This post is chapter forty-nine of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48
Benedek awoke to the urgent pleadings of a messenger boy. “Archduke, you'd better come and see this.” Benedek rubbed the sleep from his eyes and cursed the crick in his back. The Desert Trader's mansion that he'd taken over on the east side of Kubara had seemed opulent enough, but there must be something wrong with the bed. Every morning his back seemed to find some new way to protest it. He rose and told the messenger to wait while he got dressed. Being Archduke had been just as dreadful an undertaking as he had suspected. There had been no end of problems. He had finally succeeded in rounding up the last remnants of Gavril's army that had established themselves as criminal gangs in the city. He hanged the worst offenders and pardoned the rest, on the condition that they depart Kubara. He thought he would have some peace after that, but here was another messenger waking him up and proving him wrong.
The boy led him to the north watchtower. Benedek's legs ached by the time he got to the roof. Whatever there was to see had better be important. When he looked he understood why the lad had been so agitated. An army was marching from the north. A huge army, larger than any force since the War in the South. It didn't seem possible, but there they were, marching ever closer, with the famous Liatian precision. Apparently Princess Danijela had decided to claim the throne after all. Even if he had the men to resist them, Benedek wasn't sure he wanted to. He hadn't asked to be Archduke, but he had stepped up to do his duty. If someone else wished to step into his place, he wasn't prepared to fight especially hard. Benedek dispatched messengers to the highly ranked nobles that were still in Kubara. They would ride out to the Liatians and surrender there, assuming that's what Danijela wanted, to spare the city another invasion. Benedek could barely believe that he welcomed the idea of surrender. His entire life had been one of honor and duty, and here he was preparing to hand responsibility for the kingdom over to someone else, glad to be rid of the burdens. Had he finally given in to the infirmities of age, and allowed his heart to grow as weak as his body? He massaged the crick in his back, wondering how long it would take him to get back to his own bed and be free of the pain.
With Count Salamon and a gaggle of others in tow, Benedek rode out to meet Danijela's army. Instead of a coach, Danijela traveled on a huge palanquin, a mobile throne covered with a silk canopy, carried on the shoulders of sixteen men. Reaching a suitably flat spot, Benedek dismounted and prepared himself to meet the Liatians. The main body of the Liatians halted, and Danijela's palanquin was brought forward and set down in front of the Tarkannan nobility while a hundred heavily armed and armored men surrounded them. A herald came forth, and called out, “All hail Danijela, Empress of the World. All will bow down before her.”
Empress of the World? What was this nonsense? Had she gone mad as well? Even surrender, it seemed, could not be easy. Why did every situation conspire to be more complicated than it needed to be? Had Benedek's honor bent enough for him to go through with his intentions? He considered his options. If Benedek and the nobles resisted, defeat would be inevitable. Perhaps if he had not sent all of Gavril's loyalists away, they might have stood a chance, but Kubara was a weakened city and couldn't resist an army even a quarter this size. Sighing heavily, Benedek went to one knee, and the nobles behind him followed suit. “Empress, I am Archduke Benedek, sovereign ruler of Tarkannan. I welcome you to our fair land.”
“You will surrender to me, and Tarkannan shall be added to my empire,” she said.
Still on his knee, Benedek slumped his shoulders and answered, “We surrender.”
The was a bright flash, and an almost deafening noise, as if lightning had struck in front of them. Benedek felt an intense pain in his chest, as if something inside had been ripped out of him. As he blinked spots out of his eyes and the ringing stopped in his ears, Benedek realized he had somehow fallen to the ground, as had most of the other nobles. His head spun as he returned to his kneeling posture and brushed the dust from his clothes.
Danijela called out, “You will all obey my every command.” Of course he would. He felt vaguely insulted by even the suggestion that he wouldn't, but then he recalled that he had contemplated resisting her rule, even if only for a moment, and felt ashamed. “You will worship the demon-goddess Natasza, and no other.”
“Natasza bless us and keep us safe.” Benedek didn't know who started the prayer, but he joined in as soon as he could. It was his duty, as his empress had commanded. He tore the Saint Bryson's medallion from around his neck and threw it to the ground.
Danijela continued, “All your lands and titles are dissolved. You are soldiers in my army now.” A part of Benedek told him to speak against this, but it was an easy enough thought to brush aside. It was an idle fancy, like a wish to kill someone who was tiresome and annoying. He had a duty to obey, to support the empire and the empress, not indulge the selfish fantasy of holding a title against her wishes.
“Prepare yourselves to be marked,” she commanded. A pair of Danijela's soldiers came forward. One carried a large bucket filled with red hot coals, the other carried a branding iron in the shape of the Watchful Eye that adorned the Liatian flag. As they approached Benedek noticed that they had been branded themselves, a third eye burned into their foreheads. Benedek clenched his jaw shut and braced himself as the iron was applied to him.
Benedek joined the rest of the army as they surrounded the city. With clockwork precision they searched, neighborhood by neighborhood, and herded the citizenry to the central market square where they could hear Danijela speak, be enlightened by the demon-goddess, inducted into the empress's army, and receive their brands.
With the bulk of the city in her service, Danijela ordered construction begun on a grand temple to the demon-goddess Natasza, that would also serve as Danijela's palace. With single minded determination, the army set itself to the mighty task. The ruins of the old Tarkannan palace were cleared away, and the new temple began to grow from its foundations. The giant, broken statue that had dominated the royal plaza since its battle with Marek was broken up for use as raw material. Those skilled at masonry led the project and taught those that had the capacity to learn. Others put themselves forward as laborers, tearing down old buildings to access the stone that was needed for the walls.
Benedek wished he could be of more use, but as old and frail as he was, he was unsuited to heavy physical labor. He busied himself by assisting the officers and overseers of the new empire in developing a plan for the domination of Tarkannan. He dispatched messengers to every corner of the kingdom, issuing orders under his now obsolete title of Archduke to have every man, woman, and child brought to Kubara to be inducted into the new empire and the new faith.