Chapter 11

  After sifting through what remained of the documents and books in the prince’s study for a couple of hours, The Baron finally got access to a proper calendar, which told him it was the 16th of September, 1659.

  Wait…so they’re just using the same calendar here? Why?

  Prince Wilhem had left a few things behind for the Baron to go through before destroying. As far as the Baron could tell, Wilhelm had made quite a few friends in universities and, importantly, military academies, including the fledgling Bickenstadt Officer’s Academy. The Baron kicked his feet up on the desk and sipped the whiskey Wilhelm left behind, sighing contentedly before thinking out loud.

  “So, our powerbase seems to be younger, affluent, educated student radicals. I thought this place was like…Renaissance era or something, feel like they didn’t have student radicals back then…”

  He consulted his memories from the other world. They were a bit hazy, and he didn’t go too deep into the study of history, however, he knew enough to synthesize information.

  “So…maybe I’ll have to rely on paramilitaries? Radicalize people then give them some military training...let them do some damage before sending in my regulars?”

  The Baron sifted through a couple of letters from the Bickenstadt Officer’s Academy. A decent portion of the prince’s academic contacts were there; it seemed there were a lot of radical progressives from humble origins in Bickenstadt’s higher education and institutions, a result of the Bickenstadt family's economic and social reforms.

  There were a few letters all covering those things, as well as what appeared to be rough outlines of an overarching plan.

  In Die Charta Der Rechte, Regeln, Vorschriften, Und Redebeschr?nkungen Innerhalb von Bickenstadt Von 1649, a charter to be adopted forthwith as the new province-wide policy of Bickenstadt as part of a campaign of reforms during Die Verhungenzeit, the Bickenstadt family lays out many rights granted to people who live in Bickenstadt, like the right to speak freely and the right to not be censored by the state, so long as what they said was not "compeletly incorrect", as well as a right to an education.

  Many people have voiced concerns with this charter, arguing that the wording of the law was far too vague to be used as state policy, as the charter never actually lays out parameters for "completely incorrected", or what "an education" entails, however in general this charter has led to a very lenient policy on what could and could not be published and a general increase in the rate of literacy, at least in Bickenstadt city itself.

  All of this meant that prince Wilhelm, being a highly educated man of royal blood himself, could very easily spread radical ideas to a great deal of people, and he would have the legitimacy of the crown, so people would be more likely to take him seriously.

  The Baron's memories were still very fuzzy, so he could not say whether that was an accurate assessment or not, something which vexed him greatly. The Baron crumpled a letter and lit it using a match meant for the sconces, throwing it into the pile of already burnt papers Wilhelm had left behind before reaching for another.

  |

  Wilhelm,

  I apologize, but we cannot provide direct aid to you. The families would do so without a second thought if we could, however, that is simply untenable. We can’t have our names officially on the uprisings, so there is a hard limit to the quality of men we are able to muster. The Grand Imperial Army is quite strong and used to fighting in snow and rough terrain, our forces are largely made up of militia and paramilitaries, no match for the Imperialist forces if we don’t use them wisely. I hope the Badeni will heed my warnings and avoid fighting in the field!

  To be honest, I assume this will be my last letter to you. The people surrounding me are optimistic, but I do not share their sentiment. Without the official support of the families, which as I said would be willing to offer if circumstances were different, there is only so much we can do. I do not believe we have enough men willing to fight yet. So many of my brothers have had the hope beaten out of them, many aren’t willing to risk their families should this fail.

  I hope what you suggested works. We just have to give them a bloody nose then demand the restrictions on hairstyles and clothing be completely removed, not just lessened as they are now.

  If everything goes well, my people will be saved. If not, well, I hope we find each other again, one way or another.

  Your former bunkmate, Albin K.

  |

  The Baron wasn’t entirely sure what ‘the families’ were, or the Badeni, but they seemed to be amenable to the prince’s plans. The hard part wouldn’t be to convince them to rebel, but to convince them he is on their side.

  As the Baron thought deeply about where to go from here, he heard the door handle turn.

  “Oi, Baron! Ya still livin’?”

  Fergus burst into the room, hatchet drawn, the beard and blade visibly bent and chipped. The Baron instinctively crumpled the letter he was holding as he looked at Fergus in surprise.

  “Oh, hello Fergus. You men cleared the rubble?”

  The Baron almost winced as he traced Fergus’s eyes to his crumpled up paper.

  “What’s ‘at? Anythin’ interestin’?”

  The Baron smiled and shamelessly stuffed the letter into his inner shirt pocket.

  “Not really, would bore you to tears honestly.”

  He stood up from the desk and walked over to Fergus, embracing him and slapping his back.

  “It’s good to see you! Excellent work, thank you for digging me out! This is why I keep you around!”

  Fergus looked incredulous, then smiled.

