Chapter 1

 Someone pounding on my door woke me up. I was out of bed with a sword in my hand before I was even fully awake.

“Rise, Duke,” a familiar voice barked.

I had trouble placing it.

“Valamir?” I asked.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes, but—”

He pushed the door open.

“A bit naked,” I finished.

“I have seen the nude form before,” he said dismissively, walking into the room and shutting the door quickly behind him.

“Is it even morning?” I asked.

“Of course,” he ripped the drapes open to reveal a sunny garden.

“Shit. Did I miss the Senate?”

I scrambled to pull clothes out of the dresser.

“Not yet, Montana of Coggeshall.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I take it you had an interesting evening?”

“At the ball? Sure. I met the people thinking of running for Emperor. They all seemed kinda shitty, as far as people go, but probably fine rulers. I told everyone I wasn’t going to vote for them. At least not yet.”

“And Tollendahl?”

“Oh, that blowhard, yeah. He and I had a chat.”

“Allow me to guess that it did not go well.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“How would you prefer I put it?”

“No, that’s accurate. He threatened me, and I told him to fuck right off. But I didn’t hurt him. Nor did I get into any fights.”

“Well regardless, you wound up in a fight, and it is one you will have difficulty winning.”

“What did Tollendahl do?”

“There are many layers of luck that even allow me to posit a means to head off this disaster. But we have little time to get this done.”

“What?”

Valamir rubbed his forehead, looking out the window. “Even then, will it work?”

“Give me a little to go on here.”

“You will need to go to Arenberg.”

“And why will I need to do that?”

“Because it was not a rumor that Mahrduhm has moved an army there, nor a rumor they plan to take the pass and invade Glaton. I have no army to send, so you need to defeat the army there in a decisive victory. Otherwise, you will lose your titles and Coggeshall will be wiped from the map.”

“That’s a whole lot to lay on my table. And can you clarify this whole Coggeshall-will-be-wiped-from-the-map thing?”

I would love to elaborate more on this mess, but on the one hand I hesitate to spell things out in a way that could turn out false. Bear in mind, I am not operating from a position of full knowledge. I have been warned by two friends who have different pieces of the same picture, and I am forced to determine what is going to happen from those disparate accounts. On the other hand, we are preciously short of time and disturbingly long on what needs to be accomplished. I must tell you what I can on the way to the Senate, and I am very much afraid that you need to simply trust me.”

“Fuck, Valamir. Why can’t you come wake me up with good news?”

He gave me a wry smile.

“Next time, Duke,” the high prince said. “Should you remain a duke, that is. Now, unless you think the Senate will react favorably to you showing up nude, get dressed.”

“You think that might help me?”

“It is against the parliamentary rules,” called a voice from the hall.

“Arthur?” I called out. “Is that you?”

“At your service, your grace. Pursuant to a ruling in the second session, one must be attired appropriately for one’s task within the Senate.”

“He, apparently, has not seen the nude form before,” Valamir said, rummaging through my clothes and throwing things at me, “and chose to remain outside.”

“It was the polite course of action!” Arthur argued. “That I am even here is beyond normal protocol, your grace and your highness.”

I started pulling all the clothes on, wishing, not for the first time, that zippers had been invented here. Getting dressed required far too much in the way of ties and buttons, which were never made for my seemingly gargantuan fingers.

“There is one additional thing to consider,” Valamir said.

“Oh, goody,” I replied, wrapping my belt around my waist. “Hit me with it.”

“Take whatever you need with you. You cannot come back here.”

“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“I will explain on the way.”

“You keep saying that, and then not explaining anything.”

“I would prefer to be in the carriage before I begin talking. I worry we have already taken too long.”

He looked me up and down, and gave me a nod.

“I feel you are dressed enough,” he suddenly said, neglecting the fact I didn’t have boots on, or really anything beyond pants and a single shirt. “You have a helper here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Ragnar a helper, but–”

“Have him bring your things.”

