Empress Adirn Part 2 - Worst Impressions
Of all of the Imperial Palace’s manifold towers, climbing from the main structure at an array of imposing angles, God-Gouger Tower was the most terrible. It was taller than the Dead-Man’s Prison at the opposite end of the palace where, because an ancient custodian had misinterpreted the thrust of the name, the corpses of important prisoners were now kept. It protruded at less of an extreme angle than Horizon’s Bane, which sought to block any view of the horizon such that none of the peasantry may enjoy the view, but also caused fewer semantic arguments regarding when a tower should instead be considered a corridor. It twisted more horribly than the Hell-ter Skelter, which a particularly fun-loving but cruel Emperor had commissioned to enjoy both macabre imagery and gentle sliding fun at the same time. It was a testament to the architectural evil of the Onyx Empire.
God-Gouger tower, built from bricks that had been blackened with the ashes of a thousand pyres, shone white in the midday sun. The ash had, after all, washed off easily in the first rainstorm after its construction. Obsidian tiles covered the roof, necessitating significant engineering effort to provide a sufficiently rigid joist structure beneath, and at the centre of that roof there stood a vast, jagged blade that thrust towards the sky. Empress Amelia Styx, architect of the God-Gouger, had insisted that the blade would slash at the gods themselves and bring even the afterlife under the Onyx Empire’s command. It was a testament to her conviction that she maintained this to be the case until her death, on the day of the tower’s completion, when both blade and tower were almost melted by a cataclysmic lightning strike. In her honour the tower was repaired, and a chain of ceremonial daggers was strung from the gouger itself all the way down to a spike in the ground. Everyone told themselves it was for strictly ceremonial purposes, but their choice to install it on a bright, sunny day spoke otherwise.
Beneath the gouger, in a room known as the Skull Chamber on account of its unique topology, the atmosphere was almost too thick to breathe, despite the incredible altitude. Panting all the same from the long ascent, the room’s occupants were divided into two uneven clusters on either side of an enormous, skull-shaped ebony table.
“I refuse to speak a single word until the traditions are honoured!” Seethed the Grand Priestess. Already incensed from the display during Adirn’s coronation, the long climb had eroded what was left of her patience.
“Then remain silent. I’m not putting on one of those ridiculous robes. I’m already sweating from climbing all the way up here.” Adirn defied. Along the interior wall of the Skull Chamber were dozens of coat hooks, and dangling from each one was a long, heavy black robe with a deep hood. For the sake of convenience they had been arranged in size order.
“But surely we can’t convene the Dark Council around the Skull Table without wearing our robes?” Complained Count Rott. He was clutching onto a robe in anticipation.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be done!” The Grand Priestess snapped.
“And we might be recognised if we aren’t hooded.” Added Lady Vipus, rattling metallically as she spoke. Adirn's eyes darted to her hands and saw that she was wearing rigid, armoured gauntlets to the meeting for reasons best known to herself.
“You were all personally invited here, and you literally all just introduced yourselves to me! I know exactly who you all are with or without the robes. And if they’re kept in this room, inside the door, then you’re probably all going to be able to recognise each other whilst walking up the staircase and going to the single room that’s up here.” The Empress shouted back. Lady Vipus looked wounded.
“You eminence, clearly you are a woman of much wisdom and insight, but we have been gathering the Dark Council whilst dressed in our black robes for countless centuries. Why, the mere thought of planning the next ingeniously underhanded moves against the White Alliance without standing around the table, hooded and withdrawn, is... is…” Count Rott said, struggling for the words.
“Unthinkable?”
“Yes, the thought is unthinkable.”
“Well I’ve thought it, because I think that having my advisors dressed up so that I can’t see who’s talking is ridiculous. And if anyone does happen to be looking in on us, whilst somehow flying high above the city outside the window, then I’d rather you could be recognised! At least then we won’t have people thinking that there’s a secret to be kept here.”
The curled hands of Viscount Sinistere were hooked over and through one another, not unlike an octopus made from sickles. Slimy words that came from beneath a slimier gaze oozed into the room.
"I for one stand behind our new Empress' reforms. We should not be ashamed of our machinations within these walls, and she is brave enough to lead the way. Only a traitor would dare to defy her wishes. Isn't that right your eminence?"
Adirn shuddered at being directly addressed by the Viscount. Hearing just her title, not even her name, rolling out of his mouth was enough to make her feel greasy and unclean.
“I’m no traitor!” Hissed Lady Vipus in reply, panic starting to edge her voice. “He is!”
“No I’m not, don’t try to turn his around on me.” Squelched Viscount Sinistere. “You’re always trying to pin things to my name when they go wrong!”
“Shut up! Both of you!” The Empress commanded. “We should not be doing anything in here that would make us ashamed, nor is anyone being called a traitor.” Lady Vipus and Viscount Sistere shot each other distrustful glances.
“We’re already being shameful by not wearing the robes! I am putting one on and you must all do the same or face the wrath of the Almighty Virum!” Snapped The Grand Priestess. In a defiant display of dressing, she pulled herself into the recesses of a deep black robe. Folds and tangles became immediately evident as her ceremonial coronation robes bunched up in the sleeves and neck hole. There was further muffled preaching to which Adirn paid no attention.
“If any of the rest of you wish to make fools of yourself then go ahead and put your stupid robes on. But we are going to call his council to order and start discussions immediately so make your choices quickly.”
Eyes darted from each person to the others as they all tried to work out what to do. Count Rott looked down at the robe in his grasp. Lady Vipus’ hand hovered over a coat-hook, but her face was screwed up with concern while the Grand Priestess continued to struggle next to her. Captain Toxis leaned casually against the back wall, grinning.
“I’ll follow your excellent counsel, your eminence. It’s about time we had as bold and triumphant a sovereign as you. I bet you’ll manage to invade the White Alliance with over twice the fatalities of any other ruler.” Oozed the viscount, the air picking up an oily sheen where his words passed through it.
“I very much will not!” The Empress denied, turning away from him to stand at the head of the table. Being skull-shaped made that position quite difficult to identify, but she eventually settled on the brow end. Sinistere slithered his way along to stand by her right hand and she felt immediately dirty. Across from them stood Count Rott, wearing just one sleeve of his robe, and Lady Vipus with the robe tied around her waist like a towel. The art of compromise, it seemed, was available if not well-executed.
"Right. So..." The Empress started, feeling her confidence trickle away under the expectant looks of her council. Berating them for gathering like a group of assassins had been easy, but knowing how to start addressing matters of state was not. "... Erm, we need to sort things out. Because the situation is grim in the Empire right now and people are suffering."
Viscount Sinister broke into applause. It was quickly washed away by Adirn's impatiently bewildered expression.
"You see, this is exactly what I mean. No-one should be applauding suffering." She said, sighing hard. "So let's fix things."
“Things are only broken because you told the serfs to go out and break them! I’ve got a hundred gallows out there, and who’s going to pay for all of them to be repaired?” Lady Vipus complained. She waved her arm in a wide gesture, metal hand held like a splayed claw for emphasis. On closer inspection Adirn noticed that only the fingers were armoured.
“No-one. They’re not going to be repaired.”
“Then how will be hang the peasants?”
“We won’t! We’re not going to be hanging innocent people anymore.”
“It is sacrilege to denounce our sacred arts of hanging the innocent alongside the guilty!” The Grand Priestess shouted, from somewhere within her fabric prison. Somehow the knot of robes and dresses had grown both larger and tighter, and she looked more like a holy laundry pile than an ecumenical leader.
“Exactly, your worship! Will we be expected to hang the innocent inside our own homes, your eminence? I don’t have the room for that, and nor do many of the other nobles. Gallows must be built high to ensure that the tall don’t get away with it.”
“They never listen when we ask them to kneel, do they?” Count Rott sympathised.
“No hanging at all!”Adirn clarified.
“The others will never learn their lesson that way! You clearly have much to learn about ruling the Empire.” Vipus said, shaking her head and lifting one palm to her face. Finally the empress came to recognise that, far from gauntlets, Lady Vipus had adorned herself with so many rings that that bending her fingers was no longer an available articulation.
“What lesson?” Adirn asked, shaking herself free of the ring-based distraction.
“Not to make us want to hang them.” Count Rott chimed in, helpfully. Lady Vipus nodded with approval.
“I don’t care. That’s a lesson they could do without, since it seems that you want to hang them whatever they do.”
Lady Vipus and Count Rott looked at one another uncertainly. Rott started counting something on his fingers.
“I hadn’t looked at it that way. I’m beginning to think that you’re right.”
“Thank you!” Adirn said, but Rott wasn’t done.
“We’re not teaching them a lesson at all and we know it, deep down. We just really like hangings! It’s good to learn things like that about yourself isn’t it?” There was a wave of nodding around the table.
“Another holy lesson taught by the Almighty Virum’s gallows!” Preached the muffled priestess. It seemed that she’d given up with the first robe, and was now trying to force her fabric bundle of a body through a second.
“Well enough of it. No hangings.”
“Your eminence, we’ve all heard that the drowning pools are to be filled in! If you’re also putting a ban on hangings then that really binds our hands for purging the locals.” Count Rott explained.
“Count Rott you have finally, if accidentally, stumbled onto the point.”
A clear two minutes followed with Count Rott and the other assembled nobles checking Rott’s feet for a blade on which he might have stepped.
“If you’re all quite done, the point was that there shall be no more purging of the locals. How can we expect to run an empire if our people are routinely slaughtered not only by invading forces but by their ruling classes? The people need to be alive to produce food, work the farms, pay taxes, and literally anything else other than being hanged or drowned.”
