Host

By Joel Garden

Host is a historical drama which covers the journey not of one set of characters but of a whole nation, the Kingdom of Tizlius. Within these pages are the stories of Tizlius monarchs and nobles, usurpers and Chancellors, clans and generals, its alliance with its co-religionists against their common enemy, years of plague and unrest, political conspiracies, regicide and civil war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496976673

Joel Garden

Joel Garden has a degree in History from the University of Aberdeen, where he studied Scottish and Russian history. Host is his first novel and he hopes to publish many more in the years ahead. He lives in Aberdeen.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE DYNASTY AILS

ALL HAIL MIGHTY Sigismund! All hail his Divinity, the abundant life-giver and death-maker! All hail his Divinity, Sigismund, the victorious Sigismund, guardian of the Kingdom of Tizlius, the land which is forever obedient to his Divine will! All hail the glorious Divinity, scorcher of his enemies, healer of his followers’ wounds, Master of birth and life and death sleep, Lord of the sky and soil, King of the rivers, and provenance of all existence! Hail the Divine Lord of the Deities, Sigismund!

And, second only to the Deities, let us praise our monarchs, past and present, and pay tribute to their lives, lived in piety and travail on their people’s behalf. For to account for the lives and actions of our kings and queens is, in part, the very purpose of the book to which you have affixed your eyes, reader. But knowing how so very long our history is, and knowing how many monarchs the Kingdom of Tizlius has had set at its summit, you will be relieved to hear that I will not, in this present work, account for every single one of Tizlius’ queens and kings. Rather, reader, we will together become closely acquainted throughout the following chapters with Tizlius’ monarchs dating from the time of the death of queen Matticula in the year 3455, her successor Tazhia, and all of those men and woman who occupied the throne through a quarter millennium and more, until we reach out own time, and Her Majesty the Queen of Tizlius.

But a litany of eulogising biographies of queens and kings is hardly what I have in store for you, reader. A history of one’s country would be a shallow pool indeed if confined solely to examinations of one’s sovereigns. Therefore, there feature herein not a narrow team of characters, each one striving to endear themselves to the reader of this history, but a multitude of individuals, each with their own part to play and life to live. Although our monarchs’ names will, in all likelihood, survive far longer than any of the other names contained herein, we can secretly agree with each other now, reader, that our Tizlian monarchs are but the green skin of a bulging, juicy apple. And it may be that this book, despite its length and ostensible thoroughness, is inadequate to tell all of the worthy details of the history of Tizlius from the reign of Tazhia until the present time. Only you, reader, and, of course, history itself, are qualified to make such a judgement, but, for now, I can write with not a sliver of moral discomfort, that I have gone as far as I can, and done as much as I can do with what materials as are available to me in my lifetime. Whether there be other sources emergent in the future—sources which directly and incontrovertibly disprove assertions and judgements I have made—then they will be of great benefit to posterity. For my part, I have made as impartial and informed decisions as I am capable of making.

The circumstances of my time have not been gentle with the processes of researching for and writing this book; and there can be no more vivid a demonstration of the difficulty of my task than the anonymous guise in which I am forced to circulate this very book! For I have undertaken it in secret, and at close proximity to those who might thwart my every effort. That I have been operating so clandestinely is the reason both for the survival of the endeavour and the longevity of that endeavour—for many documents of which I have made use are locked secretly away lest they besmirch the reputation of those who wrote them or who feature in them, and to obtain them I have had to coin fictitious needs for them or employ illegal means of procurement. And in order to protect my collaborators (who so richly deserve praise, for without them you would be without this book) I hesitate to mention them by name or by rank.

Some documents are easier to obtain than others. The succession dispute which followed the death of Queen Matticula, which eventually resulted in the ascension of her daughter, Tazhia, were obsessively protected by the state for many years, but the very words spoken during these discussions are now easy to acquire in the library of Cerulius, Tizlius’ capital city. But for those events for which no documentation exists, there will always be anecdotal evidence. Things the state would prefer or even demand to be kept hidden from the populace at all costs—such events always leave a trail behind, whether of money, blood or objects. And as for other things, the human memory serves me better than all the government documents in existence; for I am old enough to have lived through and witnessed from a close enough distance to judge for myself what has happened. And some things I have no need for documentation whatsoever, because what you read is the first and only recording of them, I having seen them with my own eyes.

Fortunately, however, I am not so elderly that I can say I remember the reign of Tazhia!

Queen Matticula perished unexpectedly from an outbreak of cholera in the Tizlian city of Url, some 120 miles South-West of Cerulius, in 3455. Having enjoyed good health for all of her twenty-nine year reign, and being only forty-nine years old when she contracted cholera, Matticula had expected to live a good few years longer, and consequently had not prepared a will setting out who her successor would be. The Bronzav Dynasty, of which Matticula was one of the final members, has a colourful history of successions, and that of Tazhia is no exception.

Like most monarchies, on the death of the Tizlian monarch the throne would pass to the eldest surviving child. But in 3455, the Tizlian succession was not so easy to determine. Matticula had had eleven children, of whom only four made it to adulthood; Protanil, Tazhia, Ukaitora and Illypota. Protanil, the eldest, had perished some years before in a jousting accident, leaving behind three young children; twin brothers Comicalous and Urban (born 3444) and their sister Fiolina (born 3449). According to tradition, if a Tizlian monarch is predeceased by their eldest heir, the crown is inherited by their heir’s eldest surviving child. The only problem was that Protanil’s eldest child, Comicalous, was only ten years old.

The Tizlian government was at this time embroiled in something of a civil war, fought chiefly over the appointment of Provincial Governors and the policies of Jellus Vrochugio, Matticula’s final Chancellor. The Ministers and the Council (the Tizlian legislature which sits in Cerulius) were as divided as each other in their support for and opposition to Vrochugio and his grasp over the country’s financial policy. Matticula had been fairly successful in mediating between these feuding sides. But if Comicalous, a child, ascended the throne, the country might fall prey to one of two dire alternatives. On the one hand, the government might descend into infighting and the nobility rebel. On the other hand, the Imperial Viceroy might step into the fray in Comicalous’ stead and manipulate the power vacuum to the Vismitian Empress’ advantage. The latter of these alternatives was the more odious of the two, for Imperial interference in Tizlian domestic affairs was already considered by Tizlians to be stifling.

