The table in the center of the room had been there for nearly a millennia. Around it walls had crumbled against invaders, fire had scorched it from civil war, and no less than a half dozen men had finished their lives face down upon it, victims of the espionage of the noble state. Made of Holstamp white marble and polished every morning with white cloth and light beeswax, it was wide enough for a man to lay across, and long enough for three men end to end. It was situated in the perfect middle of the great hall, the walls itself built equidistance from the table’s edge, measured and certified true by the Priests of Order.
Around it, different chairs had sat across the ages. Now, in the second millennia of the Empire, the seats were made of Cairn ironwood, their legs and arms sculpted and carved individually by the best artisans alive the hundred and ten years before when they put their hands to the work. The headpiece of each chair had etched upon it the symbol of its office, some as Baron, some as Duke, trade master, Knight Commander, all the different positions of important among the noble high house of the Holstamp Tomas. While the figures seated in each changed, the heraldry and power behind each did not. Before them the table, called the ‘Prince’s counsel’ reminded them of the permanence, and power that their house passed down age to age.
The men and women seated around it small talked, awaiting the arrival of their prince and patriarch. Today was a discussion of the heaviest of matters, the very future of their house, and the empire hinging on decisions made at the table. Some came to the table with temerity, some with bold ambitions. The commonality between all was both a love for their house, and a deep understanding of the importance of this meeting, called hastily and three weeks in the making for all to be able to rapidly attend from the four corners of the empire. The full council rarely met, only by schedule every four years, the last over two years past, but if their Prince called, they all knew what it centered around.
The prince’s wife was the only living child of the dragon emperor. Together they had sired two children, one of which would grow to be the heir to the empire. The dragon emperor remained cagey about which one it would be and posits to that effect garnered much discussion in the salons of the noble houses, and gambling dens of the lower class. It represented that when the dragon emperor passed the world (if he ever passed, reasoned many) that the throne would fall to the Holstamp Tomas. It had been over five hundred years that a Holstamp or Tomas had sat the throne. True, once crowned they would have to forsake their surname and all ties to their birthright, but all knew how that truly worked in practicality.
Prince Carthus Holstamp Tomas entered the room, and the nobles silenced their talk, and stood, awaiting him to sit first at the table that was his counsel. He was in his fifteenth year of reign as Prince of his house, and perhaps the second most powerful man in the empire behind the Dragon Emperor. He was husband to the daughter of the Emperor, father to the future heir to the throne, accomplished warrior, statesman, rich beyond imagination, and admired by the people of his province. He was a fair prince, and beyond being married to his daughter, he was esteemed to the Dragon Emperor. There were few who had ill things to say of Carthus and when he took the patriarchy of the House when his mother stepped down, it was celebrated and talk of great prosperity for the Holstamp Tomas became the topic dujour. Today he felt the weight of history falling onto his shoulders and questioned privately why he had ever agreed to lead his house while his mother still lived.
The nobles of his house regarded him fondly. In his late fifties, he was powerfully built, his blond hair whitening slightly with age, his jaw set and powerful. He wore fine clothes, embellished with the sigil of their house, with an elegant broad rapier hanging from his side. It was the same sword that as a youth he had used to win the Imperial Great Cup the highest honor of tournament knights. It was the same sword he had used to fight as a member of the legion, and the same sword he had laid across the ground in front of Elsa, daughter of the Emperor when he proposed to her. It was a marriage both of political alliance, and of love. Daily he thanked the gods that his heart had filled with love for her, and her for him. This day, he wondered if his decisions would extinguish that love in the cauldron of politics, and the long, term goals of his house. His loyalty was to his children, his wife, his people, his house, his emperor, and the order often changed depending on the needs of the day. He worried if this day, the order would, be set, in stone.
“I call my counsel to order.” He said as he sat at the head of the table. The other nobles, some his direct blood relation, some cousins, all Holstamp Tomas sat in unison. Servants came forth and refreshed wine glasses, and then withdrew, leaving the room to the decision’s makers of arguably the most powerful house of the empire.
The fa?ade of his iron leadership melted quickly, as it always did at the counsel. While he was the patriarch, he served the wishes of his house, and the matter before them was one of bitter division.
“I assume I’ve traveled two weeks from Libertan to discuss the matter of Ward.” Lord Alexander, fourth named of the house, Lord of their holding in Libertan spoke, his voice both annoyed and firm.
“Our field general cousin, bucking to be High general.” Florio, Duke of the Western Province holding of the house, youngest at the table, master knight, upstart, and as cunning in politics as the field of battle. He carved slices off an apple with a parrying knife, a bit of intimidation not lost on Carthus.
