“It never has been.”
“But you are widely blamed for the death of King Rogont, Chancellor Sotorius and their comrades in the League of Nine. Your lone survival was…”
Vitari smirked at her. “Damnably suspicious.”
“In Talins that only makes you better loved, of course. But elsewhere… if Styria were not so deeply divided, it would undoubtedly be united against you.”
Grulo frowned across at Scavier. “We need someone to blame.”
“Let’s put the blame where it belongs,” said Monza, “this once. Castor Morveer poisoned the crown, on Orso’s instructions, no doubt. Let it be known. As widely as possible.”
“But, your Excellency…” Rubine had moved from apologetic to abject. “No one knows the name. For great crimes, people must blame great figures.”
Monza’s eyes rolled up. Duke Orso smirked triumphantly at her from the painting of a battle he was never at. She found herself smirking back. Fine lies beat tedious truths every time.
“Inflate him, then. Castor Morveer, death without a face, most infamous of Master Poisoners. The greatest and most subtle murderer in history. A poisoner-poet. A man who could slip into the best-guarded building in Styria, murder its monarch and four of its greatest leaders and away unnoticed like a night breeze. Who is safe from the very King of Poisons? Why, I was lucky to escape with my life.”
“Poor innocent that you are.” Vitari slowly shook her head. “Rubs me wrong to heap fame on that slime of a man.”
“I daresay you live with worse.”
“Dead men make poor scapegoats.”
“Oh, come now, you can breathe some life into him. Bills at every corner, proclaiming his guilt in this heinous crime and offering, let’s say, a hundred thousand scales for his head.”
Volfier was looking more worried by the moment. “But… he is dead, isn’t he?”
“Buried with the rest when we filled in the trenches. Which means we’ll never have to pay. Hell, make it two hundred thousand, then we look rich at the same time.”
“And looking rich is almost as useful as being it,” said Scavier, frowning at Grulo.
“With the tale I’ll get told, the name of Morveer will be spoken with hushed awe when we’re long dead and gone.” Vitari smiled. “Mothers will scare their children with it.”
“No doubt he’s grinning in his grave at the thought,” said Monza. “I hear you unpicked a little revolt, by the way.”
“I wouldn’t insult the term by applying it to those amateurs. The fools put up bills advertising their meetings! We knew already, but bills? In plain sight? You ask me, they deserve the death penalty just for stupidity.”
“Or there is exile,” offered Rubine. “A little mercy makes you look just, virtuous and powerful.”
“And I could do with a touch of all three, eh?” She thought about it for a moment. “Fine them heavily, publish their names, parade them naked before the Senate House, then… set them free.”
“Free?” Rubine raised his thick white eyebrows.
“Free?” Vitari raised her thin orange ones.
“How just, virtuous and powerful does that make me? Punish them harshly, we give their friends a wrong to avenge. Spare them, we make resistance seem absurd. Watch them. You said yourself they’re stupid. If they plan more treason they’ll lead us to it. We can hang them then.”
Rubine cleared his throat. “As your Excellency commands. I will have bills printed detailing your mercy to these men. The Serpent of Talins forbears to use her fangs.”
“For now. How are the markets?”
A hard smile crossed Scavier’s soft face. “Busy, busy, morning until night. Traders have come to us fleeing the chaos in Sipani, in Ospria, in Affoia, all more than willing to pay our dues if they can bring in their cargoes unmolested.”
“The granaries?”
“The harvest was good enough to see us through the winter without riots, I hope.” Grulo clicked his tongue. “But much of the land towards Musselia still lies fallow. Farmers driven out when Rogont’s conquering forces moved through, foraging. Then the Thousand Swords left a sweep of devastation almost all the way to the banks of the Etris. The farmers are always the first to suffer in hard times.”
A lesson Monza hardly needed to be taught. “The city is full of beggars, yes?”
“Beggars and refugees.” Rubine tugged his beard again. He’d tug the bastard out if he told many more sad tales. “A sign of the times-”
“Give the land away, then, to anyone who can yield a crop, and pay us tax. Farmland without farmers is nothing more than mud.”
Grulo inclined his head. “I will see to it.”
“You’re quiet, Volfier.” The old veteran stood there, glaring at the map and grinding his teeth.
“Fucking Etrisani!” he burst out, bashing his sword-hilt with one big fist. “I mean, sorry, that is, my apologies, your Excellency, but… those bastards!”
Monza grinned. “More trouble on the border?”
“Three farms burned out.” Her grin faded. “The farmers missing. Then the patrol who went looking for them was shot at from the woods, one man killed, two wounded. The rest pursued, but mindful of your orders left off at the border.”
“They’re testing you,” said Vitari. “Angry because they were Orso’s first allies.”
Grulo nodded. “They gave up everything in his cause and hoped to reap a golden harvest when he became king.”
Volfier slapped angrily at the table’s edge. “Bastards think we’re too weak to stop ’em!”
“Are we?” asked Monza.
“We’ve three thousand foot and a thousand horse, all armed, drilled, all good men seen action before.”
“Ready to fight?”
“Only give the word, they’ll prove it!”
“What about the Etrisanese?”
“All bluster,” sneered Vitari. “A second-rate power at the best of times, and their best was long ago.”
“We have the advantage in numbers and quality,” growled Volfier.
“Undeniably, we have just cause,” said Rubine. “A brief sortie across the border to teach a sharp lesson-”
“We have the funds for a more significant campaign,” said Scavier. “I already have some ideas for financial demands that might leave us considerably enriched-”
“The people will support you,” cut in Grulo. “And indemnities will more than cover the expense!”
Monza frowned at the map, frowned in particular at those spots of blood in the corner. Benna would have counselled caution. Would have asked for time to think out a plan… but Benna was a long time dead, and Monza’s taste had always been to move fast, strike hard and worry about the plans afterwards. “Get your men ready to march, Colonel Volfier. I’ve a mind to take Etrisani under siege.”
“Siege?” muttered Rubine.
Vitari grinned sideways. “It’s when you surround a city and force its surrender.”
“I am aware of the definition!” snapped the old man. “But caution, your Excellency, Talins has but lately come through the most painful of upheavals-”
“I have only the greatest respect for your knowledge of the law, Rubine,” said Monza, “but war is my department, and believe me, once you go to war, there is nothing worse than half measures.”
“But what of making allies-”
“No one wants an ally who can’t protect what’s theirs. We need to demonstrate our resolve, or the wolves will all be sniffing round our carcass. We need to bring these dogs in Etrisani to heel.”
“Make them pay,” hissed Scavier.
“Crush them,” growled Grulo.
Volfier was grinning wide as he saluted. “I’ll have the men mustered and ready within the week.”
“I’ll polish up my armour,” she said, though she kept it polished anyway. “Anything else?” The five of them stayed silent. “My thanks, then.”