  “Ya, ‘m pretty strong, good for moving thangs n’ buildin’ shite.”

  He looked around the Baron, specifically to the pile of ash in the corner of the room.

  “What ‘appened there? Rebels burnin’ docs?”

  “Yes, I believe the prince burned as much as he could before I arrived.”

  He gestured over to the trap door.

  “When I opened the door, he scrambled for the hatch.”

  The Baron patted the pistol strapped across his chest.

  “Pretty sure he’s gone, doubt anyone could survive a bullet through the eye!”

  Fergus chuffed and crouched down near the door, swabbing in and around the opening of the tunnel with his fingertips. He rubbed his fingers together and brought them to his nose, sniffing them a few times. He looked up from the slide and to the Baron’s pistol across the chest.

  “Ya sure ya dinged ‘im?”

  The Baron felt a drop of sweat begin to slide down the side of his head, so he ran his hand through his hair to hide wiping the droplet.

  “Of course I am.”

  The Baron smiled and puffed out his chest as he tried to make his words sound as lighthearted as possible.

  “Do you doubt my marksmanship? Wanna have a little competition?”

  Fergus stared at the Baron, searching his eyes for anything he could find. He looked back down at his fingers for a few seconds before standing up from his crouch and smiling.

  “Nah, yer way better than meh. I’ll take yer word on ‘at”

  He looked back over to the slide.

  “Bet it goes to tha Leibensfluss, ya? We ain’t findin’ that body.”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, ‘es probably dead. No reason for you to lie 'bout somethin' like that. Let’s goin’ yah? Brusilov’s probably gettin’ impatient.”

  |

  |

  As the Baron entered the war tent, Brusilov acknowledged him with a nod and gestured for him to take a seat next to his lieutenants. On the table was a small, ornate chest, covered in intricate swirls of silver and gold.

  “The siege of Leibenstadt was a complete success. You all managed to distinguish yourselves well. I would like to go through everyone’s accomplishments briefly.”

  Brusilov opened the box and reached a hand inside.

  “Firstly, I would like to acknowledge Helmut’s command of artillery.”

  He walked over to Helmut and handed him a medal. It was a blue ribbon with two cannons crossed on it and five stars above them. Superimposed behind the cannons was a gauntleted arm holding up its pointer finger.

  “The Empress, at my behest, has implemented a commendation system. In addition to the material and political rewards we give you for your work, you will also receive a medal for your work. Think of it as a symbol of your excellence. This one is called the ‘Imperial Artillery Accolades Badge’, it is a great honor only given to a few.”

  He stood up straight and addressed the rest of the room.

  “Helmut was able to coordinate our artillery teams with practiced and effortless efficiency. For each hundred cannonballs fired by his artillery teams to bring down the walls, only 15 would have missed their mark. He personally helped each team calculate the angle of their cannons so that they would optimally hit their targets, and for that, we are granting him double our discussed pay.”

  Everyone cheered and shouted encouragements at Helmut, who just smiled slightly and bowed his head.

  “Next, Udo, Hans, Johan, and Ludwin, you all worked as squad commanders during the assault. All of you performed well from what we could tell, there were no fires set and civilian casualties were lower than expected, and as far as we could tell from all of my reports, Udo’s squad performed the best, they killed the most defenders and high value targets, and for that Udo gets this medal.”

  He handed Udo a red ribbon with a man pointing out into the distance, one hand gripping the sword at his waist. Behind him was a group of helmets and shields bunched together, each shape outlined in thick veins of silver and gold embroidery.

  “This is the Imperial Commander’s Badge, awarded for excellence in leadership.”

  Udo smiled brightly and bumped his heart twice at Brusilov, a gesture of respect amongst soldiers.

  “Thanks Spymaster, it’s an honor to accept accolades from you.”

  Everyone clapped for him, the other squad commanders celebrated less enthusiastically than they did for Helmut.

  “Next, Fergus, Ahmad, Hans, and Baron. You were each part of the infiltration squad, as was I. Before I hand out our next medal, I would like to hear what the Baron did while he was stuck, as he has yet to give a report, for obvious reasons.”

  The Baron leaned forward in his chair and smiled.

  “Nothing special happened, really, the most interesting thing would probably be finding Prince Reikspal in his personal study.”

  Brusilov squinted at him.

  “The room I got stuck in was the prince’s study. We talked for a bit as he was trying to find an opening to escape. What we talked about was nothing of importance, mostly just imputent cries about how he wanted to be free of his sister, wanting to be independent and all that. Honestly I think he just wanted to distinguish himself from the Empress, in a rather pathetic and ineffective way, might I add.”

  The Baron raised his palms towards the ceiling and shrugged, smug smile spread across his face.

  “When he tried to run, I killed him, though I couldn’t retrieve his body, so I cannot say without a doubt he is dead, but I did put a bullet in his skull. Put enough bullets through people’s skulls over the years, and I am fairly certain of the results.”

