Menoich sat idly as he sighed at the current scenario that played out. The Imperial Councilors argued with one another. His gaze shifted from one councilor to the other, silently observing the escalating fervor.
Draped in regal green and gold attire, the councilors were adamant about keeping and making their points across. He, however, remained seated, patiently biding his time. Contemplating the chaos, he wondered whether he should allow the storm to subside naturally. After all, age did a number already to every councilor in the room, including himself. Or, perhaps, he could intervene at the right moment, once it presented itself.
His gaze wandered beyond the enormous windows of the throne room, revealing the onset of the night. He admired the pillars adorned with intricate etchings and carvings of the empire, each bearing banners of one of the thirteen imperial kingdoms. The room was bathed in the warm glow of honey as the flickering flames seemed to burn with a golden intensity, casting its reflections across the room’s regal hues.
He rose from his seat, fixing his gaze upon the most majestic and revered piece of furniture throughout the entire empire — the Throne of Four Horns.
Placing his hands behind his back, he beheld its resplendent green and golden glory, allowing his mind to wander into the fantasy of occupying the seat of power for himself.
Alas, he took a deep breath, as he acknowledged that this desire was but a fleeting thought. Despite being a mere few feet away, the idea of seeing the throne was inconceivable, especially for a man of his stature and reputation.
He thought about the next steps of his plan as he strolled towards the grand windows of the room, casting his eyes upon the vibrant heart of the empire, the city of Tamara. Even in the night’s embrace, the city remained wide awake beneath the sprawling night sky, transformed into a burgeoning fortress under his meticulous guidance.
He ran his fingers through his long, gray beard. He allowed them a moment to simmer before taking center stage once more.
“Are we done, Councilors?” he asked them as he swiftly returned to his seat, just below the throne. The weariness among the councilors was evident; they seemed exhausted, yet the so-called debate persisted.
The tension peaked when a bald councilor asked, “Remind me again why you replaced the general, Menoich?”
There was a collective holding of breath as the room awaited his response. It was actually the fourth time he was asked that today. He was rather tired of it, really.
“We are in a very delicate situation, Councilor. The security of the royal palace, the Cors’Viridetauros Palace, is of utmost importance. And I think it is in the best interest of the Empire for me to place one whom I believe I can trust my life with. Does that answer your question, Councilor Uraq?” He replied swiftly, laced with a mixture of conviction and urgency.
“Who would be in their right mind to go straight to the heart of the Empire? This is outrageous, even for you,” a mustached councilor retaliated. The accusation hung heavy in the air. His decision was yet again being challenged.
“And you trust Aragrad? The Red Prince couldn’t even bring himself to trust this man. Heck, he was even kicked out of the Imperial Guard. So why should you?” Uraq interjected, preventing him from answering the previous rhetoric. “Karam! You’ve been quiet all day. Can you at least try to talk some sense?”
But Karam, who was enjoying his hot tea, simply shrugged it off and continued.
He rubbed his forehead out of frustration and, nonetheless, beamed a smile. “Who I appoint in positions does not concern the kingdom, especially in the state we are in now. Am I right, Councilor Uraq?”
They all felt confused and backed down. The others only looked at each other.
“Since when are we in a state of war? Come now, Menoich. You are better than this!” another councilor with barbs that can only be associated with Francineil argued.
“Councilor Yakovo, we are in a state of war the moment Prince Tamiron rebelled.”
“Well said, Councilor Gradihir.” He thanked his fellow councilor from Malatur’Aren.
“Well, we may as well be in a two-front war then!” Uraq retorted as he stood up and grabbed something from the buffet table. “With the current news from the South, we will have to, sooner or later, act.”
Gradihir, visibly exasperated, exclaimed, “Come now. This again, Councilor? We’ve been at this for the entire day now. We simply cannot act on this now!”
