Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Arc V : Race to Loulan

Chapter LIII : Coup

Earlmorn of Tertius, Eleventh Day of Autumnmoon

The sun crested over the top of Mount Abakai, the Northern Continent’s tallest peak. That glimmer of sunshine, though brief, was like a ray of hope to the travelers on their race to Koba’s capital. It lasted only a moment before the sandskipper entered the mountain’s looming shadow. A frigid, snow-packed trail with harsh, glacial winds awaited them on this first leg of their journey.

Once at the mountain’s base, Konrad woke to a briefing, held at his king’s behest. With an audience of Kitezhians in the bed of the sandskipper, the Gnostic Knight and sorceress revealed stunning revelations about the sunstones, with emphasis on the demons imprisoned inside. Called Ahrimen, these immortal fiends were once bent on destroying the world, but ancient scholars succeeded in trapping them. Though most of the world had long since forgotten their techniques, the Sunstone Protectors inherited untold knowledge through Transiens Veritas. Emperor Zhao Peng was one such protector, and the mission now included seeking these answers.

The stakes had never been higher. King Richard and his kingdom were no longer of sound mind, and neither diplomacy nor sheer force would be strong enough to detract them from their path of destruction. Richard might have been naïve to the sunstone’s true nature, but he used its magic nonetheless and invited the Ahriman’s corruption.

Konrad shuddered. The thought of a demon slowly eating away at a man’s soul, corrupting his morals, and causing him to engage in contemptable acts, was more horrifying than anything he could imagine. And yet, it fully made sense how Angkor gained its incredible strength, as well as how they found unity and willingness inside their kingdom to launch unprovoked attacks upon sovereign neighbors. Especially after five years of peace.

Bram and Rosa explained the endgame, too, should they fail. If Angkor succeeded in gathering all four sunstones, the spell entrapping the Ahrimen would end, and they would once again threaten all life on Gaia. King Józef’s emissary, and his proposed alliance with Emperor Zhao Peng, was an existential imperative. And it was a race against time, since Koba was Angkor’s next target.

Fortunately, the travelers reached the mountain without being spotted by airships. Even a single sighting would signal their presence to the enemy and threaten their mission. Their best bet was to use the old supply route across Mount Abakai, rather than the open plains to the south.

Konrad understood that his time with his ward was at an end. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling anxious and apprehensive. He had been Józef’s closest guardian since the boy was born, and parting felt like a dereliction of duty. He wanted to see his king through to the end of his journey, but he couldn’t leave Rungholt unattended. He had to go back. There was no alternative but for him to place his trust in his countrymen, as well as Bram and Rosa, who had pledged their loyalty and support. It had to be enough.

Before departing, the crew said their goodbyes. Foremost, they felt it was right to thank the one-armed man, whose sandskipper made the voyage possible. Géorg’s connection with his homeland was complicated. He had once fought to protect his country, but his country failed to protect him when he needed it most. Kitezh treated him like a stranger when poverty and neglect threatened his life, yet he bared no grudge. In fact, he risked his life to transport the party, yet asked for nothing in return. For that, the crew recognized him.

Bram was first to give his heartfelt thanks, followed by Rosa, who had fully recovered from her magical illness. She embraced Géorg and wished him well on his journey. Konrad then watched as a procession of Kitezhians honored their forgotten hero. Józef shook the man’s remaining hand, wishing him Gaia's blessings. And at last, the soldiers turned and saluted.

The Kitezhian salute included two bumps of the fist against the chest, followed by the arm held in front, elbow bent at ninety degrees, and fist pointing up. Géorg had been their peer before his discharge stripped him of military status. But they honored him, still, by saluting with their left hands. The mark of solidarity ended with a tear that slowly rolled off Géorg’s cheek, glinting briefly in the morning light as it fell.

Konrad also bid farewell to his king and fellow Kitezhians. Understandably, he received a less emotional valediction. After offering some final words of encouragement to Józef, he and Géorg returned to the sandskipper and departed.

Despite losing sleep the previous night, he was still restless. His mind wandered, full of fears and reservations. Not just for Józef’s journey, but also from the traumas that surfaced in the wake of Angkor’s attack. He had yet to mourn the passing of Józef’s father, who had been more than just a good leader. Henrich was Konrad’s mentor and friend, and his sudden death still shook the grieving minister.

He had been right outside the door