Traitors' Blood Runs Red (2)
The Empire's Senate had functioned as one of the empire's primary governing bodies since ancient times.
Its members consisted of prestigious noble families dating back to the city-state era, the emerging knight class, and newcomers granted status out of necessity.
Of course, at the center were the great houses that had even produced emperors.
I sat at my desk, meticulously reviewing the investigative reports on the senators' backgrounds. I was trying to sift out those who might have been behind the recent mischief.
As I carefully examined the details, Rikius entered and bowed his head.
"Your Excellency."
"Speak."
"While you were away, there's a report on the matter the Senate reviewed."
"Was there something important? Ah, right—Shapur sent a state letter."
"Yes, that's the one."
Rikius handed over the state letter that the Senate had examined.
I skimmed its contents and furrowed my brow.
'Demanding the customary tribute payments?'
Rikius watched my expression.
The Empire and Ersia had coexisted over the years, repeating cycles of war and peace. When relations were good, the two nations jointly dealt with the nomads.
Ersia provided the troops, and the Empire the money. It was the Empire's diplomatic effort to secure its eastern border more safely.
But right now, relations between Ersia and the Empire were poor. Should we hand over tribute just because a former enemy, after fighting a war, used the nomad issue as an excuse?
Absurd.
Shapur wouldn't have included such nonsense in a state letter out of ignorance.
In short, this letter was little more than laying groundwork for a future war.
I crumpled the letter and asked Rikius,
"What did the Senate reply?"
The Senate had the privilege of receiving foreign envoys and handling state affairs in the emperor's absence.
If the emperor had the will, he'd summon people from the provinces, but everyone knew the current Alexius lacked both the will and the ability.
Of course, if I were directly overseeing state affairs, the Senate couldn't act, but it was hard to do that during wartime.
Rikius said,
"They replied that they would pay the tribute."
I stared blankly for a moment, then slammed my fist on the desk.
"Who? Who dared decide to pay the tribute?"
"The vote was called by the Senate Chairman."
"And what did you do?"
As I shot him a cold glare, Rikius bowed his head.
"I thought that if the Praetorian Guard meddled recklessly in imperial state affairs, it would bring disgrace upon you, so I couldn't exert any influence."
"Ugh."
I groaned and skimmed the letter again.
The tribute amounted to a whopping 50,000 solitus.
It wouldn't have been a burden in the Empire's heyday, but with the treasury empty, this was an sum we absolutely could not afford.
"What about the Ersian envoy?"
"He received the Senate's reply and left the capital."
I closed my eyes.
This gave Shapur grounds to demand more money from the Empire again. If we had offered the tribute and then refused, he'd have immediate justification for war.
He wouldn't have sent the envoy expecting things to go this smoothly, but the Shapur I knew wouldn't miss a chance handed to him.
'So the Senate wagging its tail at me had its reasons. They pretended to bow while planning to use Shapur to undermine my position.'
I wanted to crush those power-mad old fools. But touching the Senate couldn't be done by force alone.
Overthrowing the Senate with my own hands would be like dismantling the authority that upheld the Empire. It would encourage provincial governors and legion commanders to harbor other thoughts.
"Leave for now."
"Yes."
Rikius bowed and exited the office.
I thought for a moment, then called a servant.
"Summon Brinhilte now."
"Yes, Master."
Soon, a beautiful blonde beauty entered my room. She approached me with a cautious demeanor.
"I heard you called for me."
"Yes."
Brinhilte clasped her hands together.
"Is there work for me?"
"Something like that."
I rose from my chair and clasped my hands behind my back. My shadow stretched long across the office in the sunlight.
"Do you remember the promise I made to you before?"
"Of course I do."
Brinhilte replied in a slightly trembling voice.
"I want you to uphold that promise now."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Can you do it?"
As I asked probingly, her hands clenched her white garment tightly. She bit her lip for a moment before speaking.
"I can."
"Good."
I steeled my resolve and fixed my gaze on Brinhilte.
I was about to assign a cruel task to this fragile girl who had offered her own body for her people. It was hard for me as an imperial soldier or as a man.
But I was a politician responsible for the Empire's future and the pillar upholding the legions.
If I didn't make the hard call, no one else would dirty their hands for the Empire.
With a stern expression, I said to Brinhilte,
"Then join the envoy heading to Ersia tomorrow and go east. Throw yourself into Shapur's arms. Gain his favor, cloud his judgment. Do everything necessary to hasten Ersia's decline. And report back to me every detail you hear or see about their state affairs. That's your task."
"You mean... to bed the king?"
"Yes. I'll make you the sister of the current emperor. An honorable imperial princess is something even the king of Ersia won't discard lightly."
Brinhilte closed her eyes.
"You'll resent me for giving such an order."
"No. It was something I volunteered for from the start. Better to be sent to a king than given to just anyone."
I gave a bitter smile.
"In return, I promise one thing. Your people settled in the province will be protected in the Empire's name and exempt from taxes for the time being."
"Thank you."
"So I'll trust you. For your people's sake, accomplish the mission I've entrusted. If you render great service to the Empire, I'll grant one wish. I promise as the Praetorian Prefect."
