Book of The Dead

Merigold of House Herimar had long heard of the fierce battles fought in the court of the Emperor. Nobles had killed for the chance to speak a single sentence in the ear of someone close to the Emperor, while entire Houses had been toppled for the slightest advantage in the enormous bureaucracy of the capital.

As a minor administration official from an unimportant house, she had never imagined that such a thing would ever concern her. Buried in papers, totting up the numbers, that was where she belonged. That was where she was happy. To her horror, this new post she had been placed in had somehow thrust her into the centre of a fight she was woefully unequipped to take on.

Thankfully, she had others she could draw on for support.

“The Bureau of Military Affairs are planning to petition the Court again this morning,” Esmer reported as she arrived, not a single blonde hair on her head out of place. How was she always so well groomed?

She slammed a report down in front of Merigold, who stared at it blearily.

“They’ve traded favours and have someone ready to approve the proposal before it can be brought before the full court.”

“An emergency approval?” Merigold blinked. “They must have traded some serious favours.”

Certain High Nobles had that authority, but not many. Someone at the Bureau was pulling big strings. And for what?! So they could show the new Rebellion Suppression Administration that they didn’t have to listen to them?

Merigold was starting to think very uncharitable things about the people in the Military Administration.

“Are they so desperate to get those soldiers killed?” she despaired. From his own desk nearby, Dolan, her other staff member, shot her a weighing glance.

“Lady Herimar…” he began slowly, but she waved a hand.

“Please call me Merigold,” she asked him.

Both of her staff members were from more prestigious and powerful Houses than she was. Having them speak to her with such polite terms made her feel positively wretched.

“I won’t,” he demurred. “Like it or not, you have a significant amount of authority right now. I won’t treat someone rising so fast as if they were beneath me.”

She didn’t like it, but she understood his position.

“Very well. What were you going to say?”

Hopefully he had a solution. Come to think of it, Dolan was looking rather well-groomed as well. His dark hair was freshly brushed and his moustache had been recently trimmed. He wore it military style, shaped above the upper lip without much curl or wax, giving him a soldier-ish air.

“I was going to ask just how confident you are that the expeditionary force would fail and be killed,” he asked. “We’ve been fighting the bureau tooth and nail for a week, but I still don’t know why you have such confidence.”

Merigold nodded wearily.

“It’s just a question of numbers.”

She fumbled around her desk until she found the documents she was looking for. Bundled together with a clip, they represented the sum total of the research she had been able to collate regarding Tyron Steelarm and the Necromancer Class. She held it out and Dolan came to collect as she started to explain.

“Necromancy was outlawed in the Empire after the incident in Granin five hundred years ago, but it wasn’t all that common before then. The records I’ve been able to get access to aren’t very complete, but they all tend to agree on a few points. Without regulation, Necromancers are able to gain levels at an accelerated pace; like a snowball rolling down a mountainside, they gather momentum until they can become a runaway force.

“For that reason…” she trailed off with a wide yawn, then blinked a few times. “... Ah, for that reason, Necromancers were strictly regulated in the Empire, much like Bards and Minstrels are now.”

Dolan flicked through the pages, looking over her notes and frowning.

“And what does this have to do with the expeditionary force?”

“Oh,” Merigold said. “It’s just that from the little we can piece together, Tyron Steelarm seemed to have grown rather rapidly. Strong enough to mentally dominate a Magister at a relatively low level. Then I have a running calculation of the quality and quantity of… people he’s been able to… convert. We can estimate how strong his army is. Combine that with the Slayers who fled with him, we can see that the thousand-strong expedition only has a sixty percent chance of being successful in defeating the rebellion.”

Dolan continued to flick through the pages.

“And… isn’t sixty percent quite good? Why can’t they try?”

“Because if they fail, then a Necromancer gets hold of their remains and souls!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “That’s a forty percent chance that the rebellion grows significantly stronger!”

Dolan placed the notes down and exchanged a look with Esmer. It seemed they both had the same thought, but Merigold had no idea what it might be.

“Is there something I’m missing?” she asked, mind sluggishly moving into gear. She needed some sleep. Perhaps there was an angle she hadn’t considered? Were her calculations off? It was possible… but only if she’d used incorrect data. She didn’t think she had….

“There is a potential strategy we could employ,” Dolan started slowly. He reached down and tapped on her notes with a single finger. “If your calculations are correct, then the expedition has a sixty percent chance to succeed. Those odds aren’t terrible.”

He held up a hand to forestall her protest.

“I know, there is a significant risk. Either they would succeed, or strengthen the rebellion. However, for our administration, both outcomes are acceptable.”

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Esmer picked up where he left off. Her blue eyes were as sharp as icicles as she explained the situation.

“If the expedition succeeds, all well and good. We will be relegated to documenting the failed rebellion and filing reports to the Imperial Records for a year or two before being disbanded. If they fail, then the rebellion will be strengthened, but so will our position. The Military Administration will be humiliated, whoever is pushing back against us will lose their head, and we will be able to step into the vacuum. The second expeditionary force will be under our control entirely, and we can ensure that the full weight of the Empire is used to strike down the rebellion with surety.”

Merigold looked back and forth between her two subordinates, not quite sure she understood what she was hearing.

“That would leave a thousand of the Golden Army to die. Worse than die! They would be enslaved,” she said, aghast. “We can’t do that!”

Esmer pointed to the document she’d placed on Merigold’s desk earlier.

“They are trying to make the attack happen right now. If we don’t respond soon, it will be too late and those thousand troops will be on the move. We managed to get an emergency injunction last time, but we might not succeed again. Should the expedition fail, the responsibility will fall on them, not on us.”

