Imperial

11. Roshani

The Lower Council convened in the Peacock Room, so named for the extravagant paintings of the flashy bird decorating the walls and paper screens. Whatever artist had designed the place must have had a penchant for the ostentatious, to say the least. The royal blue birds had eyes like jewels and tails that burst with color and pomp. The painted peacocks strutting across the wallpaper struck Roshani as gaudy and distasteful, but the room was the traditional meeting place for the Lower Council.

The audience here was more intimate than the grand Hall of Reception, where the royal throne stood proud and tall, but still made space for nobles of differing status. Roshani's eyes skimmed over the crowd of men and women assembled before her. They were all dressed finely in bright sashes of deep purple and blood red, their necks coiled with gold ropes and their ears heavy with green and yellow diamonds.

Five out of the six Great Houses were represented. Lord Mukhar Suhren and his sons, the upper echelon of their house, stood in a tight circle, glancing with mistrust to the rivals surrounding them. Zana Aspabadh chatted amiably with a group of equally fashionable young women from House Mihran while Jawed Kayanid and his relations looked on curiously, as if wishing to join the conversation.

These were the four houses that Roshani had on her side: Suhren, Aspabadh, Mihran, and Kayanid. House Pahlavi, those traitorous, backwater herdsmen of the mountains, had declared their support for Esfandar. And the most aggravating of all, Goshtab Varaz and his wealthy, powerful province, had declared neutrality for the foreseeable future.

Roshani's hands clenched into fists at her side as she recalled her outrage at Goshtab's refusal to bow to her rule. Blessed with exceptionally fertile land and resources, House Varaz was nearly as wealthy as all of the other Houses combined. Whoever Goshtab decided to support would be practically guaranteed a victory.

Roshani's gaze drifted toward Farah, the daughter of Goshtab himself. Technically, she too was here to represent her House in spite of their obstinacy that bordered on treason. The princess was dressed in a simple, elegant gown the color of dark honey that flared at the waist. Her hair was pinned with a gold hair-piece in the shape of a sun, and fragments of topaz in the shape of raindrops hung from her ears. She waited patiently in silence, not speaking to the others while they mingled, though many gave her interested glances. Roshani idly wondered whether she had received such attention at her father's court as well.

"We will begin this session of the Lower Council now," Roshani spoke, her voice clear and firm. The voices ceased instantly, every pair of eyes focusing on Roshani's figure seated in a large mahogany chair at the front of the room.

"You've all heard the news already. Esfandar has successfully conquered the northern city of Shiraz. His army suffered minimal losses, and he has now made the city the base of his army." Roshani purposefully moved her gaze to meet the eyes of each noble, making the severity of the situation clear. "House Pahlavi as well has betrayed the empire to join his rebellion. I want every House with any economic tie to House Pahlavi, any stake in the trade with Shiraz or the region at all to cease all commerce there immediately. We won't give them any advantage they can exploit. The sanctions will weaken an already hungry army."

"It's not so easy to cut off economic ties all at once, your highness," Lord Mukhar replied. "I do not directly control the actions of every individual merchant and tradesman in the Pahlavi Province."

"And you don't have to," Roshani spoke coldly. "Anyone caught trading with them, anyone caught returning with goods that are suspect- they will be executed immediately. This is the order every house will institute and enforce from now until the end of this war."

"People will resist such orders," Lord Mukhar pushed back.

"Are you so weak in your loyalty to the empress, Mukhar?" Zana Aspabadh hissed, her snake-like eyes narrowing at him. It was House Aspabadh, after all, who had ruled Shiraz for centuries and who ruled it still in her eyes. It was her brothers and sisters Esfandar had killed or forced out when he conquered the city. The indignation in Zana's eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. "The cost of a few merchant lives is nothing compared to the importance of rooting out the traitor."