With a sigh, Elder Caelestis made his presence felt again. After a few seconds of silence, his son looked up from the tactical maps he had strewn across the floor . Although his face was dominated by the same frown he had sported for months now, at least the King of the Center still took notice of his elder.
“Pacha, why can't we include your uncle, or at least your mother? No matter what plans you have, how can we succeed without support from your family?” Caelestis tried again. As if hit by lightning, the king jumped up, and threw his maps into disorder in the process.
“You want me to be a puppet, old man? Do you really want Uncle Divitius to control the empire!?”
Never before had Pacha looked at him in such anger. This had become troubling. Ever since the youngster had come back from his duel with Corco, he had changed so much. At first, Caelestis had thought that the defeat could do some good. After he had tasted his own mortality, Pacha had thrown off the blind pride his mother had trained into him. However, he had also begun to consider the other advice his big brother had given him.
“Pacha, your mother and uncle only have your best interests at heart.”
“House Ichilia is not interested in a strong Emperor Pachacutec. They just want a powerless boy to sit the throne, one they can control.”
Again the elder sighed. By now the boy wouldn't even let his own mother see him, only because she carried the name Ichilia. In anger over a previous argument, Divitius also left the capital and returned to his estate. In the end it was Caelestis who was flooded with complaints, both from the king and the empress mother.
“While it is wise to be careful, there is no proof for any such plans from House Ichilia.”
“Then are you on my side, or on the side of your woman, old man?” As so often when he lost composure, the brat had said something careless again. Even though the succession battle was over, his relationship with Spuria still wasn't something they could show out in the open. Still, this was no time for another argument. Caelestis lacked the energy for one.
“Of course I am on your side, Pacha, always. But we still need their help. House Ichilia is the strongest House in the Empire now that Pluritac has been split into kingdoms.”
“Nonsense,” Pacha brushed his father's worries away with a grand sweep of his hand. “I control the central Pluritac lands, and with it thousands of elite warriors. I have already gained fealty from a good many lords under my rule. We can make use of their armies and achieve greatness, even without my dubious uncle.”
“Who? Who in the central kingdom would be bold enough to stand against House Ichilia?”
Rather than focus on Pacha's unrealistic plans, the elder was more concerned with another potential split within the empire.
“There are many lords willing to shake off the shackles of the Ichilia name to strengthen their houses, even more so at the fringes of the kingdom. Lord Rupilo has been a great supporter and introduced me to a great many who think the same as me: The kingdom's center of power needs to remain in the capital.”
“Even if we gain their support, we would only split our strength further! What happens if your brothers attack us!?”
At last the elder had given up on diplomacy. If Pacha didn't stop his headstrong plans, not only the elder's calm days but their very lives would be at risk.
“I don't plan to deny my uncle's help forever. But if we ally, it will be on my terms. We can form a powerful army without House Ichilia. Now all we need is a chance. One single chance to show my abilities as a leader. With success and bounty, even more lords will follow me. Then my uncle will have no choice but to join them, no matter his machinations.”
Just as Caelestis wanted to refute, a knock from the guards outside interrupted him. While the son stood in pride and looked over his plans, the father tiptoed through the maze of maps and soldier figurines on his way to the door.
“What matter disturbs the king?” Only after the elder had allowed entry did the guard slide open the door and let more of the evening light enter their strategy room.
“A letter has been delivered for King Pachacutec. However, the seal given is strange,” the guard said as he held out a paper roll.
With a frown, the elder took the letter and spotted the wax stamp: A stylized tiger about to maul a monkey. Indeed, this was not one of the sigils of Medala nobility. When he turned back around, he saw Pacha bound towards him, the smile of a mischievous boy on his face.
“You can go now,” the king said towards the warrior guard, who closed the door again and marched down the hallway with heavy steps.
“What house could this be?” the elder asked with a frown. At this point it was obvious that Pacha knew more than he let on. Caelestis really didn't like being left out of the loop like this. But the youngster's grin grew even wider, in a way the elder had only ever seen Corco look: Full of slyness and smugness.
“It is from a good friend down south,” the king said as he broke the seal and unrolled the letter.
“You have established allies in Sachay? How can that be possible?” As the elder wondered about Pacha's plans, the king's eyes ran over the letter. Rather than answer, a manic laugh escaped his throat.
“Here, see for yourself.” Under tears, Pacha handed the paper to his father. As the contents of the letter dawned on the elder, his eyes grew and his mouth dried.
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“It seems like my good brother Corco has made a major misstep this time,” Pacha grinned, and picked up one more of his figurines. It was the figure of Corco the king had gotten made on order. A tiny, hunchbacked creature made from black ebony, that was how Pacha saw his eldest brother.
“How could this be possible?” Caelestis repeated.
