The Fifth Star - Chapter 8 (1/2) - In Valteria's Service

Tibori's day had not begun well and as he sat in his war room, his regional advisors clamouring to have their various concerns heard by their emperor, he reflected despondently how it was clearly not about to improve. A threat was rising to the east that could not be ignored for much longer. Valteria's neighbouring country, Iscadil, had been showing signs of readying for expansion into his territory for many years now and he had been putting off addressing the issue – after all, what could a land comprised of mere savages hope to levy against him? – but now he was forced to admit, not aloud of course, that it may not have been wise to discredit them so entirely as he had.

Though the spies he'd sent over the years had always returned with modest warnings of a growing populace, just this morning the latest had returned, and the news had not been good. The numbers within the desert country had grown to a point where their food sources were becoming unstable; they were not starving, not yet – but Tibori was sure his green and plentiful land conveniently located just off the desert's western boundary was about to become a far more tempting prize to their leaders than it had been just a few short decades prior.

Where does the time go? he mused, only giving his partial attention to the others in the room as they yelled, slammed fists on the table, and pointed fingers at “strategic locations” as well as each other. It was all so wearisome. If over three hundred years of life in this world had taught him anything, it was that the average person thought everything was so much more pressing and just urgent than it ever truly proved to be. It was such a pitifully human habit, and though he was yet human himself, he looked upon such things with the disdain borne of his unnaturally extended life. Now he regretted not obliterating that lamentable civilization when it had been in its infancy and its numbers laughable at best; least then he'd have been saved this tedious business.

As if that weren't enough to be bothered with and wouldn't demand much of his resources and time… the rebels within his empire were beginning to become an actual problem. The Fifth Star, they called themselves, a homage to some old prophecy or another. He despised them, more than the brutes to the east. Their organization had started shortly after Tibori's rise to power and had been a proverbial thorn in his side ever since. Their founder had been the first to suspect the true circumstances which surrounded Tibori's ascension to the throne. The rebel's charismatic nature had leant itself to him and he had managed to rally nearly an army's worth of men to his cause with his declarations about their then-young and rash new king, accusing him publicly of the murder of his parents.

The man had been right, of course; King Vortel and Queen Avery had been well-liked by the common people due to their generosity and kindness, but they were weak, not suited to rule. But the knowledge of his actions belonged only to himself, and he had punished such disobedience ruthlessly. The rebel had been rewarded with a hanging, the disbandment of his fledgling army, and the erasure of the man's name from any history books and records Tibori could get a hold of, thinking that these measures would be enough to dissuade the people from such actions in the future. Rarely was life so simple. They had crawled back into whatever hole they came from until he had nearly forgotten about them – until the day he declared the newly-expanded land of Valteria an empire, and he its emperor. Shortly after the murmurs of discontent grew once more, and their numbers had grown ever since. If Tibori didn't act soon, his empire would be forced into a war on two fronts.

These troubled thoughts soured his mood, his loud and irritating company adding to his displeasure. So when a familiar patterned knock on the chamber door broke through the noise of the men, he was surprised to find his mood was capable of worsening further. The knock told him it was his royal hawk-keeper Cylin standing without, and if he was interrupting him in the war room, the matter was urgent.

“Come in,” Tibori boomed out the command, the first thing he'd said in many minutes, and silence fell immediately at his words. The room full of gawking eyes turned as one towards the door as it eased open quietly, revealing the middle-aged man whose hands nervously fiddled with a bit of parchment clutched within them. He sought out Tibori among the men and went to him when he located him at the far end of the map table, his steps shuffling and apprehensive.

The hawk-keeper bowed so low his nose nearly grazed the floor. “Deepest apologies, my lord. A letter arrived by aethawk for you.”

“Who from?” Tibori asked quietly as the man presented the paper to him.

“Lord Harlemont, Emperor.”

He took the parchment from Cylin and dismissed him from the room before turning it over to verify the seal. The glob of wax that held the letter closed was intact, and Harlemont's sigil was indeed pressed into its surface. The fact that it had arrived by aethawk, rather than one of the common messenger hawks, indicated that the contents needed to reach him in a hurry, which was never a pleasant prospect when the sender was Lothan's lord.

Knowing that most useless and cruel of his offspring all too well, Tibori suspected he would soon have some mess to clean up after him as he slipped a finger underneath the wax to break it. In his temporary distraction, he hadn't noticed the continued heavy silence of his advisors until one of them attempted to resume the debate as if there had been no pause at all.