Princes Varsus and Munian, and Princesses Kabarka, Sekrephilla and Uulga, met—without the Viceroy’s knowledge—with the Leaders, or Voices, of the Council, and some of the most important Tizlian families to discuss the succession. In spite of his controversial character, Chancellor Jellus Vrochugio could not be excluded from the discussions. Vrochugio opined that the government was more than capable of governing the country during Comicalous’ minority. Council elections, he reminded the royals, were due soon, and would surely remove most of his opponents from the Council and give the government a degree of freedom. The real purpose behind Vrochugio’s bid for Comicalous to be crowned king was self-aggrandisement; without a strong monarch to dictate the priorities of the government, Vrochugio would be the effective head of the government, able to do whatever he pleased.

But his machinations were brought to an abrupt halt when the Imperial Viceroy learned that there were dynastic discussions taking place behind her back. She thought that if Comicalous were to rule and the country experience a decade-long minority, a leadership vacuum would be created. Such a situation, she feared, would be perfect for Onnors and Counts to organise an anti-Vismitian uprising like those which twice scarred Matticula’s reign. An impressionable young monarch might even be convinced by some of the arguments of such rebels and become swept up in the tide of rebellion. Under such pretexts did the Viceroy categorically rule out any chance of a royal minority. So, in the interests of Vismitian peace of mind, the Tizlian royal succession tradition was flaunted. Gravely, Vrochugio abandoned his scheming and contented himself with hoping that the monarch which the Viceroy would, in effect, choose from Matticula’s relatives would be a complacent one, someone willing to leave him to his own devices.

Matticula’s daughters Tazhia and Ukaitora were already in their twenties in the year 3455, making them suitable choices. But Prince Varsus, Matticula’s younger brother, became ambitious after the Viceroy ended Chancellor Vrochugio’s scheming. In Varsus’ opinion, if Comicalous, his sister’s legitimate heir, had been ruled out then should be crowned king. Varsus had over-reached himself. His claim was not backed up by a sizable support base in the nobility—and his relatives (his rivals to the throne) knew it. Princess Kabarka (Matticula and Varsus’ niece) echoed the desire of the bulk of the nobility when she called for continuity and for one of Matticula’s children to succeed her. When the Viceroy recommended to the Council that Princess Tazhia, Matticula’s eldest living child, be crowned queen, the Council sided with her. Varsus was forced to admit defeat and accept the Viceroy’s judgement.

Princess Tazhia (who knew none of the details of these discussions or of her being suggested as successor to Matticula) was approached, told that she had been chosen by the Bronzav Dynasty to succeed her mother, and asked if she would accept the monarchy. After three days of consideration, Tazhia wrote a simple letter to her cousin, Princess Kabarka, saying that she accepted the offer of the crown.

The preparations for Tazhia’s coronation were unusually protracted and expensive for a monarch during the generations of Vismitian occupation. Orchestrated by members of the royal family, the various events marking the coronation of Tazhia left few in doubt as to the ability of the state finances to put on a fantastic spectacle, but the expense did more to irritate than impress the populace. Particular aspects of the ostentation are said to have been baffling to contemporaries. One Onnor standing in the crowd as the coronation procession passed through the streets of Cerulius shouted out So that’s what all my taxes were for! to the hilarity of the commoners. The splendour of the occasion would not be surpassed until the coronation of another Tizlian queen a century and a half later.

For all the spectacle of her coronation and the festivities put on throughout the country to mark the occasion, Tazhia’s reign was unexceptional. She and her government were handicapped from the very beginning by unresolved conflicts left over from Matticula’s reign. Tazhia kept Jellus Vrochugio on as Chancellor, and his continued presence ensured that governmental disputes would drag on. The government and the country were also staggered by rabid noble private warfare in the countryside. While politicians in Cerulius competed for position, influence and power, the rural Onnors and Counts competed for land, family pride, and loot. The First Tizlian-Vismitian War, during which Tizlius had lost her independence, had decimated the country’s higher nobility, as had the suppression of the two major Onnor rebellions during Matticula’s reign (in the years 3439 and 3445). By the beginning of Tazhia’s reign the Tizlian nobility had not recovered from this crippling shock. Ancient noble families which had once owned much of the countryside were eradicated, while others had had their members and wealth depleted until the few survivors were reduced to poverty and indignity. The lesser nobility (Onnor clans and families and lesser Counts) who survived fought over the lands left in the wake of the bloodletting. The crown, too poor to buy up all of the land and the service of the poor Onnors who lived on it, could not fill the vacuum of authority created in the countryside; the path was clear for lesser Onnor clans to reach beyond the confines of their traditional noble tier and replace their former lords as masters in the countryside. In other instances, surviving major families and their networks of supporters strived to increase their power, running into fierce opposition from newly competitive Onnor clans and families.

For Tizlius to see forty or fifty private wars in a single year was not uncommon during times of plenty when there was plenty of food and livestock for Onnors and Counts to steal from their rivals’ farms and villages. Indeed, dozens of families had routinely fought and raided their neighbours for generations, even for centuries. It was a mark of honour for an Onnor in the service of the head of his or her Onnor clan to make a special oath swearing loyalty to their master and hatred for their master’s rivals. More people actually died during private noble wars in Matticula’s reign than did in both of the noble uprisings. Tazhia’s reign saw resurgences of warfare between traditional enemy clans, but also a worrying increase in contests between budding Onnor clans. These clashes made governing the countryside extremely difficult; as the political authorities became undermined by the emergence of newly powerful Onnor clans, so the ability of the central and provincial government to control the countryside slipped. Deprived of their reliable allies, Provincial Governors and Senates were sidelined by the clans on an increasingly frequent basis.

