The Black Bag
THE DIPLOMATIC SITUATION was a shambles.
Hushed conversations began as hordling servants dragged away Von Potiorek’s corpse.
Prince Aureli hurried over to the Federation nobles to salvage what he could of the diplomatic strategy, and I accompanied Princess Marie to organize the League nations in our favor.
Most of the evening was spent hastily soothing the surviving Despotate lords commander to prevent their walking out altogether.
I personally thought their absence could only improve our prospect for a negotiated settlement, but for some reason, Prince Aureli insisted they were indispensable in forging a lasting peace.
That said, he did agree when Boleslaw suggested the Despotate representatives return to their chambers, so we ushered the Urgan officers from the main hall before one of them knifed a demon prince and started an all-out melee.
We guarded our tongues while the Imperials discussed with delight how the Emperor had dealt with ‘that odious malcontent’ and how he’d provided a modicum of dinner entertainment.
As the various attendees drifted off to bed in various states of jubilation or consternation, I found myself at the bar, asking for another drink.
“How can you stand, drinking like you do?”
I turned to face Archduke Darius. “Soldier’s constitution.”
“You won’t live to see old age, drinking like that.”
“You act like I’m going to see old age regardless,” I replied. Darius’s eyebrows drew in. Whether in concern or confusion, I didn’t care. I was tired and needed a drink if I was to deal with any more obstreperous Urgan ignoramuses.
A sudden thought struck me that I should try pumping Darius for information.
The idea seemed distasteful. Darius had been nothing but pleasant towards me, but it was my duty.
I ordered him a repeat of my drink and handed it to him before asking, “So what the Fall is Yezhidia going to do about all this?”
Darius sighed, slumping against the bar in the first moment of despondency I’d seen in him. “I don’t know. Yezhidia wants peace. We gained all we hoped for in the first year of the war, but nine bloody years later, I don’t know if those stars and worlds were worth it.”
“So why not cut a separate peace with the Allies and leave the war?” I asked.
“And suffer an immediate Imperial invasion? You’re smarter than that, Levar.”
I supposed I was, ordinarily, but it was too late in the night, I was too overworked, and I’d drunk too much.
It was a hideous ouroboros, drinking. I needed the drinks to dull my emotions enough to deal with my allies’ insanity, but I also dulled the wits I needed to navigate my enemy’s machinations. Sober or inebriated, I lost.
I was tired of losing.
“I personally don’t care if Yezhidia takes all the former League. Except Stelsylvania. Their stars should be restored. Expanded, even,” I said.
“You’ll see no disagreement from me,” the archduke said. “Yezhidia and Stelsylvania have no territorial disputes. We both can get what we want and walk away happy.”
I snorted, then swallowed half of my whiskey. “If only everyone was so serendipitously aligned in stellar desires.” Then I levered myself off the bar and offered Darius my hand. “Come on. Let’s fix our superiors’ mistakes.”
Darius swallowed his whiskey and slammed his glass on the bar before accepting my hand to help him upright. We nodded manfully to one another, then went our separate ways, trying to undo the damage this evening had caused.
I bulled my way down a corridor, brushing servants and hordlings out of my way as I searched for Prince Aureli, when suddenly the lights went out.
I froze, uncertain what was happening, then a sack descended around my entire upper torso and a pair of hands lifted me bodily from the ground.
I tried to lash out, to grab my dirk and defend myself, but the sack pinned my arms to my sides.
Whoever had taken me carried me, legs kicking, screaming helplessly into my sack, to an unknown destination.
I calmed down during my forced relocation.
No good would come from bouncing my boots off my abductor’s broad back.
Instead, I tried to learn more about my situation.
The sack was entirely soundproof and completely opaque, limiting my deductive senses to touch, but I could glean some clues.
My abductor was a demon, for one. I could feel the horns on its head, and the way it bumped me against the ceiling by accident meant they were tall.
My legs brushed against both walls, indicating a narrow corridor.
Possibly the servants’ corridors? We headed up some stairs.
A prison tower? I wished I’d spent more time studying the Crystal Palace’s layout.
Why had they abducted me? Was this one of Count Gretsky’s allies taking their revenge? The Emperor punishing me for last night’s behavior? Or was this the start of a purge of all Allied notables, starting from the bottom?
The latter seemed unlikely. A zeroblade between the ribs would have been easier than this blackout. Who would want me kidnapped, but not dead? I couldn’t imagine I was particularly important to anyone here.
Finally, my carrier slung me off its back and dumped me from the sack like an angry kitten. I slammed to my knees, then lurched to my feet, dirk in hand.
“Hold, Levar. It’s me, Astrid.”
I paused, my heart drumming a staccato beat, my lungs heaving.
I’d been delivered to the Empress’s private chambers, the walls oscillating with rippling waves and languidly drifting multihued ichthyoids.
Two Imp guardsmen stood with long swordstaffs leveled, ready to skewer me if I made another move towards the Emperor.
She had changed gowns. Her new outfit lacked the black leather corset belt or militaristic metal pauldrons her usual dress sported.
I supposed my ally’s bloodstains were one power play too far for her to wear.
“You kidnapped me on diplomatic ground?” I demanded.
“I wasn’t certain you’d accept my invitation,” she explained. “I need to defend myself against the accusations leveled at my character.”
“You could have done so last night,” I said, slowly sliding my dirk into its sheath. In return, the guards put up their swordstaffs.
Astrid’s mask finally cracked as a hint of worry played across her forehead.
She sat, silently inviting me to do the same.
“I was too angry to express myself properly. I would have said something incorrectly, improperly, made it all go awry. I’m tired of things going wrong.
I needed to be sure you would listen to me. ”
Astrid dismissed her guards. They left slowly, glaring at me until the moment the servants’ door closed to block their gaze.
Once again Astrid gestured for me to sit, but I stubbornly remained standing.
Instead of insisting, Astrid folded her gloved hands in her lap.
“You accuse me of not caring for our friends, for not valuing the lives of those slain in the war, of abandoning you and not loving you. None of your accusations are true.” I opened my mouth, but Astrid held up her hand.
“Please, let me finish. The coup, despite its brevity, was unbelievably violent. A sesquicentenary of suppressed strife boiled over in a month as every faction attacked every old enemy. When the first round of slaughter ended, every viable claimant to the Imperial throne was dead, except me. I wanted to return to you. I’d killed my father and husband to leave me with no ties to the Empire, but the Lorekeepers offered me the crown.
“If I turned it down, the civil war would continue, and thousands, if not millions, would die. I wanted nothing more than to leave the Empire behind and live with you in the Commonwealth, but how could I justify sacrificing all those lives for my own happiness? I had a chance to make the Empire a more peaceful nation, at least one where the nobles didn’t kill each other over every perceived slight or sign of weakness.
If I stabilized the Empire, made it safe, I could send for you.
Take you as my consort. I could rule the Empire alongside my beloved, and work towards unity and peace throughout the Rim. ”
I gave her a level look. “Then you invaded the western quadrant, causing ten years of slaughter.”
Astrid threw up her arms, then slapped her palms atop her thighs before deflating. She stood and slowly strode to look out the crystal-dark window as she clasped her black-gloved hands behind her back. “Do you know the worst part about being Emperor?”
“All the murders?” I asked.
“No, they can be quite therapeutic, actually. It’s nice to have the power to give death to some little shit who deserves it rather than suffer their continued existence. The worst part is I have no control over what happens to me.”
I snorted. “You cannot tell me that the most powerful autocrat of two quadrants has no control over her Empire.”