Khan - 1
Over a hundred people had already gathered in the Grand Council Chamber. It was only natural—there were thirty members of the Imperial Diet permanently stationed there alone, and administrative officials from nearby had come flooding in the moment word spread.
Yet for all that the room was packed with men who, at the first sign of trouble, would scramble to dodge blame and offer up a sacrificial lamb—and for all that it was equally packed with ambitious climbers itching to show off and snatch a promotion—the Grand Council Chamber was astonishingly silent.
That, too, was only natural. This was no ordinary disturbance. Open your mouth carelessly and get tangled up in it, and you would become the sacrifice yourself. Seize control of the narrative only for the Emperor to overturn it later, and you would never raise your head in politics again.
So everyone present kept their silence. Each of them was a heavyweight in his own right, yet none dared take the lead or shoulder the responsibility. They were simply waiting for the Emperor to appear.
"I should leave you here. Be careful."
Even the simultaneous entrance of the Audit Department Chief and a Duke drew no reaction whatsoever in that hushed chamber. The Demon Duke scanned the room swiftly, then whispered carefully by my ear, hoping I would not get hurt in this minefield.
"Don't worry. I'll keep my mouth shut."
I tossed back a half-joking reply and turned at once. I needed to head for the Ministry of Finance contingent; she was bound for the Duke of Victory's side.
"Forgive me for being late."
"Forget it. Plenty of people still aren't here."
When I offered the Minister and the other department chiefs my apology, the Minister shook his head. True enough—I had been in the Imperial Capital already and could come at once. Officials out in the provinces would be in chaos, teleporting in as fast as they could. The Magic Tower was probably half-dead scattering mages in every direction as well.
"Udesr Dorgon has proclaimed himself Khan. That was the last intelligence the Ministry of Special Affairs secured before they withdrew."
"So it was that bastard after all."
After exchanging bows with the other chiefs, I sat beside the Minister, who told me in a low voice.
The moment I heard it, I felt a pang of pity for the unit that first received the report. Ordered into a full retreat, scrambling to extract themselves, and then having to secure the news that a Khan had appeared on top of everything else—they must have been driven half mad. It was far too cruel a burden for a single unit to bear.
Thankfully they had returned safely to the capital and delivered a proper report.
"For now, keep your mouth shut and just listen. Neither you nor I have any business involving ourselves in a war unless His Majesty orders it."
"I know. Don't worry."
The Minister was not wrong, so I nodded. No matter that we had both fought in the last Great Subjugation War, he and I belonged to the Ministry of Finance. With the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Special Affairs standing right there, it would be strange for a Finance man to speak first. Unless the Emperor personally asked, it was best to assume we had no right to the floor.
While I joined the chamber's silence, the rest of those summoned began to appear. Dukes who had raced up from their domains, frontline army commanders and legion generals scattered across the Empire, swaggering territorial lords, and the judges who oversaw the courts.
The sight of nobles assembling by the hundred was rare outside a New Year's Audience. And unlike that ceremony, which gathered every titled noble, this summons had been restricted strictly to the highest ranks. At this moment it was no exaggeration to call the Grand Council Chamber the heart and brain of the Empire.
"Nobles who heed the Mandate of Heaven, kneel!"
When it seemed everyone had arrived and no more entered, the Minister of Palace Affairs standing on the dais raised his voice.
At the signal that the Emperor who had issued the summons was about to appear, the nobles dropped as one to their knees. Moments later came the sound of footsteps.
"Raise your heads."
At the Emperor's command they lifted their faces, though their expressions were far from pleasant. The customary parade of titles and offices that never failed to accompany an imperial progress—if an Emperor who prized imperial authority so highly was willing to skip that entire process, the situation was urgent indeed.
When we raised our heads, we saw the Emperor seated on the throne prepared upon the dais, with the Crown Prince and Ainter standing in attendance behind him.
They dragged him here too.
Ainter's rigid, frozen face made me feel sorry for him without meaning to. Only a few hours earlier he had been living an ordinary day at the Academy, and now he had been hauled into this. Gaining real authority was all well and good, but the duties that came with it seemed to be hitting him rather hard.
Still, it had to be better than his discarded days as a discarded imperial. Hang in there.
"Hear me, my lords. Your loyalty to the Imperial House and the Empire has never been wanting in the defense of Heaven's Mandate. Yet the recent tumults have, for all your labors, threatened that Mandate."
At those words the already silent chamber grew colder still. Everyone present knew that the recent tumults—the Great Subjugation War and the succession struggle—had shaken the Empire's fortunes to their roots. But for the Emperor himself to declare, in effect, We nearly went under back then, was a different matter entirely.
"Of course, under the protection of the Great Emperor who set Heaven's Mandate aright by Enen's grace, and thanks to the heritage of our forebears and the loyalty of you all, the Empire struck down those who challenged that Mandate. Yet once more a tumult has risen in the North."
And with that, the statement that Heaven's Mandate might again be threatened. The Emperor made plain he would not treat this lightly.
At the same time he made plain that he would not overlook those responsible for bringing the crisis upon them.