  “What do you mean you met the prince? Our intelligence told us he was hiding out in the Assai’id Confederation. And what do you mean you could not retrieve his body?”

  “Well your intelligence must have been wrong, because he was here. We've been acquainted in the past through and particular circumstances, and he shared some details only we would know. As for his body, well, he was escaping out of a slide as I shot him in the skull. You could send a team down the slide to find out where it goes, but I doubt his body would still be there.”

  Brusilov narrowed his eyes at the Baron. After a few seconds of silence, Fergus spoke up.

  “I were tha one who first got to 'em after the ceilin' collapsed, an' I checked tha tunnel.”

  The Baron almost winced as Fergus spoke.

  “Found signs o’ death. Blood, bone, tha sort’a thing you’d leave behind when a bullet goes through.”

  The Baron almost let out a sigh of relief. Brusilov switched his discerning gaze over to Fergus, studying him as he spoke.

  “Is that right? You vouch for it? Informed by experience as a Berzerkeri?”

  Fergus crossed his arms and nodded.

  “O' course. We donnae tend ta sling shite like that, the Cultists ‘o Gán live ‘n die by their reputations an' skills, 'n Gán don't let snakes into 'is Hall.”

  Brusilov considered Fergus’s words for a moment before shrugging.

  “Well then...I suppose the medal goes to the Baron. I doubt there are any objections to this.”

  He looked at everyone and they all shook their heads.

  “Well...then it is my honor to bestow upon you,”

  He pulled out a black ribbon with a silver dagger dripping with rose-gold blood.

  “The Wetworks Specialists Ribbon”

  Brusilov smirked.

  “My personal creation. The Empress created the other accolades, well one of her artists did, I personally designed this one, and the authority to gives these out lies exclusively with me...”

  He handed it to the Baron and walked back to his spot at the table.

  “Baron, I am sure that the Empress will allow me to bestow a new honor upon you, but at the moment I do not have something grand enough to give you, so that shall have to tide you over until a later date. However, on a somewhat related note, everyone who is not a member of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company is requested to leave.”

  A murmur arose from the soldiers and generals in the tent. Brusilov waved a hand dismissively, his voice carrying with it a tone that was somehow even more dissmisive than the gesture.

  “Don't worry, you will receive your pay at quartermaster’s tent. Those members of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company shall discuss with me the extra payment described in our official correspondace after everyone else has left.”

  The grumbling men filed out of the tent, leaving just the Baron and his Lieutenants. Udo spoke up.

  “Didn’t you say we’re gonna get a personal request of the Empress? Meaning...like we gonna tell it to her directly, or like a bureaucrat or something?”

  A feminine voice carried through the tent.

  “You will be petitioning me directly, Herr Fudopfiegler. You should count your lucky stars that I am here to speak to you today, I am a rather busy woman.”

  Her voice was pleasant but firm, it had a quality to it that commanded your attention. It had a certain severity to it, like the words themselves carried the weight you would expect from a ruler of a nation as vast, vigrous, and prestigious as the Empire.

  The woman stood in the entryway behind everyone. She wore masterfully crafted Imperial plate armor. Emblazoned on the breastplate was a massive beast with the body of a lion but the head and talons of an eagle, reared back like a horse, claws slashing wildly, beak opened wide in a silent shreik. Etched across the top of her breastplate were the words "Um Sie Alle Zu Vereinen" in the Empire's flowing yet angular font. Her vambraces sported steel rondel at her elbows, the same beast as the breastplate painted on them with vibrant brown bodies and white feathers, as well as yellow claws with black talons.

  Her hair was short, only reaching down to her cheeks, and her hair was silky and black as night. She was exceedingly beautiful, a porcelain doll couldn’t match her perfection even if it were made by the Ulrich himself. She walked over to where Brusilov was standing and a servant swiftly rushed forward to place a commander’s stool underneath her. Brusilov hovered behind and to her right in parade rest, face stoic and unreadable.

  “I wished to reward you all personally for your dedicated service to me, and to the Empire. I truly appreciate your forced march to assist with my siege of Leibenstadt, I am sure that passing by your homes in order to kill fellow Empiresmen must have led to a great deal of heartache.”

  She took in a deep breath before continuing. Everyone had the entirety of their focus solely on her, though Udo’s gaze felt markedly less professional than it should have, more suprised that he was actually meeting the Empress than honored to be meeting her. Everyone around snapped up and fell into a salute, left fist at the small of their back, right over their heart. She returned the gesture, then spoke.

  “As you have read from Spymaster Brusilov’s letter, I have decided that you may all request of me a single favor, within reason, that I will fulfill to the best of my great ability. You may address me as you please. Decide who shall petition me first, but please, make it swift."

  She injected a small but potent amount of venom into her next words.

