S. Turney - Interregnum

“The second detail,” he announced, returning his attention to the group as a whole, “will be responsible for repairs and decorating in various buildings. One of the palace elders already has a schedule of works that the islanders have been adhering to, so I see no reason to deviate from that. I’m thinking of maybe twenty men for that detail. Preferably those with some small level of skill in the area, but I don’t think we’ll be too fussy.” He pointed at a short rather plump soldier at the front. “Even Crispin here can wield a brush!” The group laughed.

“The third detail has the hardest work I think, but the most important job. Any of you who aren’t assigned to a group will need to join the workforce on the island and involve yourselves in farming, fishing and all other sources of food production. I’ll warn you against fishing until we’ve surveyed the coast unless you’ve a stout heart and you’re a damn good swimmer, but I’ll leave that up to you and your individual skills.”

He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Now, I intend on keeping a small group still as guards and lookouts. Maybe a dozen men in three four-man rotating squads on eight hour shifts. That’ll be the last. Everyone should be involved then.” He looked down at Iasus. “Which of the other details do you want to take sergeant?”

Iasus looked up at the commander, distaste showing on his face. “I think I’d be happier leading the guard detail sir. It’s what I’m trained for.”

Sabian nodded. He couldn’t imagine Iasus the farmer anyway.

“Very well.” He handed the papyrus and stylus to Iasus and addressed the entire group. “The two sergeants will call for volunteers and assign squads. I’ll be joining the island’s council at least until Sarios is capable of the role again. When the groups are chosen and you’ve picked out a few leaders or representatives, get your men together and start planning. First thing in the morning I want a small deputation from each detail to come to the council of elders in the Raven Palace and discuss how we proceed.”

Leaving the group muttering and arguing, Sabian held his breath as he walked past the door of the bathhouse and toward the Water Gate on his way back to the palace. If nothing else at least he would be able to bathe soon and the troops would be kept busy and occupied. He remembered in the accounts of Caerdin’s northern campaigns that the army had been garrisoned throughout the winter and the troops were becoming increasingly restless and lazy. The general had set his entire army to building a wall of turf and timber that stretched fully twenty five miles across the Galtic Narrows that he’d defended a decade earlier. This was much the same principle though the conditions were greatly different. Thoughts of Caerdin inevitably led his mind back to the subject of Darius and he wondered where the boy was. There were a few hours before he needed to interrupt the elders, but other jobs he could be doing. He stopped for a moment by the dilapidated Imperial shrines and pondered where to go first. Probably best to visit Sarios he thought and, sighing gently, headed for the Raven Palace once more.

The minister was being kept in his rooms at the palace on the top floor, above the continually-used dining room. Sabian wondered whether they’d been the rooms he’d occupied twenty-some years ago. Probably, knowing the man. He made his way to the small rear door once more and turned left inside along one of the marble corridors whose windows looked out over pleasant greenery. At the end, a spiral staircase led up through both floors and down into the cellars. He climbed the steps, formulating in his mind a greeting for the leader of the island’s community and at the top made his way to the suite at the end of the corridor. The door was ajar and he could hear raised voices within. He paused before entering, listening to an argument in full swing inside. Two doctors disagreeing about treatments. Although he had precious little understanding of the detail of their conversation, one thing shone out clear: Velutio’s doctor was advising some safe slow course of action that would result in no harm to the minister but would leave him permanently blind in one eye. The island’s doctor was advocating some radical treatment that sounded very visceral to Sabian that might save the eye, but could put the man’s life in danger. He grunted. Not a conversation he felt inclined to stand in the middle of. Taking a deep breath again, he pushed the door open. It took a few moments for the two red-faced doctors to notice him and the argument stopped suddenly.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen” Sabian greeted them. “If I may, I would like to see your patient if he’s conscious.”

The island’s doctor, ‘Favio’ the commander seemed to remember, cleared his throat. “He’s conscious but resting in the next room.” He then turned and glared at the other doctor, who returned the look.

Sabian’s patience was rapidly wearing thin. He stood for a moment until they both looked back at him. He gestured angrily with his thumb and the two filed over to the door. Once they were standing before him he spoke, his tone a low menacing whisper. “Don’t you think you should be discussing things like this out of earshot of your patient? He’s half-blind, not deaf!” The two doctors looked at each other sheepishly and Velutio’s physician nodded. Sabian stepped to one side while the two doctors filed out into the corridor. He waited until they’d exited and slammed the door early, hard enough to hit one of them in the back.

He sighed and made his way to the bedroom door, which was shut. This room was less than opulent and mirrored the personality of its occupant perfectly. Functional would be Sabian’s description. He drew a long breath and rapped lightly on the door.

“Yes?”

Turning the handle, Sabian wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the inner sanctum of the island’s leader, but this certainly wasn’t it. The room was well-appointed but bore more of a resemblance to a shrine or a storage room than a chamber. Busts of the Emperors and great men lined one wall on innumerable shelves. The wall behind the bed was decorated with a fine mosaic map of the Empire at its height. A third wall bore more shelves containing numerous artworks of the highest quality, all of which had presumably been removed from places on the island and brought here to preserve them. The floor bore a huge mosaic of a raven surrounded by the incarnations of the old Provinces and the final wall contained three huge windows that lit the room. The only furniture inside were the bed, a small writing desk covered with documents, a chair and two altars, one to the protective spirits of the household and the other to the Imperial cult. In the midst of this veritable museum lay Sarios, half his head bandaged, propped up on pillows and cushions. The minister managed a weak smile as he recognised his visitor.

“Commander. It’s good to see you. I hear good things about your command of the island.”

Sabian shrugged. “I’m glad you’re looking better now. As for ‘good things’, I’m not so sure about that. I just don’t like to see needless cruelty.” He smiled. “Actually, I’m just embarking on a few projects around the island. I don’t like my men to get lazy.”

Sarios smiled again and tried to pull himself a little more upright on the pillows. Sabian rushed to the bedside and helped the old man pull himself up. Sarios gratefully relaxed in a better position and then looked up at the commander with his good eye. “Thank you. I feel so useless, but it’s a terrible thing when you get old and feeble. He only hit me twice, but I feel like I’ve spent a day in the arena entertaining the crowd.” Again the smile. Sabian couldn’t help but admire the man.