“Well… there is a bit of a shortage of food and money for the peons.” Lady Vipus conceded. “But that’s just sort of our thing, isn’t it? We hang and we drown and we punish, just like the people are really into their starving and being punished and hanged and drowned. Things wouldn’t have carried on this way for this long if no-one wanted them to.”
There was an impassioned outcry from the fabric priestess, but no-one could make out quite what she was trying to say. Equally, no-one cared to find out.
“Look, I’m the Empress and I’m decreeing that the Onyx Empire is done with hanging, drowning, burning, dismembering and any other kind of purgation of the lower classes. This is not a difficult concept.”
Uncomfortable looks from all around disagreed with her assertion. Except Viscount Sinistere.
“A canny move your eminence. Make the peons think that the regime is changing to weed out those who are secretly disloyal. The dissenters will out themselves!” He crooned, rubbing his hands together; they were sufficiently lubricated by his sliminess as to be perfectly frictionless. He leaned close into Adirn’s ear. “You would do well to keep a close eye on Lady Vipus there. I’ve always suspected her of treasonous intent.” He added with a conspiratorial wink and a sneer across the table. Empress Adirn closed her eyes tight and prayed that she wouldn’t come into contact with him.
“Captain Toxis, would you please come and stand by my side?” She asked, curling away from the Viscount.
Wordlessly and immediately, Keto stood at Adirn’s left.
“No, no the other side, please.”
Viscount Sinistere, bearing the expression of a puppy whose toilet training is about to be found wanting, looked fearfully up at Captain Toxis as he neatly inserted himself between the Viscount and the Empress.
“Uh, yes of course your military should be at your right hand. I will gladly take the le-“
“Other side of the table, Sinistere. Please.” Adirn interrupted, eyes still closed.
“Certainly, your eminence.” He grumbled darkly, slithering around to the jaw of the skull table.
Just as Adirn was preparing to launch another attempt at explaining how murder was wrong, the door of the Skull Chamber creaked open. Mistress of the Records Katherine, her breathing heavier than the wad of scrolls and calligraphic supplies she carried, shuffled in.
“I do not appreciate… having to drag myself… all the way up here… to sign the papers!” She tried to snap. What little breath she had left in a gasp when she look up into the room.
“Why is everyone disrobed? Empress Adirn I really must insist that- why are your eyes closed?” The Empress opened her eyes again to witness the horror on Katherine’s face. “Your eminence, the robes are to be worn so that we don’t need to meet with our eyes closed anymore. They provide that element of disguise which allows us to look over papers and decrees without seeing one another’s faces.” She explained with furious frustration, between deep heaving pants.
“The robes are done with, Katherine. They seem useless.”
“Says the Empress who blinded herself.”
“They were closed for other reasons, mostly relating to Viscount Sinistere.”
The Viscount looked up apologetically, and Katherine regarded him for a moment.
“More understandable an explanation than I was expecting.” She accepted. “But are you so determined to throw a tantrum about your appointment that all of our traditions must be immediately destroyed?”
“If they involve hanging people or putting on warm clothing after a sweaty climb then yes!”
“It seems that someone disagrees with you.” Katherine said, pointing towards the lumbering mass of robes that stood where the Grand Priestess should have been. A third robe had been added to the fray, leaving her to wobble around looking like a mummified signpost. “What shambles have you wrought in the first hour of your reign?”
“A necessary shambles.”
“The Empress is subtle and devious in her ways.” Viscount Sinistere threw in. Neither Adirn nor Katherine paid him any attention.
“Well necessary or not, it must wait until we have signed the records of your birth, lineage and ascension.” Katherine told her, dropping the bundle of papers, quills and ink bottles onto the skull table. “I told you we’d be doing this after the coronation. Fancy dragging someone of my age all the way up here.”
“I didn’t do this on purpose, but there are more important matters to sort out first. Signing some papers can wait.”
“It very much cannot! Whatever important matters with which you wish to deal may not be touched until you have the power to do so. The Grand Priestess, wherever she is, might think that the coronation in the eyes of Almighty Virum is the only contract you need, but a little thing called power of attorney over the Empire is more widely regarded in legal circles. Circles in which all of your advisors and nobles move.” Katherine aggressively lectured. “Now take a seat and let us get to work.”
Succumbing to the arcane authority that only librarians can ever muster, Adirn immediately pulled out a chair, which she observed to be in the shape of an upturned human skull, and seated herself next to the Mistress of the Records.
“Lady Vipus.” Count Rott muttered. “If the Empress’ powers are yet to be sealed into law then we might have the opportunity to indulge in a little bit of last minute… you know…” he extravagantly mimed a hanging.
“Or some…” Lady Vipus added, making some aggressive drowning motions and splashing sounds.
Between them, gently lowered to their eyeline, came the shimmering, polished blade of a longsword.
“I believe that the Empress Elect has made decrees to the contrary.” Captain Toxis observed.
“Erm, oh yes. Of course. We were simply talking metaphorically.” Count Rott tried.
“Yeah. Metaphorically. We want to go and hang a pumpkin soup for our supper. And… erm… drown some administration of our fiefdoms using the water of astute sovereignty.” Lady Vipus said.
“Perhaps those matters can wait until the Empress Elect and her Mistress of the Records have finished. You two need not walk all the way down to the palace and then back up, that way.”
“Right you are, Captain Toxis.”
“A wise course of action.”
The blade was sheathed. The Lady and the Count looked guiltily towards Adirn, who scowled back.
“Eyes like a hawk! Do you think she knew what we were discussing?” Lady Vipus asked.
“I think we were pretty subtle, but if Toxis picked up on it then who knows. We should be careful.” Count Rott assessed.
“I can hear you.” Adirn told them directly through disbelieving rage. “This table is not large and you are not quiet.”
“And nor are you, my Empress.” Chided Katherine. “Sign here and here.”
The paperwork would not be denied.
The Onyx Empire, large as it was, wasn’t an enormous generator of literary works. That wasn’t due to a lack of history to record; their rapidly cycling ruling family generated more history in a decade that many empires made in century. The historical dearth was more a result of suppression of the arts, mostly by way of happening to execute the kinds of people who tried to ask too many questions or write too much down. It had puzzled Adirn that the empire had any need for a Mistress of the Records, because even at a rate of one ruler every two years it didn’t feel like there was much to administrate in the library. All became clear as Katherine dragged the new empress bodily through the bureaucratic process.
“Epithets next, your eminence. You will see the list of approved epithets on this parchment. Select three and I shall ensure that, at the end of your reign or upon the completion of your first sufficiently significant act as empress, it is used in conjunction with your royal name.”
Adirn sighed heavily and dropped her face into her hands. She’d already had to relate every detail about her family’s estate and industries, just in case there was something that the empire needed to use as justification for future atrocities, and she suspected that there was worse to follow.
“Surely epithets are chosen by historians, or diplomats, or someone other than myself.” She protested.
“Would you rather have the likes of Viscount Sinistere selecting an epithet on your behalf? Do you think that they, in your case especially, would be able to sum up the correct aspects of your rule?” Katherine challenged, looking all the way down her generous nose at the Empress.
“No.” Adirn mumbled into the Skull Table. Scrolls and parchments were stacked all over the eye sockets and cheekbones. “Let’s have a look then.”
Empress Adirn scanned her way down the list of available post-nominals and couldn’t muster the will to be surprised by what she read.
“None of these are words with which I wish to be associated.” She decided.
“And you are not the empress with whom I wish to be associated, but this is where we find ourselves. The faster you pick one the faster we can get back to whatever cultural destruction it is that you’re trying to exact.”
Adirn scowled at the Mistress of Records. It was as if no-one understood how insane they were all being. Admittedly whenever someone strides into a room and declares ‘I’m right and everyone else is wrong’ it’s typically a false statement, but the empress really felt that she was onto something with ‘when an empire slaughters its own people, it struggles to find success’.
“If I must, then I’ll go with ‘Unyielding’, ironically.” She conceded.
“Empress Adirn the Unyielding.” Katherine repeated, noting it down on one of her parchments. “And for the other two?”
“Is it really necessary to-”
“Yes.”
“Ugh.” Adirn scanned the list again. Black-hearted was too on-the-nose. Blood-drinker was straight-up horrifying, and there was no way that Adirn would allow herself to be remembered as ‘Nightmare-Bringer’. If this list was the only set of options, then the Onyx Empire definitely expected its sovereigns to fall within a narrow behavioural envelope. “I guess… Heart-Render, but only because I’m apparently breaking hearts by banning the practice of executing the serfs for paying their taxes on time.”
Katherine scratched it onto her page and waited with something approximating to a grudging patience for the final choice.
“And… and…” Adirn stalled.
“I’ve always liked ‘Strangler’.” Viscount Sinistere offered from the across the room. He and the other nobles had taken to their own inverted skull chairs and were listlessly waiting for the bureaucracy to be over. Captain Toxis leaned casually against the door, daring any of them to try leaving against the empress’ wishes.
“Got to be ‘Venomous’, like Empress Anne.” Lady Vipus suggested.
“Anne the Venomous, you mean?” Asked Count Rott.
“Obviously, yes.” Vipus replied.
The Grand Priestess rolled gently around on the floor like an inverted tortoise, five robes in at that stage and quite unable to make her own way back to her feet. Everyone had concluded that she was safer down there, since she couldn’t be at risk of falling over again.
“I’m not being either of those things.”
“Why not ‘Oathbreaker’?” Katherine finally said.
