For once the broad mercenary captain was speechless.
Duke Kyblannos said, "Our Prince knows how to reward those who do good work, as Geblon and I have discovered."
"Thank you, Your Highness. I will do my best."
"That's all I ask," Phidestros said, pouring a goblet of wine for his new Baron. "As you can tell, I am more interested in keeping men about me who can make things happen than in whose father sired them. And, while I am generous with my rewards, I also do not spare punishments for those who earn them."
"As it should be, Your Highness."
"I will also give you a thousand foot and five hundred horse from my Army to secure your borders, and send you five thousand ounces of gold and twice that of silver and leave to raise another five companies. Is this agreeable?"
"Very much so, Your Highness. That will provide me with a sufficient force to repel any invaders, especially those wearing white bedsheets."
Phidestros grinned. "Exactly. I will also give you the patent to create a militia from those former members of the Army of Greater Beshta who have settled in your new barony. Should we be called upon by our Great King to fight in his name, I would like to have enough men-at-arms to secure our borders while we are gone. Does this meet with your approval?"
Captain Ranthos nodded his agreement.
"Excellent! Geblon bring me the Domesday Book that former Prince Phrames had collected."
"What is this Domesday Book, sire?" Ranthos asked.
"It is a volume that former Princes Phrames put together at King Kalvan's request; it lists all of our subjects, their lands and location. It was another of Kalvan's new measures. As you know personally, there is much to be learned from his model."
"I learned this working at the Royal Foundry. The Great King would come by personally to direct our efforts. He was most helpful."
"Here's the map I wanted you to see. This shows the princedom of Sashta and the border boundaries. This will be the breadth of your new barony. But, before we count the marches, let's discuss how many new tarrs we want built and where."
II
After a short wait in the outer chamber with about thirty other supplicants, Archpriest Danthor identified himself to the new High Chamberlain and was quickly moved to the head of the line and granted entrance to Styphon's Voice's Great Audience Chamber. Inside he found Anaxthenes, dressed in the red robe of primacy, sitting on a gilded and jewel-encrusted throne far more ornate than the seat of any Great King. A large solid-gold idol of Styphon rose from behind the throne, while two giant bodyguards stood to either side. A quartet of horns announced his arrival.
Archpriest Danthor went down on his knees as he approached the throne.
"Arise, Archpriest."
"Thank you, Your Divinity," Danthor said between clenched teeth. He hated bowing down to any man, either physically or symbolically.
"I understand that you have urgent news for Us."
"Yes, Your Divinity. Great King Cleitharses is quite ill and close to death."
"My heart is saddened by this tragedy," Anaxthenes uttered, just loud enough that the hangers-on could hear. In a few candles, gossip about the sincerity or insincerity of Styphon's Own Voice's words would fill the taverns and brothels of Balph.
Danthor looked one way, then the other. "Your Divinity, the rest of the news I have is best for your ears alone."
Styphon's Voice arose, his scarlet robe flowing behind. "Come with me to my private chamber. Archpriest Heraclestros, dismiss all claimants. Have the High Chamberlain reschedule them for tomorrow."
The much smaller private chamber was opulently dressed, but not as dramatically as the Great Audience Chamber. A servant followed with an amphora of wine and filled two golden goblets before leaving and closing the carved bronze doors. Anaxthenes removed his tobacco pouch and pipe from a belt around his robe.
Danthor knew he was being favored, both for this close alliance to Anaxthenes and for his privileged position in Great King Cleitharses' Court. One could count on the fingers of one hand the number of men who would be given a private audience with the new Styphon's Own Voice.
After filling his pipe and lighting it, Anaxthenes said, "You have done your work well, Danthor."
"No, I did not have to poison him. It appears the gods have done our work. The Great King suffers from a black tumor deep inside his innards. I have talked with his healer and he is not expected to see the end of this moon."
"We will ask for Styphon's Blessing. It is good that you didn't have to aid his passing. It is best for all that Great King Cleitharses die by natural means. Will there be any suspicions raised by his death?"
"No, Your Divinity. This growth is not unknown and certainly not one that can be placed by any human hands. Only the devils of Regwarn could spawn such a disease!" Horrors such as cancer of the colon had long been eliminated by First Level medicine, one of the true blessings of modern technology.
"Good. Balph is at peace, for a change, and I do not want any unsettling rumors swirling through the streets."
"I will see that the populace knows of the Great Kings' healer's words."
"Very good, Danthor. Has the Great King made his will known?"
"Not publicly. However, it came to my attention that he was preparing to write his final testament, when he had his chief scribe attend him in private. Usually, Cleitharses dictates his correspondence to me. That tipped me off that this was a very important and private document."
Anaxthenes leaned forward, his eyes filled with avarice. "Good. Were you able to read it yourself?"
"When I saw Cleitharses' scribe leave the audience chamber with a sealed tube, embossed with the Great King's seal, I knew that the document inside was of great value-possibly a deathbed request or bequeathment. So I braced the scribe in his office and threatened him with Investigation if he was uncooperative, or with a purse of gold if he handed over the parchment." Danthor paused for dramatic emphasis. "He proved most cooperative, Your Divinity."
The smile that curled Anaxthenes face was positively bone chilling. He grabbed the parchment tube out of Danthor's hands, like a snake striking a bird, and pulled a poignard out of his robe to slit the seal. "You have done well, Danthor. I will read it out loud:
My most favored nephew, Prince Anaxon,
I am close to death. Not from any poison vial, as you might rightfully expect and warned me about, but from a dreaded growth deep in my bowels. My every waking moment is filled with monstrous pain and agony. I will soon leave this earthly plane, and welcome my release from this life. Soon I shall know the breath of the gods and, hopefully, their favor. Although, as we both know, I do not deserve well from them for the ills I have allowed in my realm.
As my closest remaining kin, I want you to sit upon the Golden Throne of Hos-Ktemnos. I have always felt that you and your brother were the sons I never bore. I had hoped to relinquish my Throne to you while I was still alive, in order to bask in your pleasure. By the True Gods, that fate is not to be. Perhaps it is my punishment; if so, it is fitting.
I warn you that your elevation to Great King will not sit well with the current occupant of Styphon's Golden Dome. Styphon's Voice will want you to remain with the Grand Host ofStyphon and not return to Ktemnos City where your subjects need your firm hand. Do not listen to the unclean priests of the Devil Styphon! We have followed the Inner Circle's orders faithfully and they have rewarded Us with the death of our armies and loss of Our hegemony over our loyal subjects. These false priests are not to be trusted. This is a lesson I know you learned at Phyrax Field where your brother was grievously wounded and so many of our soldiers took their last breath. I ask your forgiveness for not listening better to your warnings about the corruption that has infested the heart of Balph.