“So, when will we act? When the Imperial Princess — pardon me, her Crown Princess — arrives at the Southern walls, with the entire Southern army behind her? Look at us!” Uraq pointed out to them. “There’s only a handful of us anymore! The others already went south to form the Princess’ Council. By the day, we are losing our own credibility! Mocking the very existence of the Council and the Empire as a whole! I will not have it!” Uraq shouted as he threw the food on the floor out of anger.
Several servants swiftly moved to clean up the mess, efficiently restoring order. They also handed Uraq a new plate laden with fresh food and a generous pour of wine.
“I have to agree with Councilor Uraq.” A voice chimed in.
“Thank you, Councilor Zabanad, but your silence in the matter after all these months has proven enough to me that you have no spine.” Uraq cut him off sharply. “Coming from Huertian yourself, I expected better. Given that it’s your kingdom, which is taking the full brunt of the Prince’s rebellion.” Then Uraq proceeded to eat.
“Okay, enough.” He suddenly said, having enough of the rhetoric. They’ve been at this all day earlier and he will not have the night taken by this as well. He asserted his control over everyone. “Let us all calm down. Let us discuss our next steps.” He said in a calm voice.
“Discuss? That’s what we’ve been doing all day!” Uraq’s frustration boiled over once more, as once again, he threw the plate he was just handed a while earlier. He quickly drank the entirety of his glass of wine and said, “I’m done! Putting you in charge was a mistake!” he shouted as he proceeded to leave the throne room, only to be blocked by a towering figure with one eye covered.
Uraq stared down at the man as he walked back slowly. “What is the meaning of this, Menoich?” Uraq asked, then he turned to the one blocking his way. “Out of my way!” he asserted his rank.
He sighed, as he knew what needed to be done. “Aragrad. Do it.”
Aragrad only looked at him, then back to Uraq. Then Aragrad summoned his guards who then held the councilor by each arm.
“What are you doing?! Unhand me this instant!” he commanded, yet they did not heed his call. Aragrad himself bowed before closing the throne room doors, sealing the chamber in a moment of tense silence.
“Now is not the time we show weakness.” He declared as he slowly walked back towards his seat. “We will still honor the new Crown Princess. It is just not the time to do so.” He settled back into his seat, eyes piercing as he surveyed the remaining councilors.
“Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?” he demanded. Each councilor exchanged glances before bowing their heads in silent acknowledgment.
“Good. His Highness, the Good King Madarick Lluch IV is still bedridden because of what his son has done. While he is still alive, no one can simply ascend the throne.” He asserted. With his tone, stronger than usual.
“It is only prudent that we wait for the king himself to declare the heir. I agree with you, Arch Chancellor.” Gradihir affirmed. He already made his allegiances known by then the others followed suit, falling in line with his stance.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Now, again. The issue of the new Crown Princess. How should we deal with this?” he then asked his remaining councilors.
Everyone only looked at each other, seemingly waiting for one of them to talk.
“The laws have been put in place to avoid such things to occur from the very beginning,” Zabanad stated, as he cleared his throat. “Her declaration without discussing with us is a grave misconduct that will cause confusion and a rift between the royal family, and the Imperial Council will be formed. This will most affect the people.” He played with his wine as he aired his concern.
“I heard that the Imperial Court is already considering legalizing her ascension to the throne,” Gradihir said as well.
He took a deep breath at the thought of how to deal with the Imperial Court. Losing the Court now could make the situation for him more complex.
“Arch Chancellor, I think you already know what to do with the Imperial Court,” Gradihir suggested.
“No. Do not do it. There’s a reason the Imperial Court is formed. Seizing them now would only show us as usurpers in the eyes of the people.” Zabanad protested. “Come now, Karam. Talk! The legalities of the Imperial Court are your specialty!”
He has just been quietly listening and observing everything in the room ever since. He just looked at Karam to gauge what he would do.
Karam simply cleared his throat and said. “The Imperial Court would need support from one of the three main branches, based on the law. The current branch, us would delay, but given the urgency, they would most likely ask the Monarch. And we all know what’s going on with them right now, do we?” then sips his tea.
