Byleathea leads the young woman and her four year old daughter into the capital villa owned by her brother, the heir to her family’s viscounty. Her brother meets her at the entrance, walking with them. “Byergeth, it’s good to see you.”
“Same to you, Byleathea. Come inside, the others are in the upstairs drawing room.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Don’t mention it. Come what may, you and Sundenelle are family. I would do anything for you.”
Byleathea smiles warmly, teasing playfully, “Be careful saying that, my Lord Brother. Your niece can be quite ruthless.”
“I shall ensure that I am behind her, rather than in front of her, then.”
He leads them to the room, and the young woman nervously enters, finding the other women with their children at all.
The most recent one with the daughter is the daughter of a merchant family with a fabric production method that is barely keeping them afloat. As she studies the other women and children, she doesn’t recognize any of them, but the children catch her eyes.
They look like they could be siblings to her daughter, in spite of their mothers sharing only their hair color of a light brown.
“Um… M-My Lord, My Lady…” murmurs the young woman a she holds her daughter close. “M-May I ask what is going on, now?”
Byleathea replies gently. “You must be very concerned. But, please don’t be afraid. These women are in much the same circumstances as you. We are investigating the man who may be the father to your children.”
The women all gasp, stunned by this revelation, and they all instantly realize the same things; Byleathea mentioned only a single father, but very obviously referred to all of the children present. Now, each of the women are sizing each other up to determine who they might have met in common, as they all believed that they had met a true prince.
The only exception is a rather skinny woman with light freckling and a brand on her cheek. The brand is a bit foreboding, as it is something rumored to be the mark of exile from the Imperial Palace.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what it is, and the woman with the scar pleads, “Please, I haven’t said a word to anyone! I swear! I have been doing everything I can to survive. P-Please don’t…”
“Shhh,” replies Byleathea. “You don’t have to be afraid. We aren’t here to hurt you. We need your help.”
“I’ll never try to prove his status! He’s my son, and only my son!” The woman has the oldest child, a seven year old boy whose hand she is clutching. He is watching the conversation with innocent, but concerned eyes. The mother drops to her knees, beginning to cry.
Byleathea doesn’t move. She can’t show favoritism, as all of these women are victims of the same circumstance. Fortunately, they are the ones that were able to be bought off.
“The father your children all have in common doesn’t know about you, as far as we can tell. Or rather, your children specifically. I can’t say how he’ll react, but the agents responsible for sending you money and ordering you to remain silent are threatened by your existence.”
The young woman with the youngest daughter feels a sense of dread as well. The way the conversation is going, they have been entangled in the politics of noble families. But, the man who she spent the night with claimed he was a prince and went by the name of Fau. She was easily charmed, but after being discarded, she never saw him again. The only person to approach her afterwards in regards to her mystery lover was a person paying her money and forcing her to sign a contract, lest her entire family be destroyed.
She, like the others, had no choice but to accept.
“The reason you five were not eliminated is as a backup. Particularly the boys can serve as heirs if the worst should happen, but until then, you were told to live in secret. Fortunately, we were able to get to you first.”
Byleathea approaches a desk, showing them the contracts they signed, and all five women continue to piece together the clues, afraid to acknowledge the mess they’re in. “All you have to do for now is remain here in hiding. You will be taken care of until we need your help. And, when the time comes, we’ll ask for your testimony. Once all is said and done, you will be compensated for all of the pain you have suffered, and your children will be made into nobles.”
The women gasp.
“B-B-But, sh-sh-she’ll kill us,” replies the woman with the brand.
“That is the risk. We must remove her power before we make our move. If you cooperate, you will escape unharmed, and you will be in a better position than you are now. If you refuse or interfere, you will not only be discarded by our adversaries, but your families will be erased to cover up what happened. The contract was only to protect them. It was not to help you. Please understand.”
“O-Our children… are nobles?” asks a young stableman’s daughter, holding her five year old daughter.
“Yes,” replies Byleathea sincerely. “So long as we succeed. That’s why we desperately need your help. For now, lay low here, and you will be safe. You will be given instructions when we need you.”
The women glance at each other, and then at their children. They nod in agreement. “P-Please take care of us, my Lady,” replies a young former priestess, who has the youngest son, a boy of four years as well.
