It was just another day in the Sun-Drenched Hall, the High Court of Indoris. As the main theater of power for the entire continent, the court was, as usual, packed with hundreds of dukes, marcher lords, petitioners, and sycophants.
At the center of it all sat the aged Emperor- The Undying Sun, Sovereign of the Seven Sands, and Aegis of Indoris- Ardan Aghaz. He was not even paying attention to the court's mundane proceedings anymore. The nobles were bickering over land rights and grain taxes, occasionally approaching the dais for a final verdict. Ardan would simply nod in weary agreement, having little idea what the disputes were even about. He trusted his advisors to filter the noise; they would alert him if something truly threatened the foundations of the Empire.
The Emperor's mind was occupied by a much more important issue- the succession dilemma. He needed a solution that would cost little blood and even less gold, for a civil war would leave Indoris a hollow shell. Deep in his heart, he wished for his youngest son, the Third Prince Lehan Aghaz, to take the throne. But the boy was too timid, like a frail shadow flickering in the presence of his older brothers, who were little more than decorated bullies to their younger sibling.
Ardan's chain of thought snapped at the sudden blare of trumpets. A herald announced the arrival of a messenger bearing news of grave importance. On a signal from the Emperor, Grand Vizier Artemis Kaine stepped forward. He gestured for the messenger to approach the Golden Dais.
"His Imperial Majesty, I bring dire news from the West," the messenger began, taking a dramatic pause, "The Lord of Veridia, Elmsworth Throne, is no more!"
Margrave Kaevon Drax, while resting habitually on the pommel of his broadsword, sneered at the messenger, "Good grief, boy. Why the hell are you calling that 'dire' news? Has the Sun-Drenched Hall become a place for mourning such nobodies? Are you on Veridia's payroll?"
"N-no, my Lord Margrave," the messenger stammered, startled by the sudden accusation from the border lord, "It is... it is because he was assassinated. In his own court, while presiding over a trial, and…"
"Why should we care if the man was stabbed in his court or choked while drinking wine in a sinkhole of tavern?" Countess Lysa Vane sounded utterly bored as she continued fanning herself with a decorated silk fan, "Do not bore the Emperor with such trivialities. There are far more pressing matters of fashion and finance to…."
"Will you all stop your chattering and let the man finish his report?" Exchequer Aurelia Drusus, the 'High Mistress of Trade and Coin', interrupted the Countess with a dominating voice. She had heard whispers of this through her merchant networks, and her gut told her the messenger carried a spark that could ignite the room. If she was right, this was a massive setback for the First Prince's faction, and she intended to savor every moment of his downfall.
The messenger nodded in gratitude toward Aurelia and continued, "This all occurred while Duke Azgar Zorat was present in the Veridian Court. He was there demanding the immediate release of Bisfront Bistro, the father of the Lady Betrothed, Bianca Bistro."
"Hold your tongue, you worm!" Prince Ahiran Aghaz suddenly roared, his armored boot stomping onto the marble with a sound like a hammer blow. The hall went silent like a graveyard, "You dare raise one more scandalous allegation in this hall, and I will have your tongue cut out and fed to your wife, raw!"
"On what grounds?" Ardan Aghaz finally broke his silence. The weary, slumped old man was gone now; he was now sitting perfectly straight, eyes glowing like amber, "What part of this message do you find to be a 'scandalous allegation,' Ahiran?"
It was now Ahiran's turn to be startled. His face got flushed with a deep, angry red, "I...I mean, Your Imperial Majesty, this report sounds...fabricated. Malicious."
"Tell me," Ardan's voice was now colder than ice, "was your favorite Duke not present in Veridia? Or did he not presume to demand that Elmsworth release your would-be father-in-law?"
"N-no, Most Radiant Father, it was not like that..." Ahiran stammered, feeling the eyes of every noble in the Empire upon him. In that moment, the terrifying 'Iron Lord' looked as small as a child caught in a lie. Across the dais, the Second Prince, Eilan Aghaz, leaned back in his chair. A thin, satisfied smile was playing on his lips as he watched his brother's humiliation.
"Lysandra!" Ardan called, not moving his gaze from his eldest son.
Lysandra Xylander, the 'Mistress of the Obsidian Veil', glided forward like a shadow. She bowed low before the throne, "Your Radiant Majesty, the reports are confirmed. Duke Azgar indeed did more than demand a release; he threatened the Lord of Veridia. He claimed that if the First Prince's esteemed father-in-law was not freed, the seven city-states would be reduced to ash beneath the might of Indoris."
