"Do you know what I see, my Lord King? I see the future, and you are not a part of it."
These words were spoken before the execution of the so-called Last King of Ablios, two years before the New Imperial Calendar would go into effect. The man who had spoken would be crowned Emperor Everlasting, otherwise known as the First Emperor of the Ablionian Empire.
Excerpt from The History of the Empire
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Marcus smoothed the last of his 'playful' annoyance away, turning fully to the Duchess. Behind her one of the younger Barons flinched, though not one he recognized.
Even before he had raised Soema as a Duchess, the seven Barons changed seats as often as the seasons. He didn't imagine giving them a transferable seat of power made them any less politically ruthless.
But Soema was still alive, she was still in charge, and he needed her to build the Mirranian Gate network in a reasonable timeframe. Before he joined the invasion of the Dungeon, specifically.
If only he could have retained Vistus' services. Alas, the man was far too busy rebuilding a broken Empire, which apparently, he was somewhat of an expert at.
It seemed that no matter the problem, Vistus had an answer.
"You seek favor," Marcus noted, gesturing down the hall. The Duchess moved with him, all grace and humility, while the Barons lagged behind. "I'm inclined to give it, but I first must know what it is that you seek."
Soema smiled almost fondly. "You speak as a man who has set his sights on greater shores than that of Mirrania, your Grace. It is as awe inspiring as it is commendable."
"Speak, speak," he urged, waving the pointless flattery aside. "I can't give what I don't know exists, nor can you fund what you don't know needs to happen."
The Duchess inclined her head, tone lowering. Not quite to conspiratorial efforts, but the trailing Barons wouldn't be able to hear. "When you elevated me to a Duchess, a five year term limit applied. Now that I have properly taken control of my territory, I would like to make that a more… formal arrangement."
"The term limit was put in place because the Isolationists are constantly cycling through representatives," Marcus pointed out. "Formalizing your title would, at the least, invite significant internal struggle. Especially from those who are choosing to wait until your time is up."
Soema hummed lightly. "So it would, your Grace. But I feel confident in retaining my position, and becoming a Duchess in full would allow me to more tightly bind my faction to the Crown. Only a fool would believe you don't intend to replicate the Gate network inside Marrania itself, which would divide the Isolationists regardless. We are, perhaps unsurprisingly, a rather reclusive people, both in our politics and our way of life. But change is inevitable, and I would prefer to help shape the future rather than be shaped by it."
Marcus didn't reply immediately, continuing to walk down the hallway. The Duchess didn't press, as was proper, but that didn't mean he wasn't pressed. He needed the Gate network to stretch the influence of his Academy, as well as to ensure that the Empire's newly enhanced economy didn't crush their own. The Duchess could make that difficult to accomplish.
"Granting you that title had been a concession at the time," he pointed out. "A way to, pardon my bluntness, pacify your faction. Now you ask for more, and what I need in return isn't equal in value."
"I would, of course, be a loyal—"
He held up a hand, slowing until they were standing still. "I wasn't quite done, and quite frankly, your loyalty is already mine. It is mine by right, but I understand that inherited oaths can mean very little. So I will make you a deal, Duchess. You will have your title, both for yourself and your descendants. In return, I will take that loyalty you mentioned."
She kept quiet, this time, wary but vaguely victorious. Marcus looked at her, knowing she expected the other shoe to drop.
"Let me be absolutely clear," he continued, his tone as calm and level as always. That had been one of Vess' first lessons; Volume and tone control. "I will own you. Your loyalty, from start to finish, will belong to the Crown. If I want to build a dozen Gates in your territory, I expect nothing but enthusiastic support. If I need your armies, if I need to recruit from your lands, if I need resources or experts or political support, the Isolationists will provide."
Soema nodded after a long, long moment. "We would be honored, your Grace."
"Then I'll ratify the Royal Command later today," he replied, nodding to her. "A good day to you, Duchess Soema."
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"—if I need resources or experts or political support, the Isolationists will provide."