“Because it will make everyone think I break oaths! That’s not a good reputation by which to be preceded if I’m to negotiate with the White Alliance and other sovereigns.”
There were gasps throughout the Skull Chamber.
“Negotiate with the White Alliance? You must mean negotiating the terms of the surprise war which we will declare upon them?” Lady Vipus asked.
“They’re definitely not surprises at this stage.” Captain Toxis told her. “No matter how clever you think your plans are.”
“I meant exactly what I said, Lady Vipus. I’ll not enter into such conversations with the name Oathbreaker.” Adirn told her.
“At this stage, your eminence, the name with which you enter shall be the least of your concerns.” Katherine said, with the air of one trying to push matters along. “But need I remind you that by accepting the Bludgeon of Minds and the Imperial Shackles you made an oath to Almighty Virum that you would continue his works? Your words here today do not imply that you’ll be keeping true to that, and as such as oath has been broken.”
Adirn stared at the list of epithets again. There was nothing more suitable, and at least Katherine had been able to spin a truth into ‘Oathbreaker’ that didn’t make her sound like a total scoundrel.
“Fine. Unyielding, then Oathbreaker, and then Heart-Render. But preferably none of them.”
“You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, your eminence.” Katherine placated, without looking up from her page.
“There really are important matters of state that we need to address though. If we’re down to worrying about what the people will say about me once I’ve been beheaded then can we please leave the rest of the record-writing until later?” Adirn pleaded. Katherine looked her wearily in the eye, and then softened almost imperceptibly.
“Very well, your eminence. I have enough to be working with for the moment.”
“Thank you, Mistress of Records. In that case, I have a decree which I would like you to take down and write into law. From this day, the innocent people of the Onyx Empire shall not be hanged, drowned, burned or otherwise executed.”
Count Rott leapt up to his feet, hearing something to which he could relate.
“Oh! I understand now!” He declared, beaming. Adirn knew better than to trust those words. “We never hang the innocent, but everyone is guilty of something. What new crimes shall we be defining?” He asked, excitedly.
“No new crimes. Except maybe hanging innocent people.” Adirn threatened.
“Your eminence, obviously we were all a bit behind the curve before, but I’m with you now. We won’t be hanging any innocents, because we’ll find where their guilt lies.” He said, winking theatrically. “It’s genius.”
“Exactly! Exactly!” Viscount Sinistere added, scurrying over and desperate to sound more enthusiastic than his peers. “As I was saying, canny of the Empress to orchestrate a new hope for the trouble-making serfs to rally behind.”
“Please ignore these cretins and write exactly what I said, Katherine. The days of the hanging fields have passed.”
A tense silence replaced the previously bored silence as the empress’s declaration was penned into law. Darkness fell over the faces of Lady Vipus and Count Rott, enough to make Adirn’s heart beat a little faster.
“Is this how things are to be from now on? The Empress ignoring her council and making sweeping motions that hurt the heart of our empire?” Count Rott challenged. He shook with the impotent rage that had formed from his dashed enthusiasm. “You are nothing but a tyrant.”
“A tyrant? I think tyranny tends to fall on those who operate mass-gallows, rather than those who pull them down.”
“And I think it falls on those who exercise their will against the wishes of all others. You might think yourself a great new ruler, and a wise woman, but you need us to run this empire and you know it. Ignore us in everything and you’ll lead us to ruin without a drowned farmer in sight.” Lady Vipus agreed. She and the Count seemed to have found courage in their anger. Viscount Sinistere hunkered into the shadows, still clutching his hands and looking for the balance of power.
“I won’t be called a tyrant.” Adirn said, more calmly. “I will heed your advice, but advice is all it is.”
The empress caught Captain Toxis eye for his support. He frowned.
“Such are the words of a tyrant, your eminence.” He confirmed.
Adirn trembled. Perhaps the time for a concession was at hand.
“I see. If that’s how you feel then… I will make a gesture of good will. But my new law will be followed to the letter. Please, what would you have my next move be?”
“Rain Hell down upon the unwitting who stand in our way!” Advised Count Rott with trembling, shrieking passion. The emotional swing took Adirn off guard and put her physically off balance.
“Raise Hell up and inflict it upon The White Alliance!” Screamed Lady Vipus in support.
“Bring Hell across from anywhere it might already be, to save on time and resources.” Suggested Viscount Sinistere, who was apparently more economically minded despite his sycophantic ways. The Empress had definitely never read anything about the logistics of moving hell in any direction, so the final piece of advice was, against all the odds, the most credible.
“I see.” She said, desperately thinking of way to say ‘no’ without being accused of further tyranny. “That’s quite a large, if narrowly defined, set of requests.”
“For too long we have allowed the White Alliance to walk all over us. Coming in here and liberating our farmsteads, executing our sovereigns, and taking back all the gold we stole from their outlying provinces. Well today could be the day we finally turn things around.” Count Rott declared emphatically. “The White Alliance’s forces will be tired from their recent offensive against us; delivering such a thorough routing must take a toll.”
“A thorough routing you say? That would be a thorough routing of our forces?”
“Yes. It’s the last thing they would expect for us to launch another surprise attack. Eleven surprise attacks are the sort of thing that can happen with a sufficiently determined empire, and that must have been how the White Alliance were ready for us. But twelve? No. Not even the White Alliance could predict such masterful strategy.”
Adirn raised her fingers to her lips and pondered how exactly to get herself out of this situation. It was painfully clear that Count Rott was criminally stupid, but he fancied himself as a military man, apparently.
“How are our coffers? We would need a lot of gold for any amount of moving Hell in any direction. Especially if you want our military to do the carrying.” She chanced. Lady Vipus’ eyes narrowed, but Count Rott was overjoyed.
“I knew you were a general at heart, your eminence. The coffers are, admittedly, not overflowing. Between the chronic lack of serfs to work the land and pay taxes, and the manifold reparations we owe the White Alliance, income has taken a devastating hit. But there are riches ripe for the plundering just over the border. We’ll use their own gold to fund a war against them!” He said with delight, his mouth spewing words with ill-deserved conviction.
"Wait, you just said the gold was stolen back when the White Alliance occupied us…” Cogs turned. “How many times have you tried this plan?"
"Er, how many surprise attacks did I say we'd carried out?"
"Eleven."
"Then we've tried it ten times. There was one go in the middle where we thought we'd lose less time if we skipped the pillaging, but it turned out that pillaging was always pretty quick. Besides, the troops enjoy chatting to the locals and carrying bags of money about."
Adirn groaned. Her advisors braced themselves for a sudden bout of illness that never quite seemed to materialise.
"Ten times. You've stolen it ten times and it has always been taken straight back. What does that tell you about how well your plan works?"
"That we've got the first bit nailed down and we need to work on securing our borders."
"It beggars belief that your troops have been able to take it so many times. After even one raid the security should have been tightened up."
"Quite the opposite, your eminence. They don't even bother with defending it these days. It's a pleasant chat, hand over the cash and wait for it to be back when the White Alliance military passes by." Lady Vipus explained. “We just need to be faster about spending it. Hire a larger army, make the payday sooner, and perhaps increase the wages. Of course, we’ll need to increase the whippings too, just in case they think they might be getting treated better…”
“Alright!” The empress said, throwing her hands into the air. “I’ve heard enough.”
“I knew the plan would convince you of its own accord.” Count Rott beamed.
“Shut up, Rott. There will be no surprise attack, and we’re not continuing this game of pass the gold. I’ve listened to your plan, and it’s awful.”
“Well how in the world do you propose that we’ll subjugate the White Alliance then?” He barked.
“I don’t.”
“Then how will we punish them for invading us?”
“We won’t; it was well-deserved because our attacks against them had crept into double figures!”
There was a muffled shout that sounded suspiciously like “It is tradition for us to launch sneak attacks!” from the pile of robes in the corner.
“Your words mean nothing. You pretend to listen to us and then shoot my ideas down anyway.” Count Rott pouted. “It is our solemn tradition to backstab and cheat and lie our way through international diplomacy, your eminence! Are you really on that much of a crusade to destroy our empire that you’ll break down its very legacy? Are you implying that hundreds of years of attacks by our ancestors were somehow wrong?” He challenged.
The sheer futility of arguing grew too much for Adirn. She gritted her teeth and scowled at the battle-hungry cretin, trying desperately to think of anything to say other than ‘Keto, execute this moron’. Maybe that was how all the other rulers got started on their bloody campaigns, she thought.
"The Empress is implying, of course, that we must win the trust of the White Alliance this time. Let them think that the invasions are over. And then, from nowhere, comes strike twelve in all its irascible glory!" Viscount Sinistere presumed, breaking the silence and looking over at Adirn for approval once he was done.
"Would that shut you up, Rott?" The Empress asked.
"Well, I er, in as much as I would be, erm…" He blustered.
"Close enough; yes that might be a plan I’ll consider. But it’s a long way off. We're all exhausted from the coronation today. Let us leave proceedings as they are and start tackling other matters in the morning." The Empress declared, stepping away from the skull table. "Captain Toxis, please escort me back to my living quarters. Any one of the rest of you, please rescue the grand priestess."
Wedged in the corner and unable to roll any further, soft and muffled snoring was emanating from the multi-robe abomination.
Captain Toxis held the door for Adirn, and without looking back at her council, such as it was, she started the long and winding descent.