  "I have a province to reorganize.”

  She sat in her chair like it was a throne, crossing one leg over the other and ordering them to sit as well. She was unfathomably beautiful, more perfect than any master painter could capture, however, the thing which grabbed the men's undivided attention was not her beauty, but the power which her prescence commanded. The power of empire, of The Empire, of the Reikspal line, like she was an embodiment of the state itself. And in many ways, that was true.

  She waited for someone to address her, which no one was willing to do. Everyone was stuck in place, both entranced by her beauty and petrified by her powerful gaze and commanding presence, almost as if by a magic spell. Every one of them was affected, all except for the Baron, who could feel something strange. It felt like something intangible, something which he could not see nor explain, yet something which he could feel vividly in his body and soul, was crashing against him, attempting to enter his mind but being rebuffed at every turn. The Baron was not entranced, in fact, he didn't really feel anything looking at her.

  And additionally there was Helmut, who looked completely calm and collected, and Brusilov, looking much the same. Helmut was not a noble, nor good at speaking, a fact of which everyone here was aware. And so, everyone turned to the Baron for guidance.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Um...well let's just go from my left to my right. So that means we begin with Helmut and end with Fergus.”

  The Empress spoke up.

  “Additionally for you all, the Baron and I have something to discuss in private. After I hear all of your requests, you are to leave and prepare for your march home, as your expertise is no longer needed here.”

  As soon as she ended her sentence, the men who had been mesmerized seemingly came back to their senses, able to breathe and think yet again. While his colleagues caught their breaths and considered what they would ask, Helmut stood up and bowed to the Empress, still perfectly clam and collected.

  “My name is Helmut Freier, son of Waffenstadt. I believe my request is fairly simple. When I retire from the Baron’s services, I would like an official teaching position at the Imperial Gunnery School in my native Waffenstadt.”

  The Empress nodded her head.

  “Then consider it done. I shall have an official document written up and delivered to the Imperial Gunnery School at Waffenstadt. When you leave the Baron’s services, all you need is to find your way to Waffenstadt, you will be welcomed with open arms.”

  Helmut bowed again and sat down. Next Ludwin stood up and bowed deeper than Helmut. Despite the ice in his veins, Ludwin's voice was smooth and measured, a skilled he picked up during his time as a merchant's son.

  “Your Majesty, I am Ludwin Albrecht, son of Bvarian. I wish for you to set up an agreement of Imperial patronage with my family’s merchant company. We specialize in Bvarian beer and timber, but we have recently diversified into acquiring and selling fuel, like coal or gas, as well as investing in mining operations and Ironworks in Waffenstadt.”

  “Ah yes, I had a feeling this is what you would request. I will send my Imperial Trademaster to discuss terms with the Albrecht Merchant Company. The Trademaster said that the soldiers often times preferred your company’s beer. Would the prospect of being the sole supplier for the Grand Imperial Army’s beer reserves for the next, oh, five to ten years be acceptable? Do not take this decision lightly, as any good Imperial does, my men have a voracious appetite for beer. If your production meets Imperial quality standards, the Grand Imperial Army would be more than happy to buy your stock, however, contracts for other goods like coal or timber will be up to the rhetorical skills of you and your father’s men.”

  Ludwin bowed deeply.

  “Thank you, your Majesty, it is an honor to offer you my family's services.”

  He sat down, being soon replaced by Udo, who smiled and did a very uncomfortable and short bow.

  “Um, greetings Empress Reikspal, it's an honor to meet you. I’m Udo Fudopfiegler, son of Gr?ssenstadt.”

  He tried to smile as charmingly and speak as confidently as he possibly could.

  “I want a pension for when I retire from mercenary work. Enough for me and my family to live comfortably in my old age.”

  The Empress looked down her nose at him, her smile both alluring and intimidating at the same time, but the look in her eyes cold and discerning.

  “Of course. It will be done. After you retire, simply come to the Imperial treasury building at Gr?ssendorf, they will give you your pension and whatever else you and your family require.”

  Udo flashed his most charming smile and did his most awkward bow before he returned to his seat. Hans shot up quickly and bowed deeply, falling into a parade rest immediately after.

  “I am Hans Volkner, son of Gr?ssenstadt! It is the highest honor to get the opportunity meet you, your Majesty!”

  The Empress smiled and tilted her head slightly, resting her cheek on her knuckles.

  “Ah, quite the energetic young man, the backbone of our people. Go on, speak. What is it you desire?”

  Hans bowed his head as he spoke.

  “Your Majesty, all that I desire is money for my family to live off of comfortably. I require no stipend for myself, I simply wish for my family to live a good life.”

  The Empress sat back in her chair and smiled.

  “Then it shall be done, I could never deny such an earnest request from such a patriotic young man. Your family will be taken care of to the best of our ability. You may join them when you see fit. In addition, should you wish to leave the services of our magnanimous Baron here…”

  She raised her voice and addressed everyone.

