Byleathea walks the garden in her mourning dress with her veil down. With the passing of the Emperor, the Empire will be in mourning for the week while arrangements are made for the funeral. The young new Empress’s mother is in a tricky position now as much as her daughter is, and she was surprised to learn what Sundenelle did on her way out.
The matronly woman understands her daughter’s decision. It will be a well-known fact that the last person seen with the Emperor in his last moments was Sundenelle. There’s no hiding the fire afterwards, and it’s easily disprovable that anyone other than Sundenelle would have heard his last words, since ‘in her madness from losing her beloved father’, she set the convalescence wing of the Imperial Palace on fire, which is also not provable, since only a handful of guards were present when the room went ablaze.
Sundenelle has been scheming since, as her Father’s true last words sparked a duty within the new Empress, even if she lied to him to put him at ease.
Perhaps it wasn’t a lie. My beautiful Sun never wanted to be the ruler, and yet, she is taking on the burden of wrestling the seat away from those who are not of Imperial blood.
The Emperor confided in Byleathea more than anyone else, and after hearing his final words, she realized too late that he had hinted at the truths he revealed. He often claimed he never slept with the Empress, as they secretly reviled each other in private and couldn’t stand to be anywhere near each other. As such, he had secret passages built into their room, from which he would leave after they were both seen entering the room.
Byleathea regrettably believed that his words were simply sweet nothings meant to appease her; confessing to his ‘true love’ that she was the only one.
However, the only person the Emperor never lied to, save for good-natured teasing, is Sundenelle. His precious daughter was his gem of the palace. He never tired of her, and he often spoke highly of her and her wit.
The fact that he told Sundenelle that she is his only true daughter… As unbelievable as it is, Byleathea can’t help but trust those words now.
And, to further prove it, Sundenelle is making her best efforts to get into the Emperor’s private quarters, which will involve more of her temper tantrums that she would normally consider a disgrace.
Byleathea’s role is to be visible as well, being approachable and non-threatening.
“Lady Byleathea,” speaks a gentle male voice that the noblewoman recognizes with ease.
I can’t believe it was exactly as Sundenelle said.
Byleathea turns to face the one addressing her; none other than the Dowager Empress’s youngest son, Thermihk. The mistress’s heart tightens a little at seeing his gentle and caring smile. Of all of the children regarded as members of the Imperial family, Thermihk became something of a foster son to Byleathea, who came to care for him like a wetnurse alongside her own daughter. The Empress was focused on grooming her eldest son for the throne, so she often left Thermihk to the maids. Wishing the boy to have a stable upbringing, and for Sundenelle to have a playmate amongst her siblings, Byleathea came to care for Thermihk deeply.
“Prince Thermihk. A sincere pleasure to see you. I wish it were under better circumstances.” She curtsies politely, as his station is higher than hers so long as he is considered a prince.
A small part of Byleathea wishes that the family could remain a family as it was under the Emperor, but she knows that’s not possible.
Thermihk is already as tall as Byleathea, and he has a fairly lithe frame. The motherly woman knows him as a gentle soul, though he is not without cunning.
“I’ve told you many times, Lady Byleathea, that you need not show me such formality. I will forever be grateful to you.”
Byleathea smiles. “I am honored, your Highness, but I am not being impersonal. I cherish your position as a prince.” She cups his cheek gently, saying tenderly. “You have grown to be so handsome, just like your father.”
“Thank you, my Lady.” He smiles, though his eyes trail to her own cheek, which is still pink and tender from where Sundenelle slapped her.
He doesn’t address it right away, but she knows he’s going to work his way to it after lowering her guard. “I… understand you were with Father during his last moments.”
“Yes. At times, my low station is a blessing, and that privilege extends to my daughter. Though it may, at best, be a small comfort, his Imperial Majesty went peacefully without suffering greatly.” Thankfully, this is true. I don’t think Sun’s madness would be an act if he had agonized to his last breath.
“That’s good to hear,” replies Thermihk softly. He doesn’t express his envy, since her point about being of low station is in no small part due to the Empress. She forbade Byleathea, specifically, from becoming an Imperial Consort specifically to deny her and Sundenelle’s inheritance.
“Did… his majesty say anything?”
Apologies, Thermihk. I truly wish I could tell you the truth. Though, it may hurt you to know that Sun was the only person on his mind.
“He spoke with Sundenelle about the past. Sharing memories, mostly.”
“I see…” replies Thermihk softly as he looks down in disappointment.
