Chapter 100: Epilogue 2: New Emperor

Book 2, Epilogue 2 - New Emperor

Carthadria bathed in the light of dawn, a visage of strength, wealth, and empire.

Or at least, that was what the mind imagined.

Kazir wrinkled his nose, reminiscing about the city's smell. People of all kinds, foods of worldly variety, and dozens of strong perfumes within even the crevices of wealthy homes. Wealthy homes Kazir had all too much experience breaking into. He had killed more people in this city than he ever had on a field of battle. Had completed enough contracts to buy a manor and live out his remaining days in comfort. But no. Dying in a bed was not afforded to him. If ever he would die, it'd be with a dagger in the back, he imagined. It'd be through the justice of nature for all his murders. His one and only act of atonement.

Kazir wondered what was now become of the city. Had its proud walls been broken? Walls as high as those of Arcaeus Peak with a slant at the base to prevent siege towers from being effective. Had the reaching towers crumbled? Towers placed at every few hundred feet with trebuchet sitting at its zenith. Indeed, Carthadria was a phenomenon. A circular city designed to imitate a crown.

“The city stands,” Iskra said, riding beside Kazir. The defeated Empire army continued to march behind them, their feet sounding like constant thunderclaps against Kazir's eardrums. “The gates are open. Caravans coming and going.”

Kazir grunted. Not a sign of chaos from afar. He'd know once he reached the city. What was certain was that the rebellion had succeeded. Emperor Arzael II and his entire family had been murdered and someone else sat on the High Seat instead. The displacement of such a powerful man should have been enough to send the flames of war raging throughout the Empire with former aristocrats vowing vengeance and forming allegiances to reclaim the High Seat for themselves whilst plotting against one another.

And yet, no mention of any such thing had been heard along the road.

Kazir meditated on all possible scenarios as he bounced up and down on his saddle. There simply was no way that the wealthy would not use this opportunity to further their power. Unless… they were assassinated. But all of them?

It's not within the realm of impossibility.

Kazir knew no details on this supposed rebellion. But it smelled off. It smelled controlled. Like a puppeteer so precise at his craft, his figures moved like humans. If the opportunists had really been assassinated, then that would suggest the others of the Wickar Temple —Kazir's hated rivals— had been called into action. Men and women that made Duke Serene feel like a friend.

Friend. In some ways, I had thought of him like that long ago. The two of us, playing games with the lives of others. Kazir had been alone in those thoughts. Lord Serene, as accomplished a soldier as he was, had no fondness for war. Neither did I. But then, I never had a fondness for anything really. War was a past time that I was simply good at. Though it was never really a game like those of children. Never something I truly looked forward to like Idris Khan.

“No sign of any fires that might have been,” Iskra said after a long while. It was afternoon likely. The smell of morning dew had since faded and a late sowing season sun made Kazir's skin hot. It would tan more than it already was if he didn't get under shade soon. “Nor any sign of reconstruction. People flowing down the streets.”

Kazir grunted, guessing at the city's atmosphere by the sounds of its bustling citizens. The thunderclaps had stopped. His army was waiting outside the walls. A few extra pairs of hoofs followed, military officers on horseback entering the city behind him.

“Street stalls busy,” Iskra continued. “Many colorful textiles and foods. Happy people. Some frowns —those are aimed at us. Rounded roofs in the distance. Trees with fresh leaves. Guard patrols marching by. They saluted you. Children kicking—”

“Will you shut your Flaming mouth?” Kazir screamed. He heard some gasps from children. Some of the immediate surrounding noise lessened. He imagined eyes of many sizes and colors directed his way. “I don't need you to describe every little detail. I've lived in this city long enough to know what it looks like.”

“Er, of course, Master. I meant that nothing seems out of place. I don't see any sign of a rebellion.”

And yet, amidst the mass of conversations and indecipherable words of dozens of street merchants droning on the same phrase at speeds that not even mumbling priests could match, Kazir picked up on a few frequently said phrases. Among them were 'the new emperor', and 'generous', and 'prosperous' all used in near tandem.

The sounds of the street began fading as the day wore on. Kazir assumed his company were nearing the imperial palace. It was a vast structure with pillars at the front and many round rooftops. It housed six exotic gardens carrying plants and flowers from every corner of the world. One even had hundreds of everflowers. The security around that garden had always been nearly as tight as security around Emperor Arzael II himself.