“Wait–”

Valamir grabbed my shoulder and began to steer me out of the room. I knew I was stronger than him and I could have broken free, but it really didn’t seem like the right move. He was an ally, in theory, and I figured I needed to listen to him. Out in the hallway, I saw Arthur leaning against the wall, looking ragged. Eliza peeked from her doorway, but when she saw me looking she quickly disappeared. Ragnar was rubbing his eyes, trying to get all the sleep from them, obvious to me at least, that he had been hitting the sauce somewhere the previous night. Baltu was still nowhere to be found.

A heartbeat later, I was sitting in the carriage with Ragnar, Valamir, and Arthur, somewhat squished together since this clearly wasn’t Valamir’s normal ride. This was a smaller and more discrete whip. But that meant a tighter ride…

It was not in any way comfortable. Carriages in general aren’t the most pleasant — there’s a certain lack of suspension technology in Vuldranni that makes me miss even the clunkiest cars and trucks from the old world. But add in too many people crammed into a small space, especially when one of those is an oversized idiot like myself, well, it was a ride. The only saving grace was one of us being a Lutra. 

Ragnar seemed to have made a full recovery already, just smiling and looking out the window, his little legs kicking a little.

Arthur looked a bit like he was going to vomit, while Valamir was gritting his teeth hard enough to crack them.

And then there was me, crammed against the window, my head bouncing off the ceiling with every bounce, struggling to get the last of my clothes on in a way that didn’t look like I’d gotten dressed in a carriage.

Oddly, we rode in silence. I’d thought there’d be more chatter. But Arthur was afraid to speak while Valamir was busy thinking about things. Ragnar snored softly, somehow managing to fall asleep after the second block. I was both stunned and irritated. Apparently I needed to take on an entire army by myself, and still no one had explained why.

“I cannot say this will work,” Valamir said suddenly.

“With that level of confidence,” I replied, “I’m so glad we’re hinging the future of my people on your nonsense plan.”

“It is our only way free of the noose you put around your neck.”

“I know another way.”

“I think he means a way without wanton bloodshed,” Ragnar mused, still seeming asleep.

“You mean as opposed to me somehow winning this war against Mahrduhm?”

“Point.”

“The Empire does not expect a complete victory over Mahrduhm,” Valamir countered. “Granted, I am sure we would accept their surrender, or even the cessation of hostilities. But you merely need to secure Arenberg and Rumib Pass. Remove them front from active conflict.”

“Oh, is that all?” Ragnar asked. “Yeah, no bloodshed there in the slightest.”

“You would cut the heads off the nobility here instead?” Valamir asked. “Is that your answer to this mess?”

“Seems like it’s worked in the past.”

“You would have the Empire against you. Civil war.”

“I have to play the game, eh?”

“You do.”

“What if the game sucks? What if the game is rigged? Doesn’t it seem like all this—“

Ragnar put his hand on my arm.

“Are you pointing out the stupidity of the game to the man who has been playing it his whole life?”

Valamir gave Ragnar a smile, and winked at me.

“I can muster the slightest twinge of pity for you having to deal with this,” Valamir said. “Though not much beyond that. As your friend says, I have played this my whole life, born into it without choice. Now I am doing what I can to assist you through the same labyrinth. And yes, it is an unfair game. It’s terribly unbalanced, with rules designed to screw those who have just started to play. We have a slim chance to make a play that will surely ruin their own attempts at the game. And should it fail, and you lose your title and lands… well, then there is little to stop you from laying waste to any and all who you find might have wronged you. Myself included.”

Arthur gulped.

“Not you, Arthur,” I said.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Yet.” 

Arthur didn’t catch my smile, and certainly missed the joke. What he didn’t miss, however, was the floor when he vomited all over the carriage. 

“Whoa,” I shouted, trying to avoid the spray, an impossibility given the close quarters.

Valamir’s eyes went wide, and despite his normally royal demeanor, I could tell he was having a massive internal battle where he did not want to unleash his stomach contents, and he was losing. He clamped his hands over his mouth. 