“And, Sundenelle?” asks the young Prince. “How is she doing… after?”
“She didn’t take it well,” replies Byleathea, averting her gaze away from him. She doesn’t like the feeling of lying to him, but her true allegiance will always lie with her own child. If she can do anything for Thermihk, it will be to attempt to protect his life if Sundenelle starts removing her rivals. She shouldn’t, but she may have no choice.
Once more, the prince looks at her cheek. He murmurs a little bitterly, “She denied the rest of us closure.”
“Sundenelle wasn’t thinking clearly at the time, your Highness. Her father passed away…”
“As did your lover, my Lady. Yet, you were able to control yourself.”
“You give me far too much credit. I could not even discipline my own child properly.”
“Is that so…?” murmurs the Prince.
Is he suspicious of me? No matter. Even with the story I have told him, he is unlikely to spread it.
“How have you been handling it, your Highness?” asks the matron.
“As well as I can. I had hoped to see and speak to Imperial Father one last time, but Mother forbade it for fear of contagion.”
“I see. I’m sorry that it was so, but it may prove to be a blessing. If I may, how are his Highness the Crown Prince and her Imperial Majesty taking the news, if it is not too impertinent of me to ask?”
“Certainly not. I thank you for your concern, my Lady. Mother is… focused on the future of the Empire. Elder Brother is preparing for the funeral and for the succession.”
“I see. I hope all goes smoothly.” What kind ways to say neither of them are concerned over the death of the Sovereign Father. Let's hope Sundenelle’s actions are seen only as grief.
Thermihk looks sad for a moment once more. “Smoothly… Yes…”
“Does something trouble you, my Prince?”
The Prince thinks for a moment, studying the matron's face. She doesn’t have to feign concern for him. She truly does pray for his safety, come what may. She loves him like a son, even if they might soon find themselves on opposing sides.
Thermihk lets out a long, slow sigh. “I wish Elder Brother would take the succession more seriously. There… are talks of having me succeed in his place, since… Brother’s nighttime activities are well known, as is… his avoidance of political studies.”
Another polite way of putting it. Prince Porfaus never seemed set on earning his position, as it was always seemingly a given. Thank goodness Thermihk and the princesses were able to interrupt his attempts to corner me for his ‘nighttime activities’.
“I see… I expected disputes would arise over your Uncle before anyone else, since he served as his Majesty’s trusted aide for so many years.”
Thermihk scoffs. “Were he not already receiving support from many of the provincial nobles and vassal kings, he would be disputing the claim himself. You may wish to retire to the villa near the border to Bromlund, my Lady. I believe you’ll be more comfortable there than here in the capital.”
Byleathea smiles gently, touched by his sincere concern for her. He’s absolutely right, she’s a disposable pawn in a succession dispute where Sundenelle isn’t even considered a contender.
“I will speak with Sundenelle and try to convince her to leave,” replies the gentle woman softly. “Though, she may refuse to leave this place…”
Thermihk gives her a disapproving look, unable to avoid glancing at the noblewoman’s pinkened cheek once more. “If you need help with anything, Lady Byleathea, I do hope you will come to me. You are a second mother to me, so I would hate for you to suffer any harm during all of this… instability.”
“You honor me far more than I deserve, Prince Thermihk. Thank you. As always, I will support you to the greatest extent that I can.”
“I’ll be counting on you, my Lady. Let’s both come out of this mess alive and well.”
Byleathea smiles and bows. “I look forward to it.”
She takes her leave, making her way through the garden. Her thoughts are racing from what she was able to glean from Thermihk, whether he knew it or not.
Come to think of it, with how promiscuous Prince Porfaus is, it is not so unlikely that he doesn’t have his own children running around out there. If that is the case, he may be a greater threat than any of the other princes or the Grand Duke.
Thermihk didn’t seem interested in the crown, but I can’t let my guard down. I should try to find a way to remove him from the conflict before it escalates if I wish to protect him. Sun may be my sweet girl, but she is my beloved Jaalsun’s daughter. He would not spare anyone who poses a threat to him. His brother chose not to contest him because he was too young. However, his ambitions have never been idle.
The young Empress’s mother makes her way back to the annex.
She’ll have to report her findings once Sundenelle appears again.
***
A hooded figure enters one of the business establishments in the Imperial Capital, followed by another hooded figure who is obviously wearing a sword on his hip. Klommen, a shenwulf merchant who has made a fair deal of wealth with his up and coming market, easily recognizes the full air of nobility oozing off of the petite figure leading. Even without his sense of smell, the way both individuals carry themselves speaks volumes of a noblewoman and her knight escort.
