Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

“Upstairs, fourth floor,” he said, dismissing her by looking back down at his parchments.

On the second floor, plaster covered the walls. On the third floor, she found paneling, and by the fourth level the paneling was a richly carved dark cherry wood. Lanterns became elegant chandeliers, a long red carpet ran the length of the corridor, and glass windows let in light from outside. She recalled how out of place Saldur had seemed when he had visited the kitchen. She looked down at her dirty smock and recognized the irony.

The door lay open and Regent Saldur stood before an arched window built from three of the largest pieces of glass she had ever seen. Birdsongs drifted in from the ward below as the regent read a parchment he held in the sunlight.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to get here.”

“Something you should understand: I’m not interested in excuses or explanations. I’m only interested in results. When I tell you to do something, I expect it’ll be done exactly as I dictate, not sooner, not later, not differently, but exactly how I specify. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She felt considerably warmer than she had a moment earlier.

The regent walked to his desk and laid the parchment on it. He placed his fingertips together, tapping them against each other while studying her. “What’s your name again?”

“Amilia of Tarin Vale.”

“Amilia—a pretty name. Amilia, you impressed me. That is not easy to do. I appointed five separate women to the task of imperial secretary—ladies of breeding, ladies of pedigree. You are the first to show an improvement in Her Eminence. You have also presented me with a unique problem. I can’t have a common scullery maid working as the personal assistant to the empress. How will that look?” He took a seat behind his desk, brushing out the folds of his robe. “It’s conceivable that the empress could have died if not for whatever magic you performed. For this, you deserve a reward. I’m bestowing on you the diplomatic rank equal to a baroness. From this moment on, you will be known as Lady Amilia.”

He dipped a quill into ink and scribbled his name. “Present this to the clerk downstairs and he will arrange for you to obtain the necessary material for a better—Well, for a dress.”

Amilia stared at him, unable to move, taking shallow breaths, not wanting to disturb anything. She was riding a wave of good fortune and feared the slightest movement could throw her into an unforgiving sea. He was not punishing her after all. The rest she could think about later.

“Have you nothing to say?”

Amilia hesitated. “Could the empress get a new dress as well?”

“You are now Lady Amilia, imperial secretary to Empress Modina Novronian. You can take whatever measures you feel are necessary to ensure the well-being of the empress.”

“Can I take her outside for walks?”

“No,” he said curtly. He then softened his tone and added, “As we both know, Modina is not well. I personally feel she may never be. But it’s imperative that her subjects believe they have a strong ruler. Through her name, Ethelred and I are doing great things for the people out there.” He pointed at the window. “But we can’t hope to succeed if they discover their beloved empress does not have her wits about her. It’s a difficult task that Novron has laid before us, to build a better world while concealing the empress’s incapacitation, which brings me to your first assignment.”

Amilia blinked.

“Despite all my efforts, word is getting out that the empress is not well. Since the public has never seen her, there is a growing rumor that she doesn’t exist. We need to calm the people’s fear. To this end, it will be your task to prepare Modina to give a speech upon the Grand Balcony in three days’ time.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s only three sentences.” He picked up the parchment he had been reading and held it out to her. “It should be a simple task. You got her to say one word. Now get her to say a few more. Have her memorize the speech and train her to deliver it—like an empress.”

“But I—”

“Remember what I said about excuses. You are part of the nobility now, a person of privilege and power. I’ve given you means and with that comes responsibility. Now out with you. I’ve more work to do.”

Taking the parchments, she turned and walked toward the door.

“And, Lady Amilia, don’t forget that there were five imperial secretaries before you, and all of them were noble as well.”





“Well, if that don’t put a stiff wind in your main,” Ibis declared, looking at the patent of nobility Amilia showed him. Most of the kitchen staff gathered around the cook as he held the parchment up, grinning.

“It’s awfully pretty,” Cora pointed out. “I love all the fancy writing.”

“Never had a desire to read before,” Ibis said. “But I sure wish I could now.”

“May I?” Nimbus asked. He carefully wiped his hands on his handkerchief and, reaching out, gently took the parchment. “It reads ‘I, Modina, who am right wise empress, appointed to this task by the mercy of our lord Maribor, through my imperial regents, Maurice Saldur and Lanis Ethelred, decree that in recognition of faithful service and commission of charges found to our favor, Amilia of Tarin Vale, daughter of Bartholomew the carriage maker, be raised from her current station and shall belong to the unquestionable nobles of the Novronian Empire and will henceforth and forever be known as Lady Amilia of Tarin Vale.’” Nimbus looked up. “There is a good deal more, concerning the limitations of familial inheritance and nobility rights, but that is the essence of the writ.”

They all stared at the cornstalk of a man.

“This is Nimbus,” Amilia said, introducing him. “He’s in need of a meal, and I was hoping you could give him a little something.”

Ibis grinned and made a modest bow.

“Yer a lady now, Amilia. There isn’t a person in this room who can say no to you. You hear that, Edith?” he shouted at the head maid as she entered. “Our little Amilia is a noble lady now.”

Edith stood where she was. “Says who?”

“The empress and Regent Saldur, that’s who. Says so right on this here parchment. Care to read it?”

Edith scowled.

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t read any more than I can. Would you like Lady Amilia to read it to you? Or how about her personal steward? He has an excellent reading voice.”

Edith grabbed up a pile of linens from the bin and headed for the laundry, causing the cook to burst into laughter. “She’s never given up spouting how you’d be back scrubbing dishes—or worse.” Clapping his big hands, he turned his attention to Nimbus. “So, what would you like?”

“Anything, actually,” Nimbus replied, his hands quivering, shaking the parchment he still held. “After several days, even shoe leather looks quite appetizing.”