Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles) (40 page)

     But I like to reward creativity.

     “First,” I said, “I don’t want any other cities, towns, villages, hamlets, by-ways or what-have-you’s named after my family,” I said to him.  The murmur was already flowing through the gallery.

     “Second, why do you need tax relief?”

     “Our little town is located to the south of Eldador the Port,” the fat man informed me. “We have only farming to support us, and most of our population has lived in Eldador for less than a year.”

     I shrugged inside of my armor.  I don’t know if he could tell.  “More than half of the villages in the country can say the same thing,” I said.

     “We seek to build a marketplace,” he continued, oblivious.  “In this, we can consolidate the products of our neighboring – “

     “No,” I informed him.  That one was easy.

     He turned his chubby cheeks up toward me, dumbfounded.  “Your – your Majesty?” he asked me.

     “Markets will grow up where people need them,” I informed him.  I remembered this much from college economics before they kicked me out.  “Giving you a tax break to create one won’t make people want to come to it – it just means we’ll be supporting it forever.  You’ll be here in a year complaining that the market just needs a little more investment, and the year after that saying, for all of the money we’ve put into it, we can’t let it fail now.

     “No,” I said.  “If your little town needs a market, rest assured the people there will start one.  You’re not getting one from me.”

     I didn’t mean to come off so harsh to him, but it had been a pretty screwed up month and I didn’t know what to do about the Fovean High Council.  I hadn’t counted on the Andarans running crying to them, and that was a mistake.

     I didn’t like making mistakes.

     The Baron nodded and withdrew.  There were a few other courtiers but most of them didn’t even try with me – I guess they all wanted money, too.

     Court ended early and I left down the normal passageways with Hectar and the ever-present Wolf Soldier entourage.  Shela and Nina had taken off together after the stables and I had no idea where Tartan had gotten to.

     I’m told it was quite a battle in Andaran,” Hectar commented.  I just grunted at him.

     “The troubadours are calling it, ‘Battle of the new Emperor,’ whatever that means.”

     I gave him a sideways glance but didn’t slow down.  “It probably means that they don’t like me leaving a few thousand warriors and a powerful Duke in Andoran after wiping out two of its most powerful tribes,” I said.

     Hectar nodded.  “The Fovean High Council was rather impressed with that, as well,” he said.

     “I heard,” I said.

     We turned down a passage to the right on our way to the royal chambers.  The kitchens were along the way and I felt like grabbing something to eat.  Me showing up in the kitchen usually freaked out the staff, but I was hungry and, frankly, I didn’t care.

     These mood swings weren’t helping me, I knew.

    
“This is more than your delegates can take care of for you,” he informed me, looking straight forward.  “You’ve pushed the High Council too far, and given them too many arrows to point against you.  The Dorkans, the Confluni, the Trenboni and now the Andarans – all of them will benefit from your downfall now.”

     “What do you think they’ll want?” I asked him.

     Hectar was quiet for a moment, marching on next to me, giving me his profile.  I didn’t like this.  I wanted to be the guy with the answers, not the questions.  I don’t know why I thought that taking on the mantle of King would give me the one without the other, but I realized then that I’d thought exactly that.

     “The Fovean High Council can’t depose a leader,” he said, as we turned another corner.  Now I could smell the kitchens – beef browning over an open fire, steam from soup or broth, maybe.  “However, they can order an attack against another nation, and they can limit trade, although they’ve never done so.  I think that all of the other Fovean nations would love to hear that Eldadorian products are going to have to stay in Eldador, and not come to their shores at prices too low for their merchants to compete with.  I think that the Uman-Chi have seen a way to limit your power without lifting a sword.”

     That hadn’t occurred to me at all, and I couldn’t help thinking that this was the
first
thing that should have come to mind.  Foveans weren’t stupid.  They’d found a way to adapt to what I was doing.

     I was playing in a new ball field now.  I needed to step up my game.

Chapter Twenty-One

             
Education

     A week and two days later, on the 21
st
day of the month of Desire, I stood once again at the podium before the assembled delegates of the Fovean High Council.  This time every stone seat in the place had someone’s behind in it, and a crowd had assembled outside, where criers were repeating what was said in here.  I’d heard that they’d even found a big, blonde Volkhydran to represent me.

     I hadn’t donned my armor.  I dressed in royal finery – white shirt with
a ruffled front and blousy, fashionable blue pants of some kind of wool, black boots shined to a high polish and a purple over coat like a blazer but with tails, a red cape dragging from its shoulders to the floor.  I still had the gold headpiece holding back my long, blonde hair.

     Shela had scrubbed it until my scalp bled.  She sat to one side of me with D’gattis and Ancenon, both of them wearing the question-mark, turned upside-down, of the Free Legion.

     I bore that mark as well on an armband, over the wolf’s head which marked the Wolf Soldiers.  I also wore the Sword of War at my hip.  I’d come here on three of my new Sea Wolves and three hundred warriors.

     Three hundred wouldn’t save me if a fight broke out, but they wouldn’t hurt if some of the locals got froggy.  You could still see the
damage I’d done here, and no one applauded me as I walked from the docks to the coliseum.