Naturally, business is business, so Klommen doesn’t intend to snub them. However, he does have to be careful of nobles who intend to bribe him to suppress stories that are hot gossip in the capital, and which make his newspaper business successful.
Nobles, especially, love to gossip, and there are over two thousand nobles in the capital. Then, there are tens of thousands of merchants, and even the handful of well-off enough commoners that can afford to purchase the gossip sheets.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
However, simple drama rags are not all that are packed into the carefully curated packets of information Klommen sells each week, with stinger sheets for the hottest topics every day.
He uses his contacts to make market speculations, trade expectations, political situations, crop yields and anything else that people can use to make decisions. Trust is the core of his business, and he takes it very seriously, no matter how much a noble might be willing to pay to suppress something.
So, when a heavy bag of coins hits his desk, he can’t help but scowl at the young woman keeping her face hidden.
“I’d like you to run an article,” replies the somewhat icy young woman’s voice. She can’t be older than twenty three or so, but he picks up hints of her voice still going through puberty with his keen canine ears. His expression doesn’t shift a bit as he keeps his hands folded up in front of his face.
“You seem young, Miss. This isn’t that kind of business.”
“I’m not here to bribe you to cover up the truth,” replies the young woman. She reaches under her hood, retrieving a large packet of documents. “I’m here to bribe you to spread the truth at a specific time.”
She hands over one small portion of the packet, and Klommen looks at it as it sits on his desk. He finally sighs, taking a look at it. He has heard that very line many times in his career of trying to build public trust for his ‘news’ business. One man’s ‘truth’ is nothing but lies. He can’t afford to print lies under his company’s name, lest he loses everything he built.
However, something that has been a growing rumor is escalated by the document the young woman has provided.
The Emperor has been out of the public eye for some time, and many have speculated he is ill. The document is a notice of the Emperor’s passing, as well as a declaration of the date of the funeral.
She states, “You’ll get this same notice tomorrow morning from the Imperial Palace, and the funeral is set for Ninday (A/N 1) next week. I would like you to run my article on Eighday before it.”
“You’re insane,” retorts Klommen. “Truth or not, that would be Suicide for my company. I don’t care what you intend to run.”
“You don’t even know what I intend to say, yet.”
“Whatever it is has to do with the death of the Emperor, right? I’m no fool.”
“Being the source of this truth will be what saves your company and makes you the Imperial Crown’s most trusted source of information,” replies the woman with a slight smirk visible under her hood. “I can assure you, that if you help me, you won’t regret it.”
“And, what authority do you have to make that claim?” asks Klommen, too smart to get wrapped up into something like this.
“Before that, please look over this document.” She hands over another sheet of paper, and the ever-curious shenwulf groans. He takes the document and reads it over fairly quickly, though his pace of scanning slows considerably as the words sink in.
His face goes pale and his fur stands on end. What he is reading could absolutely fracture the Empire.
He sets the document down and leaves his desk, dazed as he states, “W-Wait here…” He stumbles into his back room, needing to lean on walls and shelves as if he were drunk. He scans through his collection of old documents, finding one that he wants, still having the wax seal it arrived with. He brings it back to his desk, praying that what he is seeing will be wrong.
He flattens out the new document, which he received from the late Emperor himself. He lays the new document over it, and he flips a switch under his desk. A light illuminates underneath the surface of the desk, making the two sheets translucent. He angles the sheets and slides them until the signatures are overlapping, and his hands begin trembling.
Among many other things, the document Klommen just received makes an outrageous claim; the Emperor of the Grand Zenkon Empire for the last twenty five years or so had only a single legitimate child, as his relationship with the Empress and the consorts were never intimate.
That child is Sundenelle kos Lindenmorg, daughter of a mistress by the name of Byleathea. She is the only legitimate heir, and can be verified by both Dawnseers and a long list of nobles listed by the Emperor. Additionally, Sundenelle is the only one who can demonstrate the same magic affinities that the Emperor was known for, including Light and Dark magic.
Klommen snaps back in his chair, as if he might be devoured by the sheets of paper on his desk. He looks at the hooded woman with horror.
Using the signature check, there isn’t a shred of doubt that the document is authentic.
It was written by the hand of the Emperor.
The woman finally lowers her hood, and Klommen feels his stomach drop. He wants to run away.