A prime example of the situation is that of Gasvangs province. Here, the Ukireat, Polko and Droburtho families fought each other as they had done for three hundred years—but into this fray leapt the emerging Ladonust and Teskuir Onnor families. On eight separate occasions in Tazhia’s reign, these clans formed different alliances with each other and clashed, each hoping to establish themselves as the dominant political force in the North-West of the country, in Gasvangs, Nettua and Postmuto provinces. By 3472 the Ukireats and their allies (and former enemies) the Teskuir and Ladonust clans, had triumphed over the Polkos and the Droburthoes. The leader of this victorious coalition, Onnor Naius Ukireat, petitioned Tazhia for and gained the office of Governor of Gasvangs province, one of the most prestigious political positions in the kingdom. But Onnor Ukireat failed to live up to his promises to his allies, incurring their intense dislike. They entered a compact with the Yukoirsk Onnor family of Nettua province and plotted to remove Onnor Ukireat from his post and all his lands. One summer night, they ambushed his castle on the edge of Lake Grothbraug in Gasvangs, took him prisoner and locked him in his cellar bound with rope, copulated with his servants, drank his wine, ate his food, wore his robes, and lived like Lords of the castle. Inside the cellar, Onnor Ukireat could hear all of this revelling, and writhed around on the floor in fury and frustration. Then, after his former friends had spent two days carousing, Onnor Ukireat was visited in the dark cellar by a black rat, a black rat which gnawed through his ropes and set him free. Using his unusually powerful body to break the cellar door off its hinges, Onnor Ukireat stormed into his banquet hall, finding the Yukorainst clan, the Ladonust clan, and the Teskuir clan toasting each other and hanging their banners from the flagpoles. Onnor Ukireat took up a sword which had been hanging on the wall and made to kill the intruders. Unarmed, disoriented and clumsy, his inebriated opponents were no match for the hardened and embittered warrior, who cut down all fifteen men who had been so bold as to imprison him in his own home. Shortly after he regained his castle Onnor Ukireat changed his coat of arms to a black rat with a length of rope between its teeth, in memory of the lucky rodent that took pity on him on that fateful night.

The story of Onnor Stepanosphia Grakatav is just as interesting as that of Onnor Ukireat. The Grakatav, Eilerian, Hyulfus and Pomyult Onnor clans had long been among the most important families in the central provinces of Tizlius, their prestige undiminished by the upstart Onnors who challenged them or by the part some members of each family had played in the betrayal of Mastoxus the Second. During Matticula’s reign, the fortunes of the Grakatav clan declined considerably; they missed out on positions to their rivals, suffered a heavy military defeat at the hands of the Hyulfus clan, and their estates were afflicted by famine more severely than many of their contemporaries. The seventeen year old Stepanosphia Grakatav became the head of the family and took charge of the family finances and lands after the death of her mother in the year 3440. This string of setbacks would have finished off other powerful Onnor clans at the time dozens of new Onnor clans were making great gains, but Onnor Stepanosphia Grakatav, though very young, was determined to see her family restored to the heights to which it had once been accustomed.

She spent twenty-five years increasing the Grakatavs’ economic and political power through acquiring political offices for herself and her younger brothers and sisters, buying large metallurgical industries in the city of Alexus (Tizlius’ second city at the time), and building an alliance with the prestigious Riujeskar family, of whom Stepanosphia’s most generous benefactor, Countess Luschia Riujeskar, was Governor of Shuxa province for thirteen years of Tazhia’s reign. Meanwhile, the Hyulfus family boasted that to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of their great victory over Onnor Stepanosphia’s family, they would destroy the Grakatavs for good with one final armed takeover of the Grakatav home town of Diru’ku Yash’om in Kuri province. When the time came in the year 3465, they and the Pomyult family (who had aligned themselves with the Hyulfus) put together an army of 500 men from their farms and villages and marched against Onnor Stepanosphia. She was by this time forty-two years old and had four daughters all bearing the name Grakatav; Angelika, Leeza, Kubolta and Yavoisha. Wary of the Hyulfus clan, Onnor Stepanosphia had carefully married her daughters off to give her strong allies should the Hyulfus live up to their threat. Her planning paid off, as when the Hyulfus attacked Grakatav lands each of the families the Grakatav daughters married into produced dozens of fighters to add to Onnor Stepanosphia’s warriors, all of which she placed under the command of her brother, Onnor Munian Strufol. Onnor Strufol could field just 380 men.

As the battle commenced, Onnor Stepanosphia watched from horseback, stroking her pet fox, Iorkai, whom she had kept since she became head of her family. When the fighting reached its peak, Iorkai unexpectedly leapt from Stepanosphia’s grasp and darted into the fray. The Grakatav leader feared that her beloved pet had been crushed underfoot.

Onnor Strufol won the battle against the Hyulfus and Pomyult clans despite his numerical inferiority, and captured the brother-in-law of the Hyulfus leader in addition. Onnor Stepanosphia tended to her wounded and brought them water, though she shed tears for Iorkai, whom she had given up for dead. Then, while Onnor Stepanosphia tied a bandage to a wounded warriors’ arm, Iorkai appeared over a pile of Hyulfus warriors’ bodies and strolled back to his master, carrying in his jaws a tattered Hyulfus banner of a serpent. Seeing in this a signal from Sigismund, Onnor Stepanosphia changed the Grakatav banner to feature a fox carrying in its jaws a bloody snake.

The province of Dluta was also wracked by repeated noble wars in Tazhia’s reign. As was the case in so many other provinces, after several of the important Dluta noble families went extinct during the rebellions the opportunity arose for Onnor families, such as the Leprien and Narutl families, to make reputations for themselves. At first struggling for power and wealth through political office, these two clans (who were entrusted by Matticula to govern Dluta together in the year 3445) coexisted for years in suspicious but peaceful competition, allowing smaller families to fritter away their manpower and resources in internecine warfare with each other. In 3462 the Leprien and Narutl families struck out at their weakened opponents in unison, compelled them to give up their ambitions, and divided up their land between them. Scores of minor Onnors and petty landlords were bargained over by the heads of the Leprien and Narutl families, resulting in the Leprien Onnors and their allies dominating Southern Dluta, and the Narutl Onnors and their allies dominating North-Western Dluta. The intervening lands were left untouched because they and the people living on them belonged to the crown. The North-Eastern corner of Dluta was also not involved in the discussion because it was the private land of the new Governor of Dluta, none other than Prince Varsus. With the prince as arbiter between the two clans, Dluta seemed to be finally at peace with itself. But the peace was short-lived.