Soema resisted the urge to flinch, managing so only through long, long experience. This had been stupid. Not the idea, but seizing the opportunity. She had hoped he would be off balance after the war. That he would be unsure of the political landscape, and so hesitant to commit, thus allowing her to seed ideas for later negotiation.
She herself had been home for just over six weeks now, after all, which was plenty of time to prepare.
So when she saw him, she had followed her instincts, and seized the opportunity. And now those eyes, those eyes without depth, offered her everything she'd ever wanted. All she would need to do was shackle herself to him, to the Crown, in a way no other Duke or Duchess was.
Because the threat was clear. Crystal clear, and she pitied the fools who thought Queen Elenoir was the more dangerous between them. No, those two deserved one another, and even though every animal instinct told her to run and hide from the predator that had come to her home, this was everything she'd ever wanted.
Her tone, when she spoke, was almost miraculously level. "We would be honored, your Grace."
"Then I'll ratify the Royal Command later today," he said, turning away from her. She resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "A good day to you, Duchess Soema."
The King strode away, certain that she would fall in line, and Soema knew that is exactly what she would do.
She glanced at the Barons, at her Barons, and knew that they would mutiny when this came to light. Plans had to be made, alliances forged and privileges extended.
She would succeed, because now, she had no choice but to succeed.
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Marcus put the Duchess out of his mind, instead turning it to the Gates. Unlike the Empire, he didn't have a host of trained spatial mages to throw at the problem, which meant he would need to simplify the control system.
That was doable, considering he had both more experience crafting the things and wasn't in a mad rush to prevent the end of humanity. His apprentices would help, with their own growing skill.
Finding them was easy enough, since they were still settling in their new rooms. They followed when he beckoned them, no words needing to be exchanged. They knew he wanted the Redwater Gate operational as quickly as possible.
He already had the location in mind, too. Next to the eastern gate, which was built for caravans and trade. The wide road would ease both military and civilian use, and the wall itself was in good repair. Fortifying the area like the Empire had done would take time, but it would be manageable. Expensive, but manageable.
Marcus blinked when they made it outside, seeing both commander Mirre and a hundred of her city guardsmen waiting for him. And they were waiting for him, by the complete lack of surprise on her face.
"Your Grace," the woman greeted, saluting sharply. The company of soldiers mimicked the gesture, standing so straight he was almost afraid they would snap their spines. New recruits, by their age. "The Queen mentioned that you would have need of my services."
Maybe he wouldn't introduce Elly to the concept of terminal velocity after all. "I do indeed, though it won't be glorious work. Pardon the accusation, but why is the commander of my city watch leading a company of recruits?"
"Their captain is sick," Mirre answered, shrugging. "And I wanted to get out of the office. Duke Helios also suggested that I should make some time to 'display my continued loyalty to the Crown'. Thus here I am."
Marcus inclined his head, not bothering to hide a fond smile. "If only I had a thousand of you, commander, lies would be a thing of the past. Are your men prepared for basic terrain alteration?"
"Since the Queen's arrival, the city watch has added construction, forestry, cooking and more menial skills, like terrain alteration, to its training regiment, and each guardsman carries the tools needed for their craft."
He took that as a yes. He also waved them on, because this was going to take long enough as it was.
Resisting the urge to teleport the entire group to where he needed them was hard, but Marcus endured the march. It gave him time to chat with Mirre, for one thing, and when that proved rather dry—in the sense that she was both brutally honest and vocally uninterested in anything but reporting information—he quizzed his apprentices instead.
Donna and Barcus had been keeping up with their studies, at least. He expected nothing less, but it was good to double check.
An hour later he walked through the eastern gate, ignoring the gawking peasantry to inspect the terrain. A caravan was stationed where he was thinking of putting his Gate, unfortunately, so he waved at Barcus.
The stoic man deposited a small sack of gold in his hands, which he promptly gave to Mirre. "Ask them to leave and compensate them for the trouble. Have your men speed up the process."
Mirre took the gold and moved to speak with her lieutenants, which freed him to turn to his apprentices. Donna perked up.
