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“Your Holiness?” Branwen asked hesitantly.
He laughed, softly but suddenly, causing her to flinch.
“There wasn’t a thing I could have said,” Justinian mused out loud, gazing at the door through which the assembled nobility had just departed. “Even the attempt would only have cemented the impression made. And I could have made arguments, you know; so many details of that performance don’t stand up to scrutiny. But it did not matter. The impression given, the sheer pageantry of it, would brook no rebuttal. That is not easy to do.”
“Your Holiness,” she repeated, wary and uncertain, “I don’t… Did you poison Duchess Madouri?”
The Archpope finally turned to her, his eyebrows drawing together in an expression of mild reproach. “Branwen, why in heaven’s name would I do such a thing? I am not well practiced at the art of murdering young women, but I’d like to think if I felt the need to do so I would not choose a time, place, and manner that cast maximum possible suspicion upon myself.”
“Well, that’s what I thought, but…”
“She touched the rim of the glass,” he mused softly, making a slow, circular gesture in midair with one forefinger. “Making it sing, like an annoying child at a boring dinner party. I even thought it an incongruous affectation, never suspecting… Well, I’m sure it will come as a relief to know that the young Lady was in no true danger, dryad’s kiss notwithstanding. Working from a sample of her own blood, House Madouri’s alchemists could easily brew a toxin that created those…dramatic symptoms without posing a risk to her life.”
“It…it looked like it reacted to divine magic,” Branwen said. “When you tried to heal her, it…”
“Yes, that was a particularly shrewd touch. If I am not mistaken, it was the Jackal who pioneered such recipes. How impressive that she learned of and set out to mimic the technique; I am certain she did not get the formula directly from him.”
“You’re suggesting she poisoned herself?”
“Counter-intuitive, is it not?” he asked, turning a gentle smile upon her. “Precisely the sort of imminently logical, elegantly strategic action at which the mind rebels. There are things people simply don’t do, or at least don’t think of, regardless of how effective the action might be. The deviousness I expected, but…what an utterly fearless young woman.”
Branwen gazed quizzically up at him, studying his expression of pure admiration, then glanced around at the remaining onlookers. Everyone who had been guarding or serving at this function possessed skills well beyond carrying trays, and a hard-earned loyalty to Justinian personally. It was one of those very old ploys that never ceased to work simply due to human nature: the easiest way to get powerful agents close to aristocrats was to hide them among the servants, because aristocrats simply never noticed servants. Now they were all watching the Archpope as she was, in confusion and consternation, awaiting orders and some resolution to the debacle which had just unfolded.
“Ah, Branwen,” he said almost wistfully, causing her worried expression to intensify. “Imagine if we had learned of young Ravana years sooner—reached out to her while she was young enough to be impressionable, before she was hardened by her reprobate of a father and then exacerbated by Tellwyrn. What an excellent ally she could have been. I sought, today, to learn chiefly whether her generosity toward the common people of her domain was a political ploy or motivated by personal mercy…and unfortunately never got to broach the subject. Either way, though, I feel certain I could have swayed her to my perspective, given the chance.”
The Archpope’s broad shoulders fell momentarily in a sigh.
“But now, she has firmly set herself against my plans—she, with all her unexpected determination and cunning, and the vast resources of House Madouri. And at this late juncture, I have no choice now but to eliminate the threat she represents using every power at my disposal. What a loss of promise… What a waste.”
“What do you wish to do now, your Holiness?” Branwen asked carefully.
He turned, the momentary wistfulness seeming to evaporate as the Archpope showed his followers what they were more accustomed to seeing: serene calm and the assurance of control.
“I fear, my friends, that the intent of this event has not only failed but backfired. I will not understate the seriousness of this, but I remind you all that despair is the greatest of sins. Take heart, and stand ready to take action. The situation is far from unrecoverable. No, in fact… The true loss, here, is not in what we have lost, but what we must do next.”
“Whatever comes, your Holiness, we’re behind you,” the man who had been serving as sommelier vowed, echoed by nods, approving murmurs, and resolute expressions from all the others.
Justinian inclined his head graciously. “I never cease to be humbled by your faith, my friends. Gather and hold to it now. We are nearing the end—the point at which, if we all persevere, all our sacrifices and hard decisions will be made worth it. Soon, we must take further actions I am certain we would all rather not. But we have come too far, come too close, to falter now.”
