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A morning at the Imperial Palace
1331 words. Feedback encouraged. Attack my style, grammar, anything. Part of this exercise is improving my writing.
That morning I found myself hurrying over to the Imperial Residence after being told that I was needed. The usual procedure for days off like this for the Emperor to summon me, but the wording of the message indicated that His Majesty was not behind the call. My face and passes got me to the door of the Emperor's private study, where two of the Vargr Guard ran a quick security sweep of my person. Despite the thick foswood door and armored walls, I could hear Strephon yelling.
Inside the office I found what in retrospect was an amusing tableau. For those used to images of the grandeur of the Palace, with its high vaulted chambers and the overwhelming presence of the Octagon and the Iridium Throne, the Emperor's private office would be a shock. It was a small room, filled with map tables and lined with bookshelves and wall display units. Strephon's own work desk was usually buried in a pile of hard copy reports and studies. Two more Vargr guards were in the room, melting into the walls with practiced ease, and a junior Lieutenant from the communications office was frozen at attention.
The center of the room was occupied by His Imperial Majesty, Strephon, Emperor of the Third Imperium, First Consul of the Sylean Federation, Hereditary President of the Sylean Senate, etc, etc. At that moment, dressed in plain work pants, a rumpled Sylean Naval Academy sweatshirt, and badly in need of shave, he looked nothing like the popular image of the ruler of 11,000 worlds. He was also plainly furious. I released the Lieutenant with a nod of my head, and turned to face my monarch.
“So, Sire, may I inquire what had you so upset on such a beautiful morning?”
The Emperor seemed to notice my presence for the first time. “Duke, excuse me, Grand Duke Norris of Regina has formed a new government! He's united Deneb and The Spinward Marches into something he's calling the 'Compact of Mora.'” Strephon grabbed a cup of caff that had been sitting on one of the tables, took a sip, winced at the taste, and went on. “I authorized him to stop the Zhodani, not upset the political balance of two sectors!”
This was big news, and I freely admit that it had caught us all blind. The area Behind the Claw had always resisted political unity; preferring to come together only when the Zhodani began one of their periodic border wars. Norris had evidently done what no one else had managed, get all the leaders of the area to follow his lead. I was silent for a few minutes, then used my handcomp to pull up some information. I passed it to the wall screens.
“Actually, Sire, you did authorize this.” Strephon turned an appalling shade of red. To forestall a succession crisis, I quickly continued. “Look, here is the text of the warrant you issued after he sent in his analysis of the situation. Right here, after the usual protocol office crap establishing that you're the boss and he's lucky to have you as an Emperor, you grant him the right to act in your name to take 'any and all measures against this dire threat and to secure systems imperiled by the Zhodani and their allies.' No limitations on scale or time. No real directions on what we wanted him to do, because at the time we didn't have any plan other than ordering the states in Corridor to cough up some fleet support. So, he took your warrant and ran with it.”
Strephon looked stricken. “Ilian... Damn, how did we miss that?”
“No one has ever done this before,” I shrugged, “usually we're close enough to the person holding a warrant to intervene, or we have time to carefully word the document. In this case, Norris is way out past the Vilani and Corridor.” I cleared some of the clutter off of a map table and pulled up the data packet that had accompanied the formal announcement. “It looks like he's gotten all the allied systems in the Marches and most of the Denebian states to fall in line.”
Strephon sat down and studied the glowing map for a long time. I recognized these silences. The Emperor often reacted to surprises badly, but soon enough accepted reality and began to adapt to them. After several minutes, without taking his eyes off the map, he asked what our options were.
“We have to recognize him, and confirm the Compact of Mora. No other choice. The Moot will need to be informed, as will the other major houses.”
“The Vilani?”
“I suspect they already know; they do have excellent intelligence networks running through Corridor into Deneb. They've probably been making contingency plans for weeks now. This will affect the balance of power in the Moot, I'll have Trends do some simulations to see where this might fall out.”
Strephon had risen while I was talking, and was playing with the map. I could see him tracing a route from Deneb through the Corridor and into Sylean space.
“Sire, you can't be thinking...” he cut me off.
