Emperor Valerian
First Post
“Stupid General Diogenes, stupid fouling-“ Vintressa spat after the councilmembers had left the chamber. The Princess’ eyes were ablaze with fury at the hapless Commander in Chief.
“Well, he did what he assumed was best at the time,” her father sighed. The Emperor’s eyes betrayed a slight annoyance, but more than anything else, they showed his tiredness. Like the Princess and her friends, he’d been up for an extremely long time. “And it was a crisis situation. Sending out the city watch and other security folks was a sound decision. He had no idea we were going to opt for a radical course, like the one you proposed,” Lucius smiled at his daughter.
“Still!” Vintressa spat.
“Remember what I told you about governing,” the Emperor said softly, trying to mollify his daughter’s anger.
“Yes... no matter what I plan, something will get fouled up,” she recited, rolling her eyes at the same time.
“So learn to run things on instinct,” the Emperor finished his own quote, before getting up and walking around the table towards the four. “Vintressa, you impressed me a great deal today.”
“Diogenes annoyed me, that’s all,” the Princess replied, annoyance in her voice, but also a little bit of shyness. “I didn’t think we should go that way.”
“You gave him quite a tongue lashing when he said he sent the security personnel already,” Valaron said, eyes still a little wide. He’d been quite surprised at how vicious his sister’s tongue had gotten with the hapless general. “I think you’re the only person I’ve seen other than mom and dad that has made him run out of the room with his tail between his legs!” the prince laughed.
“Remind me never to get your friend angry,” Rokyugan whispered quietly to Raven... just before the Emperor cleared his voice behind the two.
“You two remained awfully quiet during the meeting. And I don’t know about you Royuki,” Lucius butchered the young man’s name, “but I know Raven here is usually very opinionated. Tell me, what do you think of things, since Diogenes’ error?” the Emperor half sat on the long table, his eyes probing the minds of the other two.
“I... um... do not feel it is my place to comment,” Royukgan offered quickly. “I am not familiar with your realm, and I’ve only partially been introduced to all the customs of your nation...”
“Vintressa has introduced you to quite a few I bet,” Raven quickly added, her eyes blazing mischief towards her friend. Before the shocked and appalled Princess could reply, Raven jumped in at handling the Emperor’s question. She was far more comfortable around her Uncle Luke than the other luminaries that had previously clogged up the air in the room.
“Well, Diogenes said that no one save servants was found at the Erelion manor here in Iskeldrun... so they bolted. And he also said that merchants were complaining that a carriage rushed out of there around dawn this morning, almost running them over as they opened their market stalls. There they are right there,” she smiled at the obviousness of her logic.
“Find the carriage, and we find them. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Valaron nodded in understanding, a motion that made Raven grin a little more.
“Vintressa, we’ve heard plenty from you. Royuki-“
“Royukgan,” Vintressa corrected her father.
“Royukgan,” the Emperor said again, face slightly red in embarrassment at mispronouncing the name, “what is your take on Raven’s logic? I have one already, but I want to peck your young, agile minds first.”
“Well...” the young man stammered, not believing he was being asked to solve a security issue for another realm, “I know that if I was fleeing the city after trying to assassinate the Son of Heaven, I would not flee in something so obvious as a carriage.”
“So the carriage is a diversion?” the Emperor finished his thought with a grunt. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Though the problem with that is Diogenes’ people couldn’t find evidence of anyone else leaving the mansion, except that carriage.”
“Though a carriage rushing through the street, knocking over stalls would cause a lot of commotion, wouldn’t it?” Valaron asked. “I mean, I know if someone nearly knocked over my stall with my wares, I’d be too busy cussing at them as they left to notice anyone else coming out until they’d blended in...”
“Well, the question then is what was their disguise. If they dressed as a commoner, there’s over a million souls within Iskeldrun, it’d be impossible to find them inside the city...” Vintressa said thoughtfully.
