Chapter 1: As The Crow Flies

A Chapter by Albert Freeman

The Magni's story begins.

(Location: Near the City-State of Tel-Berar)

With a lightning calculation that had amazed his earliest teachers, the Magni estimated that the rebels held a force of some thirty thousand men on the field with the vast majority of them being mercenaries of some quality. He tapped the helm held in his left hand thoughtfully against his thigh. He had on hand twenty-two sihorts, close to one hundred twenty thousand men, but he had been forced to split them into three. Perhaps the emperor had died too soon. The senate seemed to be scrambling more for their own power than keeping the vassal states in line.

On hand he had fifty-five thousand men. He had come to the conclusion that with these troops he could destroy the main army of the rebels. He lowered the seeing glass with a satisfied half-smile and headed down the small hill, followed closely by his Guard. It had been through the luck of the God's and the bungling of the rebel leaders that he had caught them flat-footed. They had not expected him to be able to move as fast as he had been able to. He found it amusing that after so many years of these dust ups they would still underestimate the empire.

The Magni beckoned a herald over and gave orders to unleash the heavy cavalry. He had kept them back to use to break the enemy, sort of like playing his darc card, so to speak. With the enemy rattled and harried on all sides they would soon be smashed and scattered to the five winds.

He moved quickly through the camp to his black tent, now followed closely by several of his officers. The Magni nodded to the four Emperon Guards who guarded to entrance, acknowledging the fist over heart salutes they gave. Inside the tent he went down the short line clasping arms with each officer, before going over to the map of Canilici. On cue he acknowledge one of the officers who held a badge of communique in his hands.

"Petitioners have arrived, my lord. We have them in the red tent."

The Magni thought that over and nodded in satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan. He went around the map arranging pieces here and there. He had, through reliable sources, found out that three of the rebellious city-states had been retaken with a minimum of resistance: Ur-Canor, Tel-Amoulik, and Ur-Mur. That left seventeen other city-states to be dealt with. After spending a half hour going over planning, he left the tent with hands clasp behind his back to stroll over to the red tent.

The red tent was where he held all meetings with the various dignitaries who always came calling. He entered the tent and looked upon the faces of three perspiring men and two women. He covered a frown by twisting to look at the Guard-Captain of the tent. While the empire was extremely liberal in its treatment and dealings with women, it did not allow them to get even a sniff of war. He was of the Old Guard and war was strictly a man's business.

He seated himself at the small table in the lightly furnished tent and looked the rebels over. They were a sorry, sad lot in his opinion. It was almost an insult to be fighting such. Rebelling now instead of waiting would cost them dearly. They continued to fidget as he scrutinized them. They had not been allowed chairs, as would be the normal custom. Dishonorable scum would not be given any honors on his watch.

"Your names?" he inquired.

Lined behind the rebels stood three of the Emperon Guard, there barbed short spears held loosely. It was obvious that they made the rebels frightened in their twisted armor and the dark symbols etched on them. It was a mark of his contempt for the rebels that only three were in the room. To the ones familiar with the coded honors of the empire, they recognized that only having three present meant that no compromise would be reached. The petitioners noticed clearly, with one of the women seeming on the verge of collapsing.

"You would not like for me to ask again," he said softly.

The oldest of the men stepped forward hesitantly, before giving a deep bow, going so low that the Magni suspected the man would keel over a half inch more.

"My name...uh...your Imperial Dia, is Calirum Dagi, Master Chief of Merchants." Calirum cleared his throat nervously, perhaps even more uncomfortable due to the steady gaze of the Magni. He motioned towards the next oldest man, a man with a long graying beard, with the symbol of Diosigi, the One God, clasped firmly in his hands. "This is Denin Troya, high priest and a senior advisor to the council. And might I add," Calirum tried to put in, before he was cut short.

"You may add nothing," the Magni said. "It is fortunate you did not lie, seeing as I know all of your names. The boy must be Isendo Mali. The two women must be the Shantir sisters, Ilia and Dillia." He watched as the alarm registered on their faces. "Did you really think we had given a free hand to any of you? Time and again you have tried to break the chain. We shall endeavor to change the mind set of your people."