Leaving a well-swept path behind her thanks to the coronation gown, Adirn reached a vaulted and decorated doorway. Vast panels of ebony, inlaid with obsidian axes and murals of various horrifying scenes, reached from floor to ceiling and had left deep scratch-marks on both over the years. To either side were blackened iron rings, laden with chains and shackles for unfortunate souls to be bound outside the doors overnight, and underneath them were chairs with perfectly mismatched legs. Adirn reluctantly drank in the vision of her new home: the Imperial Malignancy Chambers.
"We need to change the name of this wing." She said with mild disgust in her voice. "Something more like 'living chambers' would be more homely."
"The name has served previous rulers accurately enough." Keto observed.
"I think I have made it clear that I am not the previous rulers."
"So have my eyes." Keto advised, missing the point.
Adirn couldn't face the discussion, and instead grasped the twisted iron handle. Set into an ebony fascia, the handle was formed into the image of a pair of pliers, and the door around it painted in the image of a man having teeth pulled. In twisting the handle down, one of the teeth rose up from the grimacing face. It was just one more entry on the re-decoration shopping list.
Inside the chamber, a group of bustling houseworkers snapped to attention at the sound of the door. Faintly they shivered, terrified of how the new Empress was going to treat them.
"Oh, er hello." Adirn said upon noticing the assembly of servants. All of them averted their gazes and the empress glanced uncertainly at Keto. He shrugged. "You're allowed to look up at me, it's fine. I'd prefer it, to be honest.” She reassured wearily.
Cautiously, one of the servants lifted his gaze as far as Adirn’s stomach. The sight of the skull decorations on the dress made him flinch.
“A good start, but how about we keep it lifting until you’re looking at my face. And the rest of you too, please. I’d like to know your faces if I’m going to be living with you.” At least, for as long as it takes for Count Rott or Lady Vipus to have me assassinated she added to herself.
Fists which were already grasping cloths or sponges clenched tighter as the staff steeled themselves. One by one the other servants slowly lifted their heads until they had reached thigh level. Many of them apparently needed a rest as this stage, before pushing on further to the next waystation of the stomach. The young lad who had made it to the stomach in the first place made an obvious show of looking away when his head was at chest level, and then took the plunge of looking straight at Adirn’s nose.
“I’m Adirn Deepgrave. A pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”
Cogs turned behind the lad’s eyes, which were wide with anxious terror. There had to be a trick here, some pitfall towards which the new empress was leading him. Was it a faux pas to speak his own name in her presence? Or to speak at all? Surely it couldn’t be worse than refusing to answer a direct question? All had been offensive to rulers past, from what the Mary the Skullery maid had told him. He knew his silence would be growing conspicuous. The empress had him cornered and she must have known it.
“It… it’s Henry Servile, your eminence.” He croaked, preparing to hear the order for his execution.
“Henry. Wonderful to make your acquaintance.” Adirn told him. She’d learned early in her life that it was best to stay on the good side of those who prepared your food and cleaned your home. A spitefully hidden halibut beneath her bedroom rug had taught her that the hard way.
Confused tension had already filled the room, but it intensified at the sound of Adirn’s greeting. Clearly, this was a whole new type of sadist; lulling them all into complacency before suddenly announcing a full list of their crimes. While pondering the new empress’ favoured flavour of cruelty, the other servants’ heads had paused in their journeys to Adirn’s face, and she looked on with despair as they all variously looked at her stomach, either side of her chest, or her neck.
Another few moments of patience delivered the completion of that herculean task that she had set to the staff, and they all looked at various points of her face. None of them met her eyes, but she supposed that battle could be fought in due time.
“And you? What is your name?” Adirn asked the next-in-line , an older woman. The same cogs that had whirred in Henry started to turn for the woman. The empress stifled a sigh.
It took another ten minutes to repeat the charade for every servant in the room, but finally Empress Adirn had learned the names of her house staff. There’d been a couple of pauses when one or another of them had broken into tears, but the empress didn’t have the energy to worry about that.
“Great. I look forward to our time together.” Adirn said, for want of any concluding remarks to make. Images of personal torture flashed through the minds of the assembled staff; the empress was already beginning to recognise the relevance of that glassy expression.
“There will be no more cruelty or torture or oppression here, alright? Please stop worrying about it. You’re safe.”
The glassy expressions remained unchanged and Adirn rubbed at her face with one hand.
"I’m sure we’re all feeling tired, so we can talk more in the coming days. Could one of you please prepare me a bath?"
Immediately there were horrified gasps. Each of the servants looked in fear at the others until one, Gwen, reluctantly stepped forward with tears in her eyes.
"I beg forgiveness, your eminence. We didn't know that you would need such measures so soon, and we haven't the.. the..." She started to sob.
"We don't have any sacrifices from whom to take the blood, your eminence." Henry finished, staring shamefully at the floor. "The bath of blood requires so many, and the invasion robbed us of any preparation. We have let you down."
"Blood?!”
“The tools are sharpened and the buckets ready, your eminence. I swear it. Just not the sacrifices.”
“Oh my goodness no! I want a bath of water! Who bathes in blood? That's horrible!" Adirn wailed.
Gwen looked up in shock.
"Oh... please your eminence I didn't mean to imply that you were so monstrous. Or that your predecessors were monsters!" She added quickly, all too aware of Keto's blade.
"Just a normal bath of warm water and some soap. That's all I want. No sacrifices, or deaths, or torture, or blood, or anything like that." Adirn clarified, quickly reaching the conclusion that she needed to be far more specific in her requests to the house staff in future. "And please stop crying."
Much to Adirn's surprise, the sobbing ceased immediately with a stifled, wet sound. Her jaw dropped open, and clearly her face told a story of her confusion.
"A common instruction, your eminence. We are well practiced." Gwen told her with impressive clarity and something like a reluctant pride. "Any emotion you wish for us to display, from terror to fear to horror to petrification, we can manage at a moment's notice, for your pleasure."
"Oh... oh right. That doesn’t seem… Well, I'd like you to try to work on happiness, please."
An appreciable attempt at 'suspicious revulsion' crossed the maid's face.
"I probably should have seen that one coming." The empress admitted. "No pressure from me. But I won't require your, erm, emotional theatre any longer. You're welcome to feel what you feel and express it however comes naturally."
"Thank you." Gwen whimpered mechanically. It didn’t sound like she’d taken the permission to have emotions to heart. "Would you like me to prepare your hot water bath now?"
"Yes, please go ahead." Adirn sighed, seeing the desperation to leave and the terror in the her eyes.
Without hesitation she curtsied and hurried away, leaving her colleagues in their silent line.
The empress looked over her remaining servants, most of whom had reverted to looking at the floor again, and couldn't face drawing the situation out any longer.
"Take the night off, everyone. You've worked hard enough to earn some relaxation time." She told them, in what she hoped was a friendly and generous manner.
There were scant few moments of Adirn's life in which she'd seen silent, fearful patience turn to silent, fearful panic so quickly. Distrusting glances were thrown from side to side. Cloths and sponges, still grasped from the work moments before, danced and shook as their holders quivered. None of them dared move.
"A little too much too soon, your eminence." Captain Toxis opined in her ear.
"Ugh, fine. Work if you feel like you have to. Carry on as you were." She groaned. "But not if it involves sacrifices, torture, death, blood, or anything designed around any of those things." She quickly added, trying to learn her lesson.
Obediently the house staff variously dropped to the floor, hurried to mantlepieces or dashed for the kitchens to resume their duties. Once they were out of earshot the empress turned to Captain Toxis.
"Did the last ruler really bathe in blood?"
"Only on special occasions." Keto said, as if that made it any better. Adirn shuddered.
After all was said and done, Adirn's bath turned out to be at least somewhat relaxing. Initially, of course, there had been a period in which she scoured every inch of the tub and surrounding accoutrements for any sign of dried blood or unsettling pink tinge. Having mercifully found nothing, she then set about ignoring the selection of cruelty aids hanging on the wall. Whatever applications the previous rulers had found for curved blades and pointed tweezers in the bath were, they didn't bear thinking about. There had also been a brief discussion with the maid, regarding her assumption that she needed to stand next to the bath for the whole evening. Her dismissal had taken longer than Adirn would have liked, and involved spirited reassurances that the new empress simply had more modesty than her predecessors before finally issuing a clear, explicit order that no-one was to be in the bathroom while she bathed. Again, she learned a lesson about specifying the obvious.
Lying back in the water at long last and no longer feeling crushed by the lacing and bones of her coronation gown, Adirn closed her eyes. The pressures of leadership were indeed great, but for reasons far more harrowing than she'd ever envisaged. Simply not ordering her people to conduct evil deeds was one thing, but having to fight them all to make them stop was quite another. She reached for a bottle of scented oil standing on the side of the bathtub, grateful that even blood-bathers appreciated the value of smelling pleasant. As water from her hand dripped onto the stopper, however, it ran off with a black tint and fizzed gently. The empress snatched her arm back. There would have to be a grand purging of occult, unsettling and otherwise grim items from the whole palace; it was bad enough to have everything in her new life boiled down to skulls and black velvet, but threatening the sanctity of one's bath with unknown alchemical agents was intolerable. “I wish I’d checked for a library before having this bath.” She said to herself. “A good book would be perfect right now. Although knowing this place it would just be illustrated guides to flaying or something. Maybe I’ll have a collection sent over from home.”