When Prince Varsus resigned from the Governorship of Dluta in 3463 there was no obvious successor in the royal family. The only option Tazhia had was to appoint a noble from the province itself, but whether to have a Narutl or a Leprien governor was a dilemma Tazhia could not resolve. Chancellor Vrochugio at first tried to persuade Prince Varsus to take up the office again to prevent a noble war, but Varsus was fed up with rural Tizlius and had ambitions in the central government, ambitions with which Vrochugio would soon have to contend. On the false pretence of ill health Varsus declined the offer of an increased wage and more lands in neighbouring Tebraela province. The office of Governor of Dluta stayed vacant for over a year, at which point the Leprien family marched an army of 500 men across the crown land buffer and into the Narutl lands in an attempt to score a victory over them and show that Onnor Sylvester Leprien, the head of the family, was the dominant political figure in Dluta. His attack was countered by a robust Narutl defence. Onnor Leprien was forced to retreat across the crown lands into his domains and lick his wounds. The next year, the Narutl family crossed the crown lands with their own army into the Leprien lands, but were also repulsed by a vigorous counter-attack.

Tazhia was disgusted that the inviolability of the crown lands was being trampled on. To express her contempt of these actions and to show she could not be bullied, Tazhia made a hasty decision to appoint a relative of her husband’s to the governorship. But her intervention only made matters worse. Both families were offended that Tazhia had kept them waiting over two years for a decision, only to overlook both of them. The noble community of Dluta in general was also deeply insulted that a man who had no political connections to Dluta—who had never set foot in Dluta—and who had no idea about the customs or politics of the province had been appointed Governor ahead of the both of the most highly respected Onnor families. Perhaps worst of all, Tazhia had interfered in the conflict and tried to force them to stop fighting. This gave the Leprien, Narutl and other Onnors the impression that the queen was trying to control their actions from Cerulius. Why, they wondered, should they tolerate such blatant abuse and restraint on their ancient rights while dozens of other Onnors in the rest of the country were waging their own private wars without the slightest comment from the queen? And what was so terrible about the Narutl and Leprien families that the queen could not pick either of them for Governor of Dluta? Rather than reconciling the belligerents, Tazhia had made them even more determined to resolve the matter by private warfare. She had also turned them and the South-Western nobility against her; they identified with the Leprien and Narutl families’ complaint that they in the South-West were being unfairly treated in light of the melee that Tazhia was permitting in the East and North.

The Leprien and Narutl families agreed to respect the crown lands in Dluta, but they took their fight South-West into Omonatson province, where they also had substantial lands and numerous allies who would be prepared to fight for them. In 3466 Eastern Omonatson erupted in a conflict between five Omonatson clans and the Lepriens against six other Omonatson clans and the Narutls. Tazhia was facing a disastrous effacement of her authority. The trap closing in around her tightened when, in winter of the year 3466 the Governor of Omonatson died and she had to find a replacement. Most of the possible candidates were involved in the Leprien-Narutl conflict; once again Tazhia found herself in a position where she had to choose between Leprien sympathisers and Narutl sympathisers. On the advice of her Ministers Tazhia chose an obscure Senator of the Omonatson Senate for Governor. The woman was local, experienced, and well-liked in the province; she would have been an ideal choice in more normal circumstances. This woman had to be dismissed however when the Narutls and the Omonatson Unerolska clan scored a decisive victory over the Lepriens and their Omonatson allies. The lands of the victors were expanded at the expense of the defeated, and the Governorships of Dluta and Omonatson went to the Narutl and Unerolska clans respectively. Tazhia’s humiliation was complete.

The situation of private war had, as it always did, resolved itself. Tazhia and her attempt to exert royal authority in a local and largely irrelevant matter had been rebuffed by tradition. It was a fate which would befall more than one of her other interventions. This failed monarchical intervention in local noble conflagrations in the 3450’s and 3460’s was Tazhia’s biggest error. Even had she been successful in her endeavour, she would have gained nothing from entangling the central government in such a small, local dispute, and the royal dignity would have been besmirched because of the very fact that she had become involved in a matter so trifling at all. But her real mistake was not to get involved, but to seriously mishandle her involvement, getting embroiled in a conflict which she caused to spread into another province. The results for her were a tarnished reputation and a long-term disillusionment of the South-Western nobility with the crown.

The politics of the central government was just as lively with rivalries and grudges as the countryside. Matticula had kept the Council at bay by routinely changing her Ministers to give Councillors of a wide variety of localities and opinions the chance to serve in her government. The offices of Chancellor, Minister of Foreign Trade and Minister of Crown Lands had been among the most coveted positions of all. Matticula’s system ensured that men and women who wanted to retain their position and their income were vigilant in their work and conducted their affairs in a moral and professional manner. In other words, corruption was punished by dismissal and competent service by appointment to higher office. Incompetence was punished with the less severe punishment of consignment to obscurity in the Council or in the provincial Senates. Those who showed exceptional skill or were particularly supportive of the monarchy were rewarded with political advancement, titles, land, and favour shown to relatives and friends, which included finding lucrative positions for illegitimate children.

Vrochugio had been Chancellor for two years when Tazhia came to the throne. At fifty-three years old, he was still healthy, fit, possessed plenty of energy, and had a reputation for competence not matched by many of his Ministerial colleagues. But Vrochugio’s pugnacity, haughtiness, arrogance, and his favouritism were disliked by members of the government, many people at court, and many Councillors. His own strength of character had made his position precarious. No less than six people came forward to challenge him for the position of Chancellor and among his Ministerial colleagues there was no shortage of strong-willed people prepared to resist his hold on the government. The policy of intervention in the Leprien-Narutl noble war had nothing to do with Vrochugio, and its eventual failure had the effect of disillusioning Tazhia from the men and women who had advocated the failed policy. She was drawn towards Vrochugio, who appeared more trustworthy. This appearance of reliability enabled Vrochugio to persuade Tazhia to dismiss some of his antagonists from the government and replace them with members of his own family. The Ministry of Crown Lands was given to his nephew and the Ministry of the Royal Bank went to his cousin.

Though he had nothing to do with damaging it, Vrochugio also understood that to leave the relationship between the South-Western nobility and the queen as it was would be another mistake. He began a process of reconciliation with the Unerolska and Leprien clans, but he died before his efforts could evince any advantages for Tazhia, who, after his death, did not reach out to these clans again.