Denin Troya stepped forward his eyes locked onto the Magni's. "Our God will protect us. The marks of decadence and sin are clear as day upon your rotting empire. Your demonic emperor is dead, praise Diosigi."

"Is that a fact?" the Magni asked. He looked the robes of the priest up and down, noticing the costly silks and golds worked into it. "Has your God told you such time after time? Your religion while admirable in its loyalty has blinded you to the realities of this day. Religious zeal with not over come a superior force. Perhaps this is a lesson from your God."

The Shantir sisters pulled the outraged Denin backwards before he could harm their chances further. Isendo seemed on the verge of fainting, while Calirum gave the Magni an apologetic and pleading look.

"Sir," Ilia said, drawing in a deep breath, "we have seen the writing on the wall. We simply wish to avoid the whole sale slaughter of our people." She turned to look at her younger sister. "We also know of the turmoil in your empire. If you slaughter us, the others will never give in knowing their fate is intertwined with ours. We simply ask for a chance."

"Ah, yes," the Magni said. "A simple pat on the wrist perhaps? It is admirable that you are so aware of the dealings of the empire. One must wonder if it is why you chose to rebel." He stood up towering over the woman. "I shall deal with your kind the way any rabid animal should be dealt with." He smiled darkly as she flinched.

Turning to leave he gave a signal to the Guard-Captain. Without another word he exited the tent. The sheer and utter gall of the woman to plead for the mercy of her people. They would be arrested and locked up with the rest of the captured rebels. He intended to once and for all deal with the problems of these city-states. It made no sense to pacify them then have to do it ten years later again and again. It was now the time to chop of the head of the beast.

He strolled back to the hill, a slight breeze moving his dark blue cloak. It was almost shameful that they had been lured out of the walls of their city. A siege would have shown them the error of their ways. Perhaps Galivir was right. It was time these people where scattered throughout the empire. They still clung to the old ways of their people. The emperor had been wrong to leave them with any autonomy. He would be sure to petition the senate to absorb the city-states once and for all.

With that satisfying thought he once again used the seeing glass to survey the battlefield. It was down to mop up duty now as the charge of the heavy cavalry had broken the spirit of the rebels. It was unfortunate that good mercenaries had been wasted in a lost cause. He tapped the glass and began calculating. Two days march would bring them to the outskirts of the city. It was fifty-fifty on what would happen then. He had no love of city fighting, preferring the wide-open plains. Perhaps they could be enticed into surrendering. Despite what Ilia and her cohorts thought, he had no intention of slaughtering without provocation. He was a soldiers soldier, not some common thug.

His thoughts turned to what was going on in the empire. The rumors where wild going as far as the crow could fly. He was under no illusion that civil war would not break out. Only Charles had been able to keep so many headstrong people together without blood being shed. He suspected that the only reason blood had not been shed yet was due to the fact that none wanted to be the first to signal the strife to come. Ganus held the capitol and the loyalty of most of the legions thus the upper hand in the early going, but how long would that hold last when the call of the nations to rise as one come? Would Ganus go so far as to even call him back?

He was under no illusion that the kings and princes would willingly let someone not of the blood become emperor. He was not even sure Ganus was the right man for the job. His arrogance new no bounds, but oh, how the people did love him. The Magni sighed. He was not a man given to petty emotions, but he was glad to be far from the cutthroat politics inherent at the heart of the empire. The life of a soldier was a lot simpler. Not to mention, one new of all the ways your enemy could kill you.

He strolled back down the hill, his thoughts turning to the days and weeks ahead. After Tel-Berar would be Tel-Usanum and the wily Jer Pashanar. He would not be so easy to subdue. Jer had always been a thinker and a planner. The Magni was thankful that Jer's call for a united rebellion had been swept away by the ever-prickly individualism of the city-states.

The Magni walked the camp allowing the men to see him and draw strength from his presence. They too knew of the uncertainties that stalked the empire, but would draw strength from him. He would keep them focused on the task at hand and leave the politics far from here. He had been charged by the emperor himself to subdue the rebellious city-states and he would do it to the best of his abilities.

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