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

Arista had seen the insides of more commoners’ homes over the past week than she had in her entire life. After visiting with the Bakers of Hintindar, she had assumed all families lived in identical houses, but the Dunlaps’ home was nothing like the Bakers’. This one was two stories tall, with a solid wooden floor on both levels. The upper story created a thick-beamed ceiling to the lower one. While still modest and a bit cramped, it showed touches of care and a dash of prosperity, which Hintindar lacked. The walls were painted and decorated with pretty designs of stars and flowers, and the wood surfaces were buffed and stained. Knickknacks of glazed pottery and wood carvings lined shelves above the fireplace. Unlike Dunstan and Arbor’s sparse home, the Dunlaps’ house had a lot of furniture. Wooden chairs with straw seats circled the table. Another pair bookended a spinning wheel surrounded by several wicker baskets. Little tables held vases of flowers, and on the wall hung a cabinet with small doors and knobs. Kept neat, clean, and orderly, it was a house loved by a woman whose husband had been a good provider, but had rarely been home.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” Mrs. Dunlap asked while clearing the dinner plates. She was an old, plump woman who always wore an apron and a matching white scarf and had a habit of wringing her wrinkled hands.

“We’re fine,” Arista told her. “And thank you again for letting us use your home.”

The old woman smiled. “It’s not so much a risk as you might think. My husband has been dead six years now. He proudly served as His Majesty Urith’s coachman. Did you know that?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked off as if seeing him once more. “He was a handsome man in his driver’s coat and hat with that red plume and gold broach. Yes, sir, a mighty fine-looking man, proud to serve the king, and had for thirty years.”

“Was he killed with the king?”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “But he died soon after, of heartbreak, I think. He was very close to the royal family. Drove them everywhere they went. They gave him gifts and called him by his given name. Once, during a storm, he even brought the princes here to spend the night. The little boys talked about it for weeks. We never had children of our own, you see, and I think Paul—that’s my husband—I think he thought of the royals as his own boys. It devastated him when they died in that fire—that horrible fire. Emery’s father died in it too, did you know that? He was one of the king’s bodyguards. There was so much death that terrible, terrible night.”

“Urith was a good king?” Hadrian asked.

She shrugged. “I’m just an old woman, what do I know? People complained about him all the time when he was alive. They complained about the high taxes, and some of the laws, and how he would live in a castle with sixty servants, dining on deer, boar, and beef all at the same meal while people in the city were starving. I don’t know that there is such a thing as a good king. Perhaps there are just kings that are good enough.” She looked at Arista and winked. “Perhaps what we need is less kings and more womenfolk running things.”

Mrs. Dunlap went back to the work of straightening as they sat at the round dining table.

“Well,” Royce began, looking at Arista, “step one of your rebellion is complete. So now what?”

She thought a moment, then said, “We’ll need to circulate the story of Emery leading the coming attack. Play him up as a hero, a ghost that the empire can’t kill.”

“I’ve heard talk like that around town already,” Royce said. “You were right about that, at least.”

Arista smiled. Such a compliment from Royce was high praise.

“We need to use word of mouth,” she continued, “to get the momentum for the revolt started. I want everyone to know it’s coming. I want them to think of it as inevitable as the coming of dawn. I want them to believe it can’t fail. I’ll need leaders as well. Hadrian, keep an eye out for reliable men who can help lead the battle. Men others listen to and respect. I’ll also need you to devise a battle plan to take the armory and the garrison for me. Unlike my brother, I never studied the art of war. They made me learn needlepoint instead. Do you know how often I’ve used needlepoint?”

Hadrian chuckled.

“It’s also imperative that we get word to Alric to start the invasion from the north. Even if we take the city, Breckton can wait us out unless Melengar applies pressure. I would suggest asking the Diamond to send the message, but given how reliable they were last time and how utterly important this is—Royce, I need to ask you to carry the message for me. If anyone can get through and bring back help, it’s you.”

Royce pursed his lips, thinking, and then nodded. “I’ll talk to Polish just the same and see if I can get him to part with one or two of his men to accompany me. You should write three messages to Alric. Each of us will carry one and split up if there’s trouble. Three people will increase the odds that at least one will make it. And don’t neglect to write an additional letter explaining how this trip south was all your idea. I don’t want to bear the brunt of his anger when he finds out where you went. Oh, and, of course, an explanation of the fees to be paid,” he said with a wink.

Arista sighed. “He’ll want to kill me.”

“Not if you succeed in taking the city,” Hadrian said encouragingly.

“Speaking of which, after you complete the battle plan for the garrison, you’ll need to see about reaching Gaunt’s army and taking command of it. I’m not exactly sure how you’re going to do that, but I’ll write you a decree and declare you general-ambassador in proxy, granting you the power to speak on my behalf. I’ll give you the rank of auxiliary marshal and the title of lord. That might just impress them and at least give you the legal right to negotiate and the credentials to command.”

“I doubt royal titles will impress Nationalists much,” Hadrian said.

“Maybe not, but the threat of the Northern Imperial Army should give you a good deal of leverage. Desperate men might be willing to cling to an impressive title in the absence of anything else.”

Hadrian chuckled again.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking that for an ambassador, you’re a very capable general.”

“No you weren’t,” she told him bluntly. “You’re thinking that I’m capable for a woman.”

“That too.”

Arista smiled. “Well, it’s lucky that I am, because so far I’m pretty lousy at being a woman. I honestly can’t stand needlepoint.”

“I suppose I should set out tonight for Melengar,” Royce said. “Unless there’s something else you need before I go?”

Arista shook her head.

“How about you?” he asked Hadrian. “Assuming you survive this stunt, what are you going to do now that you know the heir is dead?”

“Hang on, are you sure the heir is dead?” Arista broke in.

“You were there. You heard what Bartholomew said,” Hadrian replied. “I don’t think he was lying.”

“I’m not saying that he was … It’s just that … well, Esrahaddon seemed pretty convinced the heir was still alive when he left Avempartha. And then there’s the church. They’re after Esra, expecting him to lead them to the real heir. They so much as told me that when I was at Ervanon last year. So why is everyone looking if he’s dead?”

“There’s no telling what Esrahaddon is up to. As for the church, they pretended to look for the heir just as they’re pretending they found her,” Royce said.

“Perhaps, but there’s still the image that we saw in the tower. He seemed like a living, breathing person to me.”

Royce nodded. “Good point.”

Hadrian shook his head. “There couldn’t have been another child. My father would have known and searched for him … or her. No, Danbury knew the line ended or he wouldn’t have stayed in Hintindar.”