“Trust me, and I will. Thank you, ladies.” She then gestures to her brother, saying gently, “This is Lord Byer. Please ask for him if you need anything. Otherwise, try to keep yourselves safe in the manor.” She bows her head and leaves gracefully. One more piece has been gathered, and she’ll need to inform Sundenelle, who is currently making moves against the children of the two Imperial Consorts. The junior consort has only her three daughters, two of whom have excellent relationships with their ‘elder sister’.
The senior consort has a son that is only a couple of weeks younger than Porfaus, and the consort’s family has several gold, silver, and gemstone mines with which they have been gathering their own military forces. They are planning to put up an actual fight, which means the former Empress and Porfaus will be gathering the main imperial forces to try to retaliate.
Of course, Sundenelle has received a handful of secret messages pledging loyalty of several generals who were informed by the Emperor prior to his illness rendering him bedridden.
Back at the annex, Byleathea finds Thermihk once more. He is waiting outside of the building. He smiles upon noticing her approach. “Ah, Lady Byleathea.” He bows to her, which she returns with a curtsy, since he still outranks her officially. “Good afternoon.”
“Prince Thermihk. Good afternoon to you. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I actually came looking for you, but I was forbidden entry by Sister…” He looks at the door, where two of Sundenelle’s guards are posted.
“My sincere apologies, your Highness. I shall speak to her and try to convince her to allow you in.”
“There’s no need. If she is still taking Father’s death this hard, there is little to be done.”
“I thank you for your understanding, Prince Thermihk. Would you be willing to accompany me to the garden pavilion?”
“Certainly. Please, allow me to escort you, my Lady.” He offers his arm, and she accepts, walking with him as they head for the garden pavilion, which is nearby, surrounded by a large ‘C’ shaped pond filled with decorative fish. The pavilion is also adorned with flower-bearing ivies and vines, giving it a very cozy outdoor feeling.
“You and Sister have been avoiding the Empress, haven’t you?” asks Thermihk as his guards follow at a slight distance.
“Avoiding is a stronger term than the truth, your Highness. We have habitually avoided getting in the way of court affairs. With his Imperial Majesty no longer with us, we have even less reason to stand out. We only hope to avoid troubling his new Imperial Majesty Porfaus.”
“You may be expected to express your support, my Lady.”
“Until I am asked for an opinion, it wouldn’t be my place to give one on such an important matter.”
“I see. Then, as the second prince, I would like to ask your opinion.”
He pulls out a chair for Byleathea, and she takes a seat, before he sits down across from her. One of the guards gestures, and Thermihk’s servant approaches, providing tea and snacks from a basket that she was carrying.
“I believe there are strengths and weaknesses to us all, your Highness. But, if you will forgive this humble woman’s opinion, I would be most at ease if your Highness was to become the Emperor, but only should his Majesty Porfaus wish not to claim his rightful place.”
Thermihk doesn’t say anything as he watches her for a moment. She smiles and sips the tea provided, saying to the maid, “Thank you very much. It’s very good.”
The maid bows politely with a smile, continuing to set out the snacks.
The young prince lets out a long exhale. “I don’t think Sundenelle has been cooped up in her room crying all this time. No matter how much she loved Imperial Father, she wouldn’t lose herself so easily.”
Byleathea smiles. “I thank you for thinking of your sister. Though, I’m not sure where your concern stems from. She is in good health, though she skips more meals than I would like.”
“I see. And, you have checked on her recently?”
“Of course.”
“Any more… disagreements between you?”
“Nothing of note, your Highness. Sundenelle is distracting herself from her grief with her studies. Though, I expect she will be present at the funeral.”
“And, do you happen to know her opinions on the matter of succession?”
“I’m afraid you would have to ask her, your Highness. I dare not speak for a Princess, even if she is this humble servant’s daughter.”
Thermihk sighs softly. “You think too lowly of yourself, Lady Byleathea. Whatever the outcome is, I promise to protect you.”
“I’ll be counting on you, your Highness. Please don’t over exert yourself, though. Your health is more important than anything else.”
He smiles. “I agree. I’ll be careful.”