  “And even should the Baron himself ever wish to dismantle his mercenary company, the Grand Imperial Army will welcome you with open arms. You would begin at the rank of Beauftragter Offizier, meaning you will be just two steps removed from becoming a Gro?general, equivalent to the Baron’s rank in your mercenary company.”

  She smiled brightly as she spoke. The servants in the tent all looked completely enamored, as did Udo and Hans. Just looking at her almost made the Baron want to smile, which weirded him out. He forced himself to smile as he resisted the urge to frown.

  This is...unnatural.

  “I am always seeking out talent, and I have never met such a group of talented individuals before in my life. The glory of Empire must be spread, we must share our enlightenment with our fellow humans around the world. I hope you brave young men will be with us every step on the long march to glory.”

  The room erupted in fervent and respectful thanks. She returned her gaze to Hans.

  “You may sit.”

  Hans did as she said. Fergus stood up and bowed in the Imperial style. The Empress’s servants and guards looked at Fergus with a half amused expression. The Empress sat forward in her chair, staring down her nose at him.

  “You are the Baron’s pet from Orkney, are you not? Fergus Ulpagahn the Berzerkeri, if I am not mistaken. The Baron must treat you very well if he was able to coax you out of your perilous swamps and bogs.”

  Fergus took a deep breath before speaking, much slower than he usually does, making sure to properly enunciate his words and doing his best to soften his strong Orkney accent.

  “Tha Baron always treats me like an equal. He sees not mah dress and hears not mah accent, all he sees is a strong and reliable comrade. I feel leik my, an' my people's, record speaks for itself.”

  The Empress smiled and nodded.

  “Yes, you did dispatch that subhuman mage with great skill, or so I have been told. Your people are many things, but they are certainly not weaklings. Any Imperial who did not recognize such a fact would have to be a drooling idiot. I did not mean to imply such a thing, if that is what you have read into my words.”

  She leaned back in her chair, smiled, and rested her cheek on her knuckles.

  “All your people need is a good Imperial education. With your skills and ours, together we would be unstoppable.”

  Fergus frowned and looked at his feet, shaking his head after a few seconds of silence and leveling his gaze at the Empress.

  “If aye may speak my mind, Empress, I think that tendency a’ you Imperials tae look down on others is gonna cost ya in the long run.”

  Brusilov rolled his eyes and stuck his hand in his pocket. Hans and the Empress’s servants looked like they were ready to strike him down if she asked them to. The Baron was gawking at Fergus, Udo looked concerned and Ludwin looked extremely worried, looking at Fergus with a palpable sense of terror. A tense silence filled the room, which was swiftly broken by the Baron.

  “With all due respect, Empress, I do believe that Fergus has a point. I have believed for quite some time now that our policies of Reikifying are misguided. I believe that we should ingratiate our fellow man to us, instead of turning them into us. Better to attract flies with honey than vinegar.”

  The Empress looked at the Baron, considering his words. The Baron continued.

  “If I am to be honest, I believe that we can greatly decrease the chances of future rebellions if we stop Reikifying the Holenstadters and instead attempt to incorporate them into our national body as equals. The Empire is a large country, it has room for many in its national identity.”

  The Baron took a deep breath as he looked around to gauge the reaction of the Empress’s servants, specifically her guards. Luckily, they looked like they were seriously listening to him.

  I suppose being a famous statesman and warrior tends to make your words carry weight.

  “I believe that our message of unity is weakened by our Reikification policies, and that we will only grow stronger as a nation if we practice tolerance for our fellow countrymen.”

  The Empress closed her eyes as she processed his words. Brusilov looked out of the corner of his eye at the Empress as he slowly withdrew his hand from his greatcoat. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and gestured for Brusilov to stand down, smiling as she spoke. As with the other smiles, this one never reached her eyes.

  “You have given me much to think on, Baron. I imagine we will have much to discuss in private.”

  She switched her attention back to Fergus.

  “Go on, give me your request. I have promised my services to you, Orknier, Berzerkeri, and you have certainly earned it.”

  Everyone around her relaxed slightly. All eyes were on Fergus as he contemplated his answer.

  “Aye want one thing: your word. Aye want your word that you’ll leave Orkney’s culture intact should ya try and take it. Don’t Reikify my people.”

  The Empress’s eyes widened in surprise, then she laughed and grinned at Fergus. She sounded mirthful, almost playful as she responded, though there was always a weight to her words that was hard to explain.

  “You want my word? Are you sure? I hear you Orkney men go on long diatribes about how ‘the word of an Imperial dog is worth less than that of a real dog,’ or something along those lines.”

