A man that a much younger Augustus had once looked up to often said, “Ambition is never rewarded, only punished.” It was defeatist nonsense, an excuse to enable the status quo and to avoid striving for something greater.
And yet, sometimes Augustus felt the true weight of the words. The latest batch of self-important men of precious little vision that he was forced to endure certainly felt like a punishment. Sycophants that were eager to flatter him, even as they openly plotted to enrich themselves right in front of his eyes—they were the same as all too many men that were satisfied with exploiting their mere scraps of power.
Ever since he had a governor publicly executed for being stupid enough to let his corruption become public knowledge, Augustus had been forced to play host to visits from various governors that were eager to assure him that they were utterly faithful. Few were, but most had the sense to keep their corruption on a lesser scale and out of sight.
Which, annoyingly, seemed to be the absolute limit of their sense.
To a man, the governors seemed to expect Augustus to have an affection for audacious displays of wealth, like they did. The latest batch of gifts had included a Tali set made from solid gold with diamonds embedded in it for the pips. All because the man had heard Augustus had a fondness for the game.
Many derided gambling, but Augustus had always enjoyed that Tali offered a harmless sort of helplessness. It was a game where mere luck controlled who won and who lost. It was as far removed from what life truly was like as he could imagine. After all, in reality who won and who lost was always decided well in advance of the contest itself, if any that were involved had the slightest measure of cunning.
Yet the gifted set was horrendous. The gemstones unbalanced the metal and the sound they made when rolled was grating. It was a genuine affront to his one allowance for a personal vice. Though, if the governor had such an excess on hand that he could create such an extravagant gift, it was clear that the empire did not tax his city appropriately. [The Judgment of the Emperor]—Augustus’ mental skill’s latest evolution—accepted the note to have the governor’s finances and the city’s taxes investigated, only to immediately remind him that he had already appointed one of his investigative agents to look into the finances of each of the governors. Yet another report to request—why were so few people sufficiently diligent?
Augustus stopped short of outright ignoring the game that the governors were playing, but it was a near thing. He was technically involved himself, but the game was even less interesting than the repetitive words of adoration the men piled at his feet. The imbalance of the dice made the outcomes just as predictable as the men that arrived along with them. The punishment of ambition manifested in tedium, as usual.
Still, it wasn’t as if Augustus was truly in a dark mood. A plan he had put into motion years ago—back when the legions had their first disastrous encounters with the shimagu—had finally paid off.
The War Ranger program had taken more time and patience than he had expected when he came up with the plan, but at long last the first batch were underway—with an unexpected prize. The War Ranger program was meant to put the true talent of Remus under his control, so that he might extract the greatest amount of value from them. The Rangers were wasted on patrolling Remus. It was an adequate use for the newly minted Rangers, but after a rotation or two they should have gained the capabilities to be put towards a far greater purpose. The days when there was no practical need for an elite force in any of Remus’ war efforts were long past.
And yet, now that it was finally underway, the War Ranger program itself was currently of secondary importance. Unexpectedly, it served a greater value merely as a means through which to acquire a far greater prize. Statia, by most metrics, was just another sheltered child of privileged upbringing, yet Night had selected her as his apprentice. Augustus’ own supporters within Ranger Team 0 dutifully informed him of the development, and it took little time to discover her value.
The concept of a restriction Skill that bound its beneficiary to doing everything that they could to support those that ask for their assistance was simple enough. But to find someone who genuinely meant it enough to get the Skill? For it to truly be so restrictive and so potent? Statia was a rare individual indeed.
Augustus could make great use of the talent afforded by her Skill. If she were properly honed, the woman had the potential to be the greatest weapon in his arsenal. He had no intention of letting Night warp and ruin such a potent weapon—the fool had already allowed Dawn to be lost forever. The plan to bring Statia into his service would be carried out, even if it cost him the War Ranger program itself. The War Rangers were useful, but Statia was far more than merely useful: she had the potential to be the perfect spearpoint to drive the expansion of his empire.
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The other seven War Rangers had been recommended by his agents—well, aside from Commander Patrios’ son. In truth, the boy was somewhere beneath middling as a candidate, but men of limited ambition tended to try to define their legacy through their children. Decimius would either rise to the occasion or he would perish. He, like most of the candidates, was expendable. Statia was far more important.
There was still one detail that nagged at him though, even as he endured the game and the men that inflicted it upon him: one of the names was strangely familiar. The familiarity didn’t alarm him—or trigger any of the many layers of alerts in [The Judgement of the Emperor], which meant it wasn’t some urgent threat—so he chose to chew on it himself instead of asking someone for an explanation. It was good, sometimes, to let a minor question serve as a distraction during the quiet—or stupid—moments in life.
