The Emperor's Will

Morenna was awakened early the next day by a very apologetic Imperial herald, delivering instructions from the Emperor himself: Princess Morenna, along with all her siblings, was to quickly eat breakfast and present herself fully armed and wearing her formal mantle in the castle cellar for a ceremonial event.

Thus, less than an hour after being rousted from her bed, Morenna found herself standing in the familiar cellar in which stood the door to the Machine Men catacombs.

All six of her siblings were present as ordered, all but Rakkan wearing mantles, and all carrying either Rahabin rapiers or Miurdan short swords. Morenna was not the only one looking groggy and grouchy. Only little Vanerra had been sent to bed at a decent hour; the rest of them had been either out in the city or at the feast until late.

The guards normally assigned to secure the catacombs were absent. Now, Khellvain the Conqueror himself stood before the door in full Imperial regalia, mantle, crown, and all, with Equalizer dangling from his hand.

Zaurgan the Seer stood a few paces to his left, studying the princes and princesses with supercilious acuity. Both his ravens were present; one ruffled its feathers, croaking softly, and Zaurgan reached up to gently stroke its breast.

On Khellvain’s other side were his entire harem—Queen Tamara standing closest, followed by the mothers of his other offspring in a line. All of them wore tense, worried expressions.

“My children,” Khellvain intoned once they were all gathered, “of late I have come to believe that…I have failed you.”

A stunned pause fell.

“Is that meant to be news?” Morenna exclaimed, already turning back toward the exit. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You perhaps least of all, Morenna,” Khellvain said.

She froze, slowly turning back to him with a face gone white with rage, one hand clutching Blackwing’s hilt.

“I have tried to raise you to rule over the new world I have bent my life to creating,” Khellvain continued. “A world of law, and of peace, a better and more prosperous one than the constant violence in which I and your mothers grew up. And…only now that it is done, do I recognize the harm I have caused by suspending certain older traditions.”

“What do you mean, you raised us?” Rakkan demanded.

All the concubines turned furious glares upon him, Linnea actually letting out a hiss. Tamara just raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Rakkan shrugged. “Only Morenna gets to talk back?”

“People are afraid of Morenna, brother,” Aldan murmured.

Khellvain ignored the interruption. “Among my people, and among every Miurdan tribe I know, it was law that a youth would not enter adulthood without being blooded—undertaking a trial of strength and skill to dispatch a powerful foe. Similar customs exist in many of the other, smaller tribes I met in my travels; there are even parallels among many of the Rahabin. The purpose was obvious: in a land wracked by war, one could not have contributing members of the tribe who had not proven their power to stand against its enemies at need.”

He paused, glancing over at Zaurgan, who nodded deeply, once.

“This…was never a practice among the city folk. It has less use among people of laws…less importance in a world at peace. Or so I was advised, and earnestly believed. And then…came the events of the last few days. Ophia. Uthien.”

Khellvain nodded at each of them in turn.

“You were, though you did not plan it, tested as if by the old ways. Your lives placed in very real danger, with the outcome that you were forced to adapt, and you found hidden strength within yourselves. And the result? It remains true that we shall be a nation of laws, but there is no escaping the fact that power is as crucial to a ruler as true strength of character, of mind, of will. These are the traits that make a great ruler, and a great person. But without the power to execute your will, character comes to nothing. And I see, now, that in the shelter of this castle, I have denied you, my children, the strength demanded by many of your forebears.”

“I know about these customs,” Morenna said. “They’re common, yes, but Vanerra is too young for this. Most of us are on the young side but she’s absolutely out of the question.”

“The Empire cannot abide weakness, daughter,” Khellvain stated. “This is my command.”

“Then command otherwise,” she snapped. “This is stupid.”

“Morenna, I can do it,” Vanerra insisted quietly. Her mother, Concubine Nemeni, nodded once.

“Your Emperor has spoken,” said Khellvain, raising his chin and staring down his nose at Morenna. “A civilized man I may be, but I am also a Miurdan warrior who respects his heritage. If you seek to claim my rank through combat, state your challenge and I will face you on the field of honor. Know that this will be done in the old way: a battle to the death.”

Tamara let out a sharp breath, baring her teeth and turning a sidelong look of annoyance upon him.

“Then…I either die, or I have to rule the Empire?” Morenna grimaced. “So there’s no way to win. Well played, old man.”

At that, the other concubines gasped, Tamara had to quickly suppress a smile, and Khellvain grinned outright at his eldest daughter.

“In the catacombs below this castle,” Zaurgan said in his gravely voice, “are countless relics of the Machine Men, and ancient facilities that were once used to build and repair them. For years, for the entire period this castle has served as the seat of the Haarstein Empire and centuries before, they were inert historical artifacts. Very recently, they have begun to awaken…as several of you know all too well. The gears and mechanisms of the Machine Men do not degrade; what renders their creations silent is the depletion of energy. To recharge their heart crystals is a form of enchantment thought lost. Thus, we know we have an enemy in the very heart of this castle—a light mage possessing ancient knowledge of the Machine Men. It is the decree of your father the Emperor that you, his children, shall journey below, vanquish whatever foe you find, and put an end to this threat.”

“Wasn’t it your job to find this light mage?” Morenna demanded.

“And I am in the process of it,” Zaurgan rumbled. “Such work is meticulous and slow… And will be undone in its entirety by having you kids down there beating the bushes. This, however, is your Emperor’s will, and I serve at his pleasure. His judgment is correct: you stand to gain strength from the quest, and rid us of a dangerous enemy. If my labor is squandered in the process, so be it. The Empire is what matters.”

“Why are you pretending this isn’t a cosmically stupid idea?” Morenna demanded. “If the old man hasn’t gotten rid of your smirking face years ago, Zaurgan, he’s not going to now.”

Zaurgan smiled thinly. “Why are you pretending you’re not going to go along with it, Morenna? You’ve made it clear if your siblings go into danger, you will follow to protect them.”

Tense silence hung in the chamber while the Seer and the Black Princess glared at one another.

“I will go, as you command, Father,” Aldan stated firmly.

“So will I,” Vanerra quickly added.

“Well, I’m obviously not leaving you two to do it alone,” Ophia huffed.

“I…I won’t, either,” said Espa, clasping her hands. “I’ve seen what’s down there—you’ll need healing.”

Rakkan nudged Uthien. “You of all people know this is a fool’s errand, bro.”

“Maybe,” Uthien said thoughtfully. “There’s a larger context at work, however…and I have confidence in us. Whatever the actual intention, I believe this is worth following through with.”

“So my options are to be an idiot or a coward?” Rakkan sighed. “Damn it. I really wish I was a coward. I feel like a jackass, going along with this. This is such a dumb idea.”

Morenna remained silent, clutching her sword. Zaurgan had been right; her decision was already made.