Empire of Shadows Chapter 2: The Feuds of Women & Goblins The Great Oliver Twist of Sword & Sorcery Returns
A commissioned work
Many were those who thought him quite odd. It was not that he was in the habit of doing anything particularly peculiar. Most days, he simply went from street to street begging, or running errands for others. This in itself is not particularly odd, especially in the imperial city of Orissia. In the largest city in all of Ifriquya this was to be expected, what was so remarkable about him and had a great many other orphans whispering constantly about him was his natural gift for disappearing from sight and appearing elsewhere within the city. Such was his knowledge of the city that many were given over to wondering if Felix was not actually a feline but a rodent.
“Always Felix finds his way from one quarter of the city, from one hill to the next,” people who knew him were given over to gossiping. None of those speaking were able to understand how it was that he could slip from one portion of the city to another without anyone ever being the wiser, and faster than any other person in the city.
“Between that and his constant gift for swiping fresh bread and pastries from the stands, he is nothing but trouble,” others were given over to grumbling, usually merchants or bakers.
It was a constant and consistent complaint men had living in Orissia. Since the reign of Aferian II the city had begun to take a turn for the worst. It had begun to employ less men and with the constant fighting between the collegia in the lower parts of the city and the tribalism inherent in a massive multi-ethnic urban centre it had become chaotic.
What none dared say though they knew it to be true, was the loss of purpose. Once it was believed that Orissia was destined to conquer the whole of Ifriquya, to bring it under its heel and to bring it into good order. It was also believed at that time that the Empire was destined to reconstitute the old Principate of Roma, whereupon ambitions became more realistic and the west of South-Agenor was believed to belong to Orissia by right.
Manifest destiny though could not endure it seemed, as the Empire faltered and the great city fell into disorder even as the line of Aferian II turned away from war and to debauchery. The line of warrior-Emperors had fallen into debauchery and wickedness.
Still though, while many merchants grumbled about Felix thieving them of the odd bread or pastry or even slice of meat, most of the elderly of the city were fond of him. None more so than old man Leodorus, who was prone to saying to any who might complain about the Tigrun, “He ought to explore, who might know what the future holds for him someday? After all, with his knowledge the city-watch might someday bring him into their employ!”
This statement often generated a great many scornful words, from many of those who had suffered the loss of food or coin to the feline’s slippery fingers. Others who had not, or had enjoyed his charity were to give the old man a contemplative look. Those within the tavern he usually sat within eyed the old man for some time; some dismissed him at once such as the tavern-keeper, Aberash and others considered what he had to say.
“Felix working for the city-watch that will be the day!” Aadan grunted, the head of the city-watch he had captained the watch for more than fifteen years since he was twenty-three years of age and was not terribly fond of the Tigrun. “He is a nuisance and a criminal, should I catch him thieving again this month, I will cut off his hands as I should have done long ago.”
“You leave him alone!” Kalaya growled, as protective of the child as might a mother be, “He does a fat lot more good than you ever will!”
The bar-wench was middle-aged, with graying hair and a slight paunch yet was renowned for her ill-temper, so that few patrons liked to tempt her wrath. She was also the sister of the owner of the establishment, whom she dominated so that to earn her displeasure was to earn his. Any other man therefore might well have submitted to her fury, yet not Aadan.
He was made of sterner stuff, as he was always keen to demonstrate to all around him. In this way he was typical of the sort of man who fancies he has risen to his post by virtue of merit, and of manhood. “Come now, he is a criminal and one who is guilty of pilfering from the most hard working of Orissia’s people.”
“Do not try your tricks with me, I remember a time when Captain Albinus once captained the city-watch and how he was ejected from his post for corruption, bribes and theft. Strange that though he has gone, the costs of the guards and their rumoured penchant for demanding payment for keeping order within the city and spreading of contraband have only grown. It is almost as though it was not the good Captain who did those things, but another, a man who was promoted shortly after his departure from his post who did all those things and continued to do so after he has gone away.” Kalaya snapped bitterly, showing herself to be far more perceptive to the captain’s wrongdoings than most previously thought her to be.
“Aberash your sister has begun to harangue me, do better to keep her in line, as you have done that wife of yours,” Aadan called out no longer of a mind to tolerate the old woman’s ill-temper.
Likely she might have argued a great deal more, however her brother shooed her away by emphasizing to her the importance of seeing to serving the other customers. Irritated, by the weakness in her younger sibling she however did as she was bidden, more interested in ensuring other customers did not feel neglected or otherwise offended, than bickering with the likes of Captain Aadan.