“It’s not a matter of who is responsible,” Merigold spluttered. “We can act to save a thousand lives! We… we must!”

Domas shook his head.

“If we intervene and the expedition pulls back, the Military Administration will continue to fight us on every decision as a matter of principle. By pulling back now, we may save more lives that would be lost in future attacks. With such a savage blow to their reputation, we would be free to take over their duties in regard to the rebellion and harness the resources necessary to deliver a decisive strike.”

As much as she stared at her two staff members, completely aghast at what they were suggesting, Merigold was even more horrified to realise how much sense it made. They were right. She might not like it, but they were right.

For a week, she had been fighting tooth and nail with the Bureau and the wider Military Administration. In meeting after meeting, she had been told in polite and genteel terms to butt out, mind her own business and let them do what they had been empowered by the Emperor to do. Only the intervention of Lady Lofis had even enabled her to attend those meetings, and was likely the only thing keeping her alive.

If she had to do this over every little detail, then nothing would ever get done. It was obvious the Military Administration resented any interference in their duties, and they would fight to the death over everything and anything, no matter how trivial.

By sacrificing a thousand lives, she could, quite literally, strike the head from the serpent. With the Bureau suppressed, any soldiers sent in a second expedition would be far more likely to have the resources necessary to get the job done.

All she had to do was let a thousand people die.

Even if she did nothing, they would still be more likely to succeed than fail. If she did nothing, the Empire would win either way.

All she had to do was let a thousand people die.

Esmer and Dolan were watching her, waiting for a decision. They would go along with whatever she chose, but she knew they would be disappointed in her for not making the tactical choice. Winning in the court was more important than winning in the field. Only when the obstacles were removed could the full weight of the Empire be mustered. She knew that. She did.

A thousand people. It was just a thousand people.

Merigold made her choice.

~~~

Grand Duke Isholn had a certain bounce in his step as he approached the Imperial Court. The Sky Palace had yet to rise for the day, so he had a little time, but he was eager to have this nonsense dealt with once and for all.

To think the Bureau of Military Affairs, a powerful institution within the Military Administration, would have its decisions questioned by some messy-haired girl from a minor house of no consequence was an insult he had barely been able to abide. If it weren’t for the backing behind the tiny, newly formed Special Administration for the Rebllion, he would have had her entire family carried off in the night and boiled alive for daring to look him in the eye.

Except, he would have had to get in line. There were more than a few big names within the Bureau who wanted her dead. It was entirely possible that Grand Duke Isholn wasn’t even the most heated of them. At least, with the scroll tucked safely in the ornate case beneath his arm, the matter would finally be dealt with.

The attack would go ahead as planned, he would take his rightful portion of the credit for crushing the rebellion in an expedient and cost-effective manner, and the upstarts would be put firmly in their place.

All he had to do was present it to the High Lord Grisham, who had agreed to sign in exchange for some choice property within the capital. The price was steep, but pride was worth far more than gold.

Stepping into the Palace, the Grand Duke couldn’t help but feel his guts twist with envy. Only the most powerful, with the most pure bloodlines were able to make their residence here. No matter what accolades his family managed to accrue, they would never be acceptable for such a post unless they managed a favourable marriage to thicken their blood.

Maintaining an air of great dignity, the Grand Duke allowed himself to be led to an obscenely luxurious antechamber, where he expected to be joined by the High Lord. Instead, he found the pest waiting quietly in a chair too large for her, a scroll case of her own held on her lap.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, striding forward to loom over her, eyes bulging with rage.

She was a disgusting creature to look at. Small, her hair messy and unkempt, Merigold Harimar looked just as weak as the blood that ran through her veins. He was used to her avoiding him and shrinking back when challenged, yet now she met his eyes directly, as if she were his equal.

“I am here to present my official documents to the High Lord Grisham,” she said, holding the scroll case firmly in her hands.

Courtesy would dictate she offer the scroll case to him, as her superior in rank and position, yet obviously he would not accept, and yet she refused. Refused!

Enraged, he reached forward and easily snatched the scroll from her hands. Merigold yelped and reached for it, but he held it aloft as he mocked her.

“What could you possibly have that is worthy of the High Lord’s eyes? I suggest you leave before you try my patience. Or worse, the patience of the High Lord. You have overstepped your place a great deal in the last week, and I am shocked you would think to show your face in the Sky Palace, of all places. If you remain, only death awaits you.”

With a furious glare on her face, the young woman stood and glared at him, though her head only came up to his chest.

“Return my documents to me,” she demanded, holding out a hand. “I will not leave without them.”

“Take it, then,” he sneered, holding out the case and releasing his grip.

He expected her to catch them easily, he hadn’t made it difficult. Yet for some reason, with her eyes still matching his gaze, she moved her hands out of the way, letting the scroll case fall to the floor.

Even worse, the lid appeared to have been loosely secured, coming loose and letting the document partially roll out. The gleaming, official paper spoke of something truly important, yet the Grand Duke had no time to examine it more closely before the wretched woman threw her head back and began to scream.

In an instant, a guard from outside the door leapt inside. Before he could even turn around, she pointed a finger at him and cried in a loud voice: “He has thrown the name of the Emperor on the ground! Look!”

The Grand Duke felt every drop of blood in his face drain away. Shaking, he looked down at the document once again. It couldn’t be… she couldn’t possibly….

“I did not drop it on purpose,” he stammered, taken aback. “I–I would never!”

Merigold scrambled to the floor, gathering up the paper before carefully unrolling it for the guard to see.

As she held it out, it was clear to see, on the bottom of the page, the Imperial Seal had been affixed. The guard turned his furious gaze toward the Grand Duke.

Suddenly, Grand Duke Isholn felt it was rather difficult to breathe.