Adirn’s bathroom back at Deepgrave Manor always had a stack of tomes available for the bathing reader. It also didn’t have water buckets shapes like skulls, so her bath water never flowed from eye sockets. Her own basin was white ceramic, rather than the violet foxglove shape that the imperial bath chamber contained, and nothing had been inlaid with nearly as many daggers. Most jarring had been that the bathtub was shaped into the opening jaws of a snake, complete with sharp fangs at either end. Although unsettling at first, they were serving well as towel-hangers and headrests so the empress was coming to appreciate them in her own way. She just hoped that Count Rott, Lady Vipus and even Viscount Sinistere could surprise her with such utility as well. Although she probably didn’t have more than two years at her disposal, Adirn knew that only time would tell.
God-Gouger tower, built from bricks that had been blackened with the ashes of a thousand pyres, shone white in the midday sun. The ash had, after all, washed off easily in the first rainstorm after its construction. Obsidian tiles covered the roof, necessitating significant engineering effort to provide a sufficiently rigid joist structure beneath, and at the centre of that roof there stood a vast, jagged blade that thrust towards the sky. Empress Amelia Styx, architect of the God-Gouger, had insisted that the blade would slash at the gods themselves and bring even the afterlife under the Onyx Empire’s command. It was a testament to her conviction that she maintained this to be the case until her death, on the day of the tower’s completion, when both blade and tower were almost melted by a cataclysmic lightning strike. In her honour the tower was repaired, and a chain of ceremonial daggers was strung from the gouger itself all the way down to a spike in the ground. Everyone told themselves it was for strictly ceremonial purposes, but their choice to install it on a bright, sunny day spoke otherwise.
Beneath the gouger, in a room known as the Skull Chamber on account of its unique topology, the atmosphere was almost too thick to breathe, despite the incredible altitude. Panting all the same from the long ascent, the room’s occupants were divided into two uneven clusters on either side of an enormous, skull-shaped ebony table.
“I refuse to speak a single word until the traditions are honoured!” Seethed the Grand Priestess. Already incensed from the display during Adirn’s coronation, the long climb had eroded what was left of her patience.
“Then remain silent. I’m not putting on one of those ridiculous robes. I’m already sweating from climbing all the way up here.” Adirn defied. Along the interior wall of the Skull Chamber were dozens of coat hooks, and dangling from each one was a long, heavy black robe with a deep hood. For the sake of convenience they had been arranged in size order.
“But surely we can’t convene the Dark Council around the Skull Table without wearing our robes?” Complained Count Rott. He was clutching onto a robe in anticipation.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be done!” The Grand Priestess snapped.
“And we might be recognised if we aren’t hooded.” Added Lady Vipus, rattling metallically as she spoke. Adirn's eyes darted to her hands and saw that she was wearing rigid, armoured gauntlets to the meeting for reasons best known to herself.
“You were all personally invited here, and you literally all just introduced yourselves to me! I know exactly who you all are with or without the robes. And if they’re kept in this room, inside the door, then you’re probably all going to be able to recognise each other whilst walking up the staircase and going to the single room that’s up here.” The Empress shouted back. Lady Vipus looked wounded.
“You eminence, clearly you are a woman of much wisdom and insight, but we have been gathering the Dark Council whilst dressed in our black robes for countless centuries. Why, the mere thought of planning the next ingeniously underhanded moves against the White Alliance without standing around the table, hooded and withdrawn, is... is…” Count Rott said, struggling for the words.
“Unthinkable?”
“Yes, the thought is unthinkable.”
“Well I’ve thought it, because I think that having my advisors dressed up so that I can’t see who’s talking is ridiculous. And if anyone does happen to be looking in on us, whilst somehow flying high above the city outside the window, then I’d rather you could be recognised! At least then we won’t have people thinking that there’s a secret to be kept here.”
The curled hands of Viscount Sinistere were hooked over and through one another, not unlike an octopus made from sickles. Slimy words that came from beneath a slimier gaze oozed into the room.
"I for one stand behind our new Empress' reforms. We should not be ashamed of our machinations within these walls, and she is brave enough to lead the way. Only a traitor would dare to defy her wishes. Isn't that right your eminence?"
Adirn shuddered at being directly addressed by the Viscount. Hearing just her title, not even her name, rolling out of his mouth was enough to make her feel greasy and unclean.
“I’m no traitor!” Hissed Lady Vipus in reply, panic starting to edge her voice. “He is!”
“No I’m not, don’t try to turn his around on me.” Squelched Viscount Sinistere. “You’re always trying to pin things to my name when they go wrong!”
“Shut up! Both of you!” The Empress commanded. “We should not be doing anything in here that would make us ashamed, nor is anyone being called a traitor.” Lady Vipus and Viscount Sistere shot each other distrustful glances.
“We’re already being shameful by not wearing the robes! I am putting one on and you must all do the same or face the wrath of the Almighty Virum!” Snapped The Grand Priestess. In a defiant display of dressing, she pulled herself into the recesses of a deep black robe. Folds and tangles became immediately evident as her ceremonial coronation robes bunched up in the sleeves and neck hole. There was further muffled preaching to which Adirn paid no attention.
“If any of the rest of you wish to make fools of yourself then go ahead and put your stupid robes on. But we are going to call his council to order and start discussions immediately so make your choices quickly.”
Eyes darted from each person to the others as they all tried to work out what to do. Count Rott looked down at the robe in his grasp. Lady Vipus’ hand hovered over a coat-hook, but her face was screwed up with concern while the Grand Priestess continued to struggle next to her. Captain Toxis leaned casually against the back wall, grinning.
“I’ll follow your excellent counsel, your eminence. It’s about time we had as bold and triumphant a sovereign as you. I bet you’ll manage to invade the White Alliance with over twice the fatalities of any other ruler.” Oozed the viscount, the air picking up an oily sheen where his words passed through it.
“I very much will not!” The Empress denied, turning away from him to stand at the head of the table. Being skull-shaped made that position quite difficult to identify, but she eventually settled on the brow end. Sinistere slithered his way along to stand by her right hand and she felt immediately dirty. Across from them stood Count Rott, wearing just one sleeve of his robe, and Lady Vipus with the robe tied around her waist like a towel. The art of compromise, it seemed, was available if not well-executed.
"Right. So..." The Empress started, feeling her confidence trickle away under the expectant looks of her council. Berating them for gathering like a group of assassins had been easy, but knowing how to start addressing matters of state was not. "... Erm, we need to sort things out. Because the situation is grim in the Empire right now and people are suffering."
Viscount Sinister broke into applause. It was quickly washed away by Adirn's impatiently bewildered expression.
"You see, this is exactly what I mean. No-one should be applauding suffering." She said, sighing hard. "So let's fix things."
“Things are only broken because you told the serfs to go out and break them! I’ve got a hundred gallows out there, and who’s going to pay for all of them to be repaired?” Lady Vipus complained. She waved her arm in a wide gesture, metal hand held like a splayed claw for emphasis. On closer inspection Adirn noticed that only the fingers were armoured.
“No-one. They’re not going to be repaired.”
“Then how will be hang the peasants?”
“We won’t! We’re not going to be hanging innocent people anymore.”
“It is sacrilege to denounce our sacred arts of hanging the innocent alongside the guilty!” The Grand Priestess shouted, from somewhere within her fabric prison. Somehow the knot of robes and dresses had grown both larger and tighter, and she looked more like a holy laundry pile than an ecumenical leader.
“Exactly, your worship! Will we be expected to hang the innocent inside our own homes, your eminence? I don’t have the room for that, and nor do many of the other nobles. Gallows must be built high to ensure that the tall don’t get away with it.”
“They never listen when we ask them to kneel, do they?” Count Rott sympathised.
“No hanging at all!”Adirn clarified.
“The others will never learn their lesson that way! You clearly have much to learn about ruling the Empire.” Vipus said, shaking her head and lifting one palm to her face. Finally the empress came to recognise that, far from gauntlets, Lady Vipus had adorned herself with so many rings that that bending her fingers was no longer an available articulation.
“What lesson?” Adirn asked, shaking herself free of the ring-based distraction.
“Not to make us want to hang them.” Count Rott chimed in, helpfully. Lady Vipus nodded with approval.
“I don’t care. That’s a lesson they could do without, since it seems that you want to hang them whatever they do.”
Lady Vipus and Count Rott looked at one another uncertainly. Rott started counting something on his fingers.
“I hadn’t looked at it that way. I’m beginning to think that you’re right.”
“Thank you!” Adirn said, but Rott wasn’t done.
“We’re not teaching them a lesson at all and we know it, deep down. We just really like hangings! It’s good to learn things like that about yourself isn’t it?” There was a wave of nodding around the table.
“Another holy lesson taught by the Almighty Virum’s gallows!” Preached the muffled priestess. It seemed that she’d given up with the first robe, and was now trying to force her fabric bundle of a body through a second.
“Well enough of it. No hangings.”
“Your eminence, we’ve all heard that the drowning pools are to be filled in! If you’re also putting a ban on hangings then that really binds our hands for purging the locals.” Count Rott explained.
“Count Rott you have finally, if accidentally, stumbled onto the point.”
A clear two minutes followed with Count Rott and the other assembled nobles checking Rott’s feet for a blade on which he might have stepped.
“If you’re all quite done, the point was that there shall be no more purging of the locals. How can we expect to run an empire if our people are routinely slaughtered not only by invading forces but by their ruling classes? The people need to be alive to produce food, work the farms, pay taxes, and literally anything else other than being hanged or drowned.”
“Well… there is a bit of a shortage of food and money for the peons.” Lady Vipus conceded. “But that’s just sort of our thing, isn’t it? We hang and we drown and we punish, just like the people are really into their starving and being punished and hanged and drowned. Things wouldn’t have carried on this way for this long if no-one wanted them to.”