The captain himself was to having lost interest in the chatter, finish his supper and prepare to leave. The establishment was to his liking certainly, however he had other duties to see to; such as reports to file and he had to oversee the changing of the guard along the east-gates where he was ordinarily to be found. Corrupt as he was, he still took his duties seriously, if only to avoid garnering for himself the attention of those above him.
It happened though that just as he finished his mug of ale that a Minotaur found his way before him, seated himself in the seat across and ordered a mug of his own. Where the captain was dark skinned, with short hair and a short beard and stood tall at five-foot ten the Minotaur was almost an entire foot taller than him, with thick fur and shaggy long hair that was tied up in a series of braids. Dressed in silk, with long breeches and a large tunic that did little to hide the muscular build that was natural for his people to have, the horned Beast-Man studied the dark eyed captain with his own vivid blue eyes for several minutes, before he addressed him in a rough, guttural voice. “The lord has work he needs done.”
“The lord could stand to wait,” Aadan grunted irritably, eager to leave the tavern and not at all keen to hear of what the Minotaur’s master wished to convey to him.
“You will be amply rewarded,” the Minotaur replied as he dropped a small pouch of coin onto the table whilst Kalaya and the rest of the tavern were distracted.
Intrigued now, Aadan eyed the small satchel yet he could not resist like all men of his sort the temptation to ask for more, “Is that all?”
“Not at all, it is simply for your attention, I am to give over six more bags of silver phoenixes for you,” the larger male replied as his eyes glittered with amusement.
Silver phoenixes were those coins made of silver stamped with the emblem of the line of Aferian, and had been the emblem of the Empire for well over two and a half centuries. It was for this reason that all bronze, silver and gold coins were stamped with the Imperial emblem, with silver coins quite a bit more common than gold yet more valuable than bronze. The difficulty lay in procuring silver it was said, since the downfall of the northern silver-mines to the lord of the Edervar who had rallied the lands of Edervar in Kulævron. The rebellious general had since then to the horror of the Imperial-Court if rumours were to be believed, begun to mint coins in his own name.
Aware of all this, and of the fact that he was in dire need of coin given how much he had gambled the prior month, Aadan sighed. “What is it you wish for me to do?”
Little did he or anyone else present within the Crimson-Lynx for that matter realize just how crucial this discussion was, or how much it would change the lives, let alone the whole of the Empire of Orissia. If he had known, likely Aadan would not have done what he did that evening and acquiesced to the request from his usual secondary employer.
*****
The sound of a bell broke the silence, just as the suns’ had begun its slow rise in the east, with their rise always a source of hope for the people of the city of Orissia. At the centre of a vast Empire the likes of which Ifriquya had never seen before, she had begun as a city founded in the image of Roma, upon five hills. The city had long since outgrown the five hills, so that it was now no longer a city of a few thousand refugees fleeing the destruction of their home-city but a mighty king-city of almost ten million people at the centre of a massive and disparate Empire.
Surrounded by the great forty meter high walls that were known as the Aquiline Walls built nigh on five centuries prior, Orissia lay along the Airtyu-River and had within her boundaries more than two hundred shrines to the old Romalian gods, along with some native to Ifriquya. Most of the temples were built of stone and were modeled after those that dotted the landscape now in South-Agenor. Many of the largest of which were square shaped building that included the North-Agenorian preference for large windows with painted glass so that the light that reflected into these temples were multifaceted and coloured. Such was the magnificence of these ancient shrines that men still paused mid-step to stare at them in awe, and women breathed heavy sighs of longing.
The smaller shrines were once fair to behold and though built of stone, and with pointed North-Agenorian roofs atop the rectangular shaped Dorian buildings just as the larger ones were, lacked however the same cleanliness. Long since in disrepair, their once glorious stone statues had been in recent years replaced by wooden ones.
The inhabitants of the city had long considered themselves something of the heirs of the great city of Tirreinia, and had in the early days set to work subjugating the other peoples of Ifriquya and many of those of South-Agenor. It soon came to be that they had expanded until they had stretched their borders up to those of the Dorian Empire in the east.
Disaster though had visited itself upon the Empire not simply once but twice by this time, as they had in recent days found their once invincible armada not only in disrepair but utterly trounced. The navy that had dominated the waves and had challenged and defeated the Dark Elves in the Second Wars of Darkness, and sundered the Zolusian navy when it had sought to reclaim its prior status in the Agenorian Sea was gone now. This was it was said a disaster borne from neglect, as happens near the end of an Empire.
