Conquest and Empire
I. Andreus
Andreus stood silently on the prow of the small motorcraft cutting through the tinkling ripples of the Great Harbor as he was conveyed from his residence at Nadros to the Imperial Capital on the far side of the water. The air was clear and a gentle breeze stirred the surface of the glimmering, golden expanse like evening fireflies beckoning his steady progress. The curls of his manly red hair kept time with his waist length blood-red cape as the passage of air whipped both in lively succession. It was a good day to be alive.
As the craft proceeded across the magic of the dancing waves Andreus gave vent to his dreams and became increasingly lost in thought undisturbed by the captain and his five man crew. Although the captain outranked the young sword bearer in the hierarchy of Imperial military designation, Andreus’s very bearing marked him as a man of the confident nobility of this ancient nation. Moreover, the young officer on the prow had been summoned by the Imperial Council, and the captain of this minor expedition was only charged with his conveyance. And so Andreus was left to gaze out upon the Great Harbor that had been as a womb to his people and his nation for so many generations, uncounted into the dark and misty recesses of history.
Only two years out of the Imperial Academy of Military Arts and Sciences, Andreus was full of vigor and ambition and took great, yet humble, pride in the heritage of his family and nation. He mused on the long bygone era when fine oared ships had plied these waters bringing goods from the far reaches of the world and maintaining the Imperial order across the length of the Southern Sea. All nations of that ancient world paid homage to The Empire, and Andreus could imagine himself as one of the heroes of old who set sail to distant lands where an officer of The Empire solicited universal respect. Even now, in a world whose primacy was shared by other great nations, the towers of the mighty battleships at anchor to the south declared the continuing greatness of the realm that Andreus served. His private recitation of history merged into thoughts of myth and legends of gods and heroes, of great beasts of land, air and sea and of realms of magic and wonder that bridged the gap between gods and men. As he drifted into the reverie of dream and fantasy his thoughts were broken by the approach of the captain.
“Almost there, Lieutenant. I’ll have the men bring your things on deck.”
Andreus bid his musings a temporary respite as he regained the present moment. “Thank you, Captain. Your assistance is much appreciated.”
The waterfront of Elexium, the Imperial Capital, lay before them. The scene was dominated by the Chamber of the Senate and government offices building, an imposing many-columned edifice of granite and marble that sat well above the harbor looking down with stern magisterial splendor on the sprawling waterfront that was the lifeblood of the city. The moorings below the Chamber where paved with granite and kept meticulously clean, unlike the trading wharves further along the city’s waterfront, and not remotely akin to the filth that was commonplace among many dockings elsewhere along the Southern Sea. The craft was briefly secured and Andreus saluted the captain and stepped lightly from the boat’s prow onto the granite promenade. He strode smartly through strolling citizens, hurrying officials and the familiar statues of gods and heroes that bespoke of the Imperial past and made his way to the wide stone steps that led to the Chamber of the Senate.
His path led up and around to the front of the Chamber, facing away from the harbor even as the large- columned portico loomed over the path and harbor from the seaward side. Here again were more columns, there seemingly being no end to the need for columns in the architecture of the Imperial city. But he had to admit that the building, columns and all, was magnificently appointed. More statuary graced either side of the final set of stairs approaching the landward face of the building, pools and fountains lent a gentle touch to the martial atmosphere and two great golden lions, removed to the Capital by some ancient conquest, roared on their granite platforms strongly suggesting the power of themselves and their masters.
Andreus entered and crossed a polished, inlaid marble floor toward a long counter of bored looking attendants. He presented his papers to a bespeckled bureaucrat and was sent ahead to an office, the entrance flanked by two armed guards whose presence suggested a meeting or interview of some import.
It was no accident that a junior officer was brought to the capital. Andreus was the son of Field Marshal Antonius Flavius who had commanded the Eastern Army in the suppression of the Decardian incursions. Flavius had done more than secure the border; he had crossed the eastern range of the Retorian Mountains, marched into the heart of Decardia, personally held a sword to the heart of the Sigmule - so it was said - and demanded that his pathetic excuse for a government bring order to the border or suffer the gravest consequences. He was a legend in his own time. The Emperor himself had decorated him and presented his marshal’s baton, the signature of his rank. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one’s point of view, there had been no major war or conflict in Flavius’s time, such as might have put his martial talents to even greater tests. In fact, there had been no major conflict in the world in over four generations. The conquests of Magorious of the Fairland were the colorful history of a receding past. Since that day the Congress of Nations had succeeded in maintaining international balance and general peace disturbed only by regional conflicts such as that which Flavius brought to a glorious conclusion. The Emperor, Argonaus Patrius VI, had grown old and doddering and was but a shadow of his former self, still ghosting the halls of the Imperial Palace. He being childless, it was assumed that his nephew Tetrus Patrius would succeed him. But all power, both constitutional and factual, had passed to the Senate, itself more an oligarchy than the servant of a republic.
