little brothers. He nearly choked on the news. They didn’t deserve to die at such early ages. He remembered his last evening in Baku, telling them stories. His eyes watered a bit, but he shook it off. Sentiment wasn’t an acceptable emotion to show in the army.
His mother must have been crushed. She would take action against the killers, for Vish had no doubt the boys had been assassinated. What if it was the Emperor himself? Two heirs at once? Vish didn’t want to accept that. He felt helpless to assist Princess Yalla, so far from Baku. The knowledge only made him more wary of these seven princes.
Daryan had given him a moment of reflection and then spoke again. “In a way, we all are. Most of the casualties are the result of some kind of test or other that the Emperor has ordered. But your brothers’ deaths aren’t Father’s style. I heard that you were attacked by Astyran.”
Vishan sighed. “Long ago.” He waved away the incident casually in front of his brothers, but he remembered every detail. “It can’t be safe for any of us in the Imperial City. I’ve survived a few assassination attempts.”
“Haven’t we all? I doubt if it will be any safer for us here. Stay aware of your surroundings. Any of us could take advantage of our isolation, even me.” Daryan got up and joined three of his brethren.
Alone again. Perhaps he was safer that way. Regardless of the heat, Vishan would become constant friends with his mail shirt once more. He spent the rest of his meal pulling up as many memories of his little brothers as he could. Suntar and Leshyr. Suntar had just barely gotten his tutor.
The string of deaths that went along with succession persisted with every Emperor and every dynasty that Vishan had studied. If an Emperor successfully stopped it, his successor might succumb. The struggle to rule Dakkor continued. It was no less savage than the reports of the Cuminee barbarians’ fights for tribal dominance.
Not for the first time, did Vishan wish his father had been a common merchant or a farmer, like Peleor’s. How was Peleor? It sometimes seemed like he had lived a different life back in the city, but as he observed his brothers defensive demeanor, the objectionable intrigue of Baku had come to Peshakan.
~
Most of the day, Daryan’s duties consisted of reminding where the brothers needed to be. Vishan’s life became a bit easier. Less of Sergeant Vaka and more of the four lecturers that arrived the day after his brothers did on a significantly more comfortable carriage than the military wagon. These men stayed in the Captain’s quarters and obviously ate at the Captain’s table. Vishan had never seen them in the mess.
He doubted if they would be spending a year educating all of them, but Vishan never underestimated his father’s unpredictability.
A week later, Vishan sat at his usual spot at the front of the room by himself. His other brothers paired up at the two-person tables and the first day, they made clear to Vishan that he was on his own. He held no illusions about what his brothers thought of him, but Vish’s only wish was that he sat at the back instead of the front.
“We will be talking about the Great Emperor and his strategy for ruling the world from Ayrtan.”
Astyran laughed. “Who would want to rule from there? The savages are congenital idiots and the land barely supports what few of them exist.”
“Does anyone have an inkling of what happened so long ago?” Master Noryton said. His specialty was history and culture. He scanned the silent room.
Vishan raised his hand. “Ayrtan wasn’t what it is like today. Something happened to the Purestone that the Great Emperor used to communicate to his rulers in the other three continents, the Moonstone on Zarron, Bloodstone on Besseth and Sunstone on Roppon. The collapsing of the nexus underneath Ayrtan was the result of a disaster that turned the Purestone into the Darkstone. The Great Emperor died and his Empire
His mother must have been crushed. She would take action against the killers, for Vish had no doubt the boys had been assassinated. What if it was the Emperor himself? Two heirs at once? Vish didn’t want to accept that. He felt helpless to assist Princess Yalla, so far from Baku. The knowledge only made him more wary of these seven princes.
Daryan had given him a moment of reflection and then spoke again. “In a way, we all are. Most of the casualties are the result of some kind of test or other that the Emperor has ordered. But your brothers’ deaths aren’t Father’s style. I heard that you were attacked by Astyran.”
Vishan sighed. “Long ago.” He waved away the incident casually in front of his brothers, but he remembered every detail. “It can’t be safe for any of us in the Imperial City. I’ve survived a few assassination attempts.”
“Haven’t we all? I doubt if it will be any safer for us here. Stay aware of your surroundings. Any of us could take advantage of our isolation, even me.” Daryan got up and joined three of his brethren.
Alone again. Perhaps he was safer that way. Regardless of the heat, Vishan would become constant friends with his mail shirt once more. He spent the rest of his meal pulling up as many memories of his little brothers as he could. Suntar and Leshyr. Suntar had just barely gotten his tutor.
The string of deaths that went along with succession persisted with every Emperor and every dynasty that Vishan had studied. If an Emperor successfully stopped it, his successor might succumb. The struggle to rule Dakkor continued. It was no less savage than the reports of the Cuminee barbarians’ fights for tribal dominance.
Not for the first time, did Vishan wish his father had been a common merchant or a farmer, like Peleor’s. How was Peleor? It sometimes seemed like he had lived a different life back in the city, but as he observed his brothers defensive demeanor, the objectionable intrigue of Baku had come to Peshakan.
~
Most of the day, Daryan’s duties consisted of reminding where the brothers needed to be. Vishan’s life became a bit easier. Less of Sergeant Vaka and more of the four lecturers that arrived the day after his brothers did on a significantly more comfortable carriage than the military wagon. These men stayed in the Captain’s quarters and obviously ate at the Captain’s table. Vishan had never seen them in the mess.
He doubted if they would be spending a year educating all of them, but Vishan never underestimated his father’s unpredictability.
A week later, Vishan sat at his usual spot at the front of the room by himself. His other brothers paired up at the two-person tables and the first day, they made clear to Vishan that he was on his own. He held no illusions about what his brothers thought of him, but Vish’s only wish was that he sat at the back instead of the front.
“We will be talking about the Great Emperor and his strategy for ruling the world from Ayrtan.”
Astyran laughed. “Who would want to rule from there? The savages are congenital idiots and the land barely supports what few of them exist.”
“Does anyone have an inkling of what happened so long ago?” Master Noryton said. His specialty was history and culture. He scanned the silent room.
Vishan raised his hand. “Ayrtan wasn’t what it is like today. Something happened to the Purestone that the Great Emperor used to communicate to his rulers in the other three continents, the Moonstone on Zarron, Bloodstone on Besseth and Sunstone on Roppon. The collapsing of the nexus underneath Ayrtan was the result of a disaster that turned the Purestone into the Darkstone. The Great Emperor died and his Empire
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