     We’d left the baby at home with Nina and Karel of Stone, who wanted to start the Aschire’s training. 
Arath, Nantar and Thorn were laying the foundations of a city to be called ‘Metz’ in the center of the Andurin peninsula, and Hectar sat my throne.

     He’d advised me I should come back soon. 
I wasn’t making any promises.

     One of the Uman-Chi stood to address me.  I didn’t recognize him.  He wore the white robes of a delegate. “Your Majesty, King Rancor Mordetur, you are charged with the illegal invasion of the south of Andoran, of seizing land there, of an unprovoked attack on several of the tribes there, resulting in loss to the nation of Andoran and strife to the people therein.”

     All of the Andarans were nodding, the Dorkans and the Confluni with them.  I took a breath and put my hands on the podium.

     “How do you respond to these charges, your Majesty?” the Uman-Chi asked me.

     “Delegate,” I said.  I didn’t call him ‘Sir’ like last time, because I ranked him now, “I am a chieftain of the Wolf Rider tribe, and I ask that you address me accordingly.”

     The Uman-Chi smiled and looked down,
hiding his face in his long, green hair while he collected himself.  I’d have been surprised if they
hadn’t
guessed I’d pull this.  The Fovean High Council had no power to intervene in an internal matter.

    
The Uman-Chi raised his face and turned back to me, letting me see his sharp, angular nose and  high-arched brows. “Yonega Waya,” he said to me in Andaran, calling me ‘White Wolf,’ “when you invaded, you were not yet an Andaran, but acting in the auspices of the Eldadorian state, for which you are liable, and for which the Eldadorian state is liable.”

     “And which means that we address you as an Eldadorian, not an Andaran,” a Dorkan said, standing.  He was a fat
bald man wearing purple robes under those of delegate white and big, gold hoop earrings dangling from his lobes.  Despite the cold Desire air, he was sweating. 

     “Don’t you try to confuse these issues, Rancor Mordetur!” he warned me.

     I felt my eyebrows rise.  “So I’m to be addressed as a common here?” I asked the collected delegates.  “This is the etiquette of a Fovean High Council?”

     In fact, it didn’t bug me, but being able to play offended didn’t hurt me, either.  If I could get them squabbling among themselves as to how to treat me, this could all fall apart.

     Another Dorkan, a woman with long, straight brown hair and chubby cheeks, stood up next to the first and put a hand on his shoulder.  “We apologize, your Ma – Yonega Waya,” she said.  “My compatriot here is somewhat distressed, in that you murdered his brother.”

     “And a lot of other brothers!” an Andaran said, standing.

     “And some very good friends,” a Sentalan shouted from their delegation.

     Now more
of the delegates stood and started shouting at me.  A storm of white robes shook on the floor of the coliseum below me as those wearing them started to vent their feelings about what I’d done, to whom, and what they thought about it.

    
I took a step back and acted surprised.  The Uman-Chi were shouting to the other delegates for order and being ignored.  I allowed myself a sideways glance at Ancenon, D’gattis and Shela and, while the two Uman-Chi were scowling in exasperation, Shela was grinning fiercely.

     In the stadium seats, those watching were clearly enjoying t
he show.  I’m sure we weren’t quite as good as gladiators, but more entertaining than the regular evening in a winter month.  I saw Uman, Uman-Chi, Men and even some Scitai in attendance.

     No Xinto.  It would be a bad day for Xinto, if I found him here.

     “Delegates, delegates,
please
,” the flustered Uman-Chi called out over his peers, making a pushing-down motion with his hands.  “All of these grievances can be addressed –“

     “No,” I said, in my best battle-field voice, “I have to say I think that they cannot.”

     That got a few curious looks, so I pushed on.

     “People of Fovea,
” I said, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this ‘High Council’ of yours is a morass, and if you can’t even control yourselves, then I can’t imagine how you plan to hold me accountable to whatever it is you imagine that I did.”

     “You invaded our nation!” an Andaran shouted back at me, standing and almost sputtering. 
From the beads sewn into the leather pants and jacket that he wore, I could tell he’d come here from the city of Chatoos.

     “I returned two Andarans to their home tribe, and they attacked me,” I said, shaking my head.  “Did I push my advantage after that?  Yes, I did, but now I’m your buffer against the Slee.”

     “We didn’t
need
a buffer against the Slee until you wiped out the Drifters and the Wet Bellies,” the Andaran shouted.  Others of their delegation stood. 

     Other nations’ delegates quieted a little but the Dorkans were
still shouting and the Uman-Chi were still trying to shush them.

     “Then
better for you if they hadn’t attacked me,” I informed him.  That was purely argumentative, however I wanted the argument.

     I didn’t want an embargo against Eldador.  We could be self-sufficient if we had to be – we certainly had enough citizens to consume all of our own wares, however I wanted to pursue these new interests in the Black Lake as well as my own projects at home, and I needed to be able to tax to do that.

     I didn’t want to drain my people dry.  I needed foreign trade, and that meant that I didn’t want an embargo.

