Chapter 6: Maximus

Maximus checked himself in the mirror again. The rich purple & black robe that marked him as Head of the imperial artificers still felt strange, even after two decades of wearing it to parties and political events. The robe fell to his shins, with large, utterly impractical sleeves that ballooned outward from his elbows. He ran a hand over his shaved head. The robe made him look like some Qua’saadan mystic. The color was nice though, a good compliment to his own dark complexion. He reached behind his neck and fiddled with the collar. It was always too stiff there, but he’d long ago found a clever way to fold it so he didn’t need to look silly and be uncomfortable.

He thought back to the first time this robe had been dragged over his head. By a young prince who grinned at the way he’d floundered in the sea of fabric. Maximus smiled at the memory. He still wasn’t certain why Sekaras had ever taken such a chance on him, but he thanked the stars and the god who made them for it. Now his best friend and all but one of his children were dead.

The warmth of the memory soured. Maximus finished straightening his robes coldly. He could not afford to let his mind wander. Tonight he had to be in total control. He pulled a large gold amulet with the symbol of the artificery over his head, and slid his signet and councilor’s rings on the fingers around his wedding band. Now properly dressed like he had too much money, Maximus made his way down to the foyer.

The house he shared with his wife was miniscule by high noble standards. Small enough they only had three guest rooms and a single housekeeper. Therese was waiting in the foyer. Her hair was over her shoulder in a simple braid. Her face, light as his was dark, had little makeup beyond her lips and cheeks. Her dress uniform was black, with gold piping, marking her high rank in the imperial chivalry. A row of silver buttons ran up the left side of the jacket, and the mark of “knight commander” sat emblazoned above them. The mark glowed bright violet against her uniform, shining proudly. Similar marks on both shoulders also identified her rank, though these didn’t glow. Beneath the jacket she wore a riding skirt. Slit up the front with military trousers and boots underneath. Her sword hung from its sheath on her hip, sections of the hilt also glowing violet.

“You look every part the beautiful commander my dear.” Maximus said, going to her.

Therese smiled and accepted his offered hand. “Thank you Maximus.” The touch of her hand was like water to a man dying of thirst. He tensed, thinking of what this night would mean for her, for all of them. The conflict must have shown on his face because Therese took his face in her hands and held his eyes.

“I love you. And no matter what comes next, I will continue to love you. Remember that.” Despite being a full head taller than his wife she often seemed a giant to him. Even knowing what was coming she spoke with clear eyes and an even tone. A knight among knights, his wife the commander.

He closed his eyes and took in a slow breath. Leaning his head against hers. The moment lasted too long, and yet they never seemed long enough. He opened his eyes and nodded. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be late.”

She released him and smiled, taking his arm. Then together they left for the imperial palace.

—

“Imperial knight commander Therese Hellenger and High artificer Maximus Hellenger!”

Hundreds of eyes dissected the two of them as they walked down the grand steps to the ballroom floor. Maximus examined the crowd, seeing various crests and colors mingling throughout. This room held the entire Sadethi empire. Imperial nobles mingled with scions of the provincial governors. Merchants on the verge of being elevated rubbed elbows with legacy nobles whose families were older than the empire itself. Councilors responsible for every essential function from trade to agriculture, wearing various colors of robes wandered uncomfortably through a sea of lesser bureaucrats in simpler clothing. A hundred other mildly important or influential people shuffled through the mix, chatting and politicking and doing everything in their power to not talk about why they were all here. The impression was that of a hundred wild cats in a cage that was almost too small.

Palace guards stood along the walls of the room, holding spears or muskets up at attention. All the high balconies held guards watching the crowd below, bows visible but unstrung. Maximus caught several nervous glances from the gathered courtiers towards the soldiers. He also saw many black uniformed knights among the crowd, most with silver lining their uniforms, all accompanied by the bright violet glow of the swords they carried. The only weapons allowed in the crowd.