The puzzle was far more interesting than listening to the men discuss the training and proverbial shackles they inflicted upon their daughters. The fools had managed to settle into a topic that irritated him more than the infernal clinking of that abhorrent Tali set, which was unsurprising. They were outright ignoring the fact that he had given women equal rights eleven years ago. Yet another thing he owed Dawn; her infantile demands had accelerated a plan that would most likely have only come to fruition at the twilight of his life. At last, half of Remus’ talent was once again accessible to him—or at least that was the intent. Men such as these seemed determined to refuse to adapt. They would have talent such as Statia reduced to mere meek breeding stock, and he hated them all the more for it.
And with a single vapid remark, the contemptible men deprived him of his puzzle. One of the men enthusiastically encouraged his fellows to get their daughters to dance and described the—plainly untoward—joy he took in watching his own daughter’s performances. The dance performance. Ranthia was the Ranger trainee that Night had thrown at his plans five years ago.
The winter solstice performance had been a grand failure. Augustus had learned through his agents that there were clear signs that Night was indirectly quashing attempts to popularize songs or other arts that depicted the fae. This would have been reasonable, but for the fact that this sabotage plainly long predated the man’s short-sighted sacrifice of Sentinel Dawn to the fae in pursuit of some lost Ranger Commander of modest competence. This aversion was something that Augustus could weaponize against the monster that masqueraded as a human.
Night, somehow, got a Ranger trainee involved in the performance, which ruined the effect Augustus intended: to show that the Rangers had allowed Dawn to be lost and done nothing to save the legendary Sentinel. Augustus had successfully set everything up to publicly blame the trainee for sabotaging their attempts to placate the fae, yet the naked ambitions of the Adventurer’s Guildmaster had interfered at the last moment.
In truth, Augustus had become grateful that the plan had failed, no matter how it had rankled at the time. Instead, he had been forced to work to get the majority of Ranger Command effectively under his control, which promised to make the organization more useful than ever. Though it was more than a little ironic that he had ended up with one of Night’s pawns caught up in the War Ranger program. The inhuman fool was sure to make more of that than the coincidence that it truly was.
Not that Night himself wasn’t of value—so long as he kept his fangs pointed in the right direction. Augustus was content to keep Night in his service, though he held more than a small grudge over Night’s culpability in the loss of Dawn. How anyone could throw someone so invaluable away was unthinkable. Dawn was supposed to be Augustus’ path to true immortality, not an offering served to the fae.
The moonstone charged with [The Stars Never Fade] was still the only bauble that he truly prized. He had yet to use it, of course. He wasn’t so old that he was physically incapable of handling himself yet. With the gem rendered unique, he had to save it for when he needed it the most to maximize the time that he had to find another way to live forever. The moonstone around his neck was a fake, as was the one hidden within a sash wrapped around his waist beneath his toga. The one hidden inside his desk, literally built into the wood of it, was another fake. Naturally, the one inside his vault—behind the nastiest traps the diabolical men under his command could come up with—was the cruelest fake of all: it housed a Skill that inverted the body’s natural healing.
The true moonstone was, of course, implanted inside of his own body. He was the only being alive that knew of it. His personal [Healer] believed that it was still the arcanite that he had implanted, meant to allow Augustus to defend himself in an emergency.
Somewhere out there, there was another path toward true immortality. And Augustus refused to waste anything that might deliver that path to him. And fortunately, the Ranger program had—against all odds—provided a second woman of unique talent and importance in a short time frame. Statia wasn’t a path toward immortality, but she promised to be an invaluable tool in expanding the reach of his grasp. He would find a way to become truly eternal, even if he had to prise it from the grasp of the elves or any other inhuman creature found beyond Remus’ current borders.
After all, even Pallos itself could be made to fit in the palm of a man with enough ambition—so long as he had a commensurate level of power at his command.
“By the way, I had an idea that I thought might interest you. It would enrich the worthy within our Empire. You see…” One of the men proceeded to outline his transparent plot, once he believed that he had his emperor’s undivided attention.
For the time being, Augustus tolerated fools and allowed them to play their games. He could be patient, so long as progress was made. Tools had to be properly molded and tempered before they were of use, after all. And perhaps he would find another useful tool among his War Ranger program before it shattered under the pressure that his plans for Statia forced upon it.
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Nozomi Matsuoka.
Sarah "Neila" Elkins.
