Garden of Embers: Beneath Devouring Eyes #2

Chapter 6, Part A

"The provincias were established five centuries ago. Before that time, our curias were sorcerous guilds led by praetors but did not govern regions. Then, in the 345th year after the Restoration, the Rex established provincial borders and allotted one provincia to each of the four-hundred strongest curias, and with it Imperium, the praetor's right to govern. The Rex ordered weaker curias within the new provincias to merge with their new ruling curias, and most obeyed. Silvula Salutis did not. Refusing to submit, its praetor, Ampelos Erythranus, led his lifeholder curia in a successful coup against their new ruler, killing him and seizing control of the provincia. In memory of its shameful founding, the Rex renamed the conquered land Provincia Sicarii, or 'provincia of the assassin' and renamed its capital city Urbs Hostiae, 'city of the sacrificial victim'."

--from Imperium: A Glorious History
by Puteus Memoriae

*~*~*~*

Daedalus found he rather enjoyed the rustic elegance of Urbs Hostiae's collegium. Its tawny marble walls, airy open spaces, and the natural beauty of its tree-lined streets were refreshing changes from the oppressive, glowing opulence of the world capital's gilded palace complex.

He inhaled the morning air, smiling. It was colder here in this frontier provincia so near the night-side, a refreshing briskness that had nothing to do with the chill Germinating winds or yesterday's chaos with the Trellis.

Above, the lattice still glowed a cheerful gold, the faint flickers steadying by the hour. There had been no Dimming last night and thus no Brightening necessary this morn. No rains either, nor snow. Not that Aquarius needed it. Not after yesterday's steady drizzle.

Yesterday, the other Promethidae on the skychariot to Urbs Hostiae with him had been nervous. Any irregularities in the Trellis caused the common people distress, of course. But he had been comforted by the steadying glow and warmth. They meant his twin was well enough. Not stressed or fearful or hurting. Likely asleep, getting well-needed rest. Even without having had such a dangerous transfer himself, Daedalus well remembered the crushing exhaustion of those first few days after the Trellis had come to him. It was good Domi seemed to be resting well.

And besides, the cheery Trellis light over the golden and emerald city of Urbs Hostiae was especially beautiful.

He had long yearned to visit this place of serene beauty. His parents had originally hailed from here in Provincia Sicarii, in the years before his mother had become Princeps Worldholder. Verita and Ausus had been brought up as members of the local curia, Silvula Salutis, and been nurtured in this quiet, simple frontier curia's nursery, terrarium, and then conservatory schools. They had married and conceived Daedalus and Domi here, back when they had been deeply in love and looking forward to a simple life of serving together as partners in the borderlands. Verita had been about to graduate right before the terrorist attack slaughtered her royal family at a private funereal gathering in the world capital, snatched her away to the extravagance and excitement of Vola Apertus, and shoved her, fifth in line for the onyx crown, onto the Throne of Solitude.

He bit his lip as he walked the avenue winding up the hillside where all the Promethidae of this frontier capital city lived. At the top, he could see Praetor Cerasus's domus resting like a wood and leaf crown atop the verdant hill, and he peeked over his shoulder. Cerasus and Astricus trailed behind him, and his foster father gave him a small, reassuring smile. They had grown up here too, and his foster mother looked wistful as she took in the small but elegant domuses.