  “Aye cannae say aye disagree with that, but aye cannae say aye agree with that either. Imperials can be a tad inconsistent, leik 'e said, Empire's a big place. But you people pride yourselves on yer integrity, workin’ with tha Baron taught me that much. We have our problems, but in my experience, Imperials tend tae keep their word when it truly counts.”

  The Empress closed her eyes and nodded her head.

  “I thank you for your faith in us, Fergus Ulpagahn. I cannot say for sure if we would ever give you people the Holenstadt treatment, however, I give you my word that we shall treat Orkney as well as we treat ourselves, though of course there will be some cultural exchange.”

  Fergus bowed his head in thanks and sat down, his expression complex, but optimistic. The Empress clapped her hands, the sound piercing through everyone’s thoughts and getting all eyes on her.

  “Well now, this concludes our business together. I ask that you leave and partake in the post-siege celebrations, as me and the Baron von Bickenstadt and Holenstadt have business to discuss.”

  …she’s giving me Holenstadt?

  The Baron’s lieutenants, the Empress’s generals and lieutenants, and her servants filtered out of the war tent, leaving just the Baron, the Empress, Brusilov, and the Empress's honor guard.

  “Brusilov, take your guards and my retinue out for a drink or two.”

  Brusilov raised his hand as he began to shout his orders when the Empress grabbed a fistful of his greatcoat. Her expression was severe and deathly serious.

  “All of them.”

  Brusilov’s eye twitched slightly and he bowed his head.

  “Understood, Ma’am. Покинуть товарищи!”

  Suddenly a bunch of men dropped from the supports which kept the entire structure standing. They were all dressed in fabric colored and patterned to blend in with the tent.

  The Baron’s jaw dropped. The Empress smiled and clapped her hands together.

  “No matter how many times I see your men work I am still amazed. I knew they were there and yet no matter how hard I tried I could not perceive them.”

  Brusilov smiled and bowed to the Empress.

  “Only the best for you, ma’am.”

  He whistled and motioned for his men to follow him and then filed out of the room, followed by the Empress’s honor guard. The Baron looked confused, and the Empress smiled amusedly.

  “Think of it as a gesture of good will. Oh, and yes, before you ask, you are gaining ownership of Holenstadt, as I have gained ownership of Leibenstadt.”

  The Baron’s eyes widened in surprise. The Empress chuckled and continued.

  “Yes, it certainly is a bit last minute to mention, however, it needed to be done, and we have much to discuss.”

  She looked around, double checking that the tent was cleared.

  “What I wish to speak to you about is of a...sensitive nature.”

  The Baron leaned forward in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  “First, I would like to discuss my brother.”

  The Baron leaned back in his chair.

  I hope she’s not angry that I ‘killed’ him

  “I doubt that he would die before telling you his plan. He admired you quite a bit, you know? So, pray tell, what did he say to you?”

  The Baron bit his thumbnail as he considered how to proceed, speaking with a sort of flippant and suspicious tone of voice.

  “Well, he said something about how he felt that you were going to be the end of the Empire, and that he felt that your removal and the reorganization of the Empire in general was the only way to keep it together and create a legacy for himself. He said that the Empire had overextended and would collapse unless someone split it into smaller pieces.”

  The Baron shrugged.

  “As far as I’m concerned, he was just a brat trying to distinguish himself from his more powerful sibling. He’s the one who took my eye, afterall. So I shot him dead while he slid down an escape tunnel.”

  The Baron leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.

  “To be completely honest, I think he was spiraling.”

  The Empress smiled and stood up from her chair, unstrapping her chestplate and leaning it against the sides of the tent. She was wearing an expensive looking white poet blouse with navy blue breeches tucked into black riding boots. She was unbelievably beautiful, beautiful enough to enslave men’s hearts simply by poximity. However, her supernatural wiles were, for whatever reason, not working on the Baron.

  “I thank you for ending my brother in such a fashion.There was no choice, he had to be stopped for the stability of the Empire, but I would never want him to die in pain. Judging by your previous exploits, I doubt he felt much.”

  She sighed as she undid the top three buttons of her blouse and loosened her collar before pulling over a board with a map of the Empire on it.

  “As much as I hate to say it, what my brother attempted does have its merits. Our Empire has grown far too large far too quickly. From what my economic advisers tell me, unless we find a way to double the Empire’s annual income, we will be bankrupt in 60 years.”

  She sighed deeply.

  “This is the problem with empires. They can get too large too quickly, expanding faster than their manufacturing and farmers can keep up. It has happened before.”

  The corners of her lips turned up in a somewhat intimidating smile.

  “The Elves had somehow managed to scrape together an empire centuries ago. They got so large that they quickly ran out of supplies, and then it fell the same way every other attempt at empire has, namely by having multiple provinces or regions secede at once, leaving their armies stretched thin and ineffective.”