How far will it go?
I bit my lip without thinking. The crisis the Emperor spoke of was no mere natural disaster. It was a man-made catastrophe—the blood of Kagan who survived the Great Subjugation War, reuniting the nomad tribes once more. Someone would have to answer for it.
How far would that responsibility reach? The Duke of Victory, for failing to kill Dorgon during the Great Subjugation War? The Ministry of Special Affairs, for failing to find him these past three years? The Margrave of Sorden, for failing to keep the North under control?
This can't be stopped.
The Emperor already wielded formidable authority; now his justification was ironclad as well.
He had spent political capital to summon every high official of the Empire in a grand performance, and he had publicly acknowledged that crisis had come upon the realm. With the stage set so thoroughly, if the Emperor chose to assign blame, even the Duke of Victory would have to prepare for a fall from power, and the Ministry of Special Affairs would see its leadership replaced.
That was why no one dared open his mouth. In ordinary times men would have stepped forward to cry, How can Your Majesty say such a thing, and to flaunt their loyalty by vowing to root out the traitors who had disturbed the imperial peace. But when no one could be sure how far the Emperor's blade would swing, speaking up was the same as volunteering one's own neck as the sacrifice.
"Margrave of Sorden."
And with that, the range was set.
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
A middle-aged man carefully bowed his head and answered the Emperor's summons—the Margrave of Sorden.
At the name, relief and pity both flickered across the nobles' faces. Being called first meant the Emperor judged the Margrave's responsibility the greatest. And if the Margrave was the principal culprit, the chance of others being dragged in was vanishingly small.
"You have the duty to assist the Imperial House above and to keep the people at peace below. You also bear a heavy responsibility to guard the borders and secure the Empire's stability; for that reason the Imperial House bestowed upon your ancestors authority commensurate with that charge."
In sheer numbers there were fewer Margraves than Dukes—only three in the entire Empire, kings of the frontiers. Granted extraordinary powers and freedoms so they could respond swiftly to border troubles, they were even excused from attending the New Year's Audience.
Conversely, the authority came with enormous responsibility, and anything that erupted within a Margrave's jurisdiction was the Margrave's to answer for without exception.
"Yet you have failed to live up to the Imperial House's trust."
At the firm verdict the Margrave bowed his head still lower. The Margrave of Sorden was the one charged with the North—the sole Margrave of the northern lands. His role was to keep the nomads in check and the Empire's northern border at peace.
Yet as the Emperor said, he had failed in that role. The nomads were gathering again, and the border now had to fear a second Kagan. Authority had been given; responsibility had not been met.
"The previous Margrave of Sorden likewise failed to prevent the uprising of that heaven-defying rebel. My disappointment is deep."
Just as it had been with the previous Margrave of Sorden.
"Have you anything to say?"
"I have failed to repay Your Majesty's excessive trust, and I have failed in a noble's duty to safeguard the Empire and the people's peace. What words could a criminal such as I offer? I shall humbly submit to Your Majesty's judgment."
As if he had steeled himself for this from the moment the summons went out, the Margrave of Sorden spoke in a calm voice.
It was a pitiful business. The previous Margrave of Sorden had been executed for failing to stop the unification of the nomads; now his son was being ruined for the same crime.
"I strip Barnio Ennirua of Sorden of the title of Margrave, and I reclaim the Margravial authority granted to House Ennirua. Henceforth the Margraviate of Sorden shall be known as the County of Sorden."
The measure that said, We can no longer trust your house. The Margrave—no, Barnio—kept his silence.
"However, considering that House Ennirua's merits outweigh its faults, and that Barnio Ennirua's own services in the last Great Subjugation War were by no means small, there shall be no further punishment. You are permitted to pass the title to your child."
At the words that followed, Barnio visibly flinched. He had braced for execution, yet it had ended at the stripping of the title. The special privileges of a Margrave had been confiscated, but the family title remained a Count's rank—still high nobility. If he was allowed to pass it to his child, the house might stagger, but it would not fall.
From hell to heaven in a single breath. Perhaps that was why Barnio spoke in a slightly trembling voice.
"To a criminal who has nothing to say even if he dies, Your Majesty has shown such great mercy that I am both overwhelmed and ashamed. This subject has disappointed Your Majesty, yet this subject's house shall forever answer to Your Majesty's mercy and trust."
"I shall look forward to the loyalty of House Ennirua, Counts."
"Long live His Imperial Majesty! Long live! Long, long live! May Your Majesty enjoy ten thousand years of life!"
With those words Barnio bowed at the waist and left the Grand Council Chamber. Stripped of his title, he no longer belonged among those under summons.
"Director of Intelligence, speak of the turmoil in the North."
Watching Barnio's departure, the Emperor said quietly.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Director of Intelligence looked momentarily startled by the sudden summons, then answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Barnio had carried away every last scrap of responsibility; the blade would swing no further. The assignment of blame was finished.
"The son of Gaar Udesr Batar, former chieftain of the Gaar Tribe—Udesr Dorgon—has proclaimed himself Khan."
From here on, the real business began.