Ludvik nodded. “Well, it’s still the most impressive fortress indeed. There used to be a hammer of the thunder god that could rain down lightning on an approaching foe. The castle was built to fight off even the gigatherions for a while.”
Emere remembered the day the gigatherion had came to Arland. He had been at the volcano, waiting for Arienne to free the ancient dragon, but the machine was large enough to be seen from there. The machine had been a giant, taller than most castles, so strong that it had struck down the dragon with a single blow…
“But Tythonia fell quickly, did it not?”
“When it was rumored that the Empire was on its way, we killed our king,” Ludvik said, with more than a suggestion of pride.
“Killedyour king?”
“And we opened our gates wide. We surrendered withoutfighting a single battle.” Ludvik cut into a peach slice and ate one of the pieces, clearly savoring the flavor. “Excellent. Difri, where do you get these?”
Difri smiled and said, “It is an old Kamori recipe, sir.” He turned to Emere. “May I have some sent over to Councillor Ludvik’s residence?”
“Of course, Difri,” Emere replied distractedly, eager to return to Ludvik’s story. “Were the people so afraid of the Empire that they would hand over their country without a fight?”
Ludvik frowned. “This is why I said a prince would not understand. Afraid of the Empire? No. The people so despised their king and the aristocracy that they gladly sacrificed them to the invaders. That’s how terrible the king’s rule was and how greatly the people suffered under it. You say we handed over our country without a fight, but by then, the country had not been ours for some time. We like to think that we took back Tythonia from that thief of a king.”
Emere nodded, comprehending. He took a peach slice himself, slowly chewing while thinking.
It wasn’t difficult to understand—but the prefect of the Empire still had to collect taxes and ensure certain guarantees to Imperial merchants. Emere, in the travels of his youth, had seen many a province impoverished by the Empire’s plundering. Ludvik must’ve sensed his thoughts, for he answered Emere’s unasked question.
“The King of Tythonia… His name was Ludvik as well.” Ludvik chuckled. “He had a vast army, and of course that castle I spoke of. Who do you think paid for the maintenance of all that? The common folk of Tythonia were squeezed dry longbefore the Empire ever showed up. They were willing to take their chances.”
“But why did Tythonia require such an army?”
Ludvik scoffed and took another sip of tea. “Because the king was afraid the Empire would invade.”
“Ah.”
“My grandfather was merely a low-ranking officer in the Tythonian king’s army. But now his grandson is here in the Capital, representing his homeland. When the king fell, it became easier for commoners of talent to rise.” He pretended to take another sip as he gave a surreptitious glance at Emere. “Oh my. The things I find myself saying in front of a true-blood prince.”
Emere washed the cloying taste of peach from his mouth with tea as he mulled this over for a moment. “Well, as you say, Iama prince. Nothing to be done about it if it makes me a bit sentimental for that old kingdom of mine. Except to tell the Ministry of Intelligence about me, the radical dissident.” He paused for Ludvik’s hearty chuckle, then continued. “But your name. Were you not named after the king? Did your people change their minds after the annexation?”
Ludvik emphatically shook his head, laughing. “No, no. The man who killed the king and lowered the drawbridge to the castle wasalsonamed Ludvik.”
At that, Emere couldn’t help but laugh, half in amusement, half at his own condition. Emere thought of his brother, Gwaharad, the self-styled King of Kamori, hiding in his underground palace in the forest. While he wanted to believe Gwaharad would someday gather enough support to retake Kamori, the man was powerless, and so was Emere. And perhaps such rebellion was never needed in the firstplace. Who knew how many in Kamori welcomed the end of the royal dynasty and greeted the rule of the Empire with open arms?
If that was so, perhaps living as quietly and unobtrusively as he could was for the better. He suddenly felt desperate to see Rakel.
Ludvik broke the silence. “In any case, do you have an inkling as to whom the assassin may be?”
Emere shook his head. He stopped himself from mentioning the sword the assassin had dropped and the strange engravings on it. Only Rakel knew that detail.
Taking a deep breath, Ludvik continued, “I thought you would’ve informed the Ministry of Intelligence about the attack, but I do not see guards here.”
“They are busy hunting for rebels and keeping the prefects in line.” Emere waved him off. “The city patrollers are rather diligent in this neighborhood.”
Ludvik raised his eyebrows. He ate the last piece of peach before speaking.
“You think the patrollers who catch petty burglars are going to stop an assassin? No, I will tell Intelligence myself. A lazy cartel of ne’er-do-wells, even for the Imperial bureaucracy, but there are a few passable exemplars.”
Another man fussing over his well-being. He eyed Difri, who was standing dutifully to the side, his face slightly more relaxed by Ludvik’s promise of protection. The reception room suddenly felt smaller, but he reminded himself that the two men were just concerned. Perhaps that was what he needed in this grand city that to him had simply been the enemy stronghold just a few years ago—people who were concerned for him.
“Never would I have imagined warranting such protection,” Emere joked.
Ludvik laughed, his cup rattling on his saucer.
“You are my friend, and all my friends warrant protection.”