  She picked up a charcoal pencil and began writing on the board as she spoke, first circling the name of the province they were in, Leibenstadt, at the far south-western side of the map.

  “At present there are four problem provinces, if these four rise up in revolt at once, we would be powerless to stop them. Leibenstadt, as we have seen, is filled to bursting with revolutionaries.”

  She grinned, her expression brimming with smugness.

  “Or at least was filled to bursting with revolutionaries. Now, they only have a small amount of people angry at me. That province has always had fairly strong anarchic tendencies, what with their native horse riding tribes, and the vast swaths of extreme hills and flat grasslands means that it is simply not cost effective to stamp them out.”

  She sighed.

  “My forefathers tried, and all they got was a bloody nose. As much as I dislike their lack of patriotism and unity, we must keep the peoples there at least semi-content if we wish to use Bergzitadelle Frederick as a staging ground for our inevitable push southward.”

  The Baron raised an eyebrow at the word ‘inevitable’ as she circled a massive citadel in the Weltsrand mountain range, which spanned across almost the entirety of the Empire’s southern border, pushing up against a small settlement to the south-east which the Empire didn’t seem to have control of.

  “So long as Frederick is an essential part of our military planning, then we will tolerate the Anarchic Horsemen and freedom-addled citizens of Liebenstadt. So long as they continue to pay taxes, and refrain from attacking our men, they will be left alone.”

  She smiled at the Baron.

  “I believe we might start to consider a more…tolerant approach to cultural differences in the future. I am not above experimentation with new ideas, so if it leads to greater stability, we will implement it on a wider scale. Speaking of internal stability…”

  She moved over to a province at the far north-west of the map and circled it.

  “...Holenstadt, previously a country whose name I cannot for the life of me pronounce. We conquered them a mere 50 years ago. Some still remember a time before the Empire, and they teach their children about it as well, even though we try to stop them. They will be even easier to rile up than Leibenstadt, as they still remember their country’s name and cultural identity.“

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Many people of that province hate me personally with fervent passion, and I suppose I can understand why. We underestimated the resentment of our conquered peoples, and their…cultural resilience.”

  She shook her head.

  “The Holenstadters are angry and Holenstadt is nothing but dense forest and mountains. With the way things currently stand, I doubt we could hold onto it for too much longer.”

  She smiled coyly at him.

  “Which does give your words earlier more legitimacy. The Reikification will not end, but it will change. Become more...tolerant.”

  She shrugged.

  “I suppose instead of stamping them out, we can try to incorporate what they find important into our national mythos. Such things do have precedent in our people's long history.”

  She moved down in between those two provinces and circled the province hugging the shoreline.

  “Your home province of Bickenstadt, a bastion of progressivism within the Empire and extremely economically powerful. Because of your prosperity and relative independence from the crown, many within your province believe that they should stand on their own two feet and become a completely independent nation.”

  She checked her nails as she spoke, speaking almost absentmindedly as she scraped the dirt out from under a few of them.

  “I doubt you would betray me, you swore an oath, afterall, but alas, you are not the only person I need to worry about. There are others, and, of course, they do not look kindly upon me.”

  She circled a city a few dozen miles south of Bickenstadt. The map portrayed a very sudden and abrupt transition from the temperate grasslands of Bickenstadt to a wetlands and marshes.

  “The Land of Everlasting Rain has always been a problem. I know that your father, and his father before him, had trouble keeping them within the Empire.”

  Her face turned up like she had just eaten something very sour.

  “They have their own democratic government and are often openly hostile towards my authority. Additionally, their pro-democratic and anti-monarchist ideas seem to have made their way to your institutions for higher learning, even the military academies, leading to a very radical population of young men with military training. They’ve also brought their nonsense to the surrounding provinces of Leibenstadt and…”

  She then moved to another province, north-west of Leibenstadt and south-west of Bickenstadt.

  “Waffenstadt. The industrial heart of the Empire and the largest supplier of powder, weapons and armor to the Grand Imperial Army. Much like your province, the danger does not come from a cultural issue. They have separatist movements, like every other province, but in their case, the Baron von Waffenstadt is less interested than you are in keeping the Empire together. They make quite a bit of money with their massive manufacturing centers, and they have been caterwauling about Imperial taxes for quite some time now. Your brother in law has been a thorn in my side for years now. We have had some bad blood in the past, trade deals gone wrong, raiding of caravans, assassination of personnel on both sides.”

  She smiled brightly.

  “Follies of youth.”

  The Baron smiled.

  That doesn’t seem like just a youthful mistake. Also, I have a brother in law?

  The Baron kicked his feet up on the table and supported his head with both hands at the back.

  “So, why are you telling me this? What do you have to gain by explaining to me what I already know?”

  God I love lying through my teeth.

  “The reason will become clear soon enough. It might even be clear now…yes, it might be. What do you think I am doing here?”

  The Baron chewed his thumbnail as he thought.