     “Better still if we attack you again,” the Andaran threatened.  “Don’t underestimate our power, and your few thousand are far from home.”

     There it was.  The Uman-Chi’s mouth dropped open.  Probably smarter than I am, he saw where I was going right then.

     “You mean to declare war on my tribe?” I demanded, gripping the podium’s top with both hands and leaning forward.

     “We’ll kill your warriors and take your herds,” he swore to me.  “Your women will only be available to the lowest among us, so your children will shame you.”

     Shela straightened.  That had to be a serious oath.

     “And we will stand with the Andarans,” the fat Dorkan swore, speaking for his country.

     “Then I declare the Andoran nation in civil war!” I shouted, and slammed a hand down on the top of the podium.  “And I call on the Fovean High Council to protect our borders from
those who would exploit this situation.”

     “You can’t request that –“ the Dorkan began, but he caught himself.

     I couldn’t request that as an Eldadorian, but I
definitely
could as an Andaran chieftain.

     And the Uman-Chi had all but recognized me.  Certainly close enough for me to make my case.

     “The Andaran people, then,” the Andaran delegate declared, “demand protection for Eldadorian intervention in this civil war.”

     “The Dorkans second,” the Dorkan woman said, standing.  Her fat friend was still spluttering and probably wondering what was going on.

     “From this day forward,” I said still holding the podium but leaning back, “I declare for the Eldadorian nation as an Empire, the Black Lake and the city and the village of Wisex as a protectorate, and myself as an Emperor.”

     I had no idea if I could do that, however this was as good a time as any to find out.

     “Eldador as an empire is outside of the charter of the Fovean High Council,” the Uman-Chi informed me.

     “
As the only admitted, and not founding, member of the High Council,” a Confluni said, standing, “I believe that Eldador is not within the charter of the Fovean High Council at all.”

     This came as a complete surprise to me.  The little yellow-skinned man, his grey and black hair down past his shoulders, had his face turned up toward me, but his eyes unfocused.  I couldn’t tell if this was support, or a delegate who felt honor-bound to state a fact.

     “It
is
true,” the Uman-Chi said, drawing out his words, “that Eldador is entered on the rolls only as ‘Eldador,’ while Conflu is actually entered as the Confluni Empire and Trenbon as the nation-state of Trenbon.”

     “And Andoran,” Ancenon said, standing up behind me, “as ‘the tribes of Andoran in unison, albeit individually sovereign.”

     The grin on his face was unmistakable.  The collective Andaran delegates turned to each other in alarm.  If Eldador could carve out a tribe and then demand a portion of their nation, then why couldn’t anyone else?

     I think the Confluni were thinking the same thing.

     Now the Uman-Chi were in a pickle.  They had to recognize their own charter, but they had to keep me out of Andoran, or they’d be dealing with the rest of Fovea carving it up and a return to the open warfare that had made the Fovean High Council necessary.

     “Volkhydro recognizes Eldador as an Empire, and the Emperor Rancor The First, of the House Mordetur,” a Volkhydran said, rising.

     I recognized Count Tezzen of Myr.  His hair looked a little longer and a little greyer.  His body still kept the muscle that I’d associated with him, and his eyes the same hard calculation that keeps a warrior alive on a battle field.

     Henehk had asked me what my plans were, and I’d warned him not to be the first to get in my way.  I had to think that he’d had a conversation with his countrymen.

     “Conflu seconds,” that same Confluni delegate called out. 

     “Protection
must
be granted to Andoran until we can decide what happens with this
Wolf Rider
tribe,” another Andaran delegate demanded, standing.  He’d also dressed out in the leathers that Andarans wore in the winter, with beads identifying him as being from Chatoos.

     A Toorian stood, sighing.  He wasn’t anyone I recognized from the coronation.  His hair was completely grey and his deep-brown face lined with age wrinkles.  “Toor will recognize this Eldadorian Empire,” he said.  “
Let the Fovean High Council defend Andoran until this civil war is settled.”

     “Rest assured that the Dorkan nation will pay close attention to this civil war,” the fat Dorkan delegate informed us all, sitting.

     “I leave the task of working out these details to my Eldadorian delegates,” I informed the group of them.  My delegates were busy loading their robes with their own sweat while all of this had been going on.  I had to think that the best news they’d had all day was that I’d be leaving right now.

     The silver-on-silver eyes of an angry Uman-Chi delegate seemed to find mine.  I couldn’t differentiate the cornea from the iris at this distance, but the irritation was unmistakable.

     “This Fovean High Council dismisses this Emperor of Eldador, with our thanks,” he said.

     I nodded, swept the collected delegates with a glare, and turned on my heel.  Shela ran up beside me and took my arm in both of hers.  Ancenon and D’gattis lined up behind me and we all exited the podium area for the tunnel that lead out of the coliseum of the High Council.

     I held my face plain but I wanted to be grinning like an idiot. 
Victory!
I couldn’t help thinking.  Beat them
again!
  The Fovean-friggin’ High Council and haughty Uman-Chi were choking on my dust again.