The Daily Report

  77th Day of Spring

  777 Karloman’s Peace

  I’ve let them in. My personal cadre of manservants, six of them in total, invited into my private chamber so they may assist me in bathing and dressing. Also in the room is my personal attendant Sercondus Yerdal, here to apprise me of the morning reports concerning events of ‘import’ or ‘interest’ that have occurred overnight. Rarely is his report either of those two things, but every man needs an occupation, I suppose.

  Additionally, Corneliu Trellis, captain of my personal guard, stands sentinel at the back of the room. Corneliu is the only person currently in the room that I can say I like.

  No. In fact, I more than like the man. I’d go as far as to say I admire him. He has been my protector for, oh, around thirty years, I think. He is nine years younger than I, so he’s not a young man by any means, although age has done nothing to diminish him, unlike me. Corneliu is tall, broad in stature and made all the more imposing by the thick-plated armour he wears. His hair and bread, both military in style, is now a distinguishing shade of silver that, rather than ageing the man makes him look all the more dashing. His jawline is stern, his eyes deep and soulful, and every inch of the man’s face is lean and predatory. He exuberates danger, which makes him the most alluring of men.

  I know that, of course, because I have seen how, even at his advanced age, the maidens, courtesans, servant girls and even noble women who frequent the royal place giggle and swoon in his presence. I also know that because I have eyes and I can detect a good-looking man when I see one.

  “I do have some rather distressing news to relay to you this morning,” attendant Yerdal says, drawing my attention.

  I stop looking at my captain and turn to Sercondus, a far less impressive man to look upon. It just occurred to me that I haven’t listened to a thing the man has said so far. He has been here for at least ten minutes while my manservants have been busy scrubbing the night sweats from my body. That’s what happens when a person is built in such an unremarkable fashion. You hardly notice they are there.

  “And what news is that?” I ask him, my tone as disinterested as it always is whenever I speak with the man. I don’t know why he waits for me to ask. Just tell me the dam news and get on with it. I’m seventy-two years old. I could be dead in an hour.

  “The new captain of the city guard was found last night,” Yerdal began.

  “I would hope so,” I say, cutting him off, “he had bloody duties to attend to.”

  “Quite right,” Yerdal agrees with me without a hint of levity.

  The man has no sense of humour.

  “However,” Yerdal continues, “he was found in the palace gardens, with a young man, in a,” Yerdal pauses to think of the appropriate term to use in my presence, like I am sort of delicate flower that has no experience of the carnal world. “In a compromising position,” Yerdal says, settling on the phrase.

  He was fucking a young man in the bushes; just say that, you witless prat. I don’t say it to him, obviously, but I’d like to. It has, however, been brought to my attention that such harsh comments from the emperor, directed at a servant, have the potential to cause one to inadvertently fear for one's position and life. I’d rather the man not have a heart attacks in my chambers.

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  “I see,” are the words I actually say, “am I right in thinking that, that would be Captain Treabor?” I am pretty sure that is the fellow’s name.

  “Yes,” Yerdal confirms for me.

  “He is the handsome one, is he not?” I ask. “The one with that moustache.”

  “Erm, yes, I think so, your exquisiteness,” Yerdal says hesitantly, “I understand that some of the women of the court have referred to him as being handsome before.”

  Sercondus, we both know you don’t understand the first thing about being handsome. Another thing I don’t say but would like too.

  Sercondus is newish. He has only been my attendant for less than a year since the death of my last attendant. I miss Qrow; he was fun and gave as good as he got. This new one is sensitive. The first time I made a joke at his expense, I thought he was going to break down and cry, and he hasn’t insulted me once. Honestly, I’ve given up trying to develop a rapport with the man and now try not to upset him too much.

  I really can’t watch a grown man mewl.

  It’s a shame about Treabor, though. He was strapping. What a waste sacrificing that man on the altar of dogmatic bigotry.

  “Last night, you say?” I ask, musing the report.

  “Yes, your loftiness,” Yerdal replies.

  I sigh. “Yerdal, I have asked enough times for you to stop calling me those ridiculous things behind closed doors. I really do not want to ask you again.”

  “Apologies, your,” Yerdal goes to recite another idiotic phrase but catches himself. “Apologies,” he repeats.

  “‘It was cold last night, wasn’t it?” I ask, moving on.

  “Yes, unusually so, for spring,” Yerdal confirms.

  Caught in the arms of a young lad in the palace gardens on a cold night. It makes you proud, doesn’t it? I do not say that to Yerdal. I don’t think the man’s sensibilities could handle it.

  “Anything else I need to know about?” I ask Yerdal as I rise from my brass bath. He turns, possibly respectfully, from my naked visage as I make my way behind my dresser. The manservants follow me with towels to dry me and clothes in which to dress me.

  “Yes, yes,” Yerdal says, his gaze still fixed on the other side of the room. I would almost find it flattering to have flustered the man so much if it weren’t for the fact that I know my body is so wrinkled and diminished that the days of anyone being flustered by it have long since passed.

  “Well, out with it then,” I urged my attendant to compose himself and hurry up.

  “We have received reports that the rebel army under the command of Bishop Gerwald have passed through the Telemark canyon and are now freely travelling through the Bar Prefecture.”

  See, now that is real news, something an emperor needs to know about, something I need to deal with. Thankfully, I am not an idiot, nor am I idle, and my preparations are well underway.

  “Any other updates from the front?” I ask.

  “Yes, we also received word that the army under the command of Bishop Florentin has pushed eastward, entering Vaugedguard.” I laugh.

  “Really?” I ask, astonished. “Surely they are not that stupid.”

  “That is what the reports say,” Yerdal says, and I think he may have shrugged—such informality from the man is rare. He doesn’t think much of the Truthers. Maybe there is some hope for him. Oh, he has stiffened his back now, probably chastising himself in his own head.

  To think though, after all the trouble I have had trying to end this damned religious uprising, that it may very well be ended by such a blunder.

  “You know,” I say, giving voice to my thoughts, “it is nearly impossible to pull the Vaugedguardians away from the northern border. Their armies are always ready to repel heathen invasions; that is all they care about. But you know what does get their attention? Invading their lands. I tell you that Florentin has bit off more than he can chew. We may just win this war after all.” I end my little monologue there.

  “You worry that we may not win this war?” Yerdal asks.

  I am dressed now, and I have walked from behind my screen. I stare at Sercondus. That was a foolish thing to ask. An emperor always knows he is going to win the war. I don’t have to say anything. He knows he has made a mistake.

  “Apologies,” he says with a bow of the head.

  I do not dwell on it.

  “Have you gathered my scribes as I requested?” I ask. It’s a task I had set him the night before.

  “Yes,” Yerdal confirms. “They are in the study.”

  “Good,” I say. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  “Erm,” Yerdal starts, and I sigh. I shouldn’t sigh out loud. That would worry the man. I turn to him and wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

  “Your nephews are also in the study,” Yerdal explains.

  “Right,” I say, nodding and remembering something about a recital. “Well, let's go see to them as well, shall we? Lead the way.” I gesture toward the door, and Yerdal proceeds through it, followed by Corneliu. I walk behind both the men, my servants trailing behind me.