Hemmel dusted himself off, thankful fort he several hours of preparation taken to make sure the Erelion manor’s teleporter was working properly. It was designed for two, and considering the circumstances, he’d insisted that the House Mage, who was in charge of the teleporter as well as other magical needs of the family while they stayed there, come along. If he talked, there was too much at risk. Currently his body lay in the deep woods, several hundred yards from Hemmel... near the exact place the teleporter had placed them.
He would have spoken... and when his neck snapped, he felt no pain, the assassin told himself. Hemmel felt no compassion for his direct targets, but those ‘caught in the crossfire’ gave him momentary pause. What was necessary was necessary. Unlike many of the assassins who plied their trade to the nobility, Hemmel did not worship Nerull, god of the dead. He worshipped no one... it could cause complications.
Gingerly, he worked his way through the forest, limping on his injured leg. Bandages had been applied to his wound after he arrived at the family manor... part of the reason that his departure had been delayed. He was, unfortunately, still clad in the clothes of a manservant to the Imperial family... something that would have to change.
I need to find a road, his mind thought quickly. A waylaid traveler would be the easiest source of a clothing change.
A peasant would be best. Non-traceable, anonymous. Merchants are too colorful and flamboyant... it would be noticed. Pilgrims would normally work, but Kulloden is not known for its religious sites.
And preferably it needs to be someone that will, under duress, tell me where I am before I liberate them from their body and clothing, his mind darkly reflected. His hands instinctively patted his waist, for the third time in an hour. He felt the long thin form of his jitte, his only one now that his other had narrowly missed the Empress.
Blind luck the boy got the sword up to block in time, Hemmel told himself. Blind luck. You’re still very fast, and you WATCHED him train. He shouldn’t have been that fast!
Maybe you’re slowing down? another part of his mind questioned. Or you misjudged him? Hemmel’s heart grew a little cold at either of those thoughts. His livelihood, his life, depended on being able to ascertain risks exactly, and move quickly to neutralize them.
Why did you not just kill the boy and his sister? The leg wound was not that bad! You took out several guards! his post-operation brain jumped in loudly. He was proud of each mission he finished... and this would go as the first failure he’d ever had. He did not want to admit that he needed to retreat, that the situation got out of hand, out of control, and that he needed to leave before his target was finished off.
Maybe you WERE attached to that boy? a tiny voice in his head offered, a thought that Hemmel shoved away viciously. Yet the voice returned. Attachment was a luxury he could not afford, and he thought that his professionalism was higher than that. Yet, he had grown attached to the Prince, and his mannerisms.
It is in the past Hemmel, focus on the present! he coldly reminded himself as he peered around a tree. Ahead, the forest seemed to clear, and he could hear the steady patter of horses hooves, along with the creaking of wooden wheels.
A wagon, his mind realized, and as he peered, he saw his new quarry, whistling on this pleasant day in the forest.
Simeon glanced uneasily at the creature following behind him and Eyrna. While the figure was clad in a long, simple black cloak, Simeon swore he could see the white eyes peering out of the dark depths towards him.
“Eyrna, I don’t know if this is wise,” he hissed to her quietly. “Him!? We are bringing him along!?”
“Yes,” his sister responded quiet sharply, even though she did not cast a glance in his direction. “We need him in order to fetch the stone.”
“Eyrna, don’t you think if he was as powerful as he claims he is, he could just teleport us out of the city?” Simeon complained again as something from the sewer ceiling fell on the hood of his cloak. Whatever it was, it was wet, and soon the top of his head felt sickeningly damp.
“I do not teleport you, as it would draw attention,” the same beautiful tenor behind them spoke up. “I have great power, but I also have great wisdom,” the voice gave a slight chuckle.
“He speaks the truth,” Eyrna replied, her eyes still looking ahead by the very dim light provided by their new companion. “If we teleported, out of one of the poorest quarters of the city, the magical signature would be bound to draw some attention. The manors and mansions of the city have teleporters... teleportation there is to be expected.”
“It’s just that-“ Simeon started to complain again.
“Please... quieter, for the sake of my mind,” the creature said again.