They spend a pleasant tea time together before parting once more. Byleathea feels a little guilty, but Sundenelle hasn’t been wrong yet. If he gets entangled in the direct conflict over the crown, he will be killed by his elder brothers.
And, there is still the Grand Duke to deal with.
***
Sir Dalloway glances over his shoulder as he keeps his hood low over his head. He is in an extraordinarily precarious position with everything going on. The rumors are heating up, and the funeral will mark the likely start of a bloody battle. The second Imperial Consort and her daughters were found brutally murdered and burned to death in their villa of the Imperial Palace. It has caught everyone off guard, and the suspects are any of the heirs to the crown, as the junior-most of the Emperor’s legal wives was outspoken about the Crown Prince never having been crowned by the Emperor, meaning he is only the heir apparent as the first son of the Emperor.
Her family is outraged, demanding answers and a detailed investigation, while the Empress does her best to suppress all matters not tied to the funeral.
The most obvious reasoning is the fact that her son becomes the Emperor once the funeral is over, so long as everyone accepts that he is the Crown Prince, which, in spite of any legal proceedings, has been the word of mouth for months. Most everyone will accept a man declared the Crown Prince for months becoming Emperor over a bastard Princess coming out of the shadows to claim her ‘birthright’ due to the words of a dying man.
The late Emperor’s favor towards Sundenelle was no secret. He would likely tell her anything she wanted to hear as a way to go peacefully into the afterlife.
Sir Dalloway has served the Imperial Family for all of his adult life, now approaching twelve years. The Emperor was one of the wisest people the knight has ever known, but he became a fool for Sundenelle. Guarding her even after the Emperor’s passing is one thing, but what she is plotting is nothing short of treason. She has entangled a growing number of nobles in her lies, and if it goes on any longer, the knights following her may become culpable for not doing their duty to the Empire.
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Dalloway slips into the stairwell leading to an underground betting arena. It seems to be the ‘intermission’, because the crowd is cheering wildly while a human man in little more than a loincloth (A/N 1) desperately tries to escape the fighting pit where a kamaitaizen benki is ferociously trying to kill him. His body is already slashed, and blood is scattered about, while the man keeps trying to cry out for help, drowned out by the crowd cheering at his demise.
Dalloway ignores the grim sight. He has no business with the battle occurring and just wants to complete his handoff before returning to the Palace.
He spots the person he is supposed to meet, who is wearing the dark grey hooded mantle with three blue ink blots on the left chest area. He approaches and stands off to the side, asking in a low tone, “Does the light in here seem too low to you?”
“There’s enough to see what’s going on,” replies the man. “Just need to be able to tell the difference between gold and silver, after all.”
Dalloway nods. “I’ll have to bet on the winner, then.” He subtly hands over a folded document, and the man lifts the corner to peer at the information. He hands over a tightly bound leather wallet. Dalloway peeks inside, and as he requested, the payment is in gold rectangular bars worth ten gold coins each. They are less conspicuous and less noisy than coins, and aren’t so far out of reach for a knight such as himself that he won’t raise suspicion so long as he doesn’t cash them in at the same time.
The contact states in his gruff and gravelly voice, “His Grace guarantees your station. Your loyalty is commendable.”
“For the Empire,” replies Dalloway, bowing his head. He walks around the fighting pit the opposite way he came, passing through the crowd to try to avoid suspicion.
The man in the pit is trying to hold back the ravenous beast as it bites for his throat, “...ease! Work… -ran-doo-...!” are the few words that find Dalloway’s ears, but he puts it out of his mind. Dark pits form in any part of the world, and they draw attention away from the clandestine operations that must occur for even the Grand Zenkon Empire to continue to function. Two men watching another be slaughtered by a monster is less treacherous than controlling the outcome of the succession. The Grand Duke has paid handsomely for proof of what Sundenelle has been doing, as she has close enough ties with the princes and princesses to be a major threat of assassination for any one of them.
As Dalloway walks with his head down, he makes his way into the alley and starts to head away from the main street to continue a different path than the one he took to arrive at the meeting location.
A gravelly voice says from behind him, “For the Empire.”
He whirls without thinking, since the voice is the same one he just heard. The hooded man with the three ink blots is standing at the exit of the fighting pit, looking directly at him. Leaving at the same time was definitely not what was instructed.