“My lord Emperor, I believe the best course of action would be-”

“Dismissed. All of you,” Tibori interrupted the speaker before the clamour could rise again. Only the slightest hesitation followed, then the all-at-once cacophony of eight chairs scraping across the stone floor deafened him as they hastened to comply. He waited until the last had gone and shut the door behind him before he turned his eyes to the words on the page.

 

My Lord Emperor,

Your presence is urgently needed in Lothan. A situation has arisen that requires your assistance. I think you'll find it most interesting. Please attend as soon as you are able.

Harlemont

 

Tibori stood from his seat and crossed to the fireplace, throwing the note into the flames with a sigh. What will it be this time? he wondered. Still, though he possessed no desire to deal with whatever mess Harlemont had created, he knew it would likely be easier to handle whatever it was sooner rather than later.

He closed his eyes and sunk into the familiar domain of his mind to call for his most valuable asset. A pulse of aethris, sent down the connection which joined them together, was all the prompting required. Within the span of a minute, the being known as Shirez materialized before him. The sight of her fading into existence had unnerved him early on in his reign, but no longer. The form she took this visit was her usual – a trim and buxom woman with nearly translucent skin, hair so blonde it would be more accurate to call it white, and height that rivaled even his own at six feet – but this was not her natural body, for she was not a creature of this world, and most certainly not human.

“Yes, Master Tibori?” she asked with no preamble, her eyes possessing their typical icy glare. Even now, two hundred and ninety years past its casting, she despised him for the magic that bound them together. It didn't matter to him. She had no choice but to serve him, so her feelings regarding thus were irrelevant.

“Take me to Lothan. Apparently Harlemont is in need of my help.”

“Again?” she scoffed, “I don't know why you persist in keeping him in that lordship. He's plainly not capable, regardless of your shared blood.”

“He serves a purpose, at least for now,” Tibori replied. He could have forced Shirez to soften her words, but her attitude had ceased to bother him long ago. In comparison to the timid agreeability of everyone else in his employ, her bluntness was often refreshing and welcomed. “To dismiss him now would only confirm to my decriers that he was not fit to rule and therefore, that I was wrong to place him there. You know how strongly the discontent stirs in his region; the populace needs no more incentive to rebel against me.”

“As you say, Master,” she acknowledged, then it was on to business, as it always was with her. She held her arms out to the side, as if to take the emperor into an embrace. Tibori checked his waist to ensure his sword was still tightly secured, more out of habit than any expectation of coming danger. He closed the separation between himself and Shirez in two long strides.

Shirez was capable of taking him into what she could only describe as an alternate dimension; almost like another world overlaid onto the physical. She claimed it was where the souls of the dead resided, though how true that was, he didn't know. All he needed to know was that she was able to take them into this other world, where the same laws did not apply, and they could emerge at a destination leagues away, allowing them to travel his realm at unmatchable speed.

So that she did not lose him on the way, Tibori was forced each time to cling to Shirez like a newborn babe. He resented ever being in someone else's control, but it was unfortunately a necessary component of traveling thusly. He wrapped his arms around her then, and closed his eyes tight. There was a momentary pause, followed by a gut-wrenching sensation which signaled to him that they had crossed over to that most strange of places.

Were Tibori to open his eyes now, and see the world forbidden to mortals, his soul would be ripped free of his body and he would join the ranks of the deceased. His other senses could give him no more input regarding his surroundings; though he could hear the sound of wind, and quiet whispers carried upon it, no matching breeze touched his flesh, and the air, if that was what occupied the empty space, carried no scents to his nostrils.

He despised feeling so helpless. He was completely reliant upon Shirez for his safety here, and though he was confident of the restrictions to her actions, put in place with his compulsion magic, there was no doubt in his mind that were she given the slightest window of opportunity she would not hesitate to leave him here forever. The nauseous wave crashed over him once more as they emerged from the other world. Still, he waited for his escort's spoken confirmation before he dared to open his eyes and release her.

Shirez always took Tibori straight to Harlemont's balcony, just off his bedchamber, as it was one of the few places inside Lothan's castle they could be sure no one would witness their appearance, and this time was no different. The air was chilled with the encroaching winter, and Tibori made no delay in stepping indoors to escape it.