“The five hours since the incident have been the most politically disastrous for the Universal Church since the Enchanter Wars,” Lord Quentin Vex reported. Sharidan and Eleanora preferred to multitask, rarely indulging in a meal purely for its own sake; when not engaged in a state dinner, they often dined while receiving reports. Now it was Vex’s turn to stand beside the table in the harem wing’s smaller dining room and deliver an update. “Your Majesties have doubtless been informed of some of these developments already, but I shall be thorough. It has been too quick for any of the more meaningful actions the Houses will take, but I have solid intelligence that the standard funding and patronage of cathedrals, rural chapels and Church-sponsored projects aided by the nobility of Tiraan, Vrandis, Calderaan, and Lower Stalwar Provinces has already been slashed to virtually nothing. At least some of that will have been in response to the Trissiny Avelea’s public revelations this morning, but the aristocracy have clearly chosen to take great offense at the attack on Duchess Madouri.”
“How very popular she suddenly is,” Eleanora said in her very driest tone.
“The symbol matters more than the girl,” Vex replied with a sardonic quirk of his eyebrow. “Many of those same Houses would be delighted to see her dead, but a Universal Church which dares to assault a sitting Duchess is a threat to all their power. Ahem, that aside. In the same period, the cults of Vesk, Nemitoth, and Ryneas have all publicly announced their withdrawal from the Church. None of them are powerful or politically significant, with the possible exception of the Veskers, but this marks the tipping point: there are now more Pantheon cults boycotting the Universal Church than supporting it. I suspect the Salyrites may soon follow, but not necessarily out of principle; the Wizards’ Guild has already begun aggressively attempting to usurp the Collegium’s business interests on the pretext of Salyrite complicity in Justinian’s crimes.”
He paused, permitting himself the indulgence of an uneasy frown before continuing.
“There are massive public demonstrations outside the cathedrals of Madouris, Veilgrad, Calderaas, and Ninkabi—loud and angry enough that Panissar has quietly mobilized troops. Those crowds in particular seem almost poised to storm the cathedrals. The one in Veilgrad is currently heavily damaged and unoccupied, but there could be widespread injury and loss of life in the other three locations, particularly as I am far from certain exactly how that little snake Ravana will exacerbate whatever happens in Madouris, only that she will do something. Your Majesties are undoubtedly aware that the corresponding protest right here in Imperial Square, while large, has been calm and well within the scope of the Writ of Duties. Protests on a similar scale are transpiring in Anteraas, Leineth, Jennidira, Thaka Tambur, and Kampaka. Shaathvar is still under curfew and martial law due to the previous disturbances there, but this has further riled that already volatile situation to the degree that I consider it another potential flashpoint. Smaller demonstrations are occurring in every major city I have been able to ascertain, save Mathenon and Onkawa, and in uncountable towns across the Empire.”
“Panissar has been making hourly reports,” Sharidan said, wiping his mouth with a silk napkin. “My mother’s protocols for riot management have been implemented. For the first time at scale since her own reign, but the General reports that so far they have been successful.”
“Human nature has not changed since her late Majesty’s day,” Vex agreed, “and she always had a keen understanding of it. Pertaining to that, your Majesty, I have a recommendation.”
Both were chewing again at that moment, but Sharidan gestured for him to proceed.
“In my estimation, Panissar’s troops are properly handling the dangerous points. In the four cities I specified, his current approach seems most likely to maintain order.”
“He will undoubtedly be flattered to hear it,” Eleanora commented, delicately spearing a bite of fish.
Vex did not acknowledge the little jest, simply continuing in his normal, somewhat droning delivery. “I suggest increasing the visible presence of our forces at the calmer demonstrations, however. Placing troops where they are clearly evident and able to intervene on minimal notice.”
Both of the Imperial couple paused. Eleanora resumed chewing after a second, Sharidan taking time to swallow before speaking.
“The core of the riot protocols, Quentin, is that troops are staged discreetly, out of sight of demonstrators, and deployed only at urgent need. We learned definitively during the Voter demonstrations that the sight of military or even police forces is antagonistic to an already angry crowd, and risks provoking violence where it has not yet begun.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Explain yourself, Quentin,” Eleanora ordered.