The last thing he remembers is something heavy hitting him from behind as a powerful grip with feline claws wraps around his neck, pressing something over his face.
***
Sir Dalloway opens his eyes, finding himself seated against the wall of a strange bedroom that he doesn’t recognize right away. That said, he feels like he absolutely should recognize this room. The bed is elegant, even in the darkness, and an extremely expensive vanity is nearby where jewels and other priceless ornaments for wear are displayed.
As his senses come back to him, he manages to stand up, clutching his head. “Ugh… what… happened?”
“A rough night drinking, Sir Galloway?” The female voice sends shivers down his spine, and he pivots to look, instinctively reaching for his sword. However, his hand grasps nothing, and he clutches several times before the abnormality causes him to look desperately, only to find that his sword belt and sword are nowhere to be found. When he looks again, the owner of that voice is seated on the end of her bed in her nightgown.
He is still in a daze, and he asks accusingly, “What is this, your Majesty? How did I get here?”
“How indeed,” teases the self-proclaimed Empress, Sundenelle. She has her legs crossed as she stares at him with an icy smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her chin rests on her hand as she watches him, her right hand holding something with a metallic glint at the end.
When his eyes adjust, though, his confusion grows. She is bruised and scratched, as if she just came out of a terrible fight, and her nightgown is torn.
“I-I don’t know what’s going on, your Majesty. I seem to have lost my memory.”
The young woman snickers, and he can feel sweat sliding down his back. His heart is racing, but until he knows what’s going on, he has to be careful not to give away anything.
“It seems your heart is quite dark, Sir Dalloway. You betrayed my trust.”
“I didn’t do this!”
“Oh? But you just said that you couldn’t remember.” Her voice has the edge of a blade, cutting deep into his skin as his pulse quickens even more.
“Lies! Your Majesty, I don’t know what this is, but I will not be accused of acts I did not commit.”
As soon as he takes a step towards her, she raises her right hand, still resting her chin on her left. The object is even more obvious now. It’s not a weapon, per se, except for what the situation looks like.
It is a simple bedside bell.
Seeing it halts him in his tracks, and his body feels like it’s on fire, while the sweat forming all over him chills the knight to his bones.
“So, you’re aware of what the situation looks like, Sir Dalloway.”
“Y-Y-Your Majesty…”
“I’m surprised you can manage to utter those words, Sir Dalloway. Did you think I would trust you just because you passed the first test?”
“Whatever this is, please explain, and I will atone…”
“I only had suspicions at first. After all, the tension going into the funeral suggests that the battle over the crown will be bloody from all sides, with all four princes and the Grand Duke at each other’s throats. But then, my dear Uncle served my father all of those years. In all of those years, I wonder if he knew the truth you and I know.”
“Please just put the bell down, your Majesty, and we can talk…”
“I am talking, Sir Dalloway.” Her smile appears innocent, but like her tone of voice, it does nothing to comfort the knight. If anything, it is twisting the knife that she has already penetrated him with. She’s just toying with him. However, if he makes a wrong move, the room will be swarmed, and Dalloway’s life will be over. His word alone against the apparent evidence will be a weak argument.
“But then, my supposed brothers and sisters DO share a lot of their appearance with me and Imperial Father. So, it’s strange for Father to be so certain that his alleged heirs do not belong to him. Perhaps her Majesty, the soon-to-be former Empress, had her way with him while he was asleep.”
“Your Majesty, this has nothing to do with…”
“Of course, if Uncle was the father of the Empress’s children, as well as those of the Consorts… Well, that would be an interesting turn of events. And, it would explain why he would be trying to lure out the Crown Prince’s enemies, rather than gathering them. It would also explain why he’s worried about the bastard Princess.”
Dalloway has eased his way towards one of the nightstands near him, and he tries feeling for something that he can subtly get a hold of. He’ll have seconds to try to escape, and the window is his only option. If he doesn’t survive the jump, he’s as good as dead anyways.
“The only piece of information I’m missing right now is the certain proof that the alleged Princes know of their own bloodline. After all, they could be forgiven for ignorance in this matter.”
