Robert Newcomb - Rise of the Blood Royal

She also knew that Vespasian was not the first emperor to offer such a plan, but in each case the proposal had been voted down because of the staggering cost and hugely long odds. But it wasn’t some previous emperor who had again proposed this great adventure. It had been Vespasian Augustus I, whose birth and supremely endowed blood were shrouded in mystery and awe.

Even Persephone had to admit that she did not fully comprehend Vespasian’s magical powers. Moreover, Vespasian commanded the overwhelming respect and devotion of his legions like no emperor before him. He had fought with them, drunk with them, laughed and cried with them, and helped to bury their dead. At his word they would follow him to certain death, if need be. This would be a campaign of staggering, unprecedented importance, and its outcome would permit no middle ground. The empire would either survive or fall, and Vespasian’s leadership would be the fulcrum on which the scales of history would tip.

Suddenly Persephone’s more personal concerns began crowding in. A campaign of this extent could take years, she realized. Her loneliness in Vespasian’s absence would be devastating. More important, because she had produced no heir, should Vespasian be killed, Rustannican law dictated that she would rule in his stead until she died or became too feeble to continue. Then the Suffragat would choose a new ruler to fill the power vacuum.

But if Vespasian was killed and his campaign collapsed, what sort of shambles would remain for her to govern? she wondered. Financing this special assault would surely use up most of the remaining treasury funds. If the drive failed and the Rustannican treasury was bankrupted, Ellistium would burst into an uncontrollable riot. Worse, within a matter of months Shashidan hordes would mass outside the city walls. The decimated legions would surely be insufficient to drive them back.

Amid the deafening silence of the Suffragat, Persephone again looked at her beloved husband. He returned a gaze of grim determination mixed with the hint of a secret apology for not having taken her into his confidence sooner. While she nodded her undying support, she found herself wiping away another tear.

The Suffragat strenuously debated the wisdom of Vespasian’s proposal for more than two hours. After each group had voiced its opinion, Vespasian again grasped his scepter and banged it on the floor.

“What say you all?” he asked. “May we now vote?”

Gracchus stood. “Before we do, we of thePon Q’tar must ask whether a battle plan has been drawn up for this undertaking,” he said. “If it has, we demand to see it.”

Vespasian shook his head. “As yet there is no battle plan,” he answered firmly. “My reasons for not ordering one are simple. Given its great importance, I wish the plan to be drawn up and approved by the entire Suffragat, rather than only the military. I have but one demand. Once we are in the field, I reserve the right to change any tactics I deem necessary to ensure our success.”

“In that case, thePon Q’tar agrees that the proposal should be voted on,” Gracchus answered. “But if a suitable battle plan cannot be formulated, thePon Q’tar reserves the right to demand another vote-one that would call for the total abandonment of the campaign. We will of course demand that the First Mistress of the Priory perform the auspiciums to divine our fortune in this endeavor. A favorable answer would go far in convincing the populace of our eventual victory. And there is one other thing upon which we must insist. Should this campaign become a reality, we believe that the Oraculum should be brought along as well. This sets a precedent, we realize, but her visions might be of great use to us.”

“The tribunes agree,” Lucius said.

“As does the Priory,” Julia Idaeus added.

Vespasian nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Send the skeens to retrieve the plaques.”

With a quick hand signal from Gracchus, each skeen ran to one corner of the Aedifficium. There sat an ivory chest, its sides and top emblazoned with golden eagles. Opening the chest, the skeens removed dozens of gleaming onyx and ivory plaques, each about the size and thickness of a man’s hand. One black plaque and one white plaque was delivered to each voting member of the Suffragat. However important or complex a motion might be, voting was a simple process. No secret votes or abstentions were allowed. A white plaque meant yes; a black one meant no.

When the members had been given their plaques, Vespasian looked toward the Suffragat as a whole. “The voting may begin,” he said simply.

At once the air filled with plaques as the members cast their votes. As the plaques levitated, Vespasian held his breath.

Not a single black plaque hung in the air. Because there would be no need for a formal count, the members recalled their plaques. As they recognized the full import of what they had done, the Suffragat members went silent again.

Vespasian was astounded. In the entire history of the empire, only two other votes had been unanimous, and those had been “black-plaqued.” This had indeed been history in the making.

“The motion is passed,” Vespasian announced. “So that all three factions of the Suffragat might be represented, Gracchus, Lucius, and Julia, to you I delegate the responsibility of starting work on the battle plan. Leave no stone unturned.”

Pleased beyond measure, Vespasian nodded. “This session is adjourned,” he said. “But before we leave for the games, we have one more responsibility.”

As Vespasian stood from his chair, Benedik Pryam edged closer toward Gracchus.

“It seems that we finally have our great campaign, after all,” he said quietly. “And just as we hoped, it was Vespasian’s idea. I pray that thePon Q’tar and this amazing emperor that we have created are equal to the task…”

Gracchus smiled. “All in good time, my friend,” he answered. “We have taken a greater victory from this day than we could have possibly wished for. I suggest that we go to the arena, drink some wine, and watch more skeens die-for we will soon be on the battlefield.”

“Do you mean to say that we are going to accompany him?” Benedik demanded.

Gracchus nodded. “Given that he so cleverly demanded the right to alter the campaign on his sole authority at any time, I’d say that we have little choice,” he answered. “But do not fear. I know how to manage our headstrong young ruler. And if I cannot, well, the battlefield can be a very dangerous place-even for emperors. Besides, once his gifts have won the day, his further usefulness will be questionable.”

Gracchus watched Vespasian walk across the Aedifficium floor. Against the far wall was mounted a golden war lance. Only the emperor was allowed to handle the lance, and it held great significance for the empire. When the lance was brought before the public, its appearance meant only one thing-that a new and important campaign against Shashida had been ratified by the Suffragat.

Vespasian stopped to regard the sacred lance. He had never held it in his hands. The lance’s tip was sharply pointed, and a golden eagle adorned its haft. A gray and white eagle feather dangled from shaft near the tip. Black leather strips were wound around its center, forming a tight gripping surface.

Vespasian reached up and took the lance down from the wall to find that it felt right in his hand. As he marched toward the Aedifficium doors, the entire Suffragat eagerly followed.

Flushed with victory, Vespasian pointed one hand at the massive bronze doors, and they opened quickly. After purposefully striding out onto the massive Aedifficium landing with the Suffragat in tow, he stood among the structure’s huge columns and looked down the hill and out across Ellistium’s massive forum, the city’s great center of trade and commerce. While the Suffragat gathered around him, Persephone and Lucius came to stand by his side.