Eyrna sometimes wanted to smack her brother for his exceptional nervousness, and willingness to complain. But deep, inside her mind, she shared some of his fears. Uncle is playing with something very dangerous here, she had told herself when Baron Valdemar had revealed his backup plan should the blackmail plot fail.
Eyrna, like many in the nobility, was an erstwhile devotee of Tarantor. His order and justice were what the nobility sought to implement on this earth, and for centuries, under the old Paleologus line of Emperors, exactly that had been done.
But the old line of Emperors ended, and a new line, the Caladron family, took over. The Emperor, still beardless as he had been sixteen years prior, had changed the rules. Restrictions were placed on how the nobility could handle peasants. Old laws requiring the nobles pay taxes, long ignored, were suddenly reinstated.
Tarantor obviously did not intend things to go this way... at least that is what Eyrna and many who worshiped Tarantor felt. Many in the nobility were becoming increasingly convinced that the Emperor, who on the surface also worshipped Tarantor, was under the influence of his Hieroneous loving wife, and his Pelor loving friends. Those two churches had suddenly increased in power and prestige... at the expense of the Tarantor Church Eyrna respected.
Despite these slights, despite the obvious contempt the Emperor held for the way Tarantor had intended things to run, the Great Judge, the Chief High Priest of the entire religion, still gave his unequivocal backing to the Caladron Emperor. True, the cadre in power had defeated a local demon invasion... but the demonic forces had never left the Upper Inerman Valley, a tiny portion of the overall Empire. Many in various circles were becoming frustrated with the current arrangement...
And so they came to us... she chuckled as they rounded another corner in the fetid sewer. People one normally would suspect of targeting the Emperor...
They chose us because they knew we would not inform the Imperials of any plots against them if we refused... Little do they know what they have sown, they will reap in fury soon...
She gave a sigh at the last thought, and looked back towards their new companion. His hands, when they came out of that eerie black cloak of his, were long, and strong... much stronger than she thought they would be for a mere mage. A thought that reminded her of the Emperor, and his famed ability to fight with magic of sword... a thought that made her shudder.
“Well, he did what he assumed was best at the time,” her father sighed. The Emperor’s eyes betrayed a slight annoyance, but more than anything else, they showed his tiredness. Like the Princess and her friends, he’d been up for an extremely long time. “And it was a crisis situation. Sending out the city watch and other security folks was a sound decision. He had no idea we were going to opt for a radical course, like the one you proposed,” Lucius smiled at his daughter.
“Still!” Vintressa spat.
“Remember what I told you about governing,” the Emperor said softly, trying to mollify his daughter’s anger.
“Yes... no matter what I plan, something will get fouled up,” she recited, rolling her eyes at the same time.
“So learn to run things on instinct,” the Emperor finished his own quote, before getting up and walking around the table towards the four. “Vintressa, you impressed me a great deal today.”
“Diogenes annoyed me, that’s all,” the Princess replied, annoyance in her voice, but also a little bit of shyness. “I didn’t think we should go that way.”
“You gave him quite a tongue lashing when he said he sent the security personnel already,” Valaron said, eyes still a little wide. He’d been quite surprised at how vicious his sister’s tongue had gotten with the hapless general. “I think you’re the only person I’ve seen other than mom and dad that has made him run out of the room with his tail between his legs!” the prince laughed.
“Remind me never to get your friend angry,” Rokyugan whispered quietly to Raven... just before the Emperor cleared his voice behind the two.
“You two remained awfully quiet during the meeting. And I don’t know about you Royuki,” Lucius butchered the young man’s name, “but I know Raven here is usually very opinionated. Tell me, what do you think of things, since Diogenes’ error?” the Emperor half sat on the long table, his eyes probing the minds of the other two.
“I... um... do not feel it is my place to comment,” Royukgan offered quickly. “I am not familiar with your realm, and I’ve only partially been introduced to all the customs of your nation...”
