Chapter XXX
XXX.
Kerasea
Sentry Lucius Calais is twenty-three years old with seemingly no achievements or commendations. His four years of service in the legions have resulted in a censure for cowardly desertion and an allegation of rape. The allegation was later withdrawn—meaning the girl’s family was paid off.
I glance to the side. I’ve never seen a man as simultaneously overconfident and underqualified as Lucius Calais.
“Thank you, Sentry Calais,” Terrance says. “You may return to your post.”
Calais bows while undressing me with his eyes. I suppress a shudder.
“He will be a fine representative for the second province,” Terrance urges.
I vote no along with Foreau and Suh. Medea, Paolo, and Terrance vote yes.
We deadlock, but interestingly, the vote isn’t split between old and new guard.
Senator Terrance stares at me with a cold expression as Julian announces the deadlock. Disdain and anger flash through his brown eyes as he sniffs.
“May I remind everyone that we can resolve this deadlock if the High Priestess is not permitted a vote,” Terrance says loudly.
My mouth goes dry. He is correct, and I am not sure what to say in response, but I hold my ground because Calais seems like the worst person to hand power.
Medea looks from me to the senator and then stands between us, facing him. “We have already resolved the importance of the first province having a voice in this conclave. Equal representation is why we are considering Calais.”
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly as Medea comes to my defense.
Is she able to go toe to toe with them because of experience or is she simply a different type of woman—one who doesn’t wear power as much as emit it?
She seems to know everyone, from Eyo’s sentry to her treasonous nephew, and they all seek her favor.
Whatever the answer, I’m glad she’s on my side.
“Agreed,” Suh says.
Terrance retakes his seat with a huff, knowing he won’t win.
However, the sun clock strikes noon, and we are still deadlocked.
The Council has not heard any new resolutions, and Julian had mentioned that there are hundreds of laws to still be decided, along with the declaration of war.
People are undeniably suffering while we sit here and do nothing.
I feel the same pressure Medea mentioned, to do something, anything but stay idle.
Suh runs a hand down his goatee. “May I present a new resolution in regard to the vacant seat?” He pauses and stands, leaning on his diamond cane. “I propose that we log Eyo as abstaining so that we can continue. I propose that this resolution hold until a later vote on Calais.”
This new suggestion garners nods from all of the senators, but it now needs to be debated according to the laws of the conclave.
Suh then stands and also gives a glowing tribute to Eyo, which is curious, as he hated him. He blames him for his eldest daughter’s death years ago.
“…a man of great honor, enviable talent, and remarkable compassion for his fellow man,” Suh says.
I keep my expression neutral.
As Suh speaks, I remember the story my father told me about him.
Decades ago, when he was General of the Legions of Pryor, Suh fell in love with a beautiful woman who was already the wife of a young sentry.
That soldier’s entire battalion was slaughtered during a skirmish in the Hundred Year War.
Suh married the young widow a few months later, and she has been Lady Suh ever since.
The whispers were that Suh knew the battalion was walking into an ambush.
Other versions said he purposefully sent five hundred men to their deaths just to dispose of his rival.
Both would’ve been war crimes, but he was never prosecuted.
He returned to the fifth province with his new bride, resigned from the legions, and ran for the Senate seat.
At that point, the Senate was elected every six years, not members for life.
But he amassed a fortune crafting arms for the legions until the war ended.
Suh finally stops speaking, and the new resolution passes. Julian records the votes.
We can now hear the other resolutions today, and the first is a motion to declare war on the Kingdom of Arthago. General Hadrian makes all decisions in a war, but the Council decides on the declaration.
Suh slams his large fist on the table. “We have rolled over for far too long. We must send a message to the scourge of Arthago: stay within your borders or there will be consequences. If we keep allowing them to take our land piece by piece, soon there will be no republic left.”
Foreau shakes his head. “And risk another Hundred Year War? No. Sending our army to the sixth province will only result in a full-scale conflict. They will take your coast and then come for the whole nation!”
“We mustn’t engage in another costly war. Not when we killed a magical tyrant to end the last one.” Terrance sniffs, once again worried about our treasury. “Give them the land they took and be done with this.”
“The land they took contains the homes, livelihoods, and bodies of my people, Terrance,” Medea says.
“Sliver by sliver, they are bleeding this republic to death. You have convened the Verity Guild on my nephew, who took matters into his own hands to raise an army to fight the Arthagians, but such an action would not have been necessary if this Council actually acted to protect its citizens. We must hold the line. It is beyond time to defend ourselves.”
“They have proven time and time again that they will take as much as we allow,” Paolo says softly while turning his ring. “I stand with Suh and Medea. It is time to declare war and meet strength with strength.”
The Senate is split between those on the west who want a war and those on the east who oppose. By a three-to-two vote, the motion will carry.
Terrance’s eyes land on me again, and I shrink under the hostile gaze. I’ve unintentionally made an enemy out of him today.