What he walked into was utter chaos; if he didn't know his son better, he'd say the room had been thoroughly ransacked. Tapestries hanging on the walls were reduced to tatters. An enormous urn, made of ceramic and delicately painted with gold that had surely cost a small fortune, had been smashed to pieces, shards of it and other décor littering the room. His mattress had been destroyed, seemingly ripped apart by a knife, some of the feathers that used to reside within it floating delicately on the breeze he'd let in. A great black splotch stood out on the wall opposite the emperor, and it took him a moment to discern it was ink, dripping down the surface onto the floor. That Harlemont was in one of his infamous moods at such an early hour of the day meant he was in a fury not caused by alcohol.

Harlemont stood near the bed, his fists shaking at his sides as he cast his gaze around him, looking for aught else that could be broken to quell his rage. It was then that he noticed Tibori standing just inside the doorway, and an expression he would almost label embarrassment came over his features.

“Father,” he intoned in his surprise, “I didn't expect you quite so quickly.”

The emperor cast a disapproving glance at the destruction around him. “I would say not. And I've told you before, I don't care how alone you think we are-”

“Apologies, Emperor. I wasn't thinking,” Harlemont rushed to reply with a flush rising to his cheeks. No one save an exceptional few people knew the identities of Tibori's children, and he intended to keep it that way until he decided who would be suitable to take control of his empire after he relinquished it.

“So what manner of trouble have you managed to create this time?” he asked sardonically, ready to address the issue and be done with it.

Harlemont waved an arm for Tibori to follow him as he opened the door to the main area of his suite. Just to irritate him, Tibori seated himself in the oversized armchair he knew Harlemont preferred while he was occupied closing the door to the disastrous bedchamber. Harlemont's lips pressed into a tight line but he was smart enough to keep them sealed as he placed himself in the wooden seat opposite. He drew a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh before he started, “A mage-talented prisoner escaped last night.”

“And this requires my personal attendance for what reason?” Irritation was already beginning to rise, this was going to prove to be a waste of his time.

“Two reasons,” he answered, “One, because Karne tells me she's got the compulsion talent in exceptional strength. She cannot be allowed to roam free.”

“So send your assassin after her. I'm sure he's more than capable of bringing her back,” Tibori couldn't remember the name of the man he referred to, but he knew his value was well beyond anything Harlemont deserved to have at his disposal. He was highly skilled, brutal, and asked no questions. He had been conditioned and prepared for Tibori's personal service while at the College, but at the last minute he'd assigned him to Lothan, thinking it would reduce the frequency of which Harlemont called for his father's assistance. That had proved to be a waste, it seemed.

“Therein lies the problem, and the second reason for my call. Darius was the one who helped her to escape. They're both gone.”

Tibori, for the first time in many long years, felt a stab of fear jolt through him. He stood, leaving the previously coveted seat forgotten as he walked towards the window to cover for it. Never let others see your weaknesses. “That's not enough evidence by itself,” he disputed, “how do you know it was him?”

“I was having a… private session with the woman. She goes by the name Sparrow. Darius came for her there,” his tone was tight as he related the story; he knew Tibori didn't approve of his actions but he would not lie now. “He killed my guard, threatened my life, took the girl, and then locked me in the dungeons. Each command I gave was ignored as if it had no more weight than the breath that carried it.”

It was as Tibori feared. How could he have broken the compulsions?! For now, the girl herself was insignificant. Had one of his Controllers betrayed him? Had the assassin somehow, unbelievable as it was, broken the spells on his own? It shouldn't have been possible, but there it was. Tibori was silent as he gazed out the glass to the city beyond, only a fraction of the empire he'd worked so hard to create. If it was possible for one of his mages to turn traitor, how long would it be before others managed to follow suit? It was an unsettling prospect, and the emperor had to wonder how much time yet remained to him. Threats were closing in from all directions of late, and he was growing so tired of ruling. It seemed only one option remained to him for the short-term. He had to bring them back, or risk his legacy become undermined.

“Emperor?” Harlemont prompted quizzically.

“Have you sent any men after them?” Tibori turned back to his son, shaking the solemn mood the news had wrought and turning his focus instead to fixing it.

“I sent ten of my fastest scouts, a few hours before sunrise.”

“You may as well just consider them dead. But it is good you did not send more; it would have just been a waste of men.” Tibori continued to gaze out the window, an idea brewing in his head. “What is it about her in particular that made Darius want to help? She couldn't have forced or coerced him with magic she's untrained with.”

“I know little about her, but there is one here at the castle who may. Sir Rhinlead. His memories allowed us to locate her in the first place.”