create such a precedent.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's probably just bandits."

"Can you investigate the circumstances around the deaths?" He asked.

"I can. It is Pelagius's duty, technically, but he's just a child. He follows my lead. He won’t put up a fuss if I take over.”

Just like that, Nik had made himself a powerful ally, someone even Cordelian would need to be careful around.

"I'll keep Ophelion safe just in case," he said, gallantly.

"I can manage to protect her just fine, thank you. Leave this to me, I'll find the truth. I'll let you know if I need you."

Nik nodded and, glancing around, quickly left her side to go back to his chambers. He couldn't help but feel cautious now that he had voiced his darkest suspicions. He heard Meronion stump off behind him. He hoped he could rely on her to do the right thing.