“Whatever it is you think I can tell you, I assure you I know nothing, your Majesty. You seem to have misunderstood…”
“Did you know that a man lost his life yesterday? He was murdered by a kamaitaizen benki here in the capital, of all places. He was one of Uncle’s closest aides.”
Dalloway freezes just as he feels a hand mirror in his glove. The man in the pits… his last words have finally clarified in the knight’s memory.
“Please! I work for the Grand Duke! You can’t do this to me!”
Dalloway was so concerned with escaping the gambling hall, that it’s only now that the words he heard make sense.
The contact he was supposed to meet was already discovered.
“If you wish to live and for your family to not be marked as traitors and put to death, you will testify that the Grand Duke, former Empress, and the Princes are all aware that the Princes are in fact the children of the Grand Duke, making them ineligible to inherit the throne over the only true heiress. Otherwise, you may wish to dive head first from the window.”
The door opens, and a handful of knights enter, including the gatonine second in command, Sir Ecklevon and the human, Sir Lokenbach. Lokenbach, specifically, growls in the same gravelly voice as Dalloway’s last memory before now, “For the Empire.”
“For the Empire,” repeats Sundenelle coldly.
Dalloway hesitates for only one last second. He puts his hands up, trembling as his knees give out underneath him. His voice has gone hoarse, and he mumbles, “I-I-I’ll testify… Please… spare me…”
“You chose the larger side, Sir Dalloway, not the winning side. I had high hopes for you. Take him to my uncle. If he struggles, kill him. We’ll deal with his family afterwards in that case.”
“As you wish, your Imperial Majesty,” replies Ecklevon. The gatonine sheathes his sword and binds Dalloway’s hands behind his back.
Dalloway murmurs, “I don’t understand… His Majesty was… so happy when you told him you didn’t want the crown. Why…? Why would you pursue it?”
Sundenelle stands up, and her maid approaches her, wiping off makeup that gave the illusion of her having been violently beaten. “Between the Empire and my happiness, Father chose me in the end. That doesn’t mean I’ll let my Father’s hard work go to waste. He trusted me with the future of the Empire. You trusted a man who had an affair with the Empress.”
“I…” Dalloway tries to object, but his voice catches in his throat. Ecklevon has dragged him to his feet, and the defeated commander of the Imperial Guard goes silent.
After a moment, he finally says, “If… I may, your Majesty…”
“You’ve already paid me the greatest disrespect by betraying me, Sir Dalloway. What is a question in comparison?” Her jab bites deep into his soul, and he can’t help but wince under her icy reprimand.
“Her Grace, the Second Consort…”
“Hmm? Wishing to know if I had something to do with their fate?”
He averts his eyes, dipping his head once in confirmation.
“Very well. I did. I will take my place on the throne. You and Uncle can share a cell soon enough.” She waves her hand, saying sternly, “Gag him and take him away. We still have much to do.”
***
Byleathea enters Sundenelle’s bedroom just as Sir Dalloway is being escorted out. The young Empress is seated on her bed once more as her maid nurses a bruise on the teen’s cheek. The makeup was surely helpful, but in case she needed to go further, Sundenelle ordered Sir Ecklevon to hit her, adding authenticity to her threat. “Your Imperial Majesty,” murmurs the matron as she curtsies.
“Please, Mother, that’s not necessary. What do you have for me?”
“I… have asked Thermihk to tea tomorrow.”
“Good. I leave him to you.”
Byleathea nods, but she looks to the door, where the knights have already departed. “Are you certain this was a necessary deception? I don’t know if it was worth the effort.”
“I can’t control every piece of information that leaks from this place. No matter who I try to weed out, someone will escape my notice. All the better to start creating useless information to leak as well to muddy the waters. Dalloway proved that Uncle is onto me anyways. The princes may all share a father, but that does not make them all allies. Even now, Lady Consort’s army is closing in on the capital with infiltrators preparing to disrupt the coronation following the funeral. My esteemed brothers will briefly fight while the Grand Duke tries to mediate, and I’ll confront Porfaus afterwards with the news of his children before the coronation can be held again. Since Uncle will have his hands full with his unruly children, as well as trying to find out who assassinated his daughters, he won’t be able to focus attention on me.”