“As you have insisted that the High Priestess vote on important matters, surely she must vote on this,” Terrance says. “What say you for the first province?”
No one objects, even though I thought the resolution already passed.
Bloody lies, am I to vote on all of these matters now? What have I done?
The senators stare at me, waiting. I glance at Medea, but she is not intervening on my behalf this time. She studies me, more curious than anything else.
What do I do?
Over the past twenty years, we’ve given Arthago land to maintain peace, so it feels like I should follow suit.
But was Verhardt’s nonengagement because it was best for the republic, because of how many men we lost in battle, or because he feared General Hadrian becoming unstoppable if he won a war against our greatest enemy?
He’d already won decisive victories as a young general before the Senate pulled him from the front.
I am about to oppose the resolution and deadlock the conclave, but a feeling of wrongness drapes over me.
The truth is that I don’t know enough about politics to vote intelligently, and ignorance is dangerous.
Especially on something where so many innocent lives hang in the balance.
I shouldn’t be voting in this matter, or any of the laws, just as Mirial said during her four-hour lecture, because it isn’t the role of the High Priestess.
My pulse pounds and my wrists burn. I try to breathe, but I only manage shallow sips of air. Heat rises to my temples as the walls close in, but then I spot Julian out of the corner of my eye. He said that I am not one of the Senate at dinner—that I don’t need their permission.
Maybe he’s right.
A calm washes over me as a way out crystallizes. An exit has been here this whole time—I just didn’t see it. They cannot force me to vote. They can pressure me, but I am ultimately the one who has to yield.
I know what I have to do.
I rise from my seat. “Senators, I find that I am unqualified to speak on foreign affairs and, therefore, I am unable to properly protect the interests of the first province. As I agreed to only vote in the event of deadlock and that is not possible with five senators, I will abstain from voting at this conclave.”
Senator Terrance’s brown eyes gleam like amber. Foreau shakes his head, looking disgusted. Medea raises her eyebrows. Everyone is silent, though. I suppose there is nothing they can say.
I return to my seat feeling lighter than I have in days.
“In that case, the motion to declare war on Arthago passes on a three-two basis,” Suh says.
Suh smiles at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him grin. It looks odd and ghastly on his face. He cannot contain his glee that we will once again be at war.
Was all of this just to return to battle? The deaths of Verhardt and Eyo meant that the resolution would pass. Suh will now be able to arm the legions again, lining his own pockets with the profits.
Did he kill his way to war?
Julian records the vote, and the three senators sign the resolution bill. He then pours wax and seals it with the stamp of Pryor.
“Now, may I present a motion to elect a Senate Leader?” Terrance says while the ink is still wet. “The untimely death of Verhardt has left the Council rudderless. The needs of Pryor demand a leader, a first among equals, and I resolve we now bring this to a vote.”
Paolo gets to his feet so quickly that the wave of his hair bobs. “No. We must vote on Lucius Calais first.”
Terrance shakes his head. “I currently have a pending resolution. You may bring your motion afterward.”
Foreau’s normally calm features contort. He stands and points a finger at Terrance. “You’d elect yourself leader without the voice of half the people? This is a republic! And you are not a king.”
Foreau bangs on the table so hard that I shudder.
Suh stands without using his cane. “I support Terrance as Senate Leader.”
“Seconded,” Medea adds from her seat.
Terrance puts his hand over his heart. “I humbly accept and cast the vote of the third province for myself as leader.”
The coup happens so quickly that I am still looking between the two factions when it’s over. Paolo and Foreau both open their mouths, but neither speaks. They have been outvoted according to the laws of the conclave and outplayed by the old guard.
As the three senators sign the resolution, both Paolo and Foreau walk out of the throne room in protest.
My stomach twists as dread flows through me. What have I done? By giving up my right to vote, my voice, I gave Terrance the republic.
I exchange quick glances with Julian, but there is nothing either of us can do now. Julian pours molten wax on the paper and presses the seal of Pryor on top.
“May I now bring forward a second vote on the acceptability of Lucius Calais as a temporary replacement for Eyo’s Senate seat?” Terrance says.
“Denied,” Suh says.
“Denied,” Medea adds.
Terrance nods. “The motion is denied on the basis of a three-to-nil vote. Eyo will thus vote to abstain going forward in this conclave, as there is no suitable replacement.”
They vote so quickly, striking as one, that Julian is still lifting the seal from the first vote. He turns, surprise written on his face, but he dutifully picks up the new resolution from Terrance’s Senate page.
I feel like I’m sinking in wet sand as I grip the arms of my chair.
I was looking at Suh, but Terrance and Medea flipped their votes in a way that means they never were in favor of Calais.
So why did she suggest him? I’ve never felt more in over my head, trying to figure out each senator’s motivations.
That mystery aside, the old guard is now in full control. With a three-two majority, they don’t even need Foreau and Paolo in this room. Their agendas will pass without objection.
Was it enough that I silenced my own voice? Or have I now put myself in even worse danger?