Palace intrigues were little more than a bore to Konstantine.

In general, he much preferred to be left alone to his research, to the ministrations of his body servants, and his pipe. Regardless he was the court seer for what little remained of the Imperium in this modern era. The tattered remnants of what once had been a globe spanning empire that encompassed all of humanity, or at the very least, all the bits of humanity that really mattered.

In any realm wizards are either favored by the authorities, or censured by them, but never were they ignored. Even the most a-political, scholarly, and half-dead Konstantine must still play the game.

How long had he been playing now? Too long.

His position appeared even more tenuous than most. The discipline of divination was supposedly blessed by the goddess Luna, Queen of the Heavens. Her priestesses were none too keen to see the foremost diviner in the empire as a man.

He practiced all the appropriate rituals. Though as a man of learning, Konstantine held strong inclinations towards agnosticism when it came to the gods, which only served to further displease the priestesses.

Now he had to sit at the emperor he taught as a boy’s table, and smile amiably as the high moon priestess of the Imperial temple sent him withering glances and verbal snipes from across the room. It was unpleasant, but they could be safely ignored.

No doubt the barbs were intended to diminish his standing in the eyes of the emperor, but the lad was – as always – too thickly enmeshed in his court favorites to take any notice of the world outside his immediate circle. The sycophants plied him with whatever gifts or entertainments might keep him amused, and the array of handsome men kept the emperor otherwise sated.

Konstantine was no stranger to the bonds of affection that form between men- when they are young and vigorous. Even so, he found it somewhat unseemly the way the emperor surrounded himself with a such a large gaggle of airheaded courtiers to fawn over him, and laugh vacantly at his every inane jest.

Perhaps it was the excessive heat, the constant noise, or the intolerable jostling of the throng of other attendees around him, but Konstantine suddenly came to the realization that he needed to leave.

His body felt as though it were burning of fever, and his breaths had become shallow and rapid. His heart began to pound. His intestines seemed to twist in on themselves, making him feel as though he were about to be sick at any moment.

Unsteadily, he rose to his feet. Leaving without farewells would be exceedingly rude, but in his mind, it was becoming readily apparent that Konstantine had no choice. Perhaps fresh air would revive him, and he could claim that he had only adjourned for a few moments to relieve himself.

The world seemed to be spinning as he elbowed his way past servants and out of the banquet hall, onto an open walkway looking out over one of the palace’s many courtyards. Cold air rushed over him, and instantly Konstantine found himself more at peace.

He expelled the dead air from inside his lungs, and sucked in as much of the chill breeze as he could manage. Above the courtyard, the moon was full and cast such great light that it was simple enough to see, even without torch or candle.

Somewhere out among the shrubbery – where Konstantine could hear, but not see – a couple had absconded for a few illicit moments together. They were perhaps guests, or servants shirking their duties, or perhaps even a combination of the two.

It made little enough difference to Konstantine. As they ignored him, he returned the favor and did the same for them.

“Are you well, friend?”

Konstantine leapt at the sudden vocal intrusion on his private meditation, then regained himself and turned around. Justinan the Red stood before him, a look of concern on his face.

“Yes, fine of course. Though I thank you for your concern.”

“You appeared pale as you left the banquet.” Junsinian’s words were rather slurred, as always. That, combined with the naturally ruddy complexion which led to his epithet, gave the impression that he was always drunk.

Konstantine knew it as a simple speech impediment. His friend never touched alcohol.

Justinian was a rather large man, standing at least half a head higher than the next tallest man in any common company. He was perpetually trying, and endlessly failing, to reduce his quite prodigious weight. He carried himself awkwardly, although Konstantine knew this to be an affectation. Justinian was among the most skilled weavers of illusion he had ever met, and was extraordinarily dexterous when he wished to be.

“Pale? Well, I wouldn’t know, as I’m unable to see myself. I think I must have just been affected by the stale air. Yes, I think that must be it. I feel fine now.”

Justinian leaned forward to give him a closer examination by the moonlight. “Yes, you do look much better now, I dare say.”

“Indeed. Actually, it might be best if we were to hurry back inside before our disappearance is noticed and-”

Konstantine’s words were cut off instantly as a terrific explosion tore through the hall behind the pair. It blew them off their feet and over the railing with terrible force.