“I advocate, in general, a harder stance toward Justinian, your Majesties. Unfortunately, the fact remains that all our power and resources are unable to make physical headway against the personal defenses of the Archpope. As all we can do is deprive him of external support, we should take every possible measure.”
“You know very well that appropriate measures are underway,” Sharidan said sternly.
“Your Majesty’s public address this afternoon was correct on all points in terms of political theory, but I fear—”
“I am willing to frame the truth in whatever manner best serves our interests, but I will not lie to the people,” Sharidan stated, “not about this. It is a matter of pragmatism as much as principle, Quentin. I have told the public that the Strike Corps, the Azure Corps and the Corps of Enchanters are fully mobilized, and that ImCom is devising a method of countering the necro-drakes in which they are reasonably confident. I will not promise them definitive safety from the beasts, because if I do and then our countermeasures fail, trust in the Imperial government will be absolutely gutted. I thought you of all people understood this.”
“With all possible respect, your Majesty, that is something of a tangental issue. The Church’s sway with the people—”
“Is, as you just reported, crumbling on its own. I have announced the potential upcoming seizure of the Church’s facilities and assets pending our verification of the paladins’ claims. This is a war of perception more than anything, and one for which Justinian has been preparing and positioning himself for years. The appearance, at the very least, of impartiality and reason must be maintained. We will move decisively, but not rashly or hastily. When we take Justinian’s assets, it must be in a manner that does not direct sympathy back toward him, in the full knowledge that he will use every trick in his vast arsenal to make that happen.”
“Very good, your Majesty, but even that leaves plenty of room to further mobilize public sentiment.”
“The Interior Ministry is already fully occupied mobilizing public sentiment—as is Intelligence, presuming you have been carrying out my instructions, Quentin. What you are talking about now is not that. Provoking those citizens who are already firmly on our side to endanger their lives in a hopeless, pointless threat to public order is counterproductive to that goal.”
“I sympathize with your desire to go on the offensive,” Eleanora added, staring evenly at Vex, “but the Empire is its people. Our citizens are not ammunition to be hurled into the jaws of whatever threat arises.”
“It shall of course be as you command,” Vex said diplomatically. “That aside, then, my other recommendation is that we take steps to bring the triad of Houses Dufresne, Leduc, and Madouri to heel.”
“Is there some question of their loyalty?” Sharidan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Some slight question in the Duchess Leduc’s case,” said Quentin. “Natchua has loudly and publicly expressed support for the Throne on several occasions, and she is of course closely allied with the other two, who are fully and formally committed to backing House Tirasian. I would like to clarify House Leduc’s stance and tighten relations with her in as public a manner as possible, but that isn’t my real concern. I am not worried about disloyalty from the triad, but…erratic behavior. Duchess Dufresne knows her place is most admirable in her determination to toe the line. Duchess Madouri, however, is prone to precisely the kind of unpredictable antics we saw this afternoon; even when she is trying to help, she causes disruptions, and we specifically do not need the additional headache right now of all times. And that girl Natchua is, not to put too fine a point on it, a rabble-rouser. Quite apart from the crisis with Justinian, her very loud public antipathy toward Tar’naris is an additional strain on our discussions with the Elven Confederacy exactly when neither we nor they need it. She needs to be taken in hand.”
“You are quite certain Ravana poisoned herself?” Eleanora asked in a deceptively mild tone, an amused little smile playing about her lips.
“The fact that it would have been an utterly imbecilic thing for Justinian to do suffices to assure me that he did not, your Majesty. And Ravana Madouri has literally done that exact thing before, to even worse results. During the Sleeper attacks at Last Rock, she dosed herself with Nightmare’s Dream to counter the sleeping curse and likely would have suffered serious brain damage were Tellwyrn not so adept at managing the antics of presumptuous and overpowered adolescents. There are advantages to having a ruthless and devious creature like Ravana in our corner, I certainly don’t contest that. It’s her habit of launching herself claws out at the most unpredictable moments that must be contained. I consider that the lesser problem; she is well aware of House Madouri’s situation relative to the Throne, and her obvious loyalty has not yet pulled her name out of the pit her father dug. A polite but firm reminder should suffice, I think.”