"Tables?" she asked, lightly bouncing on her feet. Where, exactly, she got all her energy from remained a mystery. She turned to her fellow apprentice. "I think he wants tables."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "I do want the tables. Set them up there-ish, and start working on a sketch. We need to test for ground solidity, drainage levels and all the other usual suspects."
Donna nodded merrily, one hand already pulling the bag from her back. She loved that thing, for some reason. Either way, they were the properly enchanted kind, meaning they had both an expanded internal volume and weight equalizers. Foldable tables, chairs and more were inside, all deconstructed and ready to be assembled.
He folded his hands behind his back while everyone got started, idly watching a mildly annoyed group of Royal Guards hurrying to catch up with him.
He hadn't even meant to abandon them, this time. Honest.
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"So it'll end up taking a few days, at least." Marcus finished, busy slicing an apple into widgets. Elly promptly stole one, the thief that she was. "Another week to complete the dome and assorted fortifications. Mirre is already increasing the number of guardsmen at the gate to help organize the expected increase in trade and travel."
Elly munched on her stolen fruit, smiling at his scowl. "We're married, husband. What is yours is mine. Also, do you like breaking economies, or is it just work?"
"Stealing food is treason," he replied mildly. "And no, I don't particularly enjoy it. Also, I'm not breaking anything. It'll be an adjustment, yes, but having access to Imperial markets now that we have fully switched to their ducat will bring nothing but prosperity."
"The increased tax on trade via Gate network has nothing to do with anything, I'm sure."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry, would you like to return the small mountain of gold we gave to the army? I'll lower taxes right this very moment."
"Let's not be hasty," she backtracked, smiling brightly. "I think more taxes is a great idea. Always have and always will."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Either way, the profit everyone stands to make will easily offset the tax, and with Vess making sure the Empire won't try to undercut local production, it will be nothing but positive."
"You're saying 'nothing but' too much," she shot back. "And before you utter whatever vile retort you have on the tip of your tongue, we're out of time. Keeping Yonas waiting is rude."
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Captain Yonas, you ill-mannered cretin. The man has served my family for many generations, and deserves respect."
"If many means two, then yes, he has. Now stop stalling."
He sighed, heaving himself out of his chair. "Alright, fine. Let's go see what the captain of the Royal Guard has for us."
She rolled her eyes at him, striding towards the door while he was still double checking his things. Being in a castle again was nice, however. He'd gotten used to tents and temporary lodgings, and he had lived through far worse in the School of Life, but the Redwater keep was nice. Familiar.
Marcus had to teleport down the hall to catch up to Elly, who offered him a challenging grin. Before that could escalate in a sprint through the castle, which would do neither of their reputation any good, the four Royal Guards stationed at their door caught up. Elly slowed, not willing to make a fool out of herself in front of them.
Not this time, anyway. He glanced at the faceless guards, full helmets obscuring their every expression, and then down at their boots. Which, according to his not insignificant skill at magic, were enchanted.
They hadn't even been back a full day. Someone, and by that he meant the very man that they were going to see, had been busy. And paranoid, because the Royal Guards didn't usually shadow him inside the castle itself.
Marcus narrowed his eyes, casting a barely perceptible divination spell. No demonic presence returned, though apparently, he hadn't been stealthy enough. Elly gave him a small smile, and he shook off the bout of paranoia with some effort.
They arrived at the captain's office after a number of minutes, and Marcus knocked on the door. Manners, as he had long learned, never hurt. The captain's voice sounded from inside, his tone vaguely impatient. "Come in."
Marcus opened the door, finding the man seated behind his desk. A stack of papers were on it, and he signed whatever he was reading before finally looking up.
The man shot to his feet so quickly Marcus had to suppress a smile, though the captain's expression remained neutral. "Your Grace. My Queen. My apologies, I must have lost track of time."
"We're an hour early," Elly informed the man cheerily, stealing one of the papers from his desk. She put it back after reading a few lines. "Leave request, boring. Anyway, please, sit. My darling husband and I agreed that this is best done in an informal manner."
Yonas didn't say anything for a long moment, slowly taking his seat. "You're testing me."