The ballroom floor was recessed into the ground, with a large walkway around its perimeter, making a sort of large, shallow bowl shape with two large staircases standing opposite each other. Large stained glass windows hung on the walls, internal glow casting multicolored light down onto the walkways. The crowd was mingling down in the bowl, ignoring the windows. Maximus frowned despite himself, he was rather proud of those.

The ballroom was filled with tables of food and mingling guests. A group of musicians played on a stage set against a wall of the bowl and on a balcony above them was the imperial High table, meant for the emperor, his family, and any they invited to join them. It was empty now, save for the place settings, and a single small podium that held the emperor's crown. The approach was guarded by two figures in enormous metal suits. The symbol of the Imperial chivalry engraved proudly on each of their chests.

The suits were individual works of art. One had been designed to look like a woodgeist. Its steel plating etched to look like bark and the helm ornamented with antlers. The other was covered in swirling patterns of wind and clouds. Unlike traditional plate armor these suits were large shells that stood half again as tall as a man. They carried no weapons, they were the weapons. Maximus stared as they reached the base of the entryway stairs. What he wouldn’t do to take one of those relics apart and study them.

A small space had been set up in front of the stage with banners displaying the imperial crest, a silver bird with an ember in its beak, flying across a purple and black field. Beneath the banners another group of palace guards stood with spears to shoulders, in front of a line of guests. A knight with gold lining his uniform checked each guest before letting them pass the ring of guards to pay their respects to the hostess of this grand party. The last surviving member of the Imperial family, crown princess Celestine nox Illuma III.

She looked every bit the daughter of an emperor. Black hair fixed in a complex braid with jewel tipped spikes forming a bursting halo, silken black dress unornamented a sign of her mourning, her face was the perfect mixture of stoic and softness that gave her an air of restraint without letting her seem to strain. A large silver pendant with two jewels hung over her heart. It would be hollow, filled with a small portion of ashes. She wore six smaller discs, each set with a single jewel, along her arms; each one set into its own armband. Ash discs dated back to when the Sadethi were nomads, a way to keep the departed near for a little while longer. Maximus had never seen so many on one person.

The princess received each guest regally. Her face didn’t change, her posture never wavered, she almost looked like a statue. Therese gently squeezed his arm. “You need to stop staring.” She said firmly, “Remember where we are.”

Maximus inhaled and forced his eyes off the soon-to-be empress. “Shall we find a table?” He asked, “I’d rather avoid politicking on an empty stomach.”

”You should eat something.” Therese released his arm and smoothed her uniform. “I will see what the landscape is like, pray for my return with good news.”

She marched off and Maximus was suddenly alone in a sea of faces he either recognized and didn’t much care for, or didn’t recognize with a suspicion they would join the first group if he spoke with them. He hated political mingling. Between fighting to the death in a pit and moving among the gentry he would always rather take the death match. It wasn’t the lying, the double crossing, or even the stomach curdling deal making. It was the sheer inefficiency that came with political conversation he couldn’t stand. It was part of what made him good at his job, he just preferred to move in straight lines.

After a while of searching aimlessly, he managed to scare a few well dressed people away from a table with a good view of the stage. He set down a small plate of food and was about to collect some for himself when a familiar- unpleasant voice snared him.

“Councilman Hellenger, a moment?”

Maximus turned to see the pale, angular face of Councilman Ystle. Unfortunately this was among the faces he recognized most distinctly. He wore similar robes to Maximus, though the colors were green and black. Jakob Ystle was probably the best minister of merchant law in the last century. He was sharp, shrewd, and willing to use money as both bludgeon and scalpel. He walked through the crowd like fog over a dark lake.

Maximus forced his grimace into a more neutral expression and inclined his head. “Councilman Ystle. How can I help you?”

The man ghosted up to him, hand rubbing the gray flecked beard he kept trimmed around his chin and mouth. He stared at Maximus for a second too long before speaking. “I’d hoped you could shed some light on the matter of the arrests that have been disrupting trade these past months.”