“I do not like how elaborate your plans are, Sundenelle. It frightens me that there are so many moving parts.”
“It must be this way, Mother. If I can protect the path to the crown with plans that I can afford to be thwarted, then I stand a chance.”
Byleathea is quiet for a moment. “Any word from the Grand Prince?”
Sundenelle clears her throat, mocking a male voice. “The affairs of succession are matters of the crown, and the Strylaph family shall remain uninvolved as it always has.” She smirks, sighing. “At least Uncle won't be able to use them either.”
Byleathea gives her an uneasy expression. It’s very possible that the Grand Prince is colluding with the Grand Duke or the princes, as the Strylaph family is one of the oldest founding families of the Empire. It is unlikely they would simply let the matter fall out of control.
Seeming to sense her mother’s thoughts, Sundenelle smiles softly. “I’m sure Father rarely talked about it with you, since the Strylaph family is second only to the Lindenmorg family in terms of Imperial prestige. However, he often said Yaulander’s isolationist attitude betrayed his immaturity and fear of making mistakes on the global stage. He’ll likely wait and see what public sentiment is before making a move. And, if all goes according to plan, we should have the advantage on that front.”
“Will he not expect a great favor from us if he does provide aid?” asks the Imperial mistress not versed in the politics of the Empire at large. Byleathea was sent to the Imperial Palace to be a lady in waiting, but the Emperor fell in love with her, so she became little more than a free-floating noblewoman of low station within the Palace. She wanted nothing more, since the Emperor’s love made her feel whole, amplified a dozen times over when Sundenelle was born.
“He’ll certainly try, no doubt. However, the fact that he ignored my request now will be leverage I have in bargaining later. He may swoop in when I need it most, but it’s not something I can count on because he isn’t committed. As such, I will repay him with things I already planned to give him anyways.”
“Which are?” asks Byleathea. “F-Forgive me if it’s something I don’t need to know.”
Sundenelle scoffs. “You’re my mother. I’m not leaving you out of my schemes because I don’t trust you. I just want you to be able to tell the truth when you claim you don’t know anything.”
Byleathea smiles gently. “I see…”
“That said, Grand Prince Yaulander has been petitioning for letters of Marque to control the waterways of the south. Smuggling and piracy are on the rise, and he’s hoping to recoup the losses by seizing the ill-gotten assets and enslaving the criminals.”
“What if your opponents have already offered such to him? They currently hold the seat of authority, no matter who ends up on the throne at the end.”
Sundenelle grins. “Yaulander’s own claim to the territory he rules over comes from his bloodline. My brothers are of noble blood, that is indisputable, but they are not the Imperial family. He may lack the scruples or integrity I hoped, but his principles will not easily be shaken. Especially because they stem from his inflated ego.” She turns more serious, adding, “That said, I am not ruling him out as an adversary. The primary means of dealing with me will be assassins, which is why we have to be especially careful not to let our guard down around anyone.” She looks directly into Byleathea’s eyes, and the Empress’s mother feels a pang in her heart.
She knows what’s coming.
“That includes Brother Thermihk.”
Byleathea breaks their eye contact, looking down and away from her daughter. “I… I know…”
Sundenelle is quiet for a moment. She does her best to speak gently. “Mother… If you can’t do it, there are other ways…”
She shakes her head. “No… I should do it. He won’t let his guard down around anyone else. And… I won’t let him become a casualty of this fight.”
Sundenelle nods. “I trust you, Mother. And, I vow not to hurt him once he is secured. Come what may, even without blood, he is still my beloved brother.”
The young Empress stands up. “Please excuse me, Mother. I have a few more things to prepare.”
Byleathea nods. “I’ll carry out the other tasks you’ve given me for the evening before turning in.”
“Very well. Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, my beloved Empress.” Byleathea kisses Sundenelle’s forehead, and both of them feel warmer for it.
They’ll need small moments like this to get through the next couple of weeks.
***
A/N 1: Loincloths worn by the poor and slaves in the Empire are similar to the Ancient Greek
‘perizoma’ loincloth, specifically the kind wrapped fairly securely around and under the nether regions. Basically, a high level of modesty for a guy that’s basically otherwise naked.