The second great disaster was a famine. One that had been endured for the past two years due to the heat of the suns’ which seemed more unrelenting than ever before. Such was the unrelenting fury of the heat that bore down upon them and the land itself.
None could quite bring themselves to keep from blaming the Imperial court and Senate’s mismanagement of all affairs from military (such as it was) and to administrative matters. Once it was the responsibility of court officials and local regional governors to store grain, vegetables and the like in the event of famines, now such store-houses were left to rot.
Many were those who blamed those at the helm of state, for what had transpired in recent years, with next to none save them having profited by recent misfortunes and disasters.
Yet among those who had profited it was whispered, were members of the priesthood who lived in the Pauper’s Quarter on the Fractine-Hill. This was not a new accusation, however what had bewildered a great many, was the fact that where some members of the priesthood had perished in the flames, a number of the surviving ones had already begun to plead with the courts for permission to claim what land and properties their brethren had been entitled to.
Among the suspects for having begun the fire, along with attempting to lay claim to that which belonged to his peers, was the likes of Brother Nifalgin.
Most who arose that day uttered, “Good morning,” if half-heartedly to one another, as the scars of what had already begun to be dubbed the ‘Pauper’s Fire’ continued to burn in the memories of all the inhabitants of that part of the city. The fire had done more to damage despite having been cut short by the timely action of those such as the Imperial-Guard, city-watch and many others led by the Prince Aferius. When these forces had not proven enough, he had rumour had it, called upon the owner of the Circus Orissius, who was also in the thick of things to bring out the thousands of gladiators below the arena to assist, and for the head of the Red-Dragons. The latter were the mightiest of the Imperial-Guards, and served as the private guard of the Emperor himself since the time of Emperor Orissius himself.
Not all of the Fractine-hill had been burnt though, for one thing the further away one went from the center of life there, until one was almost in another quarter of the city, the less damaged by the fire were the buildings. A good example of this was the temple of Isis, with the netjer of that temple that is to say the one charged with offering sacrifices to the goddess and praying for the flock who visited it, a plump old Goblin, who was prone to early morning walks.
Such as on this day, with the old fellow in the midst of whistling a hearty tune, as he traversed his way through the street, nodding here and there to this fellow or that one. Distracted by his own thoughts, he was en route to the city-watch’s barracks, by the east-gate. Most though when the saw him did not do as a lot of those who lived nearer to the temple had done and wave at him.
There was good reason for most not to be pleased to see him, for he was a green-skinned goblin in a dark robe, with his long nose and large pointed ears. In all he was monstrously hideous to look upon, and with his thinning dark hair, he had begun to show his age so that he was hideous even for a Goblin. It was something that tended to attract hidden looks of disgust from men and women.
If he was at all aware of the disgusted looks cast in his direction, from those he stepped past he displayed no hint of it. He had far more important things to think about, and to do than to worry over what others might think of him.
He was however to breathe a sigh of relief when he found himself at last before the great barracks that was the building nearest to the city watch-tower that stood to one side of the great eastern gates. Each of the four gates to the city had barracks next to them, with this one the grandest of them all on account of how it had been found wanting in the eyes of Aadan. He had invested his own resources it was said, over the years to have it rebuilt and renovated with the finest rooms on the top floor, of course reserved for himself.
It was those very rooms that were the destination of the Goblin, who hurried on inside the square shaped twenty meter high and fourteen meter wide building. It was a typical barracks, with most of the men forced to live together on the first and second floors, while the entirety of the fourth floor was one large suite, and it was there that the netjer was to find the man he was looking for.
As always, whenever he stepped into the suite reserved for the captain of the city-watch he was amazed and awed by the beauty of the interior. The impeccable interior was resplendent with large wooden columns to support the great roof, with the ceiling painted to look not unlike the morning sky, with there being three tapestries that Aadan had stolen that depicted the great victory of Orissius the Founder, against the southern tribes, another him laying the first stone for what would become Orissia and
He let out a prayer to the gods, just before he reached for the roasted chicken, eyes darting to the melted butter on the recently baked bread, the well fermented, imported wine. It was a breakfast worthy of a king.
“Good morning, Brother Nifalgin. I pray we continue to have a good day, free of rain if only until sunset,” the guardsman retorted as he paused mid-bite, a large beefy joint held in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other.