“Oh yes, the teacher,” Ethelred said.
“He’s a bit more than that, Lanis,” Saldur corrected.
“Not at all, not at all,” Arcadius said with a cheerful smile. “Instructing young minds is the noblest act I perform. I am honored.”
The lore master bowed to the four people in the room. In addition to the regents, there were two men he did not recognize. One, however, was dressed in the distinct vestments of a church sentinel.
“You are a long way from Sheridan, Professor.” Saldur addressed him from behind a large desk. “Did you come for the holiday?”
“Why no, Your Grace. At my age it takes a bit more than the allure of jingling bells and sweetmeats to rouse one such as I from warm chambers in the depth of winter. I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a great deal of snow outside.”
Arcadius took a moment to examine his surroundings. Hundreds of books sat on shelves, locked behind glass cabinets with little keyholes. A pretty carpet, somewhat muddled in its colors and partially hidden by the regent’s desk, portrayed what appeared to be a scene of Novron conquering the world while Maribor guided his sword.
“Your office is so… clean,” the professor remarked.
Saldur raised an eyebrow and then chuckled. “Oh yes, I seem to recall visiting you once. I don’t believe I made it through your door.”
“I have a unique filing system.”
“Lore master, I don’t mean to be short, but we are quite busy,” Ethelred said. “Exactly what has brought you so far in the cold?”
“Well,” he began, smiling at Saldur, “Your Grace, I was hoping to speak to you—in private.” He glanced pointedly at the two men he did not recognize. “I have a sensitive matter to discuss concerning the future of the empire.”
“This is Sentinel Luis Guy and over there is Lord Merrick Marius. I assume you already know our soon-to-be emperor, Ethelred. If you wish to discuss the empire’s future, these are the men you need to speak with.”
Arcadius paused deliberately, took off his spectacles, and cleaned them slowly with his sleeve. “Very well, then.” The lore master replaced his glasses and crossed the room to one of the soft chairs. “Do you mind? Standing for too long makes my feet hurt.”
“By all means,” Ethelred said sarcastically. “Make yourself at home.”
Arcadius sat down with a sigh, took a deep breath, and began. “I have been thinking about the New Empire you are establishing, and I must say that I approve.”
Ethelred snorted. “Well, Sauly, we can sleep better now that the scholars have weighed in.”
Arcadius glared at him across the tops of his glasses. “What I mean is that the idea of a central authority is a sound one and will stop the monarchial squabbles, bringing harmony from chaos.”
“But?” Saldur invited.
“But what?”
“I just sensed you were going to find fault,” Saldur said.
“I am, but please try not to get ahead of me—it ruins the drama. I’ve spent several days bouncing over frozen ground, preparing for this meeting, and you deserve to experience the full effect.”
Arcadius adjusted his sleeves and waited for what he thought was the precise amount of time to draw their full attention. “I’m curious to know if you’ve put any thought into the line of succession.”
“Succession?” Ethelred blurted from where he sat on the edge of Saldur’s desk.
“Yes, you know, the concept of producing an heir to inherit the mantle of leadership. Most thrones are lost because of poor planning on this front.”
“I’m not even crowned, and you complain because I haven’t fathered an heir yet?”
Arcadius sighed. “It is not your heir I am concerned about. This empire is founded on a bedrock of faith—faith that the bloodline of Novron is back on the throne. If the bloodline is not maintained, the cohesion that holds the empire together might dissolve.”
“What are you saying?” Ethelred asked.
“Only that should something tragic happen to Modina, and no child of her blood be available, you would lose your greatest asset. The line of Novron would end, and without this thin strand of legitimacy, the empire could face dissolution. Glenmorgan’s Empire lasted only three generations. How long will this one endure with only a mere mortal at its head?”
“What makes you think anything will happen to the empress?”
Arcadius smiled. “Let’s just say I know the ways of the world, and sacrifices are often required to bring about change. I’m here because I fear you might mistakenly think Modina is expendable once Ethelred wears the crown. I want to urge you not to make a terrible, perhaps fatal, error.”