The Radiant War

Chapter 3a

     “I am here, your Majesty,” said Demos Tiver.

     Emperor Tyron looked at the Undersecretary of State, standing just inside the doorway of his audience chamber. Those Above, but he looked hideous! Fat. Sweating so much, even in this relatively cool weather, that it had soaked through his clothes and fouled the air for a dozen yards around him. His face covered with sores and rashes. Tyron had tried so hard to overlook it, to tell himself that it was his loyalty and his intellect that mattered, but if the Brigadier was right he was a traitor to the Empire, to all humanity. Would he have spotted it for himself if Tiver had been of more normal appearance? If Tyron hadn’t been so desperate to be fair that he’d overcompensated and ignored his gut instincts, thinking them to be caused by his disgust at his appearance? He reminded himself that he still had no proof that Tiver had done anything wrong. Maybe the Brigadier was mistaken. That was why he'd summoned him here; to see the man with a clear eye. To see the truth.

     “Come in,” he said, standing and coming around from behind his desk. “I asked you here to get an update on Skelby’s condition. Every time I ask the doctors I get the same reply. He's on the mend but not yet ready to resume his duties. I assume you're keeping a close eye on him, so please tell me the truth. How is he, really?”

     “The truth is, the doctors have no idea what’s wrong with him,” the Undersecretary replied. He looked longingly at a chair, shifting his weight from one leg to another, but one did not sit when the Emperor was standing. “Some kind of neuro-degenerative condition, they think now. It's possible that it’s relapsing and remitting, that it'll improve by itself at some point...” He gave a helpless shrug, then produced a handkerchief from his sleeve and mopped his brow with it.

     “So, there's no realistic prospect of his returning to work, then.”

     “Perhaps in an advisory role. After everything he’s done for the Empire, it would seem callous and ungrateful to just sack him. I'm sure that, with the right...”

     The Emperor held up his hand, though, and Tiver fell silent. “The Empire owes Skelby a debt it can never repay,” he said. “However, we need a Secretary of State who is capable of fulfilling all the duties of his role. I will be announcing his retirement at this afternoon's assembly. The time has come to appoint his replacement.”

      Tiver nodded. His face was trying to look sad and regretful, but there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

     “What is the situation in the outer provinces?” the Emperor asked.

     “The new measures we've implemented in the western provinces are having the desired effect,” replied Tiver. “I am confident that the seditionists will be completely crushed within a couple of months.”

     “And what are these new measures?”

     “The army has implemented martial law. All public gatherings are banned. Trial by jury has been temporarily suspended, in order to allow the speedier processing of traitors. The death penalty has been brought in for all but the most minor of offences and we are offering large cash rewards for information leading to the arrest of the ringleaders. These measures may seem extreme, but they are working and can all be reversed when this time of crisis has passed.”

     “You don't think that these measures are more likely to stir up the provinces even more? Cause more resentment? Jncite more violence?”

     “The people must understand that treason has consequences, your Majesty. I am confident that this crackdown will see the return of law and order.”

     The Emperor studied him carefully. He's lying, he thought, and the more he studied the man’s face, the more certain he was of it. There was something in his expression. A sly look, as if he was laughing internally. Laughing at him!