“The Emperor goes south to end that dream.” Brian, third named of the house, Lord of their holding in the Mountain elf province, leaning forward with the stoop of advanced age.
“Surely not? His advances have been exceptional. The news of the burning of the savage’s capitol is all the talk.” Janice, aunt of Florio, and Baroness of the Aragon province holding of the house replied. Carthus could not help but think that she continued to be a well, meaning person, who was always one step beyond the rest of her relations.
“But Ward is mad. We know this. No one wants to say it, but we know it to be true.” Anessa Holstamp Tomas, Duchess of the houses holding in the Holstamp Province, and mother to the prince and patriarch of their house said with biting alacrity. Her face, wrinkled with the lines of age was serious, her eyes commanding the respect of anything they deigned to look upon. Carthus could not help but feel as if he was a child again for a moment when his mother spoke. She had been the matriarch of their house for such a long time.
“Mad! Lies. Scurrilous accusations by the Vacul, or the Grimm. They envy his success!” Damon, second named of the House nearly shouted. Carthus reasoned he had the temerity to raise his voice because he had recently retired from the military, leaving it ranks a commander. Only Ward outranked him among the house’s soldiers.
“I concur. I sense a plot by the Vacul. Rumors spread, forcing the Dragon south to investigate. Perhaps they have plans for even him.” Caldius, high knight of the house and Damon’s son. Carthus knew he would back whatever his father said, and more so always posit that the Vacul, the high noble house and longtime rival of the Holstamp Tomas, were up to no good.
“While I share the standard dislike for the Vacul, I see no evidence to indicate their involvement.” Anessa replied, a bored tone in her voice.
“It’s obvious!” Caldius replied forcefully.
“I think he’s mad.” Brian muttered.
“Power mad, but shouldn’t he be?” Florio smiled as he bit into his apple.
“Reports say he has gone too far. I’ve come to understand he took Dylan Grimm prisoner for some offense. This isn’t the consideration due a nobleman.” Alexander replied, shaking his head.
“You’re worried about a Grimm? If he did something wrong, then I trust our cousin to clap him in irons appropriately.” Damon replied in a firm tone.
“I’m worried he went too far is all.” Alexander replied, furrowing his brow.
“He’s a general, a field general even. At war! Rumors and second guessing is not what we should be doing now.” Caldius said, smacking his palm on the table.
“My intelligence says it goes even deeper than that.” Janus, previously silent said. He paused for dramatic effect as the table turned to look at him. Carthus felt a pang of anger in his chest, mirrored by the smile on Alexander’s face. Janus was his son, and he was the neo patriarch, second in command of the house. As neither of Carthus’s children could inherit his title, since the Emperor had not named which one of them would succeed him, the house had been forced six years previous to choose a new neo, patriarch. It had always been assumed that whichever child of Carthus was not chosen by the Emperor to rule, would instead rule the Holstamp Tomas. For years the house anticipated they would have not only the throne, but the house in the hands of a dynamic pair of children. So did the emperor, and wisely, he had not announced which of his grandchildren would inherit, and no one could force the Dragon Emperor to do anything until he was ready. Thusly, the house was forced to name a successor in the event Carthus passed. Much to his ire, the house settled on the younger Janus, barely past thirty winters. He was the son of Alexander, raised as a true noble. While not as accomplished as Florio in tourney, he was a strong warrior tested in tourney but never true battle, handsome, arrogant, and by all accounts ruthless. He had been chosen as neo, patriarch because it was well known that he had developed a strong series of favors among other nobles, with an intelligence network and mercantile base to back it up. Further, he had steadfastly refused to marry, waiting for the right political marriage to crop up. Carthus could force him to marry if he wished, but as he had married for political reasons, and equally for love, it was not an action he intended to utilize. Janus used this to his advantage, as it ingratiated him to even more nobles, their hopes that he would pick one of their daughters to marry into such a high station. He was as smart as he was deadly. Carthus did not care for him.
“My ears tell me that he did imprison Dylan Grimm. Further, he imprisoned Elise Aragon, son of Richard, and one of his commanders as well. Even darker” he paused again for dramatic effect “a few weeks back he executed Dylan Grimm for treason.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The room erupted into a chaos of shouts and recriminations. Carthus remained silent, as did Janus and briefly Carthus caught his eye. He saw enjoyment in the face of his second in command, and he didn’t like the feeling that created. Giving the table a few moments to get it all out, he raised his hand and smacked it on the ancient table and the room fell silent.
“What Janus says is true.” Carthus said. A few hushed whispers occurred and he silenced them with a look.
