XXVII. MATTERS OF THE EMPIRE

  Admrilia glowered at the two story sandstone walls that barricaded Legate Xur’s private villa. She frowned at the mature palm trees over the walls, wondering how the legate’s murderers could have climbed over the slanted walls. Governor Kai groaned as he was eased down from the palanquin. Admrilia waited for his feet to touch the cobblestone streets before approaching the gates of the villa. They were unlocked.

  The grounds were modest. Well kept considering the desert's extreme heat. Palms and tall shrubs lined the entire perimeter of the yard. Admrilia frowned. “And he kept no family, no company?” She asked as they entered the main house.

  “No princess.” Wyn-Kai struggled to keep up with her long stride. “The legate never married or had children of his own. His life revolved around the legion. After his retirement, he became increasingly reclusive.”

  Admrilia turned to the Governor. “Why is that?”

  “The legate was nearly two decades my senior. I think at a certain point, a man craves the ability to pass with dignity.”

  “Are we certain he didn’t die of natural causes?” Advisor Khispen asked.

  “His slit throat suggested otherwise.” Wyn-Kai said flatly. “Come. I should show you the study. This is where his servants found him.”

  “Where were his guards?” Admrilia asked as they walked up a narrow stairwell to the second floor landing.

  “The ones he had kept watch on the estate at all hours of the night. We can certainly track them down in the city for you to talk to if you wish.” Wyn-Kai pushed open a set of double cedar doors. Admrilia hid her couch at the dusty air.

  Xur’s war spills were proudly displayed against the far walls. A vast collection from a long and storied career. Spears, swords, animal hides and kerai armor straddled a bold gold banner. The fabric was torn and singed displaying the motif of a ram. The last physical remnant of the destroyed House.

  Xur’s collection was considerably impressive, but the rest of the room was sparsely furnished. The desk was barren of papers, with only a stylus and ink pot waiting on the left hand side of the chair. Admrilia walked forward, noticing the stain on the rich cyprus. She pointed to it and the Governor confirmed her suspicions. “Blood, yes. His throat was cut as he slept over his desk.”

  “Was it common for him to fall asleep in his study?” Khispen asked.

  “According to his household it had become increasingly common.”

  “And his household?”

  “They’ve been cleared. A few self-exiled after the incident. But you may speak to those who remain at the estate later if you wish.” Wyn-Kai said.

  Admrilia nodded, filing the information around the room for later. She walked around the desk. “Entry?” She clipped.

  “The door was locked from what I’ve been told. It was his preference when he was in his study to be left alone.”

  Admrilia eyed the tall windows above the bookcases. She dragged the chair over to the bookcase and stepped onto it to gain a better view of the ledge. “A child couldn’t fit through here.” She scoffed. She looked down at her advisors. “His household very easily could have betrayed him.”

  “Nothing's for certain.” Wyn-Kai disagreed.

  “What the governor is neglecting to tell you princess Admrilia, is that no man could have fit through the window.” Advisor Clavo’s ocean blue eyes were filled with accusation. “But a talented kerai, perhaps one who could aiya into a bird, could easily have accomplished the task.”

  Admrilia fought back her scoff as Wyn-Kai inclined his head. “That is our working theory as well. We have found evidence to substantiate that claim.” Wyn-Kai walked to the desk and produced a piece of papyrus from his robes. He hunched over, his brushstrokes quick and efficient. Admrilia dropped down from the chair and walked over. The Governor stepped aside to allow them to peer at the kiyr glyph.

  “The assassin left this on his body. A calling card of sorts.”

  Admrilia’s understanding of the complicated kiyr language was elementary at best but it appeared to be the visage of a woman sitting within a box. Or perhaps a roofline of sorts. Advisor Clavo hissed through his teeth. “What is it Advisor?” Admrilia asked.

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  “The Ten Houses of Ker.” Clavo’s thick hand pointed down at the glyph as if it personally offended him.

  “The Ten?” Advisor Khispen asked.

  “Yes. The symbol originated from the Ballad of the Ten.” Wyn-Kai cleared his throat. “House fought House through decades of strife, and their sons and daughters died. Over their bodies their father’s cried—”

  “And from their children’s love the Houses unite.” Clavo spat. He scowled. “This is the symbol of Ker unification. This is the banner they rode under during the Ker Conquest, when all ten Houses joined forces against the Conqueror.”