Matticula’s Ministry of the Military was in shambles at her death, having gone through eight ineffective Ministers in twelve years, but Tazhia was determined to make this branch of government work as well as the rest. She needed no advice from Vrochugio about the mess in that ministry—in Matticula’s reign Tazhia’s husband husband had been Minister for the Military for a grand total of forty-eight days before he was dismissed for incompetence! To satisfy his ambition, Tazhia appointed Prince Varsus to this post in 3455, where he stayed for four years before asking for greater responsibilities in a province. His request was granted when he was appointed Governor of Dluta, but not before he had made a substantial impact in the Ministry of the Military. He brought spending under control, decreased the officialdom of the Ministry and left more time and resources for officers to spend training Tizlius’ small standing army. He also introduced the first wage increase to the army for thirty-six years. Prince Varsus’ most important contribution to the military, however, was to hire a substantial number of senior foreign officers. Prince Varsus felt that the quality of the Tizlian officers was dismal compared to that of other nations, shamed by the prestigious Vismitian military elite. To bring the Tizlian army up to scratch with its counterparts, and to begin training Tizlian officers properly, Varsus brought in dozens of foreigners to serve the Tizlian monarchy. Bolbots, Onnotrustans, Vetirtans and Saecremnoti were hired in droves, while other nations contributed a smaller number of junior officers. It was extremely difficult for these officers to be integrated into the Tizlian army at first, owing to the conservatism of most ethnic Tizlian officers and, to an extent, of the rank and file soldiers. In 3458 Varsus changed the regulations to disallow foreigners to train troops, but they retained their principle function of training officers. This compromise was workable for the moment.

Soon, though, Varsus had his sights on the Chancellery, and sensed an opportunity approaching. By 3466 Vrochugio had been Chancellor for an impressive sixteen years, the longest term of a Tizlian Chancellor for two centuries. But in the course of his success, Vrochugio had made many enemies and betrayed almost every principle he purportedly held. Tazhia was also being informed by government officials of the corruption of the Chancellor and, though not yet convinced that Vrochugio should be relieved of his position, was growing surer that he needed to be reigned in before he brought more ignominy upon her.

CHAPTER TWO

OVERLORD

ON THE FIFTEENTH day in winter of the year 3464 the Vismitian Empress Velia the First succumbed to a combination of long-standing illnesses, and died at the age of fifty-four. Her twenty-seven year old son, Kisvitenian the Third, immediately became Emperor, but according to Vismitian tradition Kisvitenian was not invested with his full Imperial powers until the coronation ceremony. This was to take place in spring the following year. The Imperial Coronation ceremonies were circumstances of stupendous extravagance, of colossal military pomposity, and of magnificent bombast. In the humungous Solar Palace, at the heart of the Vismitian capital city Notacarallus, the Imperial Monarchs would be crowned by the Prefect of Notacarallus in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of their most exalted subjects, including every vassal in the Empire, and ambassadors and royalty from nearly every nation on the Peninsula and the Continent and beyond. Matticula had attended the coronation of Velia the First, a ceremony which had been exceptionally impressive, even by Vismitian standards. Tazhia, then, would become the second Tizlian monarch to be present when their Vismitian overlord was enthroned at Notacarallus. The magnificence of her own coronation celebrations were swept aside by the immensity of Kisvitenian the Third’s grand coronation.

Kisvitenian the Third’s coronation was, in fact, to surpass by far his mother’s and almost every other ceremony of its kind up to that point in Vismitian history. The new Emperor—young, extremely ambitious, domineering, and anxious to make an immediate impression upon his subjects and upon all foreign nations—made a deliberate effort to turn his coronation into a display of his limitless Imperial power, a spellbinding demonstration of Vismitian wealth, might, and glory. Most of all, he wanted the coronation to serve as a manifesto, as the first, and a great, implication of the immense and indispensible role he, as Emperor, would play in continuing and growing the greatness and prosperity of his Empire. His personality was to be associated with everything successful and admirable about the Empire; the ceremonial focus upon a new age of success and prosperity, of even greater achievements yet to come, was pivoted on the appearance of the new Emperor.

Like all of her fellow vassals, Tazhia was invited (ordered) to attend the coronation of the new Emperor. She arrived at Notacarallus with an accompaniment consisting of dozens of servants, guards, doctors and her family. The sojourn to Notacarallus made a deep impression upon Tazhia, just as it did upon all others who made the journey for the first time. Tazhia had only ever read about Notacarallus or heard about it from Matticula whenever she recounted her own homage to Velia the First at the late Empress’ coronation. Tazhia took with her expectations of grandness, of magnificence, and of enormity much greater than that of Cerulius or Alexus. When she arrived in Notacarallus and saw the city in an uproar of jubilation and festivities, the sight of it was far more spectacular than anything Tazhia could ever have dreamed about. A city of two million inhabitants, Notacarallus was colossal in every sense of the word. Its dead straight streets seemed to sprawl for miles at a time, with buildings of granite and stone on either side stretching seven stories high. Temples, libraries, universities, courts, administrative buildings and beautiful manors; the flower-filled gardens of noble houses; the statues and monuments to Emperors and Empresses, of generals, Lords, scientists, navigators and religious men and women; architectural projects ranging from bridges over the winding waterways, to a new public bath or a market square; the endless array of crafts-people’s shops, stalls and traders; the omnipresent military police—the kinetic Imperial capital exuded ambition, wealth, and industriousness. Bustling with incessant commercial activity and building and excited chatter about the coronation of Kisvitenian the Third, the only constant features of urban life in the capital of the largest and most wealthy empire of all time were the severe, penetrating expressions of the statues of Imperial Monarchs and other important figures from Vismitian history, each of which stood individually in a major market square, or in front of a palace or government building of some kind, or on a island in one of the dissecting rivers. The base of each statue was inscribed with the name of the person, the dates of their reign if they were an Imperial Monarch, and, if they had one, their appellation. Most of the names meant very little to Tazhia, but one or two characters were, to her and her Tizlian attendants, singularly offensive triumphal monuments; Emperor Arpolt, Chancellor-Viceroy Ikstignos Krassa, Emperor Eldavur the Third, Lord Olis Pratae.