Flavius was living in his retirement on the shores of the Great Harbor, not a man of great wealth, but sufficiently endowed for his service to the Empire. Sylvia Flavius kept house and weathered the campsite behaviors of her retired husband with an inner strength motivated by a well of love. He was considerably older than Andreus as his years in the field had all but precluded familial pleasures, and Andreus and his younger sister Adria, named in honor of her great grandmother, werethe only children of their aging parents. His famous father had as much to do with Andreus’s emerging career as did his own talents and high bearing. Flavius himself was endowed with the blessing of an illustrious heritage. He was the great grandson of Uhlich and Aleah, the parents of the first Adria, Aleah being the sister of the great Bowman whose exploits in the service of the Empire were the stuff of legend. Their beautiful daughter Adrie had married into the Flavian family, already a notable family of military bearing, and added her heritage to that of her in-laws. Her children and those of succeeding generations were invariably crowned by the shimmering golden red hair that both Andreus and Adrie and their father Flavius wore with distinction.
Andreus was appointed to the Academy with little trouble and, upon graduating with high honors, had almost unlimited options from which to choose his field of service. He had given the matter considerable thought for years in the Academy and even as early as childhood. Service as an officer of infantry was the common lot of those graduating with no particular distinction. Nevertheless, standing beside the common men of the Empire and sharing their trials and dangers appealed to Andreus as it would to many of his friends. He had also considered the artillery, the power of the great guns a deafening beacon. The artillery had been the early profession of the Great Magorious, and his wars and conquests had been central to the Academy’s professional curriculum. There was too the lure of the navy, travel to far away and exotic places and all the dreams of foreign gods and sea monsters that had filled the idle moments of his youth. But his father, somewhat against Andreus’s will, had secured him a place in the Foreign Service. As an officer and a diplomat he would hopefully climb to the highest ranks of the Imperial service and be involved in negotiations that secured the Empire’s place among nations as well as the military might that transcended rhetoric when words failed. Through the patronage of his father and his father’s contacts in high places he was being groomed for just such a future. It was not the sort of opportunity that he was hoping for, but Andreus revered his father and submitted to his advice and influence. It was in this capacity that Andreus knocked on the wooden door flanked by two guards.
“Come in, come in.”
Andreus entered and saluted the officer behind a desk well covered with papers and documents.
“Ah, yes, yes, young Flavius. Good to see you. And how is your father?”
“He is well, thank you, Sir. Thank you for asking.” Andreus recognized Colonel Reginald Latimer, like himself both an officer of the Imperial military and an official of the Foreign Service. Unlike the Flavius family he was foreign by some distant ancestry and did not carry a noble name. The frustration of his sluggish career seemed to show in his thin face, lined and twisted by too many years battling books and papers.
Latimer peered over his glasses. “At ease, Flavius; have a seat.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“This afternoon members of the Imperial household, the Ministry of War, and myself, representing the Diplomatic Corps, will meet with a delegation from the Reich. You will assist me, make observations and write a report on the interview to be submitted to me and to the Emperor and the Senate. To be sure, probably little will come of it – either the interview or the report, if indeed it will even be read. But, papers, as you know, must be submitted and filed.”
“Yes, Sir. The Reich. Indeed, Sir. May I ask what is the focus of their visit?”
“You may. Although I needn’t tell you that what transpires is security clearance only. In fact, there is a degree of uncertainly as to the purpose of their mission. Trade policy is not likely; they are mostly military. We know of no imminent threat to either the Reich or ourselves, so we will simply have a listen to what they have to say.”
“Yes, Sir.” Andreus weighed whether he might add some possibly unwanted observation or insight to this bland appraisal, as opposed to the remaining completely silent and appearing vacant. “If I may venture, Sir, the Reich of late has been most militaristic internally and with regard to their immediate neighbors. Several of the cadets at the Academy were exchange students under the Reciprocal Academy Exchange. Some of the Allegrande boys and I kept up a lively correspondence for over a year after graduation. (Andreus used the term “Allegrande” for the central continental region rather than the more recent national term “Reich” for those areas incorporated therein.) But more recently there has been little contact and even less of the former joviality and comradeship. There is a sense that something dark and insular has overtaken…”
A frown overtook Latimer and Andreus feared that he may have gone too far. “That will be enough of speculation, Flavius,” he interjected. “We’ll have a listen and see what they have to say. We meet in the conference hall at four bells. That will be all.”