“What of the other Houses?” Sharidan asked. “Have you seen signs that any of them saw through her gambit?”
“Inveterate schemers that they are, I would be amazed if some of them have not figured it out. However, between the necro-drake attacks and this, they have predictably chosen to rally in favor of protecting their own power base. As your Majesty is well aware, in politics what happened is often less important than what appears to have happened.”
“Then it is Natchua Leduc you consider the greater concern,” said Eleanora. “What is your recommendation with regard to her?”
Vex grimaced, a rare open expression of displeasure. “The summation of my analysis so far, your Majesties, is… In essence, Natchua is a less mature and less reliable Tellwyrn.”
Both crowned heads winced in unison.
“I believe she will respond better to the carrot than the stick. It is necessary that she be made aware the stick exists—there will simply be no managing someone like her otherwise—but that must be done with the utmost care. As long as the stick is not shaken at her directly, I believe she can be coaxed to be more reasonable. All we really need is for her to check with the Empire before doing things like whipping the population of Veilgrad into a frenzy or thrusting herself into international diplomacy with a barrage of shadowbolts. My suggestion is to politely and gently increase House Tirasian’s social ties to House Leduc, while getting Malivette Dufresne to take a firmer hand and teach Natchua some proper ducal behavior.”
“You consider this a priority,” Sharidan asked pointedly, “now of all times?”
“I consider the times to make it a priority, your Majesty. This is the sort of thing that would ordinarily require slow and careful handling, but Ravana and Natchua being loose cannons who are determined to help makes it urgent. Whether they prove to be decisive factors in ending this crisis or in exacerbating it beyond all hope will depend upon whether they can be brought to heel. This is no time for shepherding the kinds of friends who are not preferable to enemies.”
Sharidon looked sidelong at Eleanora, who tilted her head in consideration for a moment before nodding once.
“Proceed, Quentin,” the Emperor ordered. “Bring me a detailed action plan as soon as you can, and we’ll put it into effect. Other ministries will need to be involved, but given your established relationships with Malivette Dufresne and Ravana Madouri, I’d like you to take point on it. Provided it does not distract you from your other duties during the ongoing crisis.”
“It shall be done, your Majesty. I am accustomed to multitasking.”
“I believe,” Eleanora mused, “I shall seek out young Lady Natchua’s company as soon as I can find the spare time. What I have heard of her impresses me…up to a point. She clearly needs proper friends, role models, and people who can tell her ‘no.’ I flatter myself that I may be suited for all of the above tasks.”
“Tomorrow,” Sharidan said gravely, “we begin sweeping up every asset of Justinian’s outside himself and that Cathedral. I’m counting on you to have all the evidence needed to conclusively link Justinian to the necro-drakes. Whatever you’re unable to find, manufacture. It has to suffice for propaganda purposes, not stand up to counter-intelligence or a court of law.”
“He will definitely unleash more of those necro-drakes in response,” Eleanora growled. “Having seen the plans, I am very optimistic about ImCom’s countermeasures… But we may well find ourselves relying on the paladins and the Conclave again.”
“Understood, your Majesty. You’ll have everything you need by breakfast, along with a detailed plan to unfold interception actions over the course of the day.” Vex hesitated for a moment. “Forgive me if this is outside my department, your Majesties, but… What is the plan to deal with Justinian himself?”
Sharidan and Eleanora exchanged a grim look.
“The plan…is the last thing any head of state ever wants to admit,” said the Emperor. “There is nothing we have that can reliably get to him. An all-out war on the Cathedral…might. If the paladins and their allies are successful in turning Justinian’s divine power back against him. But remember that in the Enchanter Wars, it was the gods themselves and their chosen agents who had to unseat Archpope Sipasian.”
“It makes my skin crawl, having to rely on those children,” Eleanora murmured. “But…they are aggressively taking point on this, and in a more measured and strategic manner than that outlandish young fool Ravana.”
“We must trust the gods…up to a point,” Sharidan agreed, looking at her. “But even if Justinian has so secured himself that the might of the Empire cannot prevail… I still have a few tricks he has not seen.”
“I understand. I know.”
Security for the sunrise prayer service exceeded any public function the Universal Church had ever put on in its millennium-long history, and rivaled the measures securing some of Justinian’s greatest secrets in the catacombs deep below.