The Solar Palace itself (the home of the Imperial Monarchs for centuries) and the grounds around it, was the size of a town. Surrounded by a moat and connected to the rest of the city by five immaculate bridges of different designs, the Solar Palace was a gigantic complex of stone halls, meandering corridors, dining chambers bursting with marble and entablature; of painted roofs with bronze, silver and jewel-embossed hanging candelabras; of the rarest and most expensive arts and jewels, pure steel furniture, coats of arms and armour and even preserved generals’ and statesmen and stateswomen’s bodies in their coffins for visitors to admire. Everywhere one looked one was assaulted with overt and wondrous proofs of impossibly exotic luxury and power. Tapestries—some stretching from roof to floor, and covering entire walls, and woven in animal fur and bird feathers—depicted scenes from pre-Imperial Vismitian history and the birth of the empire. Clement Ompho (a historian who was commissioned more than a century later by Tizlian queen Vitamatula to write a history of the Bronzav Dynasty) discovered in some of Tazhia’s private documents her diary from her trip to Notacarallus, and constructs a revealing picture of what she thought of her overlord’s abode and the impression it made on her. Tazhia wrote that:

". . . The wealth of the Emperor is staggeringly immense. Every fork and every knife and every bowl and dish is decorated like a princess’ dress; every inch of cloth and every inch of marble of the floor must have cost as much as the whole annual earnings of a Tizlian landowner. The rings on the Emperor’s fingers are the size of a child’s head; and he wears a bracelet on his right wrist that, were it possible to sell it, would give a decent sized town enough money to feed it for a season; his beautiful wife, the Empress, wears a tiara of painted steel, encrusted with rubies and emeralds, and her slippers are so shiny that when I bowed to her upon my arrival at the Solar Palace I could see my own face in her feet! . . ."

Yet all this luxury was simply Imperial hospitality; the real extent of the Vismitians’ brilliance was reserved for the coronation ceremony itself.

Orchestrated by Kisvitenian the Third’s aunt, the coronation ceremony undoubtedly succeeded in every one of its intended propaganda goals. The military-Imperial dimension to the decoration was unmistakably intended to instil both respect and fear in every person present for the new Emperor, who himself appeared not in the usual Imperial attire of the occasion, but in a costume designed by the finest tailor in the city specifically for the occasion of his coronation. Vaguely militaristic and vaguely religious, Kisvitenian the Third was making a very clear expression that he was to have absolute, unconstrained command of both aspects of Vismitian life. His role was not to be that of any other Imperial Monarch in the past. The Emperor’s visual presence, the mile-long parade through the city to the Palace of Invincibility where the ceremony was performed, the marching of 10,000 soldiers through Notacarallus in a brand new military uniform, and the abundance of religious and tribal insignia in subservient positions to Imperial insignia and coats of arms, all demonstrated to onlookers and participants alike that Kisvitenian the Third, the very institution of Imperial Monarchy, was entering a new stage, a brand new era where the Emperor would have total dominance over all subject races and all facts of life. The implication of all this appeared to be that Kisvitenian the Third was part conqueror and part deity, a human leader imbued with gifts of supreme strength, stamina and intelligence.

The Emperor’s vassal monarchs were positioned directly in front of Kisvitenian so that, as they bowed to him when the Imperial crown was placed upon his head, they could be seen prostrating themselves before Kisvitenian by his Vismitian subjects. This visually explicit subjugation of the vassals to the Emperor enhanced the image he intended to create of an all-powerful Imperial Monarchy. The flag of each vassal state (Tizlius included) was hung from a special balcony above the Emperor’s head, and were then supplanted by the hoisting of an enormous Vismitian flag above them.

In the early years of his long reign, Kisvitenian the Third set patterns of control, oppression and militarism which would come to characterise his reign and colour his legacy. Increased burdens on his vassals, tighter control of his subjects, stricter religious conformity, an attempt to further integrate many parts of the Empire by forcefully implementing a new Vismitian system of administration and justice, military expeditions; all of these and other projects were unveiled at an astonishing rate. A mere year into his reign, Kisvitenian the Third deported thousands of nobles from the Juoki province and replaced them with ethnic Vismitians, in so doing eradicating remnants of the old Juoki economy. Two years later, the Emperor terminated the royal dynasty of Zekraisl, one of the Imperial vassals, and appointed a Viceroy in their place. Autonomy was removed and Zekraisl’s centuries’ old traditions of government and justice were supplanted by the Emperor’s reforms. A decade later, Kisvitenian the Third deposed the queen of Sanghastan and imposed his Vismitian administrative reforms there as well, including the exclusion of native Sanghastani from holding the highest government positions.

Tizlius was not subjected to several of these measures, such as the administrative reforms and the religious restraints. Where Tizlius suffered most was in increased burdens of financial taxation, slaves and noble servitude to the Emperor and his plenipotentiaries. The Vismitian Viceroy in Cerulius was empowered to raise separate taxes and enlist hundreds (thousands if they needed) of peasants and slaves to build and work in the forts of Omonatson and Guzza provinces near the border of Drutheba-occupied Omonatson and Guzza. This meant the permanent establishment of Vismitian garrisons on the Western Tizlian border and entailed massive taxation on the peasantry and a recruitment drive in Dluta, Tebraela, Traesnekt, Gasvangs, Juitast and Omonatson provinces. Drutheban marauders and bandits had terrorised Tizlians on the Vismitian-controlled side of the Guzza Basin for years without any serious action being taken by the native Tizlian authorities. Kisvitenian the Third (who was concerned enough about domestic matters in his Tizlian vassal state to know about these raids) decided it was time his territory was properly defended, and that if the Tizlians could not do it themselves, then Vismitians would. For Tazhia and the Tizlian nobility, however, the policy felt like an infringement on Tizlian autonomy in her domestic affairs. For the ordinary population, the increased taxation, and, for the thousands who were subjected to it, the expulsion from their villages and forced labour in building and maintaining the Vismitian forts was a terrible experience. And it was humiliating for Tazhia to have foreign—if Vismitian—troops on her own territory guarding her frontiers. She was pressured by her government to resist the Emperor’s plans, but she was coaxed by the Viceroy into accepting the presence of the Imperial troops in the West. The Emperor, the Viceroy told her, will have the border properly defended, and that is a non-negotiable policy. Tazhia admitted that she did not have the resources to fulfil the Emperor’s wishes and capitulated to his demands. In 3467 Kisvitenian the Third demanded 5,000 Tizlian slave workers to assist in the construction of a new canal he was building on the Iron Ocean coast of the Empire, some 2,500 miles from the Eastern Tizlian border. Later on, in 3472, he demanded from Tazhia thousands of Tizlian peasants to work on construction projects in Derfrantie province in the far-West of the Vismitian Empire.