I’m not sure why people do this — it doesn’t ever do anything except increase spray. 

Valamir’s stomach contents shot out at an increased velocity all over the interior of the carriage, covering those of us on the other side quite liberally. It was disgusting.

Being covered in vomit wasn’t the newest thing for me — it was sadly routine life in the old world and a regular occurrence in the new world as well, what with all the fighting I seemed to get up to. All to say I wasn’t disgusted so much as disappointed.

Ragnar was disgusted. And he promptly let loose.

Which got both Arthur and Valamir.

Prompting them into a second round.

I shook my head and kept my mouth closed as I stared out of the window, wondering where my life had gone wrong.

“None of this shit would be happening at a fishing cabin,” I muttered.

The only response from the rest of the passengers was mutual retching.

Chapter 2

The recent events required an unscheduled pit stop. Well, not precisely a stop at a pit, which I didn’t realize had to be specified here in the capital, but rather we stopped at a tailor. 

Of the four of us, I was the most disgusting. And of the four of us, I was the one who couldn’t just buy something off the rack. Nor was I allowed inside until I’d been dunked in the horse trough outside. I thought it left me nearly as disgusting. And while the rest of the group was hurriedly outfitted with new threads, I stood awkwardly with the apprentice tailor as he pulled larger and larger clothes out, none of which had any chance of being altered to fit. The apprentice ran off to check the warehouse, which I took as him giving up.

So instead, while the other men got gussied up with new clothes, I tossed my old clothes into a pile and used a bit of magic to pull the more functional gear out of the bag of infinite holding, and got dressed as if I was going to war. Which, you know, I was. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide when he came out to see me leaning against the carriage, mithril chain covering my muscled bulk. Though the mithril hood wasn’t on my head.

“You…” he started, then faltered for a moment before finding his words again, “are terrifying.”

Valamir came out of the tailor’s shop shaking his head.

“You are attired inappropriately for the Senate,” Valamir said. “You should–”

“Not precisely, your highness,” Arthur interrupted. “The Empire is within a time of war, and in such times, dressing for battle is within the realms of proprietary.”

“I had not known that. But even knowing that, I worry such an outfit might provide clues as to our goal there.”

“You still haven’t been clear with any of that,” I said. “What’s the actual plan?”

Ragnar chose that moment to exit the shop with aplomb, coming out dressed to the nines in a deep dark green, striking a pose against the lamp post.

“I am ready,” he said.

“Did you even get anything on you?” I asked.

“Nothing touched me physically,” Ragnar replied, “but I felt dirty. So why not get some new threads.”

“Especially when someone else is paying?” 

“The added expense is a pittance,” Valamir said. “I humbly request that we focus on the present issue.”

“His shoddy fashion choices are a present issue,” I snapped.

“Shoddy fashion?” Ragnar asked.

“Perhaps an issue, but not the issue, your grace,” Valamir replied right over Ragnar. “We have lost use of the carriage and need to walk. Use your long legs, and let us go quickly.”

Valamir strode away.

I looked over at Ragnar.

He smiled at me, and promptly scurried up to sit on my shoulder.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked.

“You wouldn't want to lose me in the crowd, would you?” he asked.

“I might,”  Bear replied quietly from my other shoulder.

“Knock it off,” I snapped, moving after Valamir before he could look back and wonder what the fuck I was doing.

“Away from the prying ears of the tailor,” Valamir said as I caught up to him, “we are trying to play a bit of a parliamentary trick based on what we imagine Tollendahl and his associates are going to do. Again–”

“Just a guess,” I said.

“Correct. We imagine they will call your title into question, that they will vote to strip the title from you and invalidate it, based upon what they can prove toward its provenance.”

“Even though the Emperor gave it to Cleeve? I mean, to Coggeshall?”

“The machinations of my brother and the first Duke of Coggeshall were more secretive than I would have liked. I doubt either one expected the end to be quite so sudden, and I would imagine there might have been more done to prop up the title had they known.”

“It isn’t enough that the Emperor signed it and his viceroy confirmed it?”