Maximus pressed his lips thin, “That is not under my purview. You should speak to the minister of security on that. I don’t-”

“We both know your wife ordered those raids.” Ystle cut him off. “What I can’t figure out is why.”

“Indeed,” Maximus said, anger smoldering. “Why would you accuse my wife of overstepping her bounds?”

Ystle’s hand paused, and his eyes went sharp, searching Maximus’ face. “The rumor is that she’s trying to make up for her failure. That she’s desperate.”

Maximus ground his teeth. “Have you ever known her to act desperately?”

“Of course not,” Ystle answered, “I’ve also never known her to let assassins by on her watch.”

“Choose your next words carefully.” Maximus didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice.

“Peace, Hellenger.” Ystle said, raising his hands. “I did not come to insult you, or your wife. I simply want to know what is going on.”

Maximus mastered himself. “I have nothing to tell you.” He said with something resembling civility.

Ystle nodded, his eyes going faintly distant. “First every inquisitor suddenly leaves the city for days; then the palace is attacked and the only survivor is the recluse Princess. Now I’m getting reports of doors being kicked in by soldiers, and people being dragged off to prison without trial.” Maximus saw concern in the tightening of Ystle’s eyes. “If we are heading for disaster, I would like to know before we arrive.” Before Maximus could respond Ystle ghosted away, melting into the crowd. Maximus suddenly felt very tired.

“Grand inquisitor Reya Dolar, accompanied by high inquisitors Quentin and Aira!”

Conversations wavered as heads turned to watch the trio of inquisitors descend the grand steps. The two high inquisitors wore the standard black uniform with white lining. The grand inquisitor wore the reverse. Reya Dolar strode down the steps in a white uniform with black lining. She wore no cloak, instead the four pointed star was printed in black over a metal chestplate. All three of them wore stony expressions as they entered the crowd. Most people edged away from them, nodding or bowing respectfully. Only the highest officials or noble families moved to speak with them. Powerful people hated anything that they couldn’t control.

Maximus went to greet them, but Quentin noticed his approach and his stoic expression melted into a massive grin.

“Maximus Hellenger!” He seized Maximus in an embrace. “Proof that even state functions can have good company,”

Maximus returned the hug, laughing loudly. “It is good to see you Quentin, I’d worried you’d run off somewhere.”

Quenitn pulled back and grimaced. “Actually I’ve only been back half a week. Was out east playing messenger boy.”

Maximus raised an eyebrow. “Messenger boy? Aren’t you a little high ranked to be carrying letters?”

Quentin opened his mouth before a hand clamped his shoulder. “I am sure you understand the nature of sensitive communications."

Grand Inquisitor Reya Dolar had a presence like the sun. Bright, undeniable, and it made you want to crawl under a rock and hide. Maximus felt his back straighten as he regarded her. “Grand inquisitor,” He nodded to her.

“Coucnilman Hellenger,” She said nodding back. “I assume Commander Hellenger is also in attendance?”

“Yes, Therese is here. She’s off mingling for the moment.” Maximus said.

“I would appreciate if you would ask her to speak with me later this evening. I would like to offer the Inquisition's full support to her ongoing investigation.”

Maximus’ gut tightened, though he sensed no mockery in her. “Thank you Grand Inquisitor. I will be certain to pass the message along.” he turned to leave.

“Councilman, one more thing.” Reya called, halting him “Princess Celestine, what do you know of her? I understand you were quite close with the Emperor and his family.”

Maximus looked towards the seated figure of the princess, still greeting guests. “I can’t say I know Princess Celestine very well.” He said, letting himself feel a bit of the sadness the sight of her inspired. “She was always quiet, never really spoke much in mixed company. A girl like that can be easy to miss.”

He felt Reya staring at him sharp, searching eyes. Eventually she nodded, accepting his answer. “Then we shall see how she fares, now that she is our only option.”