“Why not? Twice before military geniuses from the Marches have marched on Sylea and taken the throne. It's the reason I'm sitting here and not some inbred Zhunastu heir. I suddenly have a large new state with a charismatic and capable leader existing in a region known for causing headaches 300 light years away! This 'Grand Duke' could come to the Palace, crawl on his belly all the way to throne, and lick my boots and I'd still have cause for concern! Tell me I'm wrong!”
“OK, you're wrong.” Strephon glared at me. “Your Majesty... oh to hell with protocol. Strephon, Plankwell was a shock. No one expected it and he got away with it because Illesh was in the middle of a succession fight and the Vilani backed him. Arbellatra got away with it because a bunch of jackasses had pounded the Sylean and Illeshi fleets to junk fighting over that damn chair. There is no such condition today. None! We're at peace, the pieces of the Imperium are strong, and more importantly, you rule a strong Federation. It would be suicide to try to overthrow you at this point.”
“Fine, good points. But I still find this Compact disturbing. Ilian, I need a way to support and distract him at the same time.” We both studied the map slowly rotating above the table.
Slowly, an idea began forming. I suppose it showed on my face, because Strephon asked what I had in mind.
“I'm not sure if it will work, but...” I trailed off, still lost in thought.
“Tell me, or I'll have you executed at dawn!”
“One, we're in orbit. Secondly, I'm a Hereditary Senator. I can demand trial by combat, and I'd choose wrestling.” I pointed at his sweatshirt. “You do remember how that went for you the last time we tried it, I hope.”
Strephon laughed. “True, true.. so no execution. But you have thought of something, am I right?”
I focused the map on Corridor Sector. “How many times have the Vargr cut Corridor?”
“In the last year? Five, maybe six times. Constant incursions along the edges. Damned Corsairs.”
“And who is given the responsibility for keeping Corridor open?”
“The Ziru Sirka.” Strephon was beginning to get it, I could see it in his eyes. “A commission they have failed miserably at, it seems to me.”
“Exactly! So, in recognizing the Compact of Mora..”
“We charge Norris with keeping Corridor open! Brilliant! That will occupy him for years and tie up his resources in Deneb for decades more. There's only one problem, Ilian, he might just do it. What then?”
“Sire, I cannot speak for you, but I will be awaiting his arrival with an updated resume in hand.”
One thing I could never stand about Strephon, his laughter sounded like a kian in heat.
That morning I found myself hurrying over to the Imperial Residence after being told that I was needed. The usual procedure for days off like this for the Emperor to summon me, but the wording of the message indicated that His Majesty was not behind the call. My face and passes got me to the door of the Emperor's private study, where two of the Vargr Guard ran a quick security sweep of my person. Despite the thick foswood door and armored walls, I could hear Strephon yelling.
Inside the office I found what in retrospect was an amusing tableau. For those used to images of the grandeur of the Palace, with its high vaulted chambers and the overwhelming presence of the Octagon and the Iridium Throne, the Emperor's private office would be a shock. It was a small room, filled with map tables and lined with bookshelves and wall display units. Strephon's own work desk was usually buried in a pile of hard copy reports and studies. Two more Vargr guards were in the room, melting into the walls with practiced ease, and a junior Lieutenant from the communications office was frozen at attention.
The center of the room was occupied by His Imperial Majesty, Strephon, Emperor of the Third Imperium, First Consul of the Sylean Federation, Hereditary President of the Sylean Senate, etc, etc. At that moment, dressed in plain work pants, a rumpled Sylean Naval Academy sweatshirt, and badly in need of shave, he looked nothing like the popular image of the ruler of 11,000 worlds. He was also plainly furious. I released the Lieutenant with a nod of my head, and turned to face my monarch.
“So, Sire, may I inquire what had you so upset on such a beautiful morning?”
The Emperor seemed to notice my presence for the first time. “Duke, excuse me, Grand Duke Norris of Regina has formed a new government! He's united Deneb and The Spinward Marches into something he's calling the 'Compact of Mora.'” Strephon grabbed a cup of caff that had been sitting on one of the tables, took a sip, winced at the taste, and went on. “I authorized him to stop the Zhodani, not upset the political balance of two sectors!”
This was big news, and I freely admit that it had caught us all blind. The area Behind the Claw had always resisted political unity; preferring to come together only when the Zhodani began one of their periodic border wars. Norris had evidently done what no one else had managed, get all the leaders of the area to follow his lead. I was silent for a few minutes, then used my handcomp to pull up some information. I passed it to the wall screens.