There was an impassioned outcry from the fabric priestess, but no-one could make out quite what she was trying to say. Equally, no-one cared to find out.
“Look, I’m the Empress and I’m decreeing that the Onyx Empire is done with hanging, drowning, burning, dismembering and any other kind of purgation of the lower classes. This is not a difficult concept.”
Uncomfortable looks from all around disagreed with her assertion. Except Viscount Sinistere.
“A canny move your eminence. Make the peons think that the regime is changing to weed out those who are secretly disloyal. The dissenters will out themselves!” He crooned, rubbing his hands together; they were sufficiently lubricated by his sliminess as to be perfectly frictionless. He leaned close into Adirn’s ear. “You would do well to keep a close eye on Lady Vipus there. I’ve always suspected her of treasonous intent.” He added with a conspiratorial wink and a sneer across the table. Empress Adirn closed her eyes tight and prayed that she wouldn’t come into contact with him.
“Captain Toxis, would you please come and stand by my side?” She asked, curling away from the Viscount.
Wordlessly and immediately, Keto stood at Adirn’s left.
“No, no the other side, please.”
Viscount Sinistere, bearing the expression of a puppy whose toilet training is about to be found wanting, looked fearfully up at Captain Toxis as he neatly inserted himself between the Viscount and the Empress.
“Uh, yes of course your military should be at your right hand. I will gladly take the le-“
“Other side of the table, Sinistere. Please.” Adirn interrupted, eyes still closed.
“Certainly, your eminence.” He grumbled darkly, slithering around to the jaw of the skull table.
Just as Adirn was preparing to launch another attempt at explaining how murder was wrong, the door of the Skull Chamber creaked open. Mistress of the Records Katherine, her breathing heavier than the wad of scrolls and calligraphic supplies she carried, shuffled in.
“I do not appreciate… having to drag myself… all the way up here… to sign the papers!” She tried to snap. What little breath she had left in a gasp when she look up into the room.
“Why is everyone disrobed? Empress Adirn I really must insist that- why are your eyes closed?” The Empress opened her eyes again to witness the horror on Katherine’s face. “Your eminence, the robes are to be worn so that we don’t need to meet with our eyes closed anymore. They provide that element of disguise which allows us to look over papers and decrees without seeing one another’s faces.” She explained with furious frustration, between deep heaving pants.
“The robes are done with, Katherine. They seem useless.”
“Says the Empress who blinded herself.”
“They were closed for other reasons, mostly relating to Viscount Sinistere.”
The Viscount looked up apologetically, and Katherine regarded him for a moment.
“More understandable an explanation than I was expecting.” She accepted. “But are you so determined to throw a tantrum about your appointment that all of our traditions must be immediately destroyed?”
“If they involve hanging people or putting on warm clothing after a sweaty climb then yes!”
“It seems that someone disagrees with you.” Katherine said, pointing towards the lumbering mass of robes that stood where the Grand Priestess should have been. A third robe had been added to the fray, leaving her to wobble around looking like a mummified signpost. “What shambles have you wrought in the first hour of your reign?”
“A necessary shambles.”
“The Empress is subtle and devious in her ways.” Viscount Sinistere threw in. Neither Adirn nor Katherine paid him any attention.
“Well necessary or not, it must wait until we have signed the records of your birth, lineage and ascension.” Katherine told her, dropping the bundle of papers, quills and ink bottles onto the skull table. “I told you we’d be doing this after the coronation. Fancy dragging someone of my age all the way up here.”
“I didn’t do this on purpose, but there are more important matters to sort out first. Signing some papers can wait.”
“It very much cannot! Whatever important matters with which you wish to deal may not be touched until you have the power to do so. The Grand Priestess, wherever she is, might think that the coronation in the eyes of Almighty Virum is the only contract you need, but a little thing called power of attorney over the Empire is more widely regarded in legal circles. Circles in which all of your advisors and nobles move.” Katherine aggressively lectured. “Now take a seat and let us get to work.”
Succumbing to the arcane authority that only librarians can ever muster, Adirn immediately pulled out a chair, which she observed to be in the shape of an upturned human skull, and seated herself next to the Mistress of the Records.
“Lady Vipus.” Count Rott muttered. “If the Empress’ powers are yet to be sealed into law then we might have the opportunity to indulge in a little bit of last minute… you know…” he extravagantly mimed a hanging.
“Or some…” Lady Vipus added, making some aggressive drowning motions and splashing sounds.
Between them, gently lowered to their eyeline, came the shimmering, polished blade of a longsword.
“I believe that the Empress Elect has made decrees to the contrary.” Captain Toxis observed.
“Erm, oh yes. Of course. We were simply talking metaphorically.” Count Rott tried.
“Yeah. Metaphorically. We want to go and hang a pumpkin soup for our supper. And… erm… drown some administration of our fiefdoms using the water of astute sovereignty.” Lady Vipus said.
“Perhaps those matters can wait until the Empress Elect and her Mistress of the Records have finished. You two need not walk all the way down to the palace and then back up, that way.”
“Right you are, Captain Toxis.”
“A wise course of action.”
The blade was sheathed. The Lady and the Count looked guiltily towards Adirn, who scowled back.
“Eyes like a hawk! Do you think she knew what we were discussing?” Lady Vipus asked.
“I think we were pretty subtle, but if Toxis picked up on it then who knows. We should be careful.” Count Rott assessed.
“I can hear you.” Adirn told them directly through disbelieving rage. “This table is not large and you are not quiet.”
“And nor are you, my Empress.” Chided Katherine. “Sign here and here.”
The paperwork would not be denied.
The Onyx Empire, large as it was, wasn’t an enormous generator of literary works. That wasn’t due to a lack of history to record; their rapidly cycling ruling family generated more history in a decade that many empires made in century. The historical dearth was more a result of suppression of the arts, mostly by way of happening to execute the kinds of people who tried to ask too many questions or write too much down. It had puzzled Adirn that the empire had any need for a Mistress of the Records, because even at a rate of one ruler every two years it didn’t feel like there was much to administrate in the library. All became clear as Katherine dragged the new empress bodily through the bureaucratic process.
“Epithets next, your eminence. You will see the list of approved epithets on this parchment. Select three and I shall ensure that, at the end of your reign or upon the completion of your first sufficiently significant act as empress, it is used in conjunction with your royal name.”
Adirn sighed heavily and dropped her face into her hands. She’d already had to relate every detail about her family’s estate and industries, just in case there was something that the empire needed to use as justification for future atrocities, and she suspected that there was worse to follow.
“Surely epithets are chosen by historians, or diplomats, or someone other than myself.” She protested.
“Would you rather have the likes of Viscount Sinistere selecting an epithet on your behalf? Do you think that they, in your case especially, would be able to sum up the correct aspects of your rule?” Katherine challenged, looking all the way down her generous nose at the Empress.
“No.” Adirn mumbled into the Skull Table. Scrolls and parchments were stacked all over the eye sockets and cheekbones. “Let’s have a look then.”
Empress Adirn scanned her way down the list of available post-nominals and couldn’t muster the will to be surprised by what she read.
“None of these are words with which I wish to be associated.” She decided.
“And you are not the empress with whom I wish to be associated, but this is where we find ourselves. The faster you pick one the faster we can get back to whatever cultural destruction it is that you’re trying to exact.”
Adirn scowled at the Mistress of Records. It was as if no-one understood how insane they were all being. Admittedly whenever someone strides into a room and declares ‘I’m right and everyone else is wrong’ it’s typically a false statement, but the empress really felt that she was onto something with ‘when an empire slaughters its own people, it struggles to find success’.
“If I must, then I’ll go with ‘Unyielding’, ironically.” She conceded.
“Empress Adirn the Unyielding.” Katherine repeated, noting it down on one of her parchments. “And for the other two?”
“Is it really necessary to-”
“Yes.”
“Ugh.” Adirn scanned the list again. Black-hearted was too on-the-nose. Blood-drinker was straight-up horrifying, and there was no way that Adirn would allow herself to be remembered as ‘Nightmare-Bringer’. If this list was the only set of options, then the Onyx Empire definitely expected its sovereigns to fall within a narrow behavioural envelope. “I guess… Heart-Render, but only because I’m apparently breaking hearts by banning the practice of executing the serfs for paying their taxes on time.”
Katherine scratched it onto her page and waited with something approximating to a grudging patience for the final choice.
“And… and…” Adirn stalled.
“I’ve always liked ‘Strangler’.” Viscount Sinistere offered from the across the room. He and the other nobles had taken to their own inverted skull chairs and were listlessly waiting for the bureaucracy to be over. Captain Toxis leaned casually against the door, daring any of them to try leaving against the empress’ wishes.
“Got to be ‘Venomous’, like Empress Anne.” Lady Vipus suggested.
“Anne the Venomous, you mean?” Asked Count Rott.
“Obviously, yes.” Vipus replied.
The Grand Priestess rolled gently around on the floor like an inverted tortoise, five robes in at that stage and quite unable to make her own way back to her feet. Everyone had concluded that she was safer down there, since she couldn’t be at risk of falling over again.
“I’m not being either of those things.”
“Why not ‘Oathbreaker’?” Katherine finally said.
“Because it will make everyone think I break oaths! That’s not a good reputation by which to be preceded if I’m to negotiate with the White Alliance and other sovereigns.”
There were gasps throughout the Skull Chamber.
“Negotiate with the White Alliance? You must mean negotiating the terms of the surprise war which we will declare upon them?” Lady Vipus asked.
“They’re definitely not surprises at this stage.” Captain Toxis told her. “No matter how clever you think your plans are.”