Brinhilte bowed her head upon hearing my promise.
"I believe in your word, Your Excellency."
"You may go."
Brinhilte greeted me and turned to leave.
I felt pity seeing this delicate girl receive such a harsh command without shedding a single tear.
She probably worried that showing tears would make me seem unreliable and lead me to break our promise.
Even during our talk, I could tell from her moist eyes that she was holding back tears.
Still, I couldn't take back the order I'd given her.
I am the Empire's guardian, and I must do what is necessary.
Tasting bitterness, I turned back to the window.
The Senate's regular meetings convened every morning at nine.
Considering that most imperial state affairs wrapped up by noon, the Empire's ruling elite worked just three hours a day—more play than labor.
Yet they enjoyed tax exemptions and various privileges; it was no wonder the Empire was declining.
Before heading out, I donned a pristine white toga.
Today, I had two demands for the Senate: sending an envoy to Ersia and recognizing Brinhilte, the barbarian princess I'd brought, as the adopted daughter of the late Emperor Marius.
As I adjusted my attire, Erenia approached and sprinkled rose-infused water on my clothes. I shook my head at the scent.
"Flower scent for the Praetorian Prefect? You'll embarrass me."
Erenia laughed and said,
"Your expression looked too cold today, so I thought... If you carry the smell of flowers on the way, maybe the senators won't be so scared?"
"Is my face that cold?"
As I asked, Erenia pinched my cheek firmly.
"Your mouth is all stiff. Like this."
"Was it?"
I forced a smile. Since I was going to the Senate to make requests, frowning wouldn't do.
But controlling my expression wasn't easy. As I alternated between forced grins and grimaces, Erenia tilted her head.
"Come to think of it, you're acting a bit strange today."
"What's strange?"
"You used to hide your anger well."
"Hmm."
"But I like seeing you like this. You always seemed crushed by responsibility, unable to express emotions freely—like a statue more than a man."
I smiled wryly at her words.
"Can't be helped. That's how I've lived."
"Come on, you'll be late."
Erenia straightened the folds of my toga as she spoke.
I boarded the waiting palanquin.
Upon arriving at the Senate hall, the assembled senators rose at the sight of me. I flashed a forced smile as I walked to my seat.
Once I sat, the Senate Chairman announced the agenda: an epidemic raging in the southern mainland and preparations for spring floods in the north.
As the senators debated the topics, Consul Grussis approached and sat beside me. I regarded him calmly and said,
"Consul, I entrusted state affairs to you in my absence, but hearing disappointing news has hurt my heart a little."
"I'm sorry, General. I tried to represent your views as best I could, but things didn't go as planned."
"What were these unplanned circumstances?"
I was curious what excuse the man I'd placed as consul to speak for me would offer.
Grussis wiped his brow with his sleeve and said,
"I received a letter."
"A letter?"
"Yes. Someone who knows my scandals inside out sent a warning. If I blocked the meeting on the Ersia matter, they'd expose me. If my misdeeds were aired publicly, it would tarnish not just my career but my house, so I had no choice. That's why..."
"You just watched imperial interests get damaged?"
As my tone sharpened, Grussis swallowed dryly.
"Grussis, pathetic. I elevated you to consul, and you cower at a mere warning letter."
"I have no face."
I spoke coldly.
"I'm not one to give second chances, but considering your service to the Empire as consul, I'll grant you one more opportunity. A chance to make up for your mistake."
"Just say the word."
"Soon it'll be time for the consul to present the agenda. Request the two things I mentioned then. During the break, butter up the senators, threaten them—whatever it takes to pass them. Fail this, and no one in your house will ever rise to an honorable career again."
Grussis nodded, swallowing hard at my threat.
"U-understood. I'll empty my coffers for bribes if needed to carry out your orders. But what exactly should I do?"
"First, send a new envoy to Ersia. The senators won't want to go themselves, so expect strong opposition—but force it through."
Grussis's face turned the color of rotting pork liver. Pushing something the senators hated would erode his standing in the Senate.
He'd hate it worse than death, but it was fitting punishment for a consul who couldn't do his job.
"Second, request recognizing the barbarian princess Brinhilte I brought as the adopted daughter of the late Emperor Marius. Bestow the title of 'the Honorable One,' as we do for deified emperors."
"Th-that..."
Grussis stammered.
"Can't do it?"
"There'll be... fierce backlash."
Of course there would be. Asking to make a barbarian princess an imperial one? Utterly outrageous.
But to clean up the Senate's mess, I had no choice but bold moves.
I glared at him.
"Then you should have blocked the tribute from the start. You let things reach this point and now plan to do nothing? Do it. That's an order."
The consul wore a pitiful expression.
Grussis, one of the Empire's top power brokers, was no different from a gazelle before a lion in my presence.
"U-understood."
"I expect passage."
I said that, crossed my arms, and closed my eyes.
By staying and watching, I signaled I wouldn't leave until it was done. Grussis had to deliver.
Failure meant the Empire's mightiest power—I—would bring ruin to his house without mercy.
Grussis slunk away with a dying look.
(To be continued)