  “Well…judging by the fact we’re discussing issues of separatists and popularity, as well as what usually goes wrong with empires, namely overextension, a measure intent on reducing administrative burden?”

  The Empress smiled and nodded.

  “Yes, more or less. Our administrative costs are far too high, as is our military spending. We cannot afford to downsize our military, so we will have to find other methods to cut costs, or, preferably, increase profits.”

  Her expression turned more contemplative as she crossed her arms and looked at the map.

  “We control quite a bit of land, which is a problem, though not necessarily something we can fix by trimming fat.”

  She drew rough lines along the routes which connected the provinces.

  “Moving things around the Empire is extremely important, and moving it quickly is essential for an Empire of our size.”

  She smirked.

  “Or larger.”

  The Baron motioned for her to speed up.

  “Yes yes, so we invest heavily in domestic infrastructure and roads. It was something I wanted to do anyway. Now, tell me the interesting bits of what you want to propose.”

  The Empress smiled bright and nodded her head.

  “Yes, I have heard you were quite the man of action. In that case, I will move ahead to something more…theoretical.”

  She took her charcoal pencil and began to draw thick lines across the Empire, splitting it in two almost equal halves.

  “I am very unpopular in certain provinces, however, you are very popular essentially everywhere. I am not optimistic about me keep Holenstadt, Leibenstadt, Waffenstadt, and Bickenstadt in the Empire without stacking mountains of bodies. And such things are a massive drain on the national budget.”

  The Baron nodded his head.

  “So, you wish to split the Empire between us. I get the provinces you are unpopular in, you keep the rest. Though I am unsure of how well things would function, there is certainly quite a bit to explore there.”

  The Empress nodded her head in agreement.

  “Yes, I agree, there will be quite a few issues to iron out. However, I believe that this could keep the Empire together, in some way at least. The two sides would technically be different countries, yes, but we would collaborate very closely, and possibly both maintain the Grand Imperial Army. We would be two separate but equal countries united in one purpose.”

  The Baron raised an eyebrow.

  “A purpose that would further unite us, what exactly would that be?”

  The Empress smiled and drew lines moving west, originating from Gr?ssenburg and Bickenstadt harbor.

  “Well, spreading civilization abroad. Finishing this centuries old war we began with the elves.”

  The Empress smiled, her eyes projecting a sense of cruelty and guile that almost made the Baron uncomfortable. It was like nothing he had seen from her up to this point.

  “Nothing unites a country quite like a war. And a war that they see as us responding to an existential threat? Well, that sort of thing keeps people together.”

  The Baron couldn’t help but furrow his brow.

  That isn’t really what I was hoping for.

  “You seem displeased with the idea. It makes perfect sense to me. Not only do we unite our disparate human subjects together to complete a shared goal, but we get rid of those knife eared reprobates at the same time. It is a win-win, so far as I am concerned. 'Two birds with one stone'.”

  Well, that settles it.

  The Baron bit his thumb in faux concentration.

  “Well…you would have to give me time to think about it.”

  The Empress smiled and made her way over to the Baron.

  “Of course, of course. And just so you know, fancy words are not the only thing I am offering you.”

  She undid two more buttons and leaned over the Baron, her perfect breasts nearly dangling out of her shirt in front of the Baron. She learned forward farther, breathily whispering in his ear.

  “In addition to vinegar for the elves, I offer honey to you.”

  The Baron was shocked. Not by her offering herself like this, but by the fact that he just…wasn’t particularly interested.

  Um…I feel like I should be more…hungry? Despite the beauty…I don’t know.

  The Baron smiled, mostly because he knew that was what any other man his age would do in this situation. He whispered back, trying to sound as sensual as possible.

  “Well then…I suppose I have even more to think about.”

  He grabbed her waist and gently pushed her away.

  “I quite like honey, but I'm going to need time to see if the flavor compliments the mead.”

  A slight smile lingered on her face as she buttoned her shirt back up and walked over to the board.

  “Good…”

  She bit her finger, something which, for whatever reason, felt too…calculated, for the Baron’s liking.

  I am in incredible shape, and if memory serves me right I was quite the lech…so why am I just…not interested?

  “A man should be deliberate in his actions.”

  She chuckled.

  “And he should refrain from allowing his lower brain to do the thinking for him.”

  The Baron genuinely laughed.

  “Well, a younger me would have taken your offer right there, but, well, thirty years of hardship tends to change the way a man thinks. I will consider your proposal, and get back to you…eventually.”

  The Baron stood and made a crisp salute. The sound of his fist hitting his chest reverberated through the tent.

  “It was a pleasure conversing with you. I hope that you take my message of tolerance to heart. It would certainly make ruling over Holenstadt easier.”

  The Empress returned his salute with an alluring smile.

  “Yes, well, I will certainly consider it.”