  “And now it’s the symbol of their rebellion.” Admrilia finished. She glanced up, Advisor Khispen and Clavo’s expressions grave. They mirrored her own.

  “The legate’s last correspondence was with Legate Fillium over in De-Anu. But to be honest, Xur had no shortage of enemies.” Wyn-Kai said. “He was a destroyer of a House. That has not been forgotten. His hatred for the kerai was arguably greater than the Conquerors.”

  “Don’t be a sympathizer.” Advisor Clavo said quietly.

  “I’m simply providing the group context. The search for Legate Xur’s murderers will be extensive.”

  “But more broadly, the whole territory could be teetering on the brink of rebellion. If we find the Legate’s killers, it could lead us to these insurrectionists.” The crushing weight of the Conqueror’s directive settled over her shoulders. Legate Xur’s killers could be as far as Pi-Yenja by now, or the rebellion's leader could be as close to those in this very room. Her eyes slid to Wyn-Kai the Wise. The Betrayer. Did her grandfather have it in him to rebel against the empire? After the Conqueror granted his House the mercy of life? Was Legate Xur’s murder some sort of elaborate scheme to get her here?

  Admrilia bit her tongue, relishing briefly in the sharp sting. She could not accurse the Governor, her own family, of treason without considerable evidence. But she could hardly trust them either.

  “There is more.” Wyn-Kai said. Alexandros and Flavius quickly shared disbelieving glances near the doorway. “Advisor Clavo, you asked me why the Uros are here. When they arrived, they claimed they knew nothing of your impending visit. They are here on behalf of your son. He wrote to me.”

  Advisor Clavo snatched the outstretched letter. His eyebrows shoot higher and higher with each line of text. The advisor handed the letter over to Admrilia without a word. She immediately recoiled at the hideous penmanship. She silently read:

  Governor Wyn-Kai,

  I write to you with great urgency. It is with great humility that I admit that the city of De-Asha has failed to produce the Conqueror’s tribute for the upcoming triumph. The Conqueror has tasked me with recovering the most unusual prize. I am to present a star.

  Admrilia paused, then reread the line. A star? How preposterous. Surely the Conqueror did not mean a physical star like the myths. Admrilia did not believe in destiny, or the stars as Asho did. No, she firmly believed that the wyrd myth was used by the Conqueror, and his forefathers before him, to justify the subjugation and continued conquest of the continent. End of story.

  Unless, there is already one wyrdstone. Her mind rushed to reason. Why couldn’t there be others? Admrilia continued reading.

  I firmly believe the Emperor desires a relic of the Conquering, a weapon of which the Ten kept fiercely hidden inside Anu-Uro-Set during the war. But the excavation of the site has yet to yield results. The nature of, and power of this star has alluded my men and I.

  Admrilia’s mind spun like a top. Why was the Conqueror demanding such an extensive search? And if the wyrdstone did exist, and if she found it? Admrilia could nearly bask in the warm praise upon her skin as she presented this other star to the Conuqueror. A wyrdstone restored. Her duty to the Empire would be fulfilled. It surely would be enough to force the Conqueror to name her his heir. Admrilia could become Empress. Admrilia scanned the rest of the lines.

  Upon learning of the legendary legate’s passing, I grow more frantic in my search. The city of De-Asha requests that all of Legate Xur’s personal accounts of the siege, as well as any supplemental documents be sent in our aid. I pray to the Stormlord, merciful is our god, that we may recover the star before the Conqueror’s arrival. I have sent an envoy in my stead. With great humility, Legate Titus Crassus Clavo.

  Admrilia wordlessly passed the letter to Advisor Khispen. She walked over to the Legate’s bookcases. “Are the journals here?” She asked Wyn-Kai directly.

  He eyed her knowingly. “No. His accounts are kept in the Houses private repository along with all other records of the Conquering.”

  “Then we should go there next.” Admrilia nodded to herself. “We need to discover what connection Legate Xur had to all of this.”

  “Of course.” Wyn-Kai bowed his head. “And do you wish for the Uro’s to join us?”

  Advisor Clavo vigorously shook his head. “Absolutely not. You cannot seriously trust a matter this dire to those kerai dogs.” Clavo grumbled.

  “Bring them.” Admrilia turned and eyed her advisor. “Your son clearly had entrusted them with a task of this magnitude. So either your son finds them useful to the empire or he is as dumb as a mule.” She fit the advisor with a piercing glare. “The blade stills close by either way.”