The Holy Legion being out in force was only the most visible element. Elaborately armored, polearm-wielding ceremonial guards stood in a few strategic places throughout, but they were not the main force. For the first time, the actual core of the Holy Legion were in evidence, and present in far greater numbers. Men and women in white coats, armed with battlestaves and wands, and positioned throughout the room with grim expressions, served as a vivid encouragement toward good behavior. Everyone knew the armored Legionaries were little more than props, but anyone could tell at a glance that these troops meant business.
Even that would hardly have sufficed on a day like today, however. The chanting had abated overnight, but even at this early hour, more demonstrators had assembled outside the Cathedral. The Imperial Army and the Silver Legions were both out in force, not only forming up in Imperial Square but taking siege-like positions around the Grand Cathedral. They had not yet moved to secure the entries and block people from passing in and out, but their very presence served to send the message that that measure was coming.
Inside the enormous main sanctuary, Justinian had resorted to methods he had long disdained, but the point of crisis was coming and this morning’s service was too crucial to allow disruptions. Influence lay heavy over the crowd, both magical from a variety of carefully hoarded sources, and using several pieces of Infinite Order technology whose functions he and Rector had meticulously mastered. True, proper mind control was both firmly against his few remaining inviolable principles and would render the entire point of this meeting moot, but the measures in place imposed a heavy psychic pressure that discouraged the crowd from any violent or even disruptive behavior.
“I have spoken recently of the fear which grips us,” he said from his position at the elevated pulpit. His voice resonated throughout the vast space without the aid of any magic, projected skillfully as always. “I have spoken of the means we must all use to counter that fear, even as justified as it clearly is. I have faith in you, the people of this city—of the Empire, of this world. Together, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that we will prevail over that which threatens us.”
He paused, just a moment for effect, and also to reach out with the divine power coursing through him. Gathering up a blazing concentration of that energy, while carefully refraining from letting any visible sign of it emerge, Justinian reached out with his will and pressed down ferociously on three individuals in the crowd whom he sensed via the same power had been about to unleash some havoc of their own.
Veskers. He feared little from Vesk himself, holding the Pantheon’s reins as he did, but the god of bards exerted nearly as little direct control over his followers as Eserion did, and they were going to become a real problem now that they had decided to join the Eserites and Trinity cults in opposing him. Justinian was not worried about violent or forceful intervention by anyone here, but disruption of his careful, critically important presentation? That was a risk which could not be countenanced. Somehow it was always the bards who created the most chaos out of the most meticulous order.
Now, three bards went glassy-eyed and slumped in their seats, held down by the all but physical force of his will.
“But more than fear,” Justinian continued aloud, “in light of claims that have been made, you are now assailed by doubt. You have questions, and concerns specifically about the actions of this Church—and of myself.”
Again, a momentary pause. He held his mental grip on the Veskers, adding a few less intense points of pressure to other minds he felt about to speak out. The rest of the crowd was kept pacified by the subtler methods in place—a delicate balance, as he needed them intent and interested.
“The time has come for confession,” the Archpope stated, and he felt the interest sharpen in the room, even more than he saw it in dozens of faces. Particularly in the reporters he had taken pains to assure had preferential seating for this service. “I do, indeed, have offenses against the people of this city to acknowledge. And…it comes as a relief to finally be able to do this. In my defense, I will say only that what I have allowed to happen—and the silence I have since kept over it—I did because at the time, in my best analysis, it was…if not justified, then necessary. I cannot even say for certain whether I was right in that judgment; I am but a mortal man, as fallible as any. On that, I will be judged by history, and I will accept that judgment with humility. It is due to that selfsame fallible judgment that I speak now, for while I still see many factors in motion that would seem to encourage continued silence…in my imperfect understanding, I think it is time. May the gods deal with me as they deem fit.”
He paused again, letting the anticipation hang. It had grown to an intensity that could be practically felt, even were he not in mental command of the room through the auspices of borrowed divine power.
“Two years ago,” Archpope Justinian finally said, in his gravest and most solemn tone, “while a hellgate was opened on the Golden Sea frontier above a certain University in the town of Last Rock, this very city was torn apart by an onslaught of demons. You, the people of Tiraas, deserve to finally know why.”
The Gods are Bastards 