Zabanad was shocked, laughing incredulously. “Are we seriously doing a Coup d’état right now?”
He and Zabanad locked eyes and quickly made his point across. Zabanad was so shaken to his core that he was forced to sit down.
“I think it is time for us to retire to our rooms, gentlemen,” Menoich suggested. Everyone, those who remain on the council, silently agreed. “We will handle this with care, my dear Councilors. Everyone is exhausted. Go and rest. This meeting is over,” he said.
He ordered the remaining servants out of the room as he looked over the city once more Aragrad still stood firm and quietly observed him.
“This is bad. They are losing faith in me,” he murmured.
“Your Highness, you are under a lot of stress. I understand what you are doing. Keeping order in a state of calamity is no easy task. I’m sure King Madarick would have done the same in dealing with this kind of problem,” Aragrad said. “And my Liege, we have news.”
He contemplated on what to do. What his next steps will be? His mind filled with the current trouble brewing in the south.
He took a deep breath. “Where is our new Crown Princess now, General?” He asked.
“As we speak, she is still within the borders of Francineil,” answered Aragrad.
“She is becoming a problem that I have not anticipated to deal with so quickly,” he said as he breathed heavily. Aragrad grabbed a glass of wine and handed it to him. He drank and rubbed the wine glass with his fingers. “And the King is taking too long.”
“Should we lend a hand, then?” Aragrad said as he looked at him. That slightly startled him as his eyes widened.
“So what’s your plan, my Liege?” Aragrad asked. He only answered with a grin, his eyes still staring blankly at the cityscape. Aragrad knew what he meant.
“Even with almost half of the Empire now behind her, what she has are only garrison forces. She will be dealt with either way.” He said as he thought of ways of dealing with her.
All he did was gaze outside and think of what was the best way to get rid of his problems.
As he gazed outside, he wondered about the most effective approach to eliminate his problems. Sliding his right hand under his left sleeve, he touched the orb, briefly considering seeking its help, before dismissing the idea. After all, as the right-hand man of the imperial king, he should be able to handle this on his own.
After all, he thought with a smirk. He is currently the most powerful man in the entire empire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The biting winds of the night swept across the Plains of Tamara, offering no respite to the scout dashing towards the city, accompanied by a child. It was Matty.
The scout and his struggling horse made their way through the remaining stretch of road near the outskirts of Tamara with difficulty. The scout breathing heavily, his horse struggling to carry both of them. He needs to bring forth the warning he carried ever since he came from Melgrace.
From afar, he could see the guardian buttes that surround the city, with walls connecting them. He immediately commanded his Orderian owl, which flew with them non-stop to glow as bright as it could be.
He looked onwards at the castle walls, looking for any sign that someone saw his signal, and to his relief, the gates slowly opened. However, exhaustion has took over the horse as it succumbed, and they stumbled across the muddy road.
Moments passed as the guards finally reached them and finally took them inside the city of Tamara.
The scout rested his eyes, finally taking his much-awaited rest. They grabbed the sleeping child, putting him on the other horse. He saw them as the child was taken away from him. It was the last time he saw Matty. They quickly headed for the guards’ quarters of Tamara. They left the child on a shaded part of the building and continued on their route.
He felt the horse halted, and the scout opened his eyes. Guards unloaded packs from the horse, and he remained motionless, too tired to even give them any signs of life. Another guard offered assistance, supporting him as they headed inside the City Grand Guard Quarters. Eventually, they reached the head scout on the second floor, where an old man with a white beard and two antennas on his helmet sat amidst stacks of paperwork.
“Here, son, have a drink. You need it,” the head scout said. Instead of the glass, he focused on the pitcher of water, grabbing it and drinking it voraciously. He grabbed it and drank it like a horse with no water for days. Gasping between gulps. He drained the pitcher. The head scout maintained composure until the scout poured water on his head, prompting the head scout to ring a bell.