Lysandra and Eilan exchanged a quick, short glance of mutual appreciation. The trap had been set perfectly.
Ardan Aghaz stood up from his throne, and the court was reminded of what a gigantic, physically imposing man he had been in his prime. With slow, deliberate poise, he descended the steps of the dais and approached the First Prince, "Who gave a Duke of a frontier province the authority to flex the muscles of this Empire on behalf of a common criminal? Do my Dukes now hold the power of war and peace? Duke Valen, what say you?"
Duke Valen Orlov, the 'Elder of the North', shook his head slowly, "Unless it is a state of open war, no Duke has the authority to threaten or wage conflict without the explicit permission of the Ivory Throne."
Ahiran tried to puff out his chest in a desperate attempt to save face, "I beg you, Imperial Father, do not refer to the late Bisfront Bistro as a 'criminal.' He is the father of my beloved; he is…."
Ardan reached out and poked his son's forehead with a heavy finger as a clear gesture of profound disrespect that made the gathered nobles surprised, "Just because I agreed to your marriage with a girl from the backwaters, Ahiran, do not assume I am willing to drag my entire empire into a bloody war for the sake of your 'criminal' father-in-law."
Eilan could no longer suppress his urge to tighten the noose on his foolish brother's neck. He stepped forward while hiding his delighted mood with a fake mask of earnest concern, "Your Radiant Majesty, the damage to our diplomatic standing is severe. With your permission, may I suggest we send an immediate envoy to Veridia to clarify that the Duke's threats were…?"
Ardan knew exactly what Eilan was doing. He would have given his second son an earful for this, but Ahiran saved Eilan from that humiliation by losing his cool first. The First Prince turned his fury from his father toward his brother.
"Oh yes, why not?" Ahiran sneered, "Why not go yourself, you money-minded 'Golden Lord'? Go and apologize on the Empire's behalf. Beg for their mercy! Perhaps you can offer them a discount on silk while you're down on your knees!"
In his rage, Ahiran was on the verge of mocking the Empire itself, but Ardan moved faster than anyone expected. The Emperor grabbed his eldest son by the collar and jerked him forward until they were eye-to-eye.
"You are a muscleheaded idiot, Ahiran. I did not mind that when you were fooling around besmirching own name. But this time, you have brought your idiocy into my court," Ardan growled, "You have made me rethink the entire succession. As of this moment, you are no longer the prominent claimant of the Ivory Throne."
The hall became so quiet that even the flickering of the torches could be heard.
"You...all three of you...now hold equal claim to the throne," Ardan announced, his voice booming across the hall, "If I die before a successor is officially named, all three of you will have equal right to contest for the crown. The best man shall win. I have made my decision. Does anyone here object?"
The First Prince's faction was paralyzed. Finally, a minor baron loyal to Ahiran found his voice, "Oh, Your Emin…."
He never finished. A silver dagger hissed through the air, grazing the baron's ear and drawing a thin line of blood before thudding deep into the wood of the wall behind him.
"Forgive me, Baron Duz," Captain Varus Kaelo, the Commander of the Emperor's personal Guard, 'The Sun-Guard,' said in a voice flat and devoid of emotion, "My hand seems to have gone numb. It was a mistake, I assure you."
Everyone in the room knew that Varus's aim was legendary, and it was just a clear message to all of them.
Ardan chuckled darkly, "So, I believe my decision is final, as there are no objections. Now," he turned his gaze toward Eilan, then back to the shivering Ahiran, "As Prince Eilan so graciously suggested, Prince Ahiran Aghaz will be the one to write the letter to Elmsworth's widow. You will convey your genuine sorrow for her husband's untimely passing. You will pray for the peace of his soul. And you will have it finished by the time the sun sets TODAY."
Ardan felt a rare spark of happiness as he watched Ahiran slump in defeat. The Emperor wasn't really bothered by the reaction of the puny City-States; they were small fry. He had simply been looking for a legitimate excuse to deny the Ivory Throne to his eldest son without causing a military revolt. This debacle provided the perfect opportunity to bypass tradition and open the door for his youngest.
As the court was dismissed, Ardan's eyes found Lehan, who was standing quietly in the back, looking as harmless as ever. Now, Ardan thought, I must find a way to make the lamb look like a lion.