While she’s not the center of attention, plenty of stories Klommen himself has run reported on the precious flower of the Emperor; Sundenelle, his daughter he doted most on because she was with a mistress the Emperor loved, rather than the political spouses he had for Imperial Duties.
Standing before Klommen now is that very teenage princess, bearing an icy smile that sends chills through his veins.
No… This is no Princess. This is the new Empress…
Klommen puts his head in his hands as his elbows come to rest on his desk. What have I gotten entangled in?
Sundenelle explains, “My father left me a great deal of support for my claim, but as you surely know, it will be wholly unexpected. I need time to make preparations, and the best time to catch everyone else off guard will be the day that the dispute will heat up the most. The former Empress will not be able to produce a legitimate will, and she may try to forge one. I’ll handle that part, but you’ll need to be prepared to defend the report you’ll be running. Though, the main goal of the news article is to get the people of the capital talking about it and questioning the truth. Once public sentiment becomes weak for any side, particularly the former Empress and the alleged Crown Prince, the powerful nobles will have choices to make.”
Klommen finally looks up. He feels like he has aged ten years in just a few minutes. “I have a counter offer for you; I report this to the Empress, who is such no matter what until the day of the funeral. What you are proposing could be considered treason.”
“You’ve confirmed it with your own eyes, Mister Klommen, father of four who lives in the Blue River district.” He tenses at this obvious veiled threat, and she continues, “The Emperor has spoken. If you are against me, and I win, will your actions not be treason?”
He winces, feeling the fear gripping him. She’s absolutely right. The reason he hates politics of this scale are precisely because the winner determines the rules of victory, and enemies during are enemies after. If he picks a side, he runs the risk of being branded a traitor.
However, it is an undeniable fact that the Emperor himself wrote this will. Some will try to deny it, but Klommen has enough connections to make sure he can prove it, including a judge who is familiar with his pattern of work.
The true problem is the growing feeling that is starting to fill him. Fear and anxiety are prevalent, but an itch is starting to reach for his hands.
His journalistic curiosity drives him to see this through to the end. If these two bombshells are her opening gambit, he has to wonder what else she has in her packet of documents.
No! I shouldn’t get involved. I can still maintain neutrality. If I run the will, I’m a dead man. But, if this girl somehow comes out on top… Is that even possible? She’s a bastard child, isn’t she? Does she have any support?
He studies the teen before him. She has an air of cold confidence that he can only tremble at.
She reminds Klommen of himself.
He was young once, and he had only a dream. He had to claw and scrape to build up his reputation. He feared no one, and more than once was beaten bloody in attempts to intimidate him into withholding the truth or altering evidence. He never once gave in.
But, this is no viscount or merchant conglomerate. This is the Imperial Family. I’m finished if this goes wrong.
Then again, she may have me trapped no matter what. But, if we succeed…
Klommen sighs. He presses the bag of coins back to her side of the table. “Take your money back. If it’s learned that I was paid off, truth or fiction, my reputation would be tarnished and the story would be buried under the scandal.”
“Then…?”
He leans back in his chair. He doesn’t care that he’s showing such impertinence and disrespect to the true Empress by the Emperor’s decree. With the colossal sewage fire she has dumped upon him, he deserves to be a little lax with this unruly ‘informant’.
“You have until Eighday to gather all the information you want in the full run. I have no doubt you chose Eighday for a reason.”
“Because every piece of information can be dropped at once,” replies the young woman.
He nods, not looking at her. He stares up at the ceiling as he contemplates his life choices that brought him to this place. He’s not the only news organization in town, but he prides himself on his integrity. Had he been a little more unscrupulous, would he be in this mess?
“However, once the deliveries are made, I’m disappearing until it’s over. I trust my services will be paid for on the back end.” He looks sternly at her finally.
Empress Sundenelle kos Lindenmorg gives him the first sincere smile he has seen from her. “Father taught me to repay my debts. Help me with this matter, and I will be in your debt.” She takes the coin pouch, saying politely as she tucks it away, “We’ll be in touch, Mister Klommen. I have a feeling that this will be one of your biggest stories since your founding.”
He nods without saying anything, and he can only watch as she departs, leaving behind the full packet of information that she brought.
Alright, before anything, I’ll need to send my family to the countryside. If I’m going to face a dragon, I might as well be prepared.
He pages through the documents the teenage Empress gave him. His eyes widen just a couple of pages in.