The horses behind Kazir stopped moving. He tugged his reins, assuming it was time to stop as well. He dismounted, focusing his ears and nose now to gain a proper field of vision within his imagination. He took a step towards what he assumed was the first set of walls around the palace. Two pieces of metal clashed with each other. Two spears, held by one guard to the left of the first gate and another to the right.

“Commander Kazir,” a gruff voice greeted.

“Imrain,” Kazir nodded, recognizing the voice. An old guard he'd known since he'd first begun campaigning as a military leader. A former soldier with a crooked nose that'd been broken a few too many times. Probably wearing the same stained white uniform with a red hand on the front.

“I can only let you inside,” the guard said. “Weaponless at that.”

“Our new emperor is… careful I see,” Kazir commented. “You survived the rebellion?”

“Rebellion?” Imrain asked. “It was a massacre deader than night itself. A breeze that came after dusk and left before dawn. I hear a number of prominent names have been called to the imperial court to defend against the rebellion. All a ploy of the new man in charge I assume. A number of wealthy individuals never left the palace.”

Kazir nodded, grateful for the guard's talkative nature. He undid his belt and handed over his hooked sword and scimitar, acting as naturally as possible. He wasn't so much as called as he was asked to defend against a rebellion. This new emperor likely assumed that it was natural for a commander of Kazir's stature to visit the palace. Which it was.

“Do you, er, need someone to guide you, sir?” Imrain asked.

Kazir shook his head, stepping into the gateway's shadow, moving slowly while his bare torso recovered from the heat. Poor guards those. Didn't check for the knives he had hidden in his trousers. Still though, Kazir felt naked without his primary weapons. He trudged on, getting past multiple rounds of guards as he traced familiar passages, counting his steps to keep his path all while imagining the corridors, gilded walls, polished floors, and running maids in black as was made apparent by the sound of their hurried steps.

“Old friend,” a familiar voice called.

Kazir paused a few paces before the throne room wherein was the High Seat. A throne at the top of a flight of stairs. A very long flight of stairs. “Idris.”

“So you arrived this day too,” Idris said. He hummed. No. Laughed? “That cannot be a streak of grey I'm seeing in your hair, can it?”

Kazir crossed his arms. “Can't say. My sight just isn't what it used to be. Maybe I am getting old.”

“Hah! Maybe, huh?”

“So? What kind of man is our new Emperor?”

Idris paused for a moment. Probably raising an eyebrow. “Not exactly the right place for such a conversation, friend. Here, before the throne room I mean. There's two guards behind me and a host of officials with red and blue shawls beyond the doors that can probably make out our conversation.”

Kazir knew all of that. He could feel the presence of others close by. “So? They're the same guards that have always been here, no?” He heard the shuffling of feet coming from the guards at the gate.

“Yes. They are. So you've heard how his imperial majesty took the throne then. It makes no difference to me. Emperor Balihann is making no major administrative changes, so far as I've heard. I'm to continue waging war and expanding our eastern territories until nothing remains. No problems there for me. So long as I get to keep fighting and continue to prove myself the strongest in all Illusterra, I have no qualms. Shame about Xenaria though.”

“Xenaria?” Kazir asked.

“You haven't heard? Your siege attempt aside, the nation is broken. It'll take a miracle for it to stand again. The Union has it on a leash with their Trillian religion or whatever as the ruling party. I hear Queen Dahlia was assassinated by her own guard and her daughter is now a puppet figurehead. Real shame after I warned her too. She was rather beautiful, you know?”

“I've never seen her, even before losing my eyes.”

“Then you missed out,” Idris said. “She was feisty as well. A capable ruler, I think. I wouldn't have minded taking her as a war bride after conquering Xenaria. Not many worthy women like her. Till we meet again, old friend.” Kazir grunted as a breeze brushed by with Idris' passing. A hand was put on his shoulder. “Careful now,” Idris whispered. “Many of the palace guard have been replaced by mute soldiers with dead eyes. They hardly respond unless a weapon is drawn in their presence. I suspect every guard will soon be replaced with these new obscenely obedient ones. There's something strange at work here.” Idris then left, footsteps fading down the corridor.