“Our cousin is mad. He has done well in war, pushing an aggressive timetable deep into the Val E Naa. He has burned their capitol, among other cities. He has brought glory to his men and conquering for the empire. However, he has also lost a Honadel weaponmaster” a few snickers at the table “and he has made some errors in judgement. Our reports say that he accused Dylan Grimm, Elise Aragon, and Commander Marcus Ross in a conspiracy to assassinate him, on behalf of the Emperor himself.”
Several at the tables face drained of color. Alexander shook his head. Florio clicked his teeth and cursed under his breath. Janus smiled.
“Is it true? Did the Emperor order him dead?” Anessa asked, her voice even.
Carthus shrugged. “We do not know.”
“A motive would be apparent. He fears Ward’s success. He fears Ward becoming High General, with one of your children on the throne. He fears that we would be default, take over the empire.” Caldius said.
“I agree. Motive is easy to establish, but the truth of the allegation, we do not know.” Carthus replied.
“Surely Ward has proof? He executed Dylan Grimm? Surely he wouldn’t do that on a rumor of a plot?” Janice asked.
“Of course, he would. He isn’t mad, he’s calculating.” Alexander said.
Carthus shook his head. “No, he’s mad. Of that much, we are aware. His decisions while bold, are reckless. He is squandering men for glory and pushing faster than he should.”
“Nuances of his battle plan aside, do we have any other reason to believe him mad?” Damon said, his voice acidic.
Carthus paused for a moment, securing his rising anger. “His son turned traitor to the Val E Naa. This is what we believe drove him over the edge.”
“Alain? That fop? Traitor? I don’t believe he has the balls!” Caldius replied. Several at the table nodded their head.
“It’s true, he went to the enemy.” Janus said, a quiet falling over the table again. Carthus was thankful at least in this moment, he and his second were in accord. The feeling of thankfulness was fleeting.
“But he returned. My understanding is that he was no traitor. Instead, he was acting on his father’s orders and infiltrated the Val E Naa and killed the leader of Reeva, the mouth of the Bulvi.”
Caldius snickered. “You jest.”
“Do I ever?” Janus replied coolly. Carthus gritted his teeth. He had not heard this intelligence. If it was true, it changed his perception of the situation, but he had no way of knowing it to be true other than he had to admit that Janus’s networks of spies were competent, rivaling his own.
“I brought this nugget of wisdom today, and unfortunately I did not have time to brief the patriarch.” Janus said, barely hiding his sarcasm.
“This changes things then. Perhaps he is not mad, but our cousin simply protects himself while at war, waiting for his family to aid him.” Alexander said confidently. “We all know my son’s spies are strong. We know his information to be good.”
“Agreed.” Anessa said. Carthus shook internally. The finality of his mother’s voice, both as a Duchess and the former leader of the house only punctuated the now truth of Janus’s claim.
“Alright, then this does change the situation.” Carthus said, remaining calm. He had not prepared for this twist. He could sense Janus knew that.
“Then what do we do?” Janice asked.
“I have a proposal.” Janus said. Internally Carthus answered ‘of course you do.’ In that moment, if he could, he would have backhanded the neo, patriarch but now for the moment at least, Janus had the floor, and the rapt attention of the counsel that was not his, yet.
“Ward is well, mad. But not for the reasons we think. He is wholly consumed by power and has put this lust in front of the House. While it is currently to our advantage, he has become reckless and it will become a problem from which we cannot recover if it goes unchecked.” Janus stood and as he spoke, he walked around the table slowly, his steps measured. Carthus was impressed once again at his second’s command of a room, persuasion, and his voice. While impressed, he was angry in the direction he knew the upstart was taking the debate, and angrier still to know there was little he could do to stop it. The second most powerful man in the empire felt small in the room of his ancestors.
“Ward is a problem, a dangerous problem. He brings us glory, now. He brings us war trophies, now. But let us not forget that he is one battle away from losing it all. He presses his men too hard. He sacrifices men at a whim, and while they may be Honadel weaponmasters, it will not be long before he sacrifices Holstamp Tomas knights for his glory.”
Janus paused a moment, letting his words sink in. Clasping his hands behind his back, he continued his pacing and speech. Carthus could not help but realize that it had been rehearsed, probably a dozen times since this meeting had been called.
“Ward must be dealt with. But not now. To do it now would bring ruin and shame on our house that would take generations to recover from. No, we must use this to our advantage.”
Carthus saw his mother tracking Janus as he spoke. He knew her well, well enough to see the impact of the upstart’s words. He saw in his mother’s face acceptance of the line of thinking before her. She would do what was best for the house, even if the business did not sit well with Carthus. He sighed.