Tizlius was also forced to contribute to Kisvitenian the Third’s military objectives. Kisvitenian the Third was just as ambitious in foreign policy as he was in domestic policy. After the Emperor Arpolt brought the nations of the ‘Vyelen Basin’ into the Empire, the Imperial boundaries were nearly touching those of the Southernmost nations of the Trycepean Peninsula, which is situated along the North-Eastern edge of the Vyelen Ocean. Trade interests kept the Empire and the Trycepeans at peace with one another until the year 3411 when an alliance of several Trycepean nations, whose objective was to drive the Vismitian Empire out of their arena of economic activity, invaded the Vyelen provinces of the Empire. From then onwards the Vismitian Empire and the Trycepean nations mistrusted one another. Kisvitenian the Third was not the first Imperial Monarch to feel a sense of bitterness over the Empire’s history of relations with the Trycepean Peninsula. But he also possessed an indomitable belief in the inevitable victory of the Vismitians over all of its opponents, and believed that the time had come for the Vismitian Empire to reap bloody vengeance on the desert-dwelling Trycepeans. But for this he would need the best troops he could find. The Vismitian infantry alone would not be able to conquer the Trycepeans, whose populations, despite the arid weather and treacherous geography of their Peninsula, were of unbelievable density, and thriving all the time.

Much of the burden of the conscription which took place between 3467-3470 would fall on the revered Juoki and Kuyopolan infantry, but Tizlius was expected to contribute her fair share of soldiers as well. The Viceroy in Cerulius insisted on 5,000 Tizlians being sent North to Notacarallus to form part of the army the Emperor would lead against the Trycepeans. But in 3469 Kisvitenian the Third issued an emergency decree calling for all vassals to provide him with 10,000 soldiers each—the nations of the Vyelen Basin had been invaded by a coalition of Trycepean nations, headed by the Kingdom of Norlaktac. Kisvitenian the Third’s generals defeated this invasion at a heavy cost, and a year later, after replacements had been procured from his vassals, Kisvitenian the Third lead his army across the Kringorth Strait on 400 ships. Landing on the beaches of the Kingdom of Mnasnopu, Kisvitenian the Third had with him roughly 20,000 Vismitian troops and 30,000 allied troops. The second largest contingent of the entire army was made up of Tizlians, who numbered 5,500 infantry and several hundred cavalry. Kisvitenian the Third was extremely grateful to receive such a large number of Tizlians for his campaign, but it seems that Tazhia allowed her nobles to march North with Kisvitenian the Third with some reluctance, and that the Emperor’s gratitude would have been better shown to his assertive Viceroy and the adventurous instincts of members of the Tizlian nobility.

The Tizlian nobility had since time immemorial relished the display of martial valour, whether that took the shape of private warfare between noble families, on the battlefield, or even purely for sporting activities. The lower nobles, the Onnors especially, were prone to such violent enterprises when they could not find employment in the crown’s or a higher nobility’s service. Since the First Tizlian-Vismitian War, however, Tizlius had not taken part in any wars with foreign countries, and the only major events which nobles had participated in which involved martial activity were the noble rebellions in Matticula’s reign, rebellions which both ended in defeats by Imperial troops, supported by regular Tizlian infantry. The private noble wars gave many hundreds of budding young Onnors their first taste of action and employment. The young warriors recruited by the Hyulfus, Grakatav, Ukireat, Teskuir and Polko families and others would otherwise have been stranded on farms in the service of landowners, making hardly any money, with little prospect of making any headway for themselves and their own families. Private war was a way out of this servitude, even if it did only substitute one form of service for another, more lucrative, one. The desire of the Emperor for thousands of fighting men for a defensive campaign was, in the literal sense, a dream come true for many hundreds of these anonymous Onnors. Not only would they receive a large payment (in comparison to the money they could make serving for a Tizlian noble family) it was possible that if they distinguished themselves they might be offered a full ten year contract with the Imperial army, with the possibility of advancement to officer rank. Also—and arguably more importantly for some Onnors than the honour of an officer’s commission in the Imperial army—there was the possible booty they could win for themselves if they survived.

Tazhia and a large number of Councillors and higher nobles were vociferously opposed to the Onnors signing up for the Imperial army, and made no secret of their contempt for the decree demanding soldiers. Tazhia, the Elektors and Counts and Countesses wanted the 5,000 men originally demanded for an invasion of the Trycepean Peninsula, to be made up almost exclusively of peasants and slaves, led by a mere hundred or so officers. They were still resentful of the irritating presence of thousands of Vismitian troops on the Western borders, and tried to persuade the Viceroy to send the Imperial troops to fight the Trycepeans, leaving the forts garrisoned by Tizlians. Chancellor Vrochugio, by contrast, favoured the departure of the Onnors for military service for one very important reason. If the most sought-after young warrior Onnors left for war, there would be much fewer warriors for hire in Tizlius herself. Higher nobles and powerful Onnor families would be much more likely to resolve their disputes through discussion rather than through warfare if they could not purchase armed political power. Less private war meant that the strain on the economy would be lessened, the nobles would spend more time and money on the upkeep and welfare of their peasants, which would in turn reduce the endemic problem of peasant unrest. It might also give the crown a chance to make some considerable headway in the countryside through purchasing land or coercing nobles off of theirs. Military victory carried with it the legitimacy of ownership; if the possibility of military conflict was removed from the equation, the superior financial and political resources of the Chancellery and the crown would prevail over the fragmented noble interests.

In the end, it was the immovability of the Viceroy and the arguments of Chancellor Vrochugio which reconciled Tazhia to sending Onnors to fight for Kisvitenian the Third. Of the 6,000 Tizlians who travelled to the Trycepean Peninsula for the Vismitian-Trycepean War of 3469-3473, nearly 1,000 were petty Onnors without prestigious family connections, without land or property, without position, and looking to make either a name or a fortune for themselves.

The military ethos of these Onnors and of the slave soldiers who went with them (most of them had formerly been conscripted by their noble masters to fight private wars for them) made them valuable soldiers in the Vismitian army. The First Tizlian-Vismitian War and the two failed noble rebellions had ruined the military reputation of Tizlians. But the Vismitian-Trycepean War went some of the way to repairing that damage, at least in the eyes of the Vismitian generals. They found the Tizlian Onnors remarkably aggressive and determined fighters, not hesitant to throw themselves in harm’s way and to plunge fists, faces and axes into the furnace of battle, as one Vismitian general described. The conscript peasants, though of poor quality, acquired a reputation for resilience and courage among their fellow subject soldiers and Vismitian professional soldiers. This did not, however, prevent the Vismitian soldiers and their officers insulting and abusing the Tizlians throughout the gruelling four and a half year campaign. They were subjected to taunts and insults, and were punished on imagined charges of incompetence or stealing from Imperial troops. The few Tizlian officers on the campaign were regularly mocked and personally ridiculed for their uniform, marching procedures, and for the history of their country. (The Vismitian conquest was one topic the Vismitian troops like to raise. On one occasion a brawl between Tizlian and Kuyopolan soldiers broke out in a camp and ended in fifteen deaths.)