Andreus saluted and withdrew. He returned to the promenade and wharfs where he found fresh fruit and cheese, perfect for a cool day in the sun. Eating alone and strolling by the water provided a backdrop for his thoughts. Since the Overlord had come to power in the Reich only three years prior, much had changed, even the name of the nation. The Reich was actually but another assemblage of former principalities in the heart of the continent which had grouped together over the centuries in various confederations, monarchical holdings, economic leagues, and so forth. But this was something different. Most outsiders would disagree, but it appeared to Andreus and others that there was a new order in the Reich, a grip of iron that would not release those on whom it fastened, internally or externally. Outlying minor principalities were increasingly concerned and debated whether to join the Reich or resist what appeared to some to be the growing tyranny of the Overlord. Andreus felt something akin to foreboding that starkly contrasted with the gentility and innocence of his surroundings, almost pastoral in the heart of a great city, as if something was in the air, unseen, yet present and seeing. But this was not a time to muse on such matters. The rippling of waves, the clanging of boats masts, the gulls and the breeze convinced him that all was well and a glimpse of a peripheral darkness was dispelled.
A few minutes before four bells Andreus was dutifully waiting outside the appointed conference hall of the Department of Foreign Service. Colonel Latimer was approaching attended by a captain whom Andreus did not know. The space provided was no hall really but a well appointed room marked by elegantly paneled walls and dominated by a large table capable of seating a score of people. Colonel Latimer introduced Captain Donager to Andeus, and they had just taken their seats around Latimer at the center of the table when the Reich delegation entered in perfect punctuality. First to enter was a middle aged man of generous proportion whose face gathered around a fierce mustache offset only by a thin monocle of questionable utility. A colonel of the Reich, he marched to the table opposite Latimer snapped his booted heals in crisp precision and offered the slightest nod.
The colonel did not wait to be addressed but spoke first. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gielrand Edelrach, Reich’s Colonel of Special Embassy to the Empire. Greetings, in the name of the Overlord. He sends his warm personal regard to the people of the Empire and to His Imperial Majesty, Patrius.”
Latimer rose half way from his chair and replied with considerably less enthusiasm. “Colonel. Please do sit down,” and gestured with a sweeping hand to the seats across the table.
“My staff,” Edelrach replied, nodding to the three men in attendance. Major Statler of the Reichsforce, Inspector Rosso of Security and my aide, Captain Weber.” The three military men wore the standard black of the Reichsforce and Rosso was in civilian garb. Andreus judged Statler a routine bureaucrat now in uniform, to be present on assignment with little interest aside from minimal duty. Rosso was a different man altogether. His full length coat, unnecessary in the warm climate of the Great Harbor, was of black leather, smartly belted at the waist. He exuded a cagey air and took no seatpositioning himself behind the Reich delegation in such a way as to maintain a surveillance of the entire room. He neither spoke nor nodded when introduced and observed the proceedings from behind a pair of darkly tinted glasses that capped his decidedly unsmiling face. Captain Weber was a young man, perhaps a bit older than Andreus, tall with a vertically angular face and a head of rich blonde hair. His persona seemed to straddle with some difficulty a studied superiority and a childlike eagerness that belied his air of self assurance as he carried Edelrach’s briefcase and maintained a close attendance. The men took their seats, Rosso on the flank, and Latimer opened the conversation.
“Welcome, gentlemen. I trust your journey was well and good. And what brings your delegation to Elexium?”
“The warm air of the Southern Sea is always a lure to those of us north of the Retorians,” Edelrach replied. “Any reason to visit The Empire is always a good one. I was last here for the Festival of Dolphins, about four…, no five years ago I believe it was. Splendid time.”
“Yes, that it was.” Latimer volunteered no more and gave the colonel an open look that invited fuller disclosure.
Edelrach cleared his throat and leaned slightly forward, lowering his eyebrows as he met Latimer’s gaze. “The good people of the Reich have been under certain strains in recent years. Crops are subject to the whims of the gods. The population grows but with little room for settlement. Industry thrives but with restricted markets. And there are certain … shall we say ‘irregularities’ on the eastern borders.”
“Irregularities?”
“Yes. The lines of demarcation are unclear and marauding bandits, doubtless inspired by The People’s Commune of Voroshka, pillage our border provinces.” Edelrach spoke of the former Empire of Voroshka to the northeast, in recent decades an experiment in planned economy and totalitarian rule ironically employing the term “People’s” in its national title. “The provinces in question are of the same blood as are we of the Reich, but the former suzerainty of Voroshka is not forgotten by the present Commune, and they seek to regain what was lost during the years of upheaval.” Edelrach’s appraisal of bloodlines and heritage was questionable, but a strong case could be made at least with regard to the territories directly adjoining the Reich.
“Most unfortunate, Colonel Edelrach. The sympathies of the Emperor are always with the good people of the Reich. Our ties of trade and friendship go back beyond the inception of the Reich itself.”
Edelrach noticeably twitched at the reference to the relative immaturity of his nation. “The Reich is pleased to offer works of iron and steel for the fair fruits of the south, and our friendship and sympathies are returned in kind.”