“Here it is, our chance to prove ourselves. The future lord of Cashan, Epunamo of the arrogant, territorial house of Villca, has invited us south to clean up my little brother's mess.”
“What? But even if we have the support of a few lords, it would never be enough to attack the south. Again, you need to work with the Ichilias. How else could we ever raise an army large enough to fight the entire, combined south?”
“Not to worry, old man. While you were worried about your wife, I have made some other allies. They should be here any day now. Soon, everyone will know to fear the great King Pachacutec.”
As he watched his son puff up his chest and dream of greatness once more, there were many things the elder wanted to say, many warnings he wanted to give. Instead, he only sighed once more.
With a sigh, Felian's eyes ran across the rolling waves. This was their seventh day at sea, and already he had enough of the 'endless majesty' of the ocean. How could he have been so unlucky? Not long ago, he had been an unknown little knight in the Bornish countryside. If only he had been as useless as his fellow men, if only he had never shown his abilities, he would have never drawn the interest of his current master.
Even worse, his master had struggled himself. After several failed ventures over the past few years, his lord had come to the end of his rope. At this point, not even the king would be willing to support their lordship any longer, not against the pressure from all the other nobles. In truth, his bread winner was akin to a sinking ship, and he was chained under deck.
Now that he was reminded of sinking ships, Felian's depression deepened even more. He looked back to the nine ships which trailed behind them. When they had left the port, it had been sixeen. Two days ago, they had experienced their first storm on the open seas. No matter what the sailors had told him before, how they had described the horrors of the waves or the dreadful leviathan, he still hadn't been prepared. While he had emptied his stomach under deck for hours, the sailors had risked their lives to keep the ship upright. When the sun had come up again, two of their ships had run aground, and another four had gone missing. For now they would travel north until they found the coastline and then anchor at the first port they could find, to hopefully reunite their forces. They would need any man they could get.
After all, their’s wasn't a pleasure cruise. It wasn't an ordinary merchant's run either. The king had sent them with an express purpose: To gain a foothold on foreign lands, and to show that no one shall dare mess with the great knights of Borna. That was his lord's mission, so it had become his as well. After his master's failures had damaged the kingdom so much, this was their last chance. Away from all the nobles who smelled the blood in the water, they could distinguish themselves. If everything worked out, they would come home with grand honors, their reputation, and their finances, restored.
“Where are we, Felian?” a dark voice grumbled behind him. Even without turning his head, he knew that it belonged to his master, the one who had brought him so much misery, and yet the one he would be forced to serve for the rest of his life. After all, his family's prosperity depended on his loyalty.
“I would not know, sire. One wave looks like the next. However, the sailors tell me that we should be close to shallow waters. With any luck, the southern coast of Shimoa should come into view within the day.”
“I don't like it, starting the journey like this. Even though we managed to save most of our men, it is a bad omen.”
“I am convinced sire will be able to achieve greatness, without fail.” Although he didn't believe so, he still said the words his master wanted to hear. Although his master knew he wasn’t sincere, he wasn't scolded.
“We will do whatever is in our power. I will not give up, never give up. I will guarantee Borna's greatness in the future, no matter who I need to trample.” The dark voice lowered even more, like an ancient beast ready to pounce.
“They are only barbarians after all. Victory should be easy enough.”
“Better not underestimate them. Although they are barbarians, they are close to the mystical lands of Chutwa. Who knows what kind of magic they have learned from them.”
“Even so, the death of a Bornish dignitary should be punished,” Felian followed his master's thread in a flat tone.
“Dignitary?” the master scoffed. “Olbit Kallas was a merchant, no matter how tall your tale. Still, he was my merchant, and I don't take kindly to having my people killed.”
And it is a good excuse to invade lands the Bornish King desires. Again, Felian had the common sense to not speak his mind. Sometimes, being smart could be an advantage too.
“Land!” From high above them, a voice sounded out over their entire fleet. As the tension in his body eased, Felian turned to stare up into the sun, towards the top of the mast, where the crows nest should sit. To him, the shout was a sweet relief. Soon they would be on dry land again. At least for a few hours, maybe even days, they would escape this blue hell.
“Thank Arcavus. Now we will be able to regroup! With any luck, we will soon be able to conquer the barbarian lands of Medala,” he said as he stared up to the sky, his hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight.
“Indeed. Medala, was it?” a dangerous growl led Felian's focus to the side. Behind his bronze mask, his master's eyes were dark and red with blood. “I wonder how our old acquaintance has done this past year. I haven't forgotten, you know? Prince Corco Fastgrade. I hope we will see each other soon, old friend.”
Although the sun stood high, a shiver ran down Felian's spine. Duke Herak of Balit was like his bow, tensed and ready to kill.