Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

Eventually, they both knew the new emperor would turn his focus to the fringes of the empire, even this far out.

“How are things looking?” William asked finally, though he was far from certain he wanted to know.

“The old group are stocking for a fight,” the baron admitted with a sigh. “They know Corian won’t leave well enough alone. It’s not in his nature. He’ll insist on military discipline in government, and we both know that’s never going to happen.”

William laughed darkly, shaking his head. “Not without a lot of blood spilled.”

“Not even then,” Baron Kennissey countered. “Bloodshed will get him the appearance of discipline, but it’ll also start the conspiracies running, if they’re not already.”

“Are they?”

Kennissey shrugged. “I haven’t made plans yet, but there are others not as forgiving as I am, and Edvard had friends. I don’t know. What about the Cadre?”

William was silent for a moment as he considered that question.

“Scattered,” he finally said. “The Senate limited our numbers, but Scourwind had the last laugh on them in that deal.”

“How so?”

William grimaced. “The limit was one century of Cadre, the elite of the empire.”

Kennissey nodded. “I know. What of it?”

“We never had enough men to fill half that, and the Scourwinds knew that we never would when they agreed to the limit ,” William said.

“Men come from all over the empire to take a shot at a Cadre slot,” Kennissey objected. “How is that possible?”

William glanced around, but the room was empty. It was a reflex gesture more than a sign of real suspicion. He parted his cloak, exposing the Armati where it rested strapped to his thigh.

“These. They’re our Armati, our sworn weapons,” he said. “A symbol of office, if you will.”

“I know. The Senate was briefed …”

“No”—William shook his head—“you weren’t. I’ve probably already told you more than I should, but given the state of the empire, I can probably tell you a couple things even Corian isn’t aware of. The Armati aren’t manufactured weapons. The empire didn’t create them.”

Kennissey stiffened. “Then who?”

“They’re from the Atalans.”

“That’s a myth,” the baron countered, disbelieving. “No one believes they really existed.”

“They existed,” William said confidently. “The Scourwind histories go back far into the pre-empire history. The Atalans most certainly existed.”

“Then where did they go?”

William snorted. “Where do you think? They founded the empire.”

“Scourwind …” The Baron breathed out, shocked.

“And half a handful of other bloodlines”—William nodded—“and only those bloodlines can link to an Armati, or even neural projection interfaces. Today there are millions in the empire with some hint of the blood, probably tens of millions, but most of it’s thin. Scraping together enough men to fill a century of linked wielders? Effectively impossible, and growing harder with every passing generation. Another handful, and there won’t be a single person left in the empire who can link to an Armati. Be thankful that projection links are far less stringent.”

William paused, considering his words, then pressed on.

“Further,” he said, “of those who can link to an Armati, only a fraction are physically and mentally capable of serving as Cadre.”

Kennissey fell silent at that, wondering if his young friend and ally quite understood just what that meant, in political terms.

“This is explosive, William. You know that, right?”

“There is a reason Edvard, not to mention his predecessors, chose not to make it known.”

Kennissey nodded, understanding the former emperor’s thoughts on the matter. The Cadre were the arm of the empire. The ideal they represented was arguably the iron core that held the kingdom upright. While Imperial forces controlled the explored world, for all practical purposes, many of the outlying territories were under the Imperial flag in name only, and some weren’t even that. Oh, they still bowed to the empire when the force of the legions were brandished in their direction, but like petulant children they pretended loudly that they held no fear even as they shook in their boots.

The legend and, yes, the reality of the Cadre—warriors worth a century of men and women on their own—and the idea that anyone in the empire could one day become such, was more powerful than a legion. The empire didn’t have nearly enough legions to cover the known world, but legends? Those had no limits.

“I’ll not speak of this,” Kennissey swore. “I think maybe you should not have told me.”

William nodded. “I know.”

“So why then?”

“Because if Corian isn’t stopped soon, the empire will begin to unravel … and you need to plan for a very different future.”

“Understood.” Kennissey sighed. “So what is next for you?”

“My oath makes that clear,” William said wearily. “I have to locate the Scourwind heirs. But until I have another lead, I have a secondary task.”

“And that is?”

“I need to ensure that there is an empire waiting for them when they’re found,” William said. “This idiotic fighting has to stop. The loyalists can’t be facing Corian’s legions in a battle line. Damned fools.”

Kennissey merely nodded, having nothing in particular to add. Any commander who thought he could face a legion with a century or less should be so lucky to be considered a fool, and he would most certainly be damned.

“Well, good luck in your endeavors, my friend … and speedy travels.”

“Brennan? Are you here?”

Brennan looked up as Lydia stepped into sight. “Hey, Lyd.”

Lydia sighed, relieved, as she saw her brother working on the skimmer they’d escaped from the capital in. She winced at the same time, however, because he wasn’t going to be happy with her.

“I brought food and a few supplies,” she said.

Brennan stiffened, eyes snapping to look at her and the bundle she was holding in her arms. “You didn’t.”

“We needed food.”

“Lyd, we’re on the run from the empire,” he said, exasperated. “Literally everyone is trying to get us. We can’t just stroll into towns and get supplies.”

He paused, confused. “Where did you get the money to pay for everything?”

She shot him a look, one that he’d long ago interpreted to mean Don’t ask! You won’t like the answer .

“Lyd …” He groaned. “What did you do?”

“It’s not like they needed it,” Lydia defended herself. “The guardsmen’s stores had plenty for such a small garrison.”

“Oh God, you didn’t !” he hissed, shocked. “Lydia, that’s insane! They monitor those stations! We have to move—”

“Please”—she rolled her eyes—“do I look like a technical illiterate? I looped the monitors before I walked in. They haven’t changed the codes in over a year.”

Brennan closed his eyes, groaning again.

While he was the natural flyer of the family, Lydia was something of the family criminal. Not that anyone was supposed to know that, of course. Oh, she preferred to think of herself as a security or technical specialist, but some of the things she’d done that he knew about made his delinquent acts pale by comparison. There were few secrets that she got the scent of that remained secret from Lydia for long, in his experience at least. More than one time in the past she’d narrowly avoided being caught stealing data from palace servers by expertly playing the bratty princess card to whomever came looking.

He only wished he could get away with half of what she managed.