Doors opened, ordering more water, and signaling the other guards to leave. The Head Scout stood up. Reading the papers, he approached the scout, who remained seated.
“So your name is Alyas No’yoran. Am I correct, Scout?” the head scout asked.
Alias only answered with a nod.
“So you are assigned at the gate city of Melgrace and your position there was First Scout, Lieutenant,” he said and again he responded with a nod. “Did you know that I can only think of two reasons why you are here?” he asked him as he sat down.
He looked back and leaned forward when a guard entered the room with two more pitchers.
“Since you’re still not answering, son, I’m going to tell you what those reasons could be.” He approached him and sat at the table.
He lifted his finger and said, “One is that you were ordered here by your superior to report directly to me.” The head guard lifts his ring finger. “And two: is highly doubtful.” He retracted his hands and walked behind him, “Is that the city was destroyed. So, which one is it?” he asked with a rather neutral face.
He asked for a glass of water, and the guard handed him one. He drank it and put the glass down. He looked at the other guard near the window. “Could you please open that window,” he requested.
The Head scout sighed and obliged.
“You know, I’m simply extending my patience here, young man.” The Head scout said as he opened the window. “But around here in Tamara. Everything needs to be swift, especially with the current situation we found ourselves in with the Prince. You can see that the theatrics you are displaying now is exhausting what remains of my patience.”
“The reason I’m here requires proof of not only one,” he suddenly said. “But two.”
The head scout’s sharp gaze bore into him. “So I guess the proof is your Scout owl. Am I correct, Lieutenant Alyas?” The head scout inquired, but he only remained silent, eyes fixed outside the window. “So where is your owl, Lieutenant?” the old man asked again.
There they saw a small glitter of pinkish maroon approaching with great speed. It was his owl.
A glimmer of pinkish maroon caught their eyes, swiftly approaching. It was his owl, racing back to them. “Why is your owl not with you?” The head scout pressed for an answer.
He only sat there and took another drink of water before he answered. “I sent it back to take images.”
“Images of what, Lieutenant?” the head scout insisted, growing increasingly impatient with him.
He, however, still maintained his silence, allowing the tension to linger in the room. The owl slowed down as it entered and landed on the window ledge, its ethereal feathers drenched from the relentless rain.
The head scout ordered guards in the room. “Can you close the window now?” The head scout ordered, his tone reflecting his somewhat tempered patience. The guards swiftly obeyed, shutting out the cold winds that accompanied the owl.
“What is this? Hurry up for I am losing my patience,” he commanded once more.
He petted his owl, undeterred by the urgency of the situation. “We can’t just force an Orderian owl to do what we ask. I’ve come to learn that ever since getting one. It’s like a dog. We need to take care of it.
“Point taken, now tell me why you are here!” the head scout blew his top.
The owl hovered in the office and proceeded to project images.
The room fell into silence. The gravity of the situation finally sets in for them. The Head Scout, with his mouth still open, now confronted that a calamity was coming from his city. A city he was tasked with protecting with his life.
“When was this?” he asked as he looked at the burning images of the city.
“I honestly have no idea now. But if I recall, it was at the end of Jaien.” He answered.
The head scout then had a realization, then looked at him. “Today’s the thirty-second of Aien. This was almost a month ago.”
The head scout then grabbed his chair and sat right in front of him.“ You need to tell me everything. Hold nothing back. We need to prepare the defenses of the city.”
He only looked at the Head scout as he leaned closer. “That’s the sole reason I rushed here with that child.”
The head scout’s eyes narrowed, a mix of disbelief and concern was evident on his face. “A survivor? A child? How could a child survive this catastrophe?”
“You wouldn’t even believe it if I told you. What I know is, the city is gone, with no other survivors but him.
“Dear Gods, protect us,” was all the head scout could mutter. Before him was the revelation of Melgrace. In all its glory and destruction. His skin paled as he looked at him.
“Tell me everything you know. Do not hold back.”
End of Chapter XXI