“I meant exactly what I said, Lady Vipus. I’ll not enter into such conversations with the name Oathbreaker.” Adirn told her.
“At this stage, your eminence, the name with which you enter shall be the least of your concerns.” Katherine said, with the air of one trying to push matters along. “But need I remind you that by accepting the Bludgeon of Minds and the Imperial Shackles you made an oath to Almighty Virum that you would continue his works? Your words here today do not imply that you’ll be keeping true to that, and as such as oath has been broken.”
Adirn stared at the list of epithets again. There was nothing more suitable, and at least Katherine had been able to spin a truth into ‘Oathbreaker’ that didn’t make her sound like a total scoundrel.
“Fine. Unyielding, then Oathbreaker, and then Heart-Render. But preferably none of them.”
“You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, your eminence.” Katherine placated, without looking up from her page.
“There really are important matters of state that we need to address though. If we’re down to worrying about what the people will say about me once I’ve been beheaded then can we please leave the rest of the record-writing until later?” Adirn pleaded. Katherine looked her wearily in the eye, and then softened almost imperceptibly.
“Very well, your eminence. I have enough to be working with for the moment.”
“Thank you, Mistress of Records. In that case, I have a decree which I would like you to take down and write into law. From this day, the innocent people of the Onyx Empire shall not be hanged, drowned, burned or otherwise executed.”
Count Rott leapt up to his feet, hearing something to which he could relate.
“Oh! I understand now!” He declared, beaming. Adirn knew better than to trust those words. “We never hang the innocent, but everyone is guilty of something. What new crimes shall we be defining?” He asked, excitedly.
“No new crimes. Except maybe hanging innocent people.” Adirn threatened.
“Your eminence, obviously we were all a bit behind the curve before, but I’m with you now. We won’t be hanging any innocents, because we’ll find where their guilt lies.” He said, winking theatrically. “It’s genius.”
“Exactly! Exactly!” Viscount Sinistere added, scurrying over and desperate to sound more enthusiastic than his peers. “As I was saying, canny of the Empress to orchestrate a new hope for the trouble-making serfs to rally behind.”
“Please ignore these cretins and write exactly what I said, Katherine. The days of the hanging fields have passed.”
A tense silence replaced the previously bored silence as the empress’s declaration was penned into law. Darkness fell over the faces of Lady Vipus and Count Rott, enough to make Adirn’s heart beat a little faster.
“Is this how things are to be from now on? The Empress ignoring her council and making sweeping motions that hurt the heart of our empire?” Count Rott challenged. He shook with the impotent rage that had formed from his dashed enthusiasm. “You are nothing but a tyrant.”
“A tyrant? I think tyranny tends to fall on those who operate mass-gallows, rather than those who pull them down.”
“And I think it falls on those who exercise their will against the wishes of all others. You might think yourself a great new ruler, and a wise woman, but you need us to run this empire and you know it. Ignore us in everything and you’ll lead us to ruin without a drowned farmer in sight.” Lady Vipus agreed. She and the Count seemed to have found courage in their anger. Viscount Sinistere hunkered into the shadows, still clutching his hands and looking for the balance of power.
“I won’t be called a tyrant.” Adirn said, more calmly. “I will heed your advice, but advice is all it is.”
The empress caught Captain Toxis eye for his support. He frowned.
“Such are the words of a tyrant, your eminence.” He confirmed.
Adirn trembled. Perhaps the time for a concession was at hand.
“I see. If that’s how you feel then… I will make a gesture of good will. But my new law will be followed to the letter. Please, what would you have my next move be?”
“Rain Hell down upon the unwitting who stand in our way!” Advised Count Rott with trembling, shrieking passion. The emotional swing took Adirn off guard and put her physically off balance.
“Raise Hell up and inflict it upon The White Alliance!” Screamed Lady Vipus in support.
“Bring Hell across from anywhere it might already be, to save on time and resources.” Suggested Viscount Sinistere, who was apparently more economically minded despite his sycophantic ways. The Empress had definitely never read anything about the logistics of moving hell in any direction, so the final piece of advice was, against all the odds, the most credible.
“I see.” She said, desperately thinking of way to say ‘no’ without being accused of further tyranny. “That’s quite a large, if narrowly defined, set of requests.”
“For too long we have allowed the White Alliance to walk all over us. Coming in here and liberating our farmsteads, executing our sovereigns, and taking back all the gold we stole from their outlying provinces. Well today could be the day we finally turn things around.” Count Rott declared emphatically. “The White Alliance’s forces will be tired from their recent offensive against us; delivering such a thorough routing must take a toll.”
“A thorough routing you say? That would be a thorough routing of our forces?”
“Yes. It’s the last thing they would expect for us to launch another surprise attack. Eleven surprise attacks are the sort of thing that can happen with a sufficiently determined empire, and that must have been how the White Alliance were ready for us. But twelve? No. Not even the White Alliance could predict such masterful strategy.”
Adirn raised her fingers to her lips and pondered how exactly to get herself out of this situation. It was painfully clear that Count Rott was criminally stupid, but he fancied himself as a military man, apparently.
“How are our coffers? We would need a lot of gold for any amount of moving Hell in any direction. Especially if you want our military to do the carrying.” She chanced. Lady Vipus’ eyes narrowed, but Count Rott was overjoyed.
“I knew you were a general at heart, your eminence. The coffers are, admittedly, not overflowing. Between the chronic lack of serfs to work the land and pay taxes, and the manifold reparations we owe the White Alliance, income has taken a devastating hit. But there are riches ripe for the plundering just over the border. We’ll use their own gold to fund a war against them!” He said with delight, his mouth spewing words with ill-deserved conviction.
"Wait, you just said the gold was stolen back when the White Alliance occupied us…” Cogs turned. “How many times have you tried this plan?"
"Er, how many surprise attacks did I say we'd carried out?"
"Eleven."
"Then we've tried it ten times. There was one go in the middle where we thought we'd lose less time if we skipped the pillaging, but it turned out that pillaging was always pretty quick. Besides, the troops enjoy chatting to the locals and carrying bags of money about."
Adirn groaned. Her advisors braced themselves for a sudden bout of illness that never quite seemed to materialise.
"Ten times. You've stolen it ten times and it has always been taken straight back. What does that tell you about how well your plan works?"
"That we've got the first bit nailed down and we need to work on securing our borders."
"It beggars belief that your troops have been able to take it so many times. After even one raid the security should have been tightened up."
"Quite the opposite, your eminence. They don't even bother with defending it these days. It's a pleasant chat, hand over the cash and wait for it to be back when the White Alliance military passes by." Lady Vipus explained. “We just need to be faster about spending it. Hire a larger army, make the payday sooner, and perhaps increase the wages. Of course, we’ll need to increase the whippings too, just in case they think they might be getting treated better…”
“Alright!” The empress said, throwing her hands into the air. “I’ve heard enough.”
“I knew the plan would convince you of its own accord.” Count Rott beamed.
“Shut up, Rott. There will be no surprise attack, and we’re not continuing this game of pass the gold. I’ve listened to your plan, and it’s awful.”
“Well how in the world do you propose that we’ll subjugate the White Alliance then?” He barked.
“I don’t.”
“Then how will we punish them for invading us?”
“We won’t; it was well-deserved because our attacks against them had crept into double figures!”
There was a muffled shout that sounded suspiciously like “It is tradition for us to launch sneak attacks!” from the pile of robes in the corner.
“Your words mean nothing. You pretend to listen to us and then shoot my ideas down anyway.” Count Rott pouted. “It is our solemn tradition to backstab and cheat and lie our way through international diplomacy, your eminence! Are you really on that much of a crusade to destroy our empire that you’ll break down its very legacy? Are you implying that hundreds of years of attacks by our ancestors were somehow wrong?” He challenged.
The sheer futility of arguing grew too much for Adirn. She gritted her teeth and scowled at the battle-hungry cretin, trying desperately to think of anything to say other than ‘Keto, execute this moron’. Maybe that was how all the other rulers got started on their bloody campaigns, she thought.
"The Empress is implying, of course, that we must win the trust of the White Alliance this time. Let them think that the invasions are over. And then, from nowhere, comes strike twelve in all its irascible glory!" Viscount Sinistere presumed, breaking the silence and looking over at Adirn for approval once he was done.
"Would that shut you up, Rott?" The Empress asked.
"Well, I er, in as much as I would be, erm…" He blustered.
"Close enough; yes that might be a plan I’ll consider. But it’s a long way off. We're all exhausted from the coronation today. Let us leave proceedings as they are and start tackling other matters in the morning." The Empress declared, stepping away from the skull table. "Captain Toxis, please escort me back to my living quarters. Any one of the rest of you, please rescue the grand priestess."
Wedged in the corner and unable to roll any further, soft and muffled snoring was emanating from the multi-robe abomination.
Captain Toxis held the door for Adirn, and without looking back at her council, such as it was, she started the long and winding descent.
Leaving a well-swept path behind her thanks to the coronation gown, Adirn reached a vaulted and decorated doorway. Vast panels of ebony, inlaid with obsidian axes and murals of various horrifying scenes, reached from floor to ceiling and had left deep scratch-marks on both over the years. To either side were blackened iron rings, laden with chains and shackles for unfortunate souls to be bound outside the doors overnight, and underneath them were chairs with perfectly mismatched legs. Adirn reluctantly drank in the vision of her new home: the Imperial Malignancy Chambers.
"We need to change the name of this wing." She said with mild disgust in her voice. "Something more like 'living chambers' would be more homely."