“Vintressa has introduced you to quite a few I bet,” Raven quickly added, her eyes blazing mischief towards her friend. Before the shocked and appalled Princess could reply, Raven jumped in at handling the Emperor’s question. She was far more comfortable around her Uncle Luke than the other luminaries that had previously clogged up the air in the room.
“Well, Diogenes said that no one save servants was found at the Erelion manor here in Iskeldrun... so they bolted. And he also said that merchants were complaining that a carriage rushed out of there around dawn this morning, almost running them over as they opened their market stalls. There they are right there,” she smiled at the obviousness of her logic.
“Find the carriage, and we find them. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Valaron nodded in understanding, a motion that made Raven grin a little more.
“Vintressa, we’ve heard plenty from you. Royuki-“
“Royukgan,” Vintressa corrected her father.
“Royukgan,” the Emperor said again, face slightly red in embarrassment at mispronouncing the name, “what is your take on Raven’s logic? I have one already, but I want to peck your young, agile minds first.”
“Well...” the young man stammered, not believing he was being asked to solve a security issue for another realm, “I know that if I was fleeing the city after trying to assassinate the Son of Heaven, I would not flee in something so obvious as a carriage.”
“So the carriage is a diversion?” the Emperor finished his thought with a grunt. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Though the problem with that is Diogenes’ people couldn’t find evidence of anyone else leaving the mansion, except that carriage.”
“Though a carriage rushing through the street, knocking over stalls would cause a lot of commotion, wouldn’t it?” Valaron asked. “I mean, I know if someone nearly knocked over my stall with my wares, I’d be too busy cussing at them as they left to notice anyone else coming out until they’d blended in...”
“Well, the question then is what was their disguise. If they dressed as a commoner, there’s over a million souls within Iskeldrun, it’d be impossible to find them inside the city...” Vintressa said thoughtfully.
Hemmel dusted himself off, thankful fort he several hours of preparation taken to make sure the Erelion manor’s teleporter was working properly. It was designed for two, and considering the circumstances, he’d insisted that the House Mage, who was in charge of the teleporter as well as other magical needs of the family while they stayed there, come along. If he talked, there was too much at risk. Currently his body lay in the deep woods, several hundred yards from Hemmel... near the exact place the teleporter had placed them.
He would have spoken... and when his neck snapped, he felt no pain, the assassin told himself. Hemmel felt no compassion for his direct targets, but those ‘caught in the crossfire’ gave him momentary pause. What was necessary was necessary. Unlike many of the assassins who plied their trade to the nobility, Hemmel did not worship Nerull, god of the dead. He worshipped no one... it could cause complications.
Gingerly, he worked his way through the forest, limping on his injured leg. Bandages had been applied to his wound after he arrived at the family manor... part of the reason that his departure had been delayed. He was, unfortunately, still clad in the clothes of a manservant to the Imperial family... something that would have to change.
I need to find a road, his mind thought quickly. A waylaid traveler would be the easiest source of a clothing change.
A peasant would be best. Non-traceable, anonymous. Merchants are too colorful and flamboyant... it would be noticed. Pilgrims would normally work, but Kulloden is not known for its religious sites.
And preferably it needs to be someone that will, under duress, tell me where I am before I liberate them from their body and clothing, his mind darkly reflected. His hands instinctively patted his waist, for the third time in an hour. He felt the long thin form of his jitte, his only one now that his other had narrowly missed the Empress.
Blind luck the boy got the sword up to block in time, Hemmel told himself. Blind luck. You’re still very fast, and you WATCHED him train. He shouldn’t have been that fast!
Maybe you’re slowing down? another part of his mind questioned. Or you misjudged him? Hemmel’s heart grew a little cold at either of those thoughts. His livelihood, his life, depended on being able to ascertain risks exactly, and move quickly to neutralize them.
Why did you not just kill the boy and his sister? The leg wound was not that bad! You took out several guards! his post-operation brain jumped in loudly. He was proud of each mission he finished... and this would go as the first failure he’d ever had. He did not want to admit that he needed to retreat, that the situation got out of hand, out of control, and that he needed to leave before his target was finished off.
