Florian Saga I By Forte

“Good afternoon, my lord. The Empress is waiting.”

The two guards step to the side, allowing Bellamy to pass through the large double doors.

“Thank you.” He tells the guard that spoke to him. “I best not keep her waiting.”

Even though his audience with her would be short, Bellamy had to look his best in front of the glorious ruler of the Florian Empire. He was no commoner, and he refused to look like one in her presence. He makes a few last adjustments to his cap, shoulder cord, and sash before reaching out to the doors and pushing them open. The doors to the throne room are heavy and noisy. It takes all of a person’s might to force them open. They were built this way on purpose. If anyone came in unexpectedly, it would give the Empress a moment to prepare, and Bellamy knew how important that was to her in these interesting times.

Once he finally got through, Bellamy found himself in a room darker than any throne room should be. In this room, which was large enough to host a ball in, there were only four bedroom-sized windows on either side of the wall and a few arrow slits. The long rug leading from the door to the throne was black except for the white lines used to make its designs. The walls were mostly black as well, with white and gold included to make more intricate designs. Behind her excellency’s throne hung the cloth of honor, a banner with the symbol of her house on it: The Black Daisy.

Bellamy walked up to the small set of three stairs leading up to the throne and kneeled, making sure to remove his cap.

“Ah, I been expecting you.” The woman sitting above him says. “Please rise and show me your face.”

Bellamy stood up, put his hat back on, and looked at her face-to-face.

The ruler of the Florian Empire would be considered fairly pretty by most people. She was young, only in her twenties. Her olive-toned skin was free of blemishes and she looked very lively. Her dress was regal; she wore a crown of gold, carried a scepter, and kept the famous sword-of-state by her side, which she modified with a firearm, turning it into one of the world's first gun-swords. However, there was one thing about the monarch that put off all that looked upon her face: her eyes. She had terrifying eyes. Her sclera was black as tar. In contrast, her cornea and pupils were white voids with visible blood vessels snaking through. Adding on to unusual appearance was the unexplainable steam that rose from her body as if she were a miniature active volcano. The steam was never abundant enough to obscure her or anything around her, but it did give her an intimidating presence. Her appearance was more like a demon’s than a human’s.

“Bellamy Poacea. Lord Poacea. Magister Equitum. Horse Master. Lieutenant of the Empress.” She listed off several of the names Bellamy goes by in her familiar cold tone of voice. “I am upset.”

Normally, hearing the words ‘I am upset’ come from the Empress would instill panic into anyone, but Bellamy stayed calm. He knew why he was told to come to the throne room.

“I will try to alleviate that, your highness.” Bellamy said with earnest.

The Empress smirked. “The emergency council was useless. My territory is slowly being decomposed by insurgents and occupied by Élongonian bastards. This is a national crisis and they can’t locate the ones assassinating my governors and military commanders. I hope you have some sort of idea, Horse Master.”

“I do, your highness. I’ve done some research and it seems the rebels in the disputed regions all undergo a set of specific activities before a major attack, with some variation. Following that pattern, I do believe a major conflict might happen soon in East Soucardia.”

“Soucardia…” She repeated. She began to bite her nails. “That’s close. They are getting closer. Tancho D’Basura governs that province, doesn’t he? I think he’ll take caution.”

The royal leaned back in her seat, sighed, and continued. “My “Tay al-Ard” still needs work. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform it for a while. For now, I will write a letter to Lord D’Basura and hope it gets to him in time. You are dismissed, Lord Poacea.”

Bellamy took a bow, turned around and headed back to where he entered the room from. As he neared the exit, the Florian imperator called out to him. “Hold on, Lord Poacea. I have one last bit of information to deliver to you.”

Bellamy turned back around to face the young conqueror, who was now standing straight up, sticking her right arm out in a limp grabbing motion, and sporting an unusual expression. Although the Empress is known for her calm, calculating, and stoic visages, at that moment her lips were slightly parted and there were some signs of confusion clearly present on her face. She seemed unsure about saying what she planned to say.

For a brief moment, the two stood in the barely lit room, silently gazing in each other’s directions, until Bellamy decided to break the awkward seconds of stillness. “Your Majesty?”

The Empress was broken out of her trance. She moved her outstretched hand to clear her throat, then continued. “I am tired of losing my uncontested de facto control over my realm. In this time of crisis, I will need continuous updates on the state of the empire. Whenever you receive news, good or distressing, be hasty in communicating this to me. I don't care what matters I'm attending to at that moment. Even…"

She paused again, shorter this time. “Even if I’m in my bed chamber, you may rush in without permission. That is a luxury that many men can’t have, Horse Master. You should feel honored.”

“I am, your Majesty.” Bellamy replied. He was so focused on listening that he never noticed the sharp increase of steam in the room.