Konstantine's instincts remained as sharp as ever. He had just enough time to cut his hand on the razors in his belt, and use the blood to enact a simple working to soften their impact, before they hit the ground of the courtyard.

Despite the reduction in force, and even with Justinian casting his own spell, the landing was still sufficient to knock the wind from both of them. It was several moments before Konstantine’s mind cleared enough to prevent the world from spinning out of control. Nearby to the pair of recovering magi, a noble and serving wench were hurriedly adjusting their garments.

“By the Fiend! What was that!?” Justinian exclaimed, trying to raise himself to his feet, but finding his legs unequal to the task.

“Last time… I saw an elementalist working that powerful… it was a war mage… raining hell on a coterie of barbarians…”

Justinian finally managed to get his legs under himself, and then proceeded to bring Konstantine to his feet as well. “What damn fool works an explosive spell in the emperor’s banquet hall.”

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Konstantine suddenly realized the full implication of what had just occurred. “Gods! The emperor was in there!” The two of them carefully scrambled up the rubble left by the explosion, up to the balcony they had been blown off of.

The wall to the banquet hall had been completely ruptured outwards, revealing the flaming mess in the hall beyond. Moans emerged from inside, and the dead and dying lay in heaps on the floor.

The sum total of the evening’s events was really quite disturbing.

Konstantine liked them not one bit, and he was exceedingly dour as he made his way up the spiral staircase leading up to his apartments. He lived in the top three floors of one of the tallest towers in the emperor’s palace compound. The climb up the stairs played hell with his arthritis, but laymen always expect to find wizards in towers. These were the rooms granted to him by his imperial majesty, and Konstantine was in no position to gainsay his highness.

His two body servants were there to greet him as he reached his quarters, and took him by the arms to lead his wheezing red faced form to the study. Konstantine kept five domestic staff in his household at any given time, and viewed the keeping on any more in a simple urban residence like his own, as a sign of terrible laziness and waste.

He kept a cook, a washing woman, two body servants, and an accountant who also managed his property. He sometimes considered reducing himself to a single body servant, but his pension from the emperor was more than sufficient for his needs, so he allowed himself the continuing vice.

All of them were beautiful young women, save for Bethany, his accountant. She was still beautiful to him, but no longer young. Still, he’d had her long enough that Konstantine trusted her with his money, making her indispensable to him.

He didn’t consider himself a particularly cruel master. He never struck any of them, and gave them the same food and lodging any free servant in the successor kingdoms could expect. As his girls approached their thirtieth winter, and he was ready to replace them, he set them free. And, although he kept it a secret - so that his peers wouldn’t think he had a soft heart - when he sent a girl off, she always went with a small dowry.

In his study, Vita was waiting for him; as a dean at the Imperial University of Magic Konstantine also had a live-in a research assistant. It wasn’t a matter of rumor at the university that Konstantine choose his assistants for their beauty as much their arcane aptitude- but only because he openly admitted it to be the case.

The girl who occupied the position at any given time invariably became his lover.

Konstantine was not so arrogant as to think it was his own comeliness that drew these young women’s attention to him. The patronage of a mage in his own position was extremely valuable for a sorceress at the beginning of her career in the Imperial court. He simply saw no reason he should not take advantage of that fact.

Vita had long brown hair, and a very pretty face. She had worn a pair of spectacles to compensate for weak eyesight since her youth. Her scholars robe covered the fact that her figure had begun to grow wider from an excess of reading and lack of exercise.

Konstantine didn’t mind, he preferred full figured women.

“Everyone’s talking about what happened at the banquet. You’re not hurt are you, magister?”

Konstantine took his seat, and waited to regain his breath before replying. “No, thank the gods. His majesty is also not seriously injured, fortunately. The sheer number of male bodies in his immediate vicinity both protected him from the blast, and cushioned his fall. And I now consider this sound proof that the gods must disapprove of monogamy.”

He motioned for one of his girls to bring him his hookah, from which he drew a long draught.

“Who’s responsible for this attack?”