“Actually, Sire, you did authorize this.” Strephon turned an appalling shade of red. To forestall a succession crisis, I quickly continued. “Look, here is the text of the warrant you issued after he sent in his analysis of the situation. Right here, after the usual protocol office crap establishing that you're the boss and he's lucky to have you as an Emperor, you grant him the right to act in your name to take 'any and all measures against this dire threat and to secure systems imperiled by the Zhodani and their allies.' No limitations on scale or time. No real directions on what we wanted him to do, because at the time we didn't have any plan other than ordering the states in Corridor to cough up some fleet support. So, he took your warrant and ran with it.”
Strephon looked stricken. “Ilian... Damn, how did we miss that?”
“No one has ever done this before,” I shrugged, “usually we're close enough to the person holding a warrant to intervene, or we have time to carefully word the document. In this case, Norris is way out past the Vilani and Corridor.” I cleared some of the clutter off of a map table and pulled up the data packet that had accompanied the formal announcement. “It looks like he's gotten all the allied systems in the Marches and most of the Denebian states to fall in line.”
Strephon sat down and studied the glowing map for a long time. I recognized these silences. The Emperor often reacted to surprises badly, but soon enough accepted reality and began to adapt to them. After several minutes, without taking his eyes off the map, he asked what our options were.
“We have to recognize him, and confirm the Compact of Mora. No other choice. The Moot will need to be informed, as will the other major houses.”
“The Vilani?”
“I suspect they already know; they do have excellent intelligence networks running through Corridor into Deneb. They've probably been making contingency plans for weeks now. This will affect the balance of power in the Moot, I'll have Trends do some simulations to see where this might fall out.”
Strephon had risen while I was talking, and was playing with the map. I could see him tracing a route from Deneb through the Corridor and into Sylean space.
“Sire, you can't be thinking...” he cut me off.
“Why not? Twice before military geniuses from the Marches have marched on Sylea and taken the throne. It's the reason I'm sitting here and not some inbred Zhunastu heir. I suddenly have a large new state with a charismatic and capable leader existing in a region known for causing headaches 300 light years away! This 'Grand Duke' could come to the Palace, crawl on his belly all the way to throne, and lick my boots and I'd still have cause for concern! Tell me I'm wrong!”
“OK, you're wrong.” Strephon glared at me. “Your Majesty... oh to hell with protocol. Strephon, Plankwell was a shock. No one expected it and he got away with it because Illesh was in the middle of a succession fight and the Vilani backed him. Arbellatra got away with it because a bunch of jackasses had pounded the Sylean and Illeshi fleets to junk fighting over that damn chair. There is no such condition today. None! We're at peace, the pieces of the Imperium are strong, and more importantly, you rule a strong Federation. It would be suicide to try to overthrow you at this point.”
“Fine, good points. But I still find this Compact disturbing. Ilian, I need a way to support and distract him at the same time.” We both studied the map slowly rotating above the table.
Slowly, an idea began forming. I suppose it showed on my face, because Strephon asked what I had in mind.
“I'm not sure if it will work, but...” I trailed off, still lost in thought.
“Tell me, or I'll have you executed at dawn!”
“One, we're in orbit. Secondly, I'm a Hereditary Senator. I can demand trial by combat, and I'd choose wrestling.” I pointed at his sweatshirt. “You do remember how that went for you the last time we tried it, I hope.”
Strephon laughed. “True, true.. so no execution. But you have thought of something, am I right?”
I focused the map on Corridor Sector. “How many times have the Vargr cut Corridor?”
“In the last year? Five, maybe six times. Constant incursions along the edges. Damned Corsairs.”
“And who is given the responsibility for keeping Corridor open?”
“The Ziru Sirka.” Strephon was beginning to get it, I could see it in his eyes. “A commission they have failed miserably at, it seems to me.”
“Exactly! So, in recognizing the Compact of Mora..”
“We charge Norris with keeping Corridor open! Brilliant! That will occupy him for years and tie up his resources in Deneb for decades more. There's only one problem, Ilian, he might just do it. What then?”
“Sire, I cannot speak for you, but I will be awaiting his arrival with an updated resume in hand.”
One thing I could never stand about Strephon, his laughter sounded like a kian in heat.
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