“The signature happened in secret and the viceroy did everything out of sight.”

“And is now dead,” Arthur added.

I shot him a dark look.

“I apologize for my bluntness,” Arthur added quickly.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Regardless of what you think or your feelings on the matter,” Valamir said quickly, glancing around at the people moving by us on the somewhat crowded city streets, “the reality of the situation is simply one of putting questions in people's minds. If they can convince enough of the Senate that there is reason to question you or your title, they can, with little trouble, table your legitimacy until after a new Emperor is crowned. At which point, you must kiss the ring of whomever you think might win in the hopes they will reinstate you.”

“I doubt that’ll happen.”

“It would be unlikely, given your, erm, social capabilities.”

“Because I suck at being a kiss-ass noble dickweed?”

“I think it’s because you use words like dickweed,” Ragnar said.

“Bit of both, really,” Valamir said. “But we digress from the germane topic.”

“You have a way to prevent this from happening?” I asked.

“Arthur and I have a theory. It should work, and it should be unexpected. In fact, we need it to be unexpected, because if they suspect what we are doing, there are means to stop it.”

“Why is it so unexpected?”

“The last time it was used was nearly six hundred years ago.”

The Senate was busy as we approached. Crowds had gathered, fighting to gain access to the building. Things hadn't moved to the point of actual physical violence, but there was quite a bit of shouting, and a few pockets of shoving already breaking out. It was almost as if someone had let the public know there would be momentous happenings at the Senate that day…

Our little foursome paused at the edge of the growing mob, standing in the shadows at the mouth of an alley. 

“Ragnar,” Valamir said, “your master cannot pause when he leaves the Senate. He must depart the city immediately. Anything you think you will need for the journey, you must get now.”

“Am I going?” Ragnar asked.

“You want to go?” I asked.

“Seems better than hanging around this place. Too many people, not enough fur.”

Valamir cracked a mild smile.

“Come with then,” I said.

“What do we need?” he asked.

“Food and supplies and shit. Just not literal shit.”

“I know.”

“Sometimes you–”

“Not when it’s important.”

“Fair,” I said, pulling off my most special bag and giving it to him. “Pack what you think we need.”

“When do I need to get back here?” he asked.

“You will hear the bells,” Valamir replied. “And one of mine will guide you.”

I didn’t even notice Valamir making any sort of gesture, but suddenly a man stood next to Ragnar, looking at Valamir.

“Lothar,” Valamir said, “Ragnar is gathering supplies for his master. Ensure his safety and see to it he is here when we exit.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Lothar said, with a slight bow.

Ragnar gave me a slight bow, maybe to mirror Lothar, and then the two were off. 

Valamir looked over at Arthur.

“You wish to make your exit?” Valamir asked.

“Leaving us so soon?” I asked.

“Ah, your grace,” Arthur replied, unable to look me in the eyes, “it’s just, uh, well, there is, my livelihood and I am not fully confident–”

“I get it. You don’t think this is going to work and you want to be able to continue to advise others in the Senate.”

“I would have found a more politick way of saying that, your grace, but–”

I gave him what I hoped was a warm smile. 

“I get it, Arthur,” I said. “You have to take care of your family, and if I go down in flames, you need to not be associated with me.”

Arthur nodded, barely.

“Thank you for your help,” I said. “If it works, I’ll tell everyone you did it.”

“And if it doesn’t?” he asked.

“We blame Valamir.”

“Why thank you,” Valamir said with a mild smile.

“Thank you, you grace,” Arthur stammered. “And your highness. Thank you.”

“Go quickly,” Valamir said, “before you are noticed.”

Arthur scurried away.

Valamir took a heavy cloth from a young woman who walked by and handed the cloth to me.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

“A cloak. Put it on,” he said, donning his own heavy grey cloak and pulling the deep hood over his face.

“Okay, sure, but who was that?” I asked.

“A servant of mine.”

“How did– how many people here work for you?”

“Enough. Now, come, let us try to save an Empire.”