“I don’t know, but I take it the college of divination will be tasked with finding out. I’ve had them cordon off the area. Prepare the necessary reagents for rituals, I'll write you a list. Be sure to read it carefully. Tomorrow morning, we start work determining the culprit. Also, my rheumatism is troubling me, prepare a salve for the girls. When you’re finished, get some rest. We’ll set out at dawn.”

“Of course, magister.”

After his consultation with his assistant was finished, Konstantine recorded the day’s events in his journal over a glass of wine.

When he was done, his body servants helped him to his bed chamber. There they massaged the salve into his back and chest.

His lungs restored, he went to his well-earned rest.

Bethany woke him with a light touch, just as the sun began to crest the horizon. His body servants dressed him, and he walked into the entry chamber. There he found Vita waiting for him, bleary eyed from fatigue and holding a satchel of their spell components.

“No yawning, young woman. I need you focused. Now help me down the stairs.”

Between his staff and Vita’s shoulder, Konstantine managed to get down the tower. They set off for the scene of the previous night’s attempt at regicide by palanquin.

“It horrible.” Vita shivered. “Why should someone want to murder the emperor?”

“All the usual reasons, I should expect. Come, sit closer dear.”

“It’s very welcome to have such a wise mentor as yourself, to guide me through these troubled waters.”

“There, it’s this chill morning air that’s done it. Let me put my arm around you, sweet one.”

“It makes me so glad to see that your still so… vigorous. After your injuries last night.”

“I went mostly unhurt. By sheer coincidence, I had stepped outside for a breath of fresh air a moment before the explosion. That was another thing that contributed to my recent revelation regarding divine approval of polygamy.”

“Mother Luna herself must have been watching– Oh! Magister, that tickles –must have been watching over you.”

“Yes, well… it was a full moon.”

“Distinguished men, such as yourself, do have such a strong allure towards our feminine species.”

“Let me whisper a secret into your ear.”

“Oh, magister…”

“Here, Ser.” The head litter carrier announced bruskly. Likely implying that he wished to hear no more.

Vita helped him down from the palanquin, and they approached the blown open half of the hall. It looked different in daylight, with all the soldiers milling around to make sure no one came close. An easy path up had been cleared through the rubble.

Justinian greeted them and took them past the guards. “Thank the gods you’re here, old friend. His majesty has been in fits. Nicholas was among those killed last night.”

“Which was he?”

“The blond one, with the mole on his lower back.”

“It doesn’t matter. His majesty always becomes inconsolable when one of his favorite toys is broken. Well, I’ve been his tutor since he was a child. I know just how to handle him when he gets this way, don’t you worry. Is he here now?”

“No, his physicians are giving him another examination at the moment.”

“Excellent, he won’t be in my way while I get to work then." Konstantine turned back towards his assistant. "Bring that bag here, dear. I want to be finished before his majesty arrives.”

Vita began to unpack the bag near the blast site. Incense, mimosa, purple silk, silver rod-!

“Not that rod!” Konstantine was in such a rush to begin that he nearly missed it, but he wasn’t senile yet.

Vita looked at him confused. “A silver rod consecrated to Luna the Wanderer, under her aspect as the crescent moon, for past viewing. Isn’t that what you wanted.”

Konstantine sighed. He had left careful written instructions as to what to bring. Obviously, she had not read them carefully enough.

“That’s no good, dear. In daylight, in a place like this- with so much masculine energy radiating everywhere. This place has been marked with authority, with violence, with other- ah! In future you really must use your head, darling. The spell will be totally unbalanced. What I need is a rod of silver attuned directly to Luna the Mother, through no intermediary.”

Justinian only raised an eyebrow, but Vita looked shocked. “Magister! Men rarely wish to handle such a rod; are not certain it wouldn’t be better-”

Konstatine went on, undisturbed. “I put it right on the list, but that can’t be helped now. The priestesses should have several at the temple. Justinian, go with her. The priestesses are certain to give you hell, but you must get one of those rods back to me as soon as possible. I’ll begin the rest of the spellwork myself. Hardly have the knees for drawing magic circles any more, but there’s nothing else for it.”

Konstantine began working his way to the ground with difficulty. Neither of the others was moving.

“Well! Snap to it!”

They both went into motion at once, but Konstantine brought Justinian up short with one last question from his creaking knees, “How did you know about that mole?”