"I'm testing you," Elly corrected, waving her hand. "And in my personal experience, showing up hours early and not at the appointed place is a great way to find… honesty. Consider this an interview, of sorts. The Royal Guard has, and will continue to, change. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make sure you were up to the task."
Marcus expected the man to be insulted, because frankly, it kind of was an insult, but instead the man relaxed. Or as close as Yonas ever came, anyway. "I see. Then the Royal Guard, as ever, is at your disposal."
Elly seemed to find that agreeable, which was nice and all, but this wasn't exactly his area of expertise. Oh, she had explained that his initial reaction would tell them a lot, like if he was hiding something or not confident in the outcome of the planned meeting, but he found it rather excessive.
Good thing he didn't really need to do much, then. And Hells, if Yonas couldn't deal with an insult to his pride, he wouldn't have survived the recent changes to his order.
The captain cleared his throat. "Shall I begin, my Queen?"
"Please."
Yonas tapped the desk with one hand, his fingers rolling back and forth in a wave. "After the invasion, the number of Royal Guards had been drastically reduced. Death stripped over a hundred from our ranks, and more were so wounded it took weeks of extensive healing to put them together again. Forty eight of those were deemed mentally unable to serve as proper guards, though a number have been employed as instructors for new recruits."
The man shrugged. "Four hundred might seem excessive to guard a single family, but in truth that number was reached through equilibrium. While only a portion are directly seen defending you, that number increases fourfold to account for them always doing that. Four, sometimes five shifts are needed both during the day and night. Add leave, sickness and the possibility of being wounded, that number increases yet again."
"Then we have duties that don't directly include protecting you or the heir. Patrolling the Redwater keep, training new members, training themselves, securing against assassins, infiltrators, scouting for new potential recruits, the work scarcely ends. Four hundred is a good number, but after the invasion, we needed to fill the ranks."
Yonas shrugged. "Lowering the requirements for recruitment was a possibility, but not one I was eager to take. So we recruited those already on our list, yet that still left us with nearly eighty missing members. The solution, as approved by the Crown, was to broaden our horizons. In short, magical talent was to be found. Apologies if I'm going slowly."
"Slow is smooth, smooth is fast," Elly replied. "Take your time."
"As you say, my Queen. We needed to fill the ranks, and while Life Enhancement soldiers could take some duties where needed, the Royal Guards are not soldiers. We require skills and training a regular enlisted soul lacks, not the least of which being the ability to fight in a certain manner. Now, for that same reason mages would be disqualified, but the sheer versatility at their disposal was deemed desirable."
The captain hummed. "Divination and healing were specifically tempting, but necromancy, elementalism, druidism, illusionism and summoning have also drawn some interest. As such, even before the Dungeon Break, I tasked a number of my men to keep a close eye on the Academy. There has been a… surprising surge of interest, after the invasion, which was fortunate. It allowed me to be critical during testing."
Marcus shifted. This was stretching a little, and the captain seemed to agree.
"In short," the man continued, "The Royal Guard now enjoys the skills of nine healers from the Medico, led by a man named Tomas, four necromancers, eleven elementalists, three illusionists, a pair of druids, four divination mages and five summoners. In addition, three Mage Knights have passed examination with flying colors not thirty hours ago. That brings us to a total of three hundred and ninety four members, forty one of which have yet to earn their armets. The mages come equipped with hoods which are enchanted to obscure their faces in darkness, as is tradition."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Mage Knights?"
"You have not visited the Academy yet?" the captain asked in turn, surprised. "I would implore you to do so soon. Many have been looking forward to it, the Mage Knights included. I won't spoil anything here, however. They deserve a full introduction."
Elly shifted in her seat. "That will do for a summary, captain. Thank you. I read over the report concerning lessons, and I have some questions about their deportment training."
Yonas inclined his head, though Marcus had to search for the meaning of the word. Ah; behavior, specifically when it came to body language and movement. That seemed fair. Intimidation was, quite often, a better shield than the actual object. Nature agreed, by how many animals relied on posturing and threats over physical fighting.
Marcus made himself comfortable. By how interested Elly seemed, they were going to be here a while.
The Academy was next, though. He was going to insist on it.
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