Kazir took in a deep breath, stifling a cough from the heavy smell of perfume emanating from the wealthy officials inside the throne room, and walked inside. Emperor Balihann. Balihann. Why did the name sound familiar? He paused. It was the name of a man he'd once failed to kill.

Kazir didn't remember the names of every target he was commissioned to kill. But the ones that did stick were the names of those he'd failed to hunt down. Balihann was one such name. A man that had eluded him to the extent that Kazir had never even seen him. Was this the same man, or just a coincidence?

It didn't matter. This man was the Emperor now, and thus, the sole man who held Kazir's fate. I can run away. Leave from it all and live out somewhere quiet.

Live out and die senile and blind.

No.

Kazir walked towards the throne, again counting his steps and feeling the distance between him and other officials at the side of the grand room. His footfalls —already quiet from years of experience— fell on a carpet, not even audible. The room was silent as he moved, all eyes on him, he imagined. He paused before the steps leading up to the High Seat, sensing another two spear bearing guards before him. The carpet stretched all the way to the seat as Kazir remembered, and that fact likely hadn't changed. The ceiling was about three or four stories high. It was a giant dome which could be seen from the outside. And all around the circular throne room walls were tapestries showcasing the rich history of Tarmia beginning from the Second Calendar.

“Commander Kazir Windsinger,” a deep voice boomed from above. The voice echoed through the vast expanse. Kazir twitched, ears irritated. He knelt on one knee. The theory behind the High Seat was a commendable one. A voice from above like one coming from the sky. The Emperor was a figure to be revered, almost like the Creator. But it was blasphemous. Kazir had no problems kneeling to his monarch. But to worship one? Disgusting. But that was exactly what the High Seat implied. “You are the last of my called subjects to arrive today,” the new Emperor continued. “I have a busy schedule and was only expecting Commander Idris Khan, but seeing as how you were here too, I figured it would be convenient to attain your pledge of allegiance and provide your new commands now. And yet, you stood outside the throne room and conversed with Commander Idris before everyone, disrespecting my authority and time. What is your response for this most reprehensible crime?”

“Forgive me, your Imperial Majesty, for I cannot see. Surely you will have mercy on a blind man. I was not aware that you were waiting for me. Nor was I aware that I was as near to the throne room as lovers are in a bed.”

Silence.

Then deep laughter, followed by nervous laughter from the officials. Nervousness implied fear. How many people had already been imprisoned or executed for small crimes? “A sense of humor,” said Emperor Balihann. “And so, are you so blind that you cannot continue to serve?”

“I am plenty capable, Lord Emperor.”

“Then your previous statements on your blindness being an excuse is a contradiction, no?”

Kazir ground his teeth. Petty bastard. If I'm to die by execution then I'll take this Balihann with me. “I see nothing, truly. But I am fit enough to carve out the entrails of every last person in here before I am put down.”

“Hah! Veiled threats are my favourite,” Balihann said. “They tend to be the ones with the most weight. Carve everyone, mm? Even your former colleagues of the Wickar Temple?”

Kazir cursed, focusing his ears. Which of the other head assassins were here? A few, or all?

“I shall forgive you for amusing me.” Kazir imagined the Emperor waved his hand like all authoritative figures do when making such a cliché statement. “Your new orders are little different to the old ones. You will remain the western front's commander, blind though you may be. The details of how you continue harassing Xenaria's borders will be made clear later. And in the meantime, your colleagues will cut off heads you've failed to take for years. Together, we will open the doors to a unified Illusterra —and all of it under the banner of the red hand of Tarmia.”

Kazir's breath caught. Assassins after Kalin? That could not be allowed. The duke was Kazir's prey and his only. “Your majesty, with all due respect, Lord Serene has survived many attempts at assassinations from my part. I do not think sending others—”

“Your failures,” Balihann began with a raised voice that rung in Kazir's ears, “Do not equate to the failures of others. The Wickar have been quite useful to me thus far. And they will have my trust in this task.”

There was no argument to be had. Kazir held no power here. He waited for more. When Emperor Balihann spoke no further, he stood and bowed. “As your Imperial Majesty commands,” he said, before turning to leave. See if I let a single shadow than my own touch High House Serene.

Volume 2:

Withering Flowers

End!

Thank you for reading!

Volume 3 will continue with current upload schedule.