Joel Shepherd - Tracato

“Then Damon and Myklas,” Sasha finished. “You’re older than Damon but he and Myklas still come before you as men…”

“And if they all fall?” Alythia said sombrely.

Sasha didn’t like to think about that, but circumstance demanded she must. “I’m not sure anyone knows. Our family’s only sat the throne for a hundred years. The circumstance has never arisen.”

“This is the point, Sasha. I’m not sure that anyone knows.”

“But surely…I mean, Great-Grandpa Soros must have written it down?”

“Oh, yes,” said Alythia, “the rules of succession are set, as you said. But they’re old, Sasha, and untested. You know Lenayin, you know the battle to get the lords to do anything the way it’s supposed to happen. Lenayin today is a vastly different nation than Grandpa Soros thought it would be, a hundred years since the Liberation.”

Sasha nodded. Alythia made a lot of sense. “If all our family’s men fall, what’s supposed to happen?”

“Sons of the oldest heir,” said Alythia, “in descending order of course.”

“Little nephew Dany,” Sasha said distastefully. “A Hadryn inherits the throne.”

“He’s not actually Hadryn.”

“His mother is. And if Koenyg were dead, she’d rule his choices, the Archbishop would control his education…”

“Yes,” Alythia conceded with a shrug. “It would be like the Hadryn acquiring the throne of Lenayin, certainly. Which would upset so many Lenay lords, to say nothing of Lenay people, that likely war would result. Which is why I don’t think the lords would allow it to happen, and Grandpa’s rules of succession be damned.”

“So who would have an equal competing claim? Surely not a son of yours with some Tracato noble?”

“Sasha, think about it.” Alythia leaned forward, eyes deadly serious. “What has been the single greatest advantage our family has had in ruling Lenayin the last century? The reason why the lords don’t just get rid of us, as they so easily could?”

“We don’t get involved in lordly disputes.”

“Exactly. Baen-Tar is not a true province, and the royal family has no provincial loyalty. We’re independent. The lords abide by Father’s decisions because they know he is impartial. However much they disagree with any decision he makes against them, they’d still rather keep the king on the throne because they know the one to replace him would be a provincial great lord, and that would be intolerable.”

“Like having a Hadryn on the throne,” Sasha said slowly.

“Exactly,” said Alythia, knocking the table for emphasis. “Half of Lenayin would rather tear the land apart than see it happen, because they know the chances of impartiality from a Hadryn king are precisely nil. And the Hadryn know the same of them.”

“You think that an outsider, born in Tracato…”

“As Grandpa Soros was educated in Petrodor,” Alythia agreed, “to the extent that he was practically a Torovan when he ascended to the throne and barely spoke a native tongue…”

“Oh,” said Sasha.

“It’s not without precedent in Lenayin,” Alythia concluded. “Most of the great lords would rather see a son of mine, raised in Tracato, ascend to the throne than any son of Koenyg’s.”

“Wait, there’s Petryna, she’s older than you.”

“And her son is heir to the Great Lordship of Yethulyn, same problem as with Hadryn. And Marya’s older than us all, but the chances that any in Lenayin would let sons of the new King Marlen of Torovan ascend are unlikely, given it would simply make Lenayin a province of Torovan, beneath the command of King Marlen Steiner.”

“And a son of Sofy would be beholden to the commands of Larosan nobility,” Sasha added.

“Besides which, I’m older,” Alythia agreed. “But yes, the very advantage of it being a son of mine, if the Army of Lenayin lost its fight, is that Family Renine are relatively powerless outside of Rhodaan. If the Army of Lenayin had lost, it would certainly suggest the current order here would still stand, which precludes Family Renine from assuming any greater feudal power. Meaning a son of mine would be a true outsider, with no unwanted connections. Perfect for Lenayin.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Sasha said warily.

“Aye, well you think about sword fighting, and I think about noble politics. It’s our lot in life.”

Sasha was unconvinced. She no longer hated Alythia, if she ever truly had, but some of her previous assessments of her sister, she did not doubt. Power drove Alythia. Obsessed her, in every waking moment. It was not necessarily a flaw; as Alythia said, Sasha knew what it was to be obsessive in competitive matters, and that it did not always equate with evil. And yet…

“Sasha, I’m thinking of Lenayin, as are you,” Alythia said firmly, as though reading her mind. “The armies of the Steel have not been defeated in two hundred years. If Lenayin suffers a catastrophic loss, royal ranks could be decimated, and then Hadryn takes the throne. We need options.”

“Who would you wed?”

“I haven’t decided. It would take a long time to raise a son to rule, if the great lords agreed to his legitimate claim. There would need to be a caretaker. A regent, of sorts.”

“All right, this has now become too hypothetical for me. ’Lyth, we have more short-term problems than Lenayin’s succession. What’s General Zulmaher doing in Elisse?”

“You’re the soldier. You tell me.”

“Many around here are saying he’s a puppet of the Renines, that he’s more interested in making noble friends in Elisse than destroying feudalism there.”

Alythia sighed. “Sasha, I am a new guest in the Renine household. I have leverage there, but not yet trust. I know nothing of the Renines’ schemes.”

“Do you think that there are schemes?”

“It’s a noble household, of course there are schemes. I know that everyone’s quite alarmed at these Civid Sein fools suddenly pouring into town.”

“The surest way to rouse the Civid Sein is to set up Elisse as a feudal ally to the north,” Sasha said with certainty. “I don’t know…why do the nobles want to tear down everything that’s been built here? Had you ever imagined a city such as this, before you came here?”

“It’s very impressive, yes,” Alythia said wryly.

“It’s the wealth, and the ideas!” Sasha was almost surprised at her own enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking a lot since I’ve been here, and there are many ideas we could take back to Lenayin. I’d love to see a Tol’rhen like this in Baen-Tar.”

Alythia smiled indulgently at her younger sister. “You forget yourself, Sasha,” she said. “The Army of Lenayin is marching to burn this place down.”

“No.” Sasha shook her head. “I can’t believe that. If our army wins, Father would never order all of this destroyed.”

“He would not wish to, no,” Alythia agreed. “But, Sasha, look at what’s happened here. All these institutions, this learning and invention that impresses you so much, this is the nobility of Rhodia’s worst nightmare. This is a vision of the world without them. What was that old tale, about the king whose death is foretold by the fortune teller, and he orders every fortune teller killed? Why do you think this place has been so endlessly attacked the last two hundred years?”

“So why do the Renines want to pull down everything that’s made Rhodaan a success in that time?”

“They don’t want to pull everything down!” Alythia insisted. “They’re proud Rhodaanis, but…have you been following the council deliberations lately?” Sasha sighed, nodding reluctantly. “They bicker and bribe and betray. They call themselves the elected representatives, yet in truth barely one in five has earned his seat with a fair vote. Rhodaan shall fall if she does not have a firm hand. You’re a soldier, you know that an army cannot win without firm leadership.”