Page 5 of Poisoned Empire

Prince Belisarius’ heart raced as he read the reports in his hand, covering his dread with a grim scowl and a finger tapping impatiently on his desk. His dark eyes met those of his trusted praetor, Nicephorus, the highest-ranking minister in Lethe’s sprawling bureaucracy. Nicephorus’ own expression was carefully closed.

“You’re certain?” Belisarius asked, praying it was a mistake.

“As certain as I can be without having each one examined.”

Hopes dashed and bile rising, the prince took a deep breath. This needed to be contained. Quickly.

“How extensive is the corruption? How far from Nadioch has it spread?”

The praetor shook his head.

“We don’t know the full scale. It seems as though it’s limited to Magister Miroslav Diamond’s family. Only those related by blood—his daughters—are affected. But I don’t have enough reliable intelligence from outside the capital.”

Belisarius could feel a headache blooming as he glared at the perennially empty desk beside his. If only his father had any skill in diplomacy and power games. While he was an excellent warlord, as an emperor he was lacking in many of the finer skills. Emperor Darius’ idea of statecraft consisted of threatening to serve a dignitary his own liver. His solution to politics? To literally skewer a naysayer. While Darius reigned, the power of the crown was absolute, the opposition cowed. Now instead of ruling, Father frittered away his years in wine and women, and it was up to Belisarius to stem the tide. It had been his unspoken duty since he became old enough to understand his father’s failings.

Nadia, his mother, had been the soft counter to his father’s explosive personality. Her calm, steely determination had saved Lethe from ruination many times over. She was the one who had demanded the first noble hostages who would become the administration. She had established the bureaucracies that kept the empire running and won the nobles over. Nadia had, in truth, ruled while his father rested upon his laurels. It was she who had taught her only surviving child statesmanship and strategy.

Sometimes, Belisarius stilled reeled from her sudden and unexpected passing only a few years ago. Grieving her loss and abandoned by his father, the demands of ruling alone had been crushing—and still were.

Unlike the emperor, Belisarius hadn’t been afforded the luxury of coming apart. Just three months after her death, Belisarius had suffered an assassination attempt. But not even that had been enough to rouse the emperor from his stupor. Now the prince’s next great test was upon him.

If even the sycophantic Magister Diamond had the nerve to turn against the throne, despite living in the capital and ostensibly governing the province in which the imperial family resided, Belisarius might be facing the threat of a second Great War. Gods knew Lethe could ill afford another generation lost to war, famine and unrest. Even now, it was rare for any noble to have a grandparent, aunt, uncle or cousin, and few commoners who survived it had done so without wearing the indelible marks of violence and starvation. To contain this latest threat, he would need to be sly.

“How many unmarried men do we currently have in the upper bureaucracies?”

Nicephorus seemed bewildered for a moment by the line of questioning. He adjusted his imperial red pallium about his snow-white tunic, the most visible mark of his rank, before clearing his throat.

“In Nadioch? Or in each province?”

Of course, his right-hand man would know those numbers by heart. Nicephorus’ competence was a balm for his dread.

“The capital.”

“Nearly four hundred.”

“Send invitations to every noble family in every province. Ensure they arrive by tomorrow morning at the latest. In two month’s time, I am summoning at least one unwed woman of childbearing age from each household to be presented at court for the purpose of marriage. The magistri are to be commanded to sendallunwed daughters of an appropriate age as candidates to marry the crown prince. Check the official genealogies to ensure we don’t miss any, and have a blood ward created. Any woman who isn’t related by blood to her patriarch should not be able to step into the palace.” That precaution, at least, would prevent them from sending imposters.

“Your Royal Highness, isn’t that a bit-”

“Yes, but it’s the only way we can discover in one fell swoop how far reaching the rot is without arousing suspicion that we know they’ve used the ritual.” Belisarius sighed. “If it’s just one magister and a few minor nobles plotting against me, we might not be looking at more than a skirmish. But if multiple magistri are involved it could mean war. A bride show was tradition once. I will simply be resurrecting it.”

“Ah.” Nicephorus looked askance and smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle in his tunic.

No doubt he was pondering just how archaic the crown prince would appear in bringing back such a fossilized tradition. A bride show was little better than going to a horse market to check the teeth and hooves before handing over the coin. Not that the magistri could complain about backward practices, given their resistance to even the smallest of Belisarius’ reforms. Still, not one among them would dare grumble about the prince’s command, especially if they knew of the blood ward. They would be too fearful of appearing to cast doubt on the purity of their precious lineages and magic. Nicephorus knew all this, which was why he kept his counsel. He, like Belisarius, knew their options for luring every potential victim to Nadioch quietly and quickly were few.

“We may have some opposition to marriage partners for the beast mages in your service.”

Those in Lethe whose magic presented in the simple form of beastly appendages found life to be particularly difficult. Despite having abolished castes decades ago, attitudes were glacially slow to change. Even now, beast mages were derisively called ‘ferals’. It was Belisarius’ long-term goal to change their fortune by electing those most suitable to high offices and to his personal guard. Their minor immunity to magic made them practical choices, and his imperial patronage served to bolster their numbers as scholars, artists, orators and chariot racers. But that was a problem for another day.

In this matter, compromise would only embolden the traditionalists. Elementalists—elemental magic elitists—needed to be brought to heel for his just society to take shape.

“Any family found to be complaining about such matters will have their titles stripped from them and given to more amenable relations, if any can be found. Their daughters, after being examined for the effects of the ritual, will still be required to attend, and if they do not wed, they will be found humble positions in the capital.”

“I’ll have the invitations written and sent out by the end of the day. My teleportation mages will ensure the magistri receive theirs immediately. Was there anything else?”

Belisarius sighed.

“Is my father sober today? I’ll need to ask him some questions.”

---