“The emperor has refused to name which one of Carthus’s children is the heir. This is to stall us and foment uncertainty. Now he goes south to block our path once again. He will kill Ward, make no mistake, and the empire will see him as right and just, because he is unchallengeable. Ward will go down as a crazed general, sacrificing men, and murdering the brother of the emperor. It will stain our house, deeply, and for generations to come. We must not allow this to happen.”
His delivery was smooth and powerful. Carthus could see that his mother, Alexander, Caldius, Florio, and even Janice were already in agreement with his reasoning. Carthus knew what was coming next, and inside, a part of him withered.
Janus ceased pacing, and Carthus could not help but notice he was standing behind his seat. He smelled the lilacs powered onto the young man’s cassock. He saw the shadow he cast overtop of Carthus and the table a millennia old. Carthus, husband of the daughter of the emperor wanted to rise up, turn and run the upstart through for what he knew he would say. Carthus the patriarch of the Holstamp Tomas stayed seated, and he knew the order of his loyalty was concreted as Janus spoke.
“In short, I propose this. We kill the Emperor, and after a respectable time, we kill Ward as well.”
The debate had lasted four hours into the night. Most of it was posturing by the parties in attendance. Carthus knew where they stood, but the family had to reason it out, draw it out, and consider all the angles until finality was reached. Janus led the discussion while Carthus leaned back in his chair, deflated. He knew this outcome was possible and was ashamed that he had no wisdom to prevent it. As he reflected while they others debated, he knew this outcome wasn’t just possible, but what would happen.
It had not been long ago he stood in front of his father, in, law, his liege and heard the words: “You will disown him. Strike his name from your roles. You will publicly back his replacement, and you will offer the Grimm recompenses for the death of their Duke.” In reference to his kinsman, the general mad with power. Carthus knew then that while he could agree with the Dragon Emperor as a son in law, as a man, he could not as the patriarch of his house. He had not wanted to admit it, but he knew then he would betray him. His lineage offered him no choice. Quietly he hoped that the Dragon Emperor foresaw this, and that he did not trust Carthus enough to follow through with it. He knew better though. The Dragon Emperor respected him, trusted him as husband to his daughter and father of his heirs. No, he would foresee this betrayal, but elect not to plan for it. That fact made Carthus’s soul churn.
“Fine, it’s settled then. We allow Ward to do our bidding for the betterment of the Empire. He keeps pushing and gaining glory for the time being. We put down the present and look to our future. When Carthus’s child is on the throne, we can put Ward into the past as well. I nominate my daughter for the task.” Alexander said firmly. Carthus could feel the heat of anger on his cheeks. This was not the outcome he wanted. Again, he knew he could not prevent it. The daughter of Lord Alexander was summoned to the room. Carthus didn’t like her. He didn’t like her brother Janus, or even her father. As much as his duty to his name forced his hand, he didn’t have to like the people surrounding the dark deeds discussed.
Cirilla Holstamp Tomas was not the striking beauty of the family. She was plain, unassuming, with a face that was neither pleasant, nor unpleasant. Her eyes and hair were a dull brown, her skin fair. She was average height, her build one of athleticism but not overly muscled. She wore a noblewoman’s clothes, sensible and within fashion but not ostentatious. When she spoke her voice was measured, calm, unremarkable in any way. She was also one of the deadliest members of the Holstamp Tomas, the third daughter and fifth child of her father. Her youth had been given some freedom; in that she would be married off in a minor political alliance or could pursue the route of a warrior. She chose neither, instead following the path of the assassin.
The table, millennia old heard the plot laid out for the young assassin. All around it had long sense shoved pretense aside, now wholly committed to their course of action. Carthus watched as they delineated the plot to Cirilla, explaining in detail how it must be done, and the follow, up sometime later to take care of Ward as well. With that, the death warrant of his father, in, law, the Dragon Emperor was signed by the Holstamp Tomas. When all was said and done, they turned to Carthus, silent in his chair, his face dark and tired. They awaited his final blessing, once given would unleash their knives on their Emperor, their kinsman, and propel one of his children directly to the throne. Their actions today would assure their house prosperity, fortune, and rulership of the Empire of Man. All at the table had mixes of pleasure, resignation, trepidation, and delight on their faces. Janus seemed especially pleased. Only Carthus was grave. He sat silent for some time, his kinsmen waiting for an order they all knew he must give, and had to give, for he had no choice.
“So be it.” He said quietly, stood, and walked out of the ancient room of his family; his head hung low.