Latimer was not slow to pick up the meaning and sneer with which his words were returned He folded his arms, sat back and replied, “And so what have we of the Empire to do with the issue you bring before us, Colonel?”
“The Overlord is aware of certain … ‘preparations’, particularly on the part of The Fairland and the Commune itself, that suggest aggressive intentions that can only involve the whole continent. Your own border with The Fairland is at risk, and your interests in the Southern Sea would be under pressure by any aggrandizement of The Fairland in that quarter. The Overlord offers his protection and that of The Reich and wishes to reach an understanding with your Senate and the Emperor.”
Edelrach was clearly making an overture to some sort of pact or alliance in the vernacular of the insufferable arrogance that was characteristic of the Reich since its inception. “Protection”? Latimer privately mused as he considered the proposition. The word was fraught with meaning cutting in opposite directions But this was a very low level meeting, an exploratory outreach, so Latimer chose to humor the suggestion. “The Emperor and the Senate are always glad of the assistance of friends in times of trouble. But we remain on good terms with The Fairland, and the People’s Commune is far from us. You will have to be more specific in your proposal, Colonel, so that I can carry something tangible to those whom I serve.”
Edelrach cleared his throat again in a manner of some frustration and proceeded, “It is not in the interest of The Reich to passively observe the growth of armaments on our borders or to indefinitely entertain border incursions by the brigands of inferior powers. In the event that we should have to invade ….” At this point Rosso turned his head and looked straight at Edelrach through his tinted glasses. Edelrach shifted in his chair, reddened slightly and recollected himself. “Should the Overlord find it necessary to bring the threatened people of his own blood under his protection it is our wish that The Empire stand with us and officially recognize actions that are only just among the laws of nations. In the event that The Fairland might undertake any action detrimental to the interests of The Empire the Reich will stand by The Empire.”
So there it was. At a low level meeting, to be sure, but nevertheless an exploratory offer of an offensive-defensive pact whereby both nations would pledge support should the other be attacked by specified parties. “I see,” Latimer replied. “I will take your proposal to the Minister of Foreign Relations and he, I would assume before the Emperor and the Senate. I am sure some reply will be forthcoming in good time. Is that all, gentlemen?”
Edelrach turned to Statler who suffled a few papers and began, “There is a complaint dear to the mountain folk, who claim that our trade has caused disruption among their herds and wish…”
Andreus barely paid attention but jotted a few notes as the words rolled from Statler’s mouth. He was feeling an intensity at the remarks to which he had just been witness that amounted to almost a physical pressure on his chest. What was being suggested in the diplomatic language in which he was trained was nothing less than an overture to war. The Reich was planning an invasion and The Empire was being called upon to shield their back should The Fairland take issue, or worse. There had been no war among the great powers in living memory. Such a thing was unthinkable. Andreus quickly reviewed his knowledge of trade among nations, of the advantages of peace and harmony, of the exchange of arts and science... All of that paled, really, compared to his own personal experience. Life was good, peace was a thing taken for granted, the sky was clear with no cloud on the horizon, yet… Was the world he had taken for granted, as the norm, as that of his childhood and family life, of friends and the pursuits of frivolity and ambition to be turned upside down and ground under the stark and bloody demand of war? War. He had read of it as a youth, studied it at the Academy. The word suddenly seemed unfamiliar, a thing strange and incomprehensible. Yet, here they all sat looking over this precipice into oblivion with varying degrees of composure and attitude. Latimer handled it all with a the passive air of a professional. Captain Donager, saying nothing, did not appear to have registered the immensity of what had just transpired but dutifully passed a few papers to Latimer. Edelrach was clearly enthusiastic, and if any qualms about the obvious morals regarding armed conflict affected him they were more than buried by his eagerness on behalf of the fortunes of The Reich. Statler seemed distant and unaffected, absorbed in papers and preoccupied with his sinuses. Only Captain Weber seemed to share something in common with Andreus. His face shifted from intense awareness, fretful anxiety maybe, or perhaps even a tinge of guilt, to a self-imposed decision of stern resolve that came apart again under the pressure of the moment. As Andreus studied the men opposite him for a moment his eyes met those of Captain Weber. Weber’s eyes seemed to intimate something to him, almost as if his lips spoke it, “Can you believe what has just gone down here? The gods help us if this thing comes to pass.” And Andreus wondered if he had conveyed the same thought. And Weber tightened his face into firm resolve and looked away.
Andreus returned to the present when Latimer concluded, “Thank you, gentlemen for your visit. I believe that concludes our business, and we are adjourned.” Edelrach came to his feet and clicked his heels once again and turned to leave. The others followed him out. Weber appeared deep in thought as he followed the colonel, turning once more to nod to Andreus who bowed to the inevitable and returned the acknowledgement. Andreus took a motor craft back to Nadros where he was unsure whether he would share the findings of this security-clearance-only interview with his father.