“Then that is all.” The Empress finished. “Go back to your duties. When we have a chance to talk further, I want to know more about this “pattern” you discovered among the rebellion.”

With that, Bellamy left the throne room, back through the large, heavy doors. Now the Empress was alone. She had a letter to write now, but she figured another minute or two on the throne wouldn’t hurt anybody. She sat back down, and let her thoughts run freely.

He always wears his best, doesn’t he? I wouldn’t mind seeing him in more comfortable clothes every once and a while, she thought. No, that should not be on your mind right now, Camellia. The fate of your empire and all that live in it are reliant on you. You’re becoming desperate in more ways than you should.

“No, It’s fine.” She said aloud. “I am horribly stressed. If I become anymore stressed, she will…”

She shakes her head at the notion. “I want to do something that is not work-related.”

A menacing grin came across her face. Realization moved through her mind. She understood what she wanted to do at that moment. “Before I write that letter, why don’t I head to the Northwest Tower for a bit of fun? That man getting what he deserves brings a smile to my face.”

The letter Empress Camellia wrote that night would never be seen by the man meant to receive it, for he was struck down by the time she finished it. The fresh cadaver of Lord Tancho D’Basura, member of the House of D’Basura, was laid out in a wide room of a partially destroyed palace. The legs of the former Lord were being devoured by hundreds of flesh-eating parasitic insects, which had aggro toward him before the killing blow was struck. Standing over him was his killer.

The middle-aged assassin looked down at his work. His hunt that night was successful, but he couldn’t give himself all the credit. After taking another stab at the body, he put the murder weapon back into its scabbard. It was a Flyssa, a type of sword common in the area, but not his own.

The assassin proceeded to concentrate his willpower into his left pointer finger. Like many people in this world, he was proficient in magic spells. He tapped his ear once, then twice, and then muttered a prayer to the goddess who gave men speech. After holding his finger there for a few more seconds, he was connected to his allies.

“Commander Rashid, can you hear me?” He called out. A quick second later he got a response.

“Darius, you sly dog. We could hear the noise you were making from our central base. Give me a confirmation, friend.”

“Target is dead.” Darius confirmed. Right as he was saying it, he could hear the commotion happening on the other end of the call.

“The godless piece of trash is dead, my brothers!” He heard Rashid announced. The proclamation was followed by crowd cheer.

“Let me update you on the situation before you make your next move.” Darius said once the cheering died out.

“Lay it on me, friend.”

“D’Basura’s body is in an unmarked room in the east wing along with two dead bodyguards. There are still soldiers scrambling around here, so prepare for a fight. The building is unstable due to the effects of the Great Deathwatcher that tunneled under it. Finally, all the nobles in the palace have been knocked out due to the “One Million Nooses” technique, as far as I know.”

“Juju is fine, by the way.” A different voice says through the magical connection. A woman’s voice. “She’s a bit exhausted but that’s what dem Mystic Fist techniques can do to a lady. Using somethin’ like she did could’ve killed ‘er if she wasn’t at peak when she used it. Come pick ‘er up at Point Alpha, honey.”

Darius thanked the nurse for her report. He was just about to ask how his ally was doing.

“What a glorious night for a victory!” Rashid interjected. “Tomorrow is the celebration of our war with the Sea Peoples hundreds of years ago. Now we have even more to celebrate. I am blessed to be a Soucardian!”

Darius smiled softly. Once again, he was able to demonstrate his greatness as a strategist. He managed to take down an entire palace full of people with only a three-man team from Élongonia. Now, the insurgency in the far east of Soucardia would be able to take control of their home region.

“Weevil,” he said through the magical connection. “Send some Mini Deathwatchers to dig me out of here and call all of your other insects off. Our part is done. Us Élongonians can go back to town and have some ale. My old arse could really use a drink.”

Bellamy was bewildered. A few days had passed since the passing of Lord D’Basura and he had just received word of it. As the Empress requested, he walked into her bed chamber early in the morning to report. Despite only wearing a camisole with a fuzzy robe over it, Empress Camellia did not feel embarrassed when talking to Bellamy. She did acknowledge his sudden boldness though.

Once the Empress learned about what happened, her anger swelled within her. Her killing intent could be felt all down the halls and through the walls of her impressive abode. She clenched on to her gun-sword which she grabbed from the side of her bed while she talked with Bellamy. Her body and the immediate space around her glowed with blue light, and in an instant, she vanished.

It took a moment for Bellamy to realize what just occurred. That was the legendary teleportation spell of the imperial household of Floria, the “Tay al-ard” spell. In other words, Camellia moved herself to a different location, and Bellamy hoped it wasn’t East Soucardia.

Florian Saga I End