This woman is insane. Doesn’t she realize I could destroy the Empire as we know it with this?
He tries to comfort his forehead with his free left hand as he stares mindlessly at the rest of the page.
She’s going to be the death of me…
He sighs, packing the documents together again. A great deal of trust has been placed upon him, and the weight is crushing. He heads into his back room and stows the packet in a special safe that can only be opened by magic, and is invisible to anyone who doesn’t already know where it is. It is his most secure safe, and he already has a pile of documents inside for stories he’s building.
This one will take the greatest priority, and for tonight, he needs to rest and make arrangements for his family.
If Sundenelle isn’t afraid of the things she has given me, she is either a fool or has no intention of letting those things continue to be weaknesses.
I’ll have to weigh what is useful to the truth against destroying her enemies.
He looks at his safe one last time before he closes up for the night.
Don’t do it… You’ll be here all night, Klommen.
He looks at his shop’s front door. The presses will be started up in a couple of hours, but his floor managers can handle the stories prepared for the next couple of days in the stinger sheets.
Klommen sighs, scratching his canine ears.
Damn it. Curse that woman. She better grant me the Imperial crest after this mess.
Klommen locks all of the entrances and returns to his back room.
It’s going to be a very long night.
***
A couple of days have passed since Sundenelle started laying groundwork. She has recruited a couple more nobles loyal to the Emperor -almost to a fault-, and who he indicated through his letters and will that they are her allies to her ascension. It’s a multi-prong attack that even one slip up will get them all killed. Thankfully, the false Imperial Family members are all busy with preparations for the funeral and consolidating their power with those who don’t know about the brewing death spell lingering in their shadows.
She’s paging through documents retrieved for her when Byleathea walks in with tea. “My dear Sundenelle, you should be taking breaks properly.”
“I’m resting well enough, Mother,” replies the teenage Empress without looking up.
Byleathea sighs, setting the tea down on the clean portion of Sundenelle’s desk, and she pours a glass for each of them. “Well, please take a break long enough to have tea with your mother. As your mother and first supporter, you must allow me to look out for your health.”
Sundenelle glances with her eyes at the tea cups, and then at her mother. Byleathea is wearing a soft expression, not as someone trying to take advantage of her authority over her daughter, but as a mother worried for her child’s well being.
Sundenelle sighs. “Please allow me to finish this page, Mother, so I don’t lose my place.”
“Very well,” replies the matronly woman, taking her teacup to sit down in a chair beside her daughter. She sips it gently as she waits patiently, and the blonde teen keeps scanning the page she's on.
“I’m sorry, my Dear…”
“Sorry?” replies Sundenelle, glancing at her mother. “You’ve been immense help. You’ve nothing to be sorry for…”
“I don’t mean for the moment, but for the fact that you never got to live as a true Princess. It’s due to my family’s low standing.”
“What brought this about?” asks the young Empress as she dedicates more of her attention to the matron.
“If we were stronger, you wouldn’t have to read over accounts books that I barely understand… If I was even allowed to learn such things, I could at least help you…”
Sundenelle can’t help but smile. “I am a real Princess.” Sundenelle’s heart feels full from the love she has received. She adores her mother, and she truly loved her Father. Their family circumstances were strange, and rumors and gossip definitely provided hurdles. But, because Sundenelle and Byleathea laid low most of the time and didn’t participate in conflicts, there was very little malice to be directed at them when the ‘legitimate’ princes and princesses were the center of gossip. “I’m doing exactly what Father would have loved. Finding ways to improve and help the Empire, ensuring that we can hold our heads high, and being as smart as possible about every move we can make. I’m the weak one, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lose.”
She returns her gaze to the book, adding, “Father used to say; ‘If you have to fire everyone in the Empire, the last man you should go for is the tax accountant. Even the dirty secrets can’t escape the tax man’s quill forever.’” She smirks as she runs her finger across a couple of transactions, making note of their peculiar titles, descriptions, and values. They weren’t bartered values. They were large, even transactions sent through proxies. She has found three such entries already, and all of them were authorized by the former Empress and signed off on by the Grand Duke, Sundenelle’s uncle.
The teenage Empress grins widely, pointing at the transaction as she looks at her mother. Byleathea takes the hint and stands up, approaching to look at the line of text. “What am I seeing?” asks Byleathea.
The blonde teen replies deviously, “The next five people we need to talk to.”
***
A/N 1: Ninday is the ninth day of the week, and is considered a holy day similar to Earth’s Sunday.