Maybe you WERE attached to that boy? a tiny voice in his head offered, a thought that Hemmel shoved away viciously. Yet the voice returned. Attachment was a luxury he could not afford, and he thought that his professionalism was higher than that. Yet, he had grown attached to the Prince, and his mannerisms.
It is in the past Hemmel, focus on the present! he coldly reminded himself as he peered around a tree. Ahead, the forest seemed to clear, and he could hear the steady patter of horses hooves, along with the creaking of wooden wheels.
A wagon, his mind realized, and as he peered, he saw his new quarry, whistling on this pleasant day in the forest.
Simeon glanced uneasily at the creature following behind him and Eyrna. While the figure was clad in a long, simple black cloak, Simeon swore he could see the white eyes peering out of the dark depths towards him.
“Eyrna, I don’t know if this is wise,” he hissed to her quietly. “Him!? We are bringing him along!?”
“Yes,” his sister responded quiet sharply, even though she did not cast a glance in his direction. “We need him in order to fetch the stone.”
“Eyrna, don’t you think if he was as powerful as he claims he is, he could just teleport us out of the city?” Simeon complained again as something from the sewer ceiling fell on the hood of his cloak. Whatever it was, it was wet, and soon the top of his head felt sickeningly damp.
“I do not teleport you, as it would draw attention,” the same beautiful tenor behind them spoke up. “I have great power, but I also have great wisdom,” the voice gave a slight chuckle.
“He speaks the truth,” Eyrna replied, her eyes still looking ahead by the very dim light provided by their new companion. “If we teleported, out of one of the poorest quarters of the city, the magical signature would be bound to draw some attention. The manors and mansions of the city have teleporters... teleportation there is to be expected.”
“It’s just that-“ Simeon started to complain again.
“Please... quieter, for the sake of my mind,” the creature said again.
Eyrna sometimes wanted to smack her brother for his exceptional nervousness, and willingness to complain. But deep, inside her mind, she shared some of his fears. Uncle is playing with something very dangerous here, she had told herself when Baron Valdemar had revealed his backup plan should the blackmail plot fail.
Eyrna, like many in the nobility, was an erstwhile devotee of Tarantor. His order and justice were what the nobility sought to implement on this earth, and for centuries, under the old Paleologus line of Emperors, exactly that had been done.
But the old line of Emperors ended, and a new line, the Caladron family, took over. The Emperor, still beardless as he had been sixteen years prior, had changed the rules. Restrictions were placed on how the nobility could handle peasants. Old laws requiring the nobles pay taxes, long ignored, were suddenly reinstated.
Tarantor obviously did not intend things to go this way... at least that is what Eyrna and many who worshiped Tarantor felt. Many in the nobility were becoming increasingly convinced that the Emperor, who on the surface also worshipped Tarantor, was under the influence of his Hieroneous loving wife, and his Pelor loving friends. Those two churches had suddenly increased in power and prestige... at the expense of the Tarantor Church Eyrna respected.
Despite these slights, despite the obvious contempt the Emperor held for the way Tarantor had intended things to run, the Great Judge, the Chief High Priest of the entire religion, still gave his unequivocal backing to the Caladron Emperor. True, the cadre in power had defeated a local demon invasion... but the demonic forces had never left the Upper Inerman Valley, a tiny portion of the overall Empire. Many in various circles were becoming frustrated with the current arrangement...
And so they came to us... she chuckled as they rounded another corner in the fetid sewer. People one normally would suspect of targeting the Emperor...
They chose us because they knew we would not inform the Imperials of any plots against them if we refused... Little do they know what they have sown, they will reap in fury soon...
She gave a sigh at the last thought, and looked back towards their new companion. His hands, when they came out of that eerie black cloak of his, were long, and strong... much stronger than she thought they would be for a mere mage. A thought that reminded her of the Emperor, and his famed ability to fight with magic of sword... a thought that made her shudder.