"The name has served previous rulers accurately enough." Keto observed.
"I think I have made it clear that I am not the previous rulers."
"So have my eyes." Keto advised, missing the point.
Adirn couldn't face the discussion, and instead grasped the twisted iron handle. Set into an ebony fascia, the handle was formed into the image of a pair of pliers, and the door around it painted in the image of a man having teeth pulled. In twisting the handle down, one of the teeth rose up from the grimacing face. It was just one more entry on the re-decoration shopping list.
Inside the chamber, a group of bustling houseworkers snapped to attention at the sound of the door. Faintly they shivered, terrified of how the new Empress was going to treat them.
"Oh, er hello." Adirn said upon noticing the assembly of servants. All of them averted their gazes and the empress glanced uncertainly at Keto. He shrugged. "You're allowed to look up at me, it's fine. I'd prefer it, to be honest.” She reassured wearily.
Cautiously, one of the servants lifted his gaze as far as Adirn’s stomach. The sight of the skull decorations on the dress made him flinch.
“A good start, but how about we keep it lifting until you’re looking at my face. And the rest of you too, please. I’d like to know your faces if I’m going to be living with you.” At least, for as long as it takes for Count Rott or Lady Vipus to have me assassinated she added to herself.
Fists which were already grasping cloths or sponges clenched tighter as the staff steeled themselves. One by one the other servants slowly lifted their heads until they had reached thigh level. Many of them apparently needed a rest as this stage, before pushing on further to the next waystation of the stomach. The young lad who had made it to the stomach in the first place made an obvious show of looking away when his head was at chest level, and then took the plunge of looking straight at Adirn’s nose.
“I’m Adirn Deepgrave. A pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”
Cogs turned behind the lad’s eyes, which were wide with anxious terror. There had to be a trick here, some pitfall towards which the new empress was leading him. Was it a faux pas to speak his own name in her presence? Or to speak at all? Surely it couldn’t be worse than refusing to answer a direct question? All had been offensive to rulers past, from what the Mary the Skullery maid had told him. He knew his silence would be growing conspicuous. The empress had him cornered and she must have known it.
“It… it’s Henry Servile, your eminence.” He croaked, preparing to hear the order for his execution.
“Henry. Wonderful to make your acquaintance.” Adirn told him. She’d learned early in her life that it was best to stay on the good side of those who prepared your food and cleaned your home. A spitefully hidden halibut beneath her bedroom rug had taught her that the hard way.
Confused tension had already filled the room, but it intensified at the sound of Adirn’s greeting. Clearly, this was a whole new type of sadist; lulling them all into complacency before suddenly announcing a full list of their crimes. While pondering the new empress’ favoured flavour of cruelty, the other servants’ heads had paused in their journeys to Adirn’s face, and she looked on with despair as they all variously looked at her stomach, either side of her chest, or her neck.
Another few moments of patience delivered the completion of that herculean task that she had set to the staff, and they all looked at various points of her face. None of them met her eyes, but she supposed that battle could be fought in due time.
“And you? What is your name?” Adirn asked the next-in-line , an older woman. The same cogs that had whirred in Henry started to turn for the woman. The empress stifled a sigh.
It took another ten minutes to repeat the charade for every servant in the room, but finally Empress Adirn had learned the names of her house staff. There’d been a couple of pauses when one or another of them had broken into tears, but the empress didn’t have the energy to worry about that.
“Great. I look forward to our time together.” Adirn said, for want of any concluding remarks to make. Images of personal torture flashed through the minds of the assembled staff; the empress was already beginning to recognise the relevance of that glassy expression.
“There will be no more cruelty or torture or oppression here, alright? Please stop worrying about it. You’re safe.”
The glassy expressions remained unchanged and Adirn rubbed at her face with one hand.
"I’m sure we’re all feeling tired, so we can talk more in the coming days. Could one of you please prepare me a bath?"
Immediately there were horrified gasps. Each of the servants looked in fear at the others until one, Gwen, reluctantly stepped forward with tears in her eyes.
"I beg forgiveness, your eminence. We didn't know that you would need such measures so soon, and we haven't the.. the..." She started to sob.
"We don't have any sacrifices from whom to take the blood, your eminence." Henry finished, staring shamefully at the floor. "The bath of blood requires so many, and the invasion robbed us of any preparation. We have let you down."
"Blood?!”
“The tools are sharpened and the buckets ready, your eminence. I swear it. Just not the sacrifices.”
“Oh my goodness no! I want a bath of water! Who bathes in blood? That's horrible!" Adirn wailed.
Gwen looked up in shock.
"Oh... please your eminence I didn't mean to imply that you were so monstrous. Or that your predecessors were monsters!" She added quickly, all too aware of Keto's blade.
"Just a normal bath of warm water and some soap. That's all I want. No sacrifices, or deaths, or torture, or blood, or anything like that." Adirn clarified, quickly reaching the conclusion that she needed to be far more specific in her requests to the house staff in future. "And please stop crying."
Much to Adirn's surprise, the sobbing ceased immediately with a stifled, wet sound. Her jaw dropped open, and clearly her face told a story of her confusion.
"A common instruction, your eminence. We are well practiced." Gwen told her with impressive clarity and something like a reluctant pride. "Any emotion you wish for us to display, from terror to fear to horror to petrification, we can manage at a moment's notice, for your pleasure."
"Oh... oh right. That doesn’t seem… Well, I'd like you to try to work on happiness, please."
An appreciable attempt at 'suspicious revulsion' crossed the maid's face.
"I probably should have seen that one coming." The empress admitted. "No pressure from me. But I won't require your, erm, emotional theatre any longer. You're welcome to feel what you feel and express it however comes naturally."
"Thank you." Gwen whimpered mechanically. It didn’t sound like she’d taken the permission to have emotions to heart. "Would you like me to prepare your hot water bath now?"
"Yes, please go ahead." Adirn sighed, seeing the desperation to leave and the terror in the her eyes.
Without hesitation she curtsied and hurried away, leaving her colleagues in their silent line.
The empress looked over her remaining servants, most of whom had reverted to looking at the floor again, and couldn't face drawing the situation out any longer.
"Take the night off, everyone. You've worked hard enough to earn some relaxation time." She told them, in what she hoped was a friendly and generous manner.
There were scant few moments of Adirn's life in which she'd seen silent, fearful patience turn to silent, fearful panic so quickly. Distrusting glances were thrown from side to side. Cloths and sponges, still grasped from the work moments before, danced and shook as their holders quivered. None of them dared move.
"A little too much too soon, your eminence." Captain Toxis opined in her ear.
"Ugh, fine. Work if you feel like you have to. Carry on as you were." She groaned. "But not if it involves sacrifices, torture, death, blood, or anything designed around any of those things." She quickly added, trying to learn her lesson.
Obediently the house staff variously dropped to the floor, hurried to mantlepieces or dashed for the kitchens to resume their duties. Once they were out of earshot the empress turned to Captain Toxis.
"Did the last ruler really bathe in blood?"
"Only on special occasions." Keto said, as if that made it any better. Adirn shuddered.
After all was said and done, Adirn's bath turned out to be at least somewhat relaxing. Initially, of course, there had been a period in which she scoured every inch of the tub and surrounding accoutrements for any sign of dried blood or unsettling pink tinge. Having mercifully found nothing, she then set about ignoring the selection of cruelty aids hanging on the wall. Whatever applications the previous rulers had found for curved blades and pointed tweezers in the bath were, they didn't bear thinking about. There had also been a brief discussion with the maid, regarding her assumption that she needed to stand next to the bath for the whole evening. Her dismissal had taken longer than Adirn would have liked, and involved spirited reassurances that the new empress simply had more modesty than her predecessors before finally issuing a clear, explicit order that no-one was to be in the bathroom while she bathed. Again, she learned a lesson about specifying the obvious.
Lying back in the water at long last and no longer feeling crushed by the lacing and bones of her coronation gown, Adirn closed her eyes. The pressures of leadership were indeed great, but for reasons far more harrowing than she'd ever envisaged. Simply not ordering her people to conduct evil deeds was one thing, but having to fight them all to make them stop was quite another. She reached for a bottle of scented oil standing on the side of the bathtub, grateful that even blood-bathers appreciated the value of smelling pleasant. As water from her hand dripped onto the stopper, however, it ran off with a black tint and fizzed gently. The empress snatched her arm back. There would have to be a grand purging of occult, unsettling and otherwise grim items from the whole palace; it was bad enough to have everything in her new life boiled down to skulls and black velvet, but threatening the sanctity of one's bath with unknown alchemical agents was intolerable. “I wish I’d checked for a library before having this bath.” She said to herself. “A good book would be perfect right now. Although knowing this place it would just be illustrated guides to flaying or something. Maybe I’ll have a collection sent over from home.”
Adirn’s bathroom back at Deepgrave Manor always had a stack of tomes available for the bathing reader. It also didn’t have water buckets shapes like skulls, so her bath water never flowed from eye sockets. Her own basin was white ceramic, rather than the violet foxglove shape that the imperial bath chamber contained, and nothing had been inlaid with nearly as many daggers. Most jarring had been that the bathtub was shaped into the opening jaws of a snake, complete with sharp fangs at either end. Although unsettling at first, they were serving well as towel-hangers and headrests so the empress was coming to appreciate them in her own way. She just hoped that Count Rott, Lady Vipus and even Viscount Sinistere could surprise her with such utility as well. Although she probably didn’t have more than two years at her disposal, Adirn knew that only time would tell.