For their trouble and their bravery in combat, the Tizlian contingent suffered heavy casualties. Of the 6,000 men who began the campaign, only 2,000 survived, and of them only half of them returned to Tizlius, while the other half entered the Imperial army. Precise figures do not exist, but the best estimates are that seven hundred of the Onnors perished from combat, disease, heat or exhaustion. Despite these heavy losses, the Vismitian-Trycepean War was a major success for Kisvitenian the Third. In the four years of fighting the Imperial armies defeated all of the nations which stood against them, and occupied the Trycepean nations of Mnasnopu, Skar-Siya, Odphito and Agrankreya. The monarchs of these four kingdoms were made to swear homage to Kisvitenian the Third in person, and became provinces of the Vismitian Empire. Permanent occupation armies were raised from the professional army and extra conscripts from the Peninsular provinces were brought in to bolster their numbers; Viceroys were installed in each of the four capitals to ensure that the Emperor’s laws and decrees were implemented. These new institutions, especially the occupation armies, took several years to build, and the Emperor was not there to witness their development, having returned to Notacarallus as soon as he had the homage he desired. He let his Viceroys and the generals do the ruling in the Trycepean provinces for him.

Tazhia would have one more occasion to be very angry with the Emperor and his using Tizlians for his wars with the Trycepean nations. In 3475 the defeated Kingdom of Norlaktac formed an army with its neighbour Agrankreya, which hoped to regain its independence. The Viceroy sent a plea to Kisvitenian the Third requesting more troops; the Emperor immediately sent to the Viceroy in Cerulius demanding, very specifically, 300 Onnors and 1,000 Tizlian regular soldiers for the campaign. Once again, Tazhia succumbed to the Viceroy and gave the order for another army to be sent North. Her decision was intensely unpopular among the Tizlian nobility, to whom it seemed the queen had no courage to stand up to the Imperial Viceroy.

CHAPTER THREE

A DISPUTE WITH THE COUNCIL

VROCHUGIO’S FALL FROM the Chancellery came about quite suddenly. His safety in his job had been insecure long before his public support for Kisvitenian the Third’s punitive demands crippled his ability to control the other Ministers—this was but the last of a plethora of offences he had committed. Having successfully defended his position from various contenders, including the queen’s own uncle, Vrochugio felt indispensible to the queen, above the code of conduct of any member of the government or court. He therefore used what he imagined to be his unique relationship with Tazhia to force through the Council a slew of laws. Presenting them to the Councillors as though they were already law, and the Council’s vote was merely a formality, Vrochugio pushed his personal authority too far; at the behest of his own Ministerial colleagues, the Councillors voted down every one of his laws. It was the worst political defeat the Chancellor had suffered.

For once, Vrochugio was on the defensive against his enemies, and in desperation he fled to Tazhia. She could have ended his career there and then, and brought in a respectable Chancellor, one who would have the backing of the Council. But Tazhia (who might have acted as an impartial referee in the dispute) sided with her Chancellor, tying herself to him politically, and dooming the capital to in-fighting for as long as Vrochugio remained in his post. This was in the year 3465.

By 3470, Vrochugio was so hated by the Council and the government that he was scared to leave the Nyura without a bodyguard. By then a very old man, his strength had left him and he was all but ready to retire when his fate was sealed for him. In the spring of that year, Tazhia’s Ministers began to leave Cerulius without any prior notice or explanation. When they heard of the actions of the Ministers, the Councillors began to copy their tactics, only they boycotted sessions of the Council, stayed in their homes and refused to answer to royal summons. Tazhia could have appointed Ministers to replace those who had left Cerulius if she had wanted to, but she understood that Vrochugio’s time had ran out. She called him to a private audience, thanked him for his services to the state and country, and then a courier read out the terms of his voluntary retirement, his enforced removal from government. Perhaps Tazhia did not have the heart to read it out herself. In the coming days, members of the court began compiling evidence to use against Vrochugio in a trail for all of his corruptions over the years, but their work was cut short by Vrochugio’s death at his country palace in late spring 3470.

As Vrochugio’s health and his influence over the court and the queen declined, his strict behavioural attitudes—which had been instilled in one and all—melted away. Tazhia’s court became a hotbed of promiscuity and vice. This ‘promiscuity and vice’ does not necessarily reflect any profuse sexual excess on the part of the members of the royal court. Though sexual exploits undoubtedly were part of the evolving culture in the later part of Tazhia’s reign and beyond, they were not nearly so central to the reputed ‘promiscuity and vice’ as they have been made out to be. Immodesty of eating, provocative dress, flirtatious and indecent conversation, ostentation and self-amalgamation were the new characteristics of those among the court who formerly had exhibited nothing but the most upright behaviour—these as well as the occasional sexual debauch.

Those individuals who specialised in one, or two, species of indecency could in time become something of a champion at court and in their home province, where they might be invited to stay in the Governor’s home or that of the wealthiest families. If a woman was particularly charming and, as it was put, ‘easily persuaded to bed’, and was good looking into the bargain, she might become an object of reverence among both genders; women wished to be seen talking with her, and men wished to be in her company, and, if they were lucky enough, to add their name to her list of associations. The same general rule can be applied to those who were talented eaters and drinkers, although this more applies to the men (who have bigger appetites than women), whereas attraction can just as easily be a man’s sport as a woman’s. Drinking plentifully and regularly, drinking groups (men and women who got together as if in committee for the specific purpose of partying and drinking) and drinking contests could afford men and occasionally women the opportunity to make great reputations for their fantastic capacities for alcohol and for being thrilling drunks. Men who were too ugly to be involved in the flirting and the games of attracting other men’s wives and daughters found the eating and drinking much more worthwhile. Indeed, some people managed such spectacular feats that their names are known to us even now. One such man was Onnor Mastoxus Kreactor. He astounded the Governor of Postmuto with his drinking, and was introduced to Tazhia when she visited the province in 3471. Several of his oft-repeated feats have become signature drinking