The Fireseed Wars

"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.