T'was high noon in the capital city. The City of a Hundred Temples was bustling with activity all winding its roads betwixt many great cathedrals and the seven wizard towers. There was an eighth, and a ninth tower in construction as well–courtesy of the emperor's investments.
Among the seven, the Royal Alchemy Tower was always billowing curtains of smoke into the sky, burning the fires of industry. The Grey Tower was also quite active recently. They were training war mages and building connections with the military. But the churches had been oddly silent in recent months.
A matter of great concern for Caleb, yet moreso it bothered his father, since Caleb had another task to better occupy his vexation.
"What do you mean the interrogation has not progressed in the past six months?"
"Apologies young lord, we've tried all manner of methods to elicit information from the steward, but he is utterly mad. Nothing sensible can be discerned from his ravings."
For three and a half years the ex-steward of Duke Solomon was made to talk by Caleb's father. Yet even months after the task was handed over to himself, Caleb found that the steward still had not elicited a coherent response.
The young Archphantom examined the report with frustration.
"His answers often included such replies as 'choice is an illusion,' or that 'god is a liar.' Whenever it came to the book he only said 'it came to him.' Is this really the report I'm reading after all of these years spent interrogating the steward? If news ever got out of this incompetence it would surely tarnish the ferocity of our reputation in high society."
The report also suggested that various investigations of the steward's relatives had resolved little of the mystery.
His wife was indisposed after her husband's "disappearance." She grieved but otherwise exhibited no irregular behavior. Informants tell Caleb that she is a rather competent housekeeper, but has recently become slightly manic. The steward also had two children: a son and daughter. The son served a local regiment in Duke Sylvus' private army. Five years ago, the steward leveraged his connection with the Duke to get his daughter in with the royal servants. She was presently one of the many handmaids for second prince Idan Titanus.
The children had recently become quite stressed with the loss of their father and the mental decline of their mother. But neither one of them were suspicious and exhibited no connection nor exposure to ancient lore. Ironically, the one mostly likely to have seen or interacted with ancient artifacts would've been the steward himself. But he was useless at present.
"Let's think about things from a different perspective. Assuming that the research was intentionally presented to the steward, what would be the purpose of getting it to him?"
This was the crux of the matter that concerned him, Caleb could not understand the 'why' behind these machinations. It could've been a cover up, but if so, why the steward?
As a self-proclaimed cunning man himself, Caleb would've first considered using it to frame an inconvenient political rival. But the steward was so menial, t'was–politically speaking–useless to frame him.
As the steward was of common stock, 'tis possible–Caleb surmised–that one of the counts in the Duchy of Sylvus framed him. Yet the motive seemed inconsistent. There were four counts in Duke Sylvus' domain and they all had a seat on his council comparable to the steward's influence.
Favoritism? No. Caleb had already investigated the relationship between the duke's councilors. Most had a better closeness to the duke than the steward did. although, t'was somewhat expected since nobles had far more opportunities to interact with each other.
Perhaps then an abundance of caution. But if so, why not tie up loose ends? Why let the steward be captured and interrogated and potentially threaten the release of sensitive information?
Be it carelessness then? Overconfidence? Possibly, but not for certain. If there was one thing which the Archphantom family hated, t'was uncertainty.
"What if he was left alive to ensure he was found? A distraction then. But from what?"
Caleb considered these matters when another knock arrived at his office door.
"Enter."
"My lord."
At the threshold, there stood a tall man donning the likeness of a household butler. A pale complexion and stern hazel eyes marked his visage.
"You've something to report Gwendovere?"
"Yes sir, the second prince has sent you a letter," he pulled the envelope with the royal seal from his coat.
"He has accepted to meet you, my lord."
Caleb took the letter in hand, sparing a glance for it before setting it aside.
"Good. The second prince will be a necessary asset to reign in the emperor's wars. Such a waste of resources—dealing with small insurrections in the north, secession in the south, the third prince's ambitions in the capital, the search for the ingredients, the building of new wizard towers, and now the coming war with Bethel in the Heartlands. All of this strain disturbs the empire's order, yet the war is most troublesome."
Caleb grabbed his coat and added, "but of course, while we are bound by oath and creed to never defy the emperor, there's nothing that says his own family cannot act against him."
At the door he patted Gwendovere's shoulder and pinched the ridge of his nose, "I swear, why must the emperor give us all this trouble after forty years of peaceful rule?"
"'Tis beyond this humble servant to know the emperor's grand plan."
"Wisely said, my old friend. Though now it seems to be beyond the both of us. Let's go."
The heir of Archphantom left the estate in a carriage and watched from within as the city passed him by.
At the center of the sprawling metropolis, there stood a block of granite so imposing in its height that it surpassed the city aqueducts. Each of the six–Providence, Aurius, Akkaan-Sólë, Justinian, Constantine, and Solomon–fed into a different level of the lower palace. The faces of the monolith were rubbed with brass and pollen–and baroque red beryl dressed its high end like a crown. Waterfalls bathed the edges and spilled over into the city channels.
Above this block towered higher the Ruby Palace. Its golden spires glistened in the sunlight and a lush garden as rich as paradise lay in its court. All its splendor was in copper and gold; bearing ornaments of ruby and beryl and jasper; lapis tiles to set the pools and line the canals which, in antiquity, flowed with milk and oil.
Even the cathedrals paled in comparison to this palace which the Aurians built for their kings. T'was a part of heaven they tore from the sky with covetous hands and brought down to worship their kings as gods.
Caleb arrived at the lower palace.
"Hail, lord Archphantom, your arrival was anticipated, you'll find the second prince in the high garden, west side."
The Archphantom tossed a purse of coins to the guard–a standard entry fee.
The carriage continued to roll inside of the lower palace that was closer to a fortress. Caleb looked about the interior and noted the subtle crumbling of one of the pillars. At a large circular colonnade that functioned as a kind of hub, the carriage stopped. Caleb left and proceeded with his aid to an alabaster wheel. A familiar light passed over him and the two ascended to the upper palace at once. In the courtyards, carved walls of stone were thatched thickly with vines blooming vanilla flowers on their ends.
Imperial vanilla–a flower that never dies, and glows under starlight. Supposedly, t'was a gift by the nymph Saeree to King Providence just before the founding of Aurumere. Though, Caleb was always a bit of a skeptic.
Various court officials and scholars passed through the central courtyard. Caleb saw the emperor and his entourage pass by. No doubt to prepare for the meeting later this afternoon. Caleb himself would be in attendance although not for a while longer.
Then, all ceased their actions momentarily to witness an unbelieveable–nigh impossible affair.
There, upon the steps leading to the royal court, lay a lion–paler than silver or ivory or pearls. It glazed and roared at the emperor, a fearsome act that seemed quite unnerving to those present who beheld it. Aurum eyes settling over the crowd as if to judge them. When the gaze lingered on Caleb, he felt a sense of warning from the beast. But soon the frightfulness of the affair had passed, and the lion was ignored.
For it simply sat upon the steps and glared like a marble statue. Since nothing seemed to become of its glaring, the disruption was thus easily forgotten. Caleb had also long left by then. Yet rumors say that when the guards moved to chase off or slay the beast, t'was already long gone.
After that affair, Caleb finally came face to face with the second prince.
In the west gardens he called out to the royal spare, "hail, your royal grace!"
Upon a tiled path of polished marble, Caleb perceived the prince himself, who turned to him gently from his chair.
The second prince was uncannily beautiful; eloquent of speech and fair of face. His charms could ensnare even men at times. Yet one could tell how the burden of his affliction had marked him.
A curse of dark lines shrouded the lids of his eyes, and sapphire irises were made somber by a pair of hungry black pupils. Golden hair flowed down to his waist. But inspected closely, one would spy the whitened locks that could call nor store no luminance in their bodies. His pale skin was said to appear like marble in the moonlight. But under the careful scrutiny of the sun Caleb could see the darkened veins beneath.
His figure was slender; the thinness of his wrist surpassed the delicacy of maidens. Gentle in demeanor and flesh, but Idan Titanus was not so by choice.
Even to walk was a task he suffered. No more the journey from one end of the imperial garden to another would he dare undertake by foot. Otherwise a close aid was required to move him where he pleased.
Those who heard him speak would feel as if to listen to the spring rain; a dour downpour rather than a shower.
"So you've come," he said.
One could see how loved the second prince was, for always there were attendants around him, and the emperor spared no expense in his medicine or physicians. The smell of flowers in their autumn wilt pervaded him, and all the silk and gold could not conceal his sickness. That remained the only quality of nature that grounded his yet ethereal presence on the Terra.
Beside him, among his aids, was a darkly dressed man of ashened hair and black eyes. Caleb acknowledged the prince first.
"Hail to the second prince, Idan Ann Titanus, first of his name. 'Tis by the blessings of Sòl that this meeting is graced, I thank you and Him that this is so."
"You may rise, Caleb Archphantom, son of Waltham Archphantom."
Caleb gave a lighter bow to the man behind prince Idan.
"Sir Exallion, 'tis an honor beyond reckoning to see the greatest knight of the empire in the flesh."
The knight nodded in acknowledgement.
"You have exceptional manners, Sir Caleb. I received your letter from general Radovid about a month ago. He said with some reservation, that you might desire an accord. Is this the case?"
"Indeed. We both can see that the emperor's wars are causing too much strain. 'Tis my humble–and dare I say selfless wish–that your Dove faction restrain the Hawks for a while. At least, until the inner workings of the empire are stable again."
"I see, but I am not presently strong enough to compete with my father in politics. The eastern and central dukes are all eager to show their worth in war. But many of these regions are torn. Unlike the southern dukes, who have a clear objective and alignment, many of the central dukes are split between themselves. Within the duchies, some wish to seize war contributions and accrue merits. No doubt 'tis in order to make fast power grabs. Other factions wish to preserve the status quo and prevent a new surge of greedy and powerful rivals."
The prince coughed and sputtered. A wet and terrible noise escaped his esophagus only for a handmaid to provide him a handkerchief with which to expel his ill phlegm.
He had not spoken with any apparent difficulties until the sudden cough. For a moment, the young Archphantom could not help thinking what a saintly sort the prince was, to care for maintaining the dignity of the imperial family at the cost of his own pain.
Caleb glanced at the priestess of Alassochisma beside the prince, whispering words of encouragement to him.
Eventually, the prince spoke again with perfect clarity.
"Apologies…" he said.
"No need for apologies, your majesty. Your health is among the gravest of worries for this Shade. 'Tis a matter I would not bear against you… Please, continue."
"Let us return to the topic of conversation… The conflict in the royal court is deeper than simple war or anti-war. There are the conservative nobles too–who wish to check the emperor's power and prevent new factions from gaining prominence."
"I am aware," said Caleb, "I believe you had an agreement with them, no?"
The prince's response made everything clear, "this war is a delicate matter for them. They don't want to support my Doves, but also don't want the Hawks to grow in power. Presently, I have a tenuous alliance with them."
Caleb interjected bluntly, "they support you because you're sick and weak. But they don't like that the first prince is friendly with your faction too."
"Precisely. I am already dead as far as the conservatives are concerned. But they worry that my comrades and I may lay the foundation for the first prince later."
"Even so, they have no choices. Every duke has internal politics within their realm, just the same as the emperor does. There are doubtless an innumerable number of petty groups conspiring in these troubled times to rise above their present stations."
The second prince went to cover his mouth and muttered softly, "pardon my rudeness, but the dukes are only interested in themselves. They will move only to preserve their own power, there's no camaraderie among these men."
"Then we must use more persuasive means. That happens to be my specialty."
"No. Your methods are dangerous, and you've already stretched your resources thin. I'm aware of the black riders in the south, the Night of the Bitter Chalice, and the assassinations in the north. You've been working hard to repress Nebalese uprisings and stop southern secession. I don't approve of your methods though."
"Your majesty, I merely worked for the good of the empire—much like yourself."
"So you claim, but I suspect that you've yet to reveal your true intentions here."
There was a strange beauty to the second prince, Idan Titanus. His wise gaze delicately accused Caleb. It appeared disarming to the young Archphantom.
"I am sorry that my tendencies offend you. Be assured though. As is my creed, I serve only the empire and his majesty. Your health matters to me as much as it matters to him. But this is no present matter; time is of the essence now. The Grand Marshal is already preparing to leave for Heathcliff and join the eastern army after today's gathering. I suspect the emperor will bring forth the proposal for war later this afternoon."
Caleb let an eye drift to the man beside the prince.
"Let me borrow that knight of yours. I will work subversively though not lethally to assist you in building the Dove faction naturally. This will–of course–take more time than my usual methods. But it should be done by the end of the emperor's wars with the Heartlands."
A weak grasp clutched to the prince's armchair. Idan pursed his lips softly.
"I hoped for a better method. Many people in the Heartlands will die as it stands."
"'Tis inevitable. Consider it the lesser evil, my prince. At times such compromises are necessary."
"Were that I had the words to rebuke you… no matter. What use have you for my knight, sir Exallion? Surely Archphantom has its own resources."
Caleb paused. He considered how much to reveal…
"My prince, are you familiar perchance with the rumors wandering about the royal court these days?"
"You mean those of the Bitter Chalice?"
Caleb reigned his amusement.
"No, this is beyond my humble work. I'm referring to the rumors of the elixir of immortality."
Caleb keenly observed the tiniest flinch in prince Idan's resting hands upon his lap.
"Oh," he said, "I heard t'was nonsense."
"'Tis most likely the reason that your father is waging all of these wars," said Caleb ruthlessly.
A maid interjected "watch your words, Archphantom. You stand before the prince!"
Idan raised an emaciated arm with difficulty. The maid paused and stepped back. She did not raise her voice again.
"Well, that is disheartening to hear," he said.
The young Archphantom waited a moment to see if any further reaction would slip, but sadly, he saw none.
With a shrug, Caleb said, "I am investigating these rumors personally. My intelligence reports that the rumors began in the royal court, but who exactly was the first to spread this rumor is unknown."
"And you wish for my help in finding the source?"
"Not at all, I wish to borrow your knight's arm, not his wit. Why use finesse where a simple hammer will work?"
"Once more, I disapprove of your methods."
"All the same, these are my terms."
"Then, if you are willing, sir Exallion."
The stoic knight placed a hand over his heart and answered in a surprisingly gentle and whisper-like voice.
"As you wish, prince Idan."
"Do not be overly belligerent, Mr. Caleb."
"Why, your majesty—how could I ever dare to displease you."
As the Archphantom's shadow loomed over the poppies growing in the garden, a sense of illness passed over the second prince. Caleb departed with a slyness in his step.
"Is he truly gone," asked the prince.
"Yes my liege."
"Those imperial shades are so serpentine. 'Tis hard to know what he schemes."
"I shall keep my eyes open."
"I trust you, sir Exallion. No one understands me better than you after all."
"Then, I shall take my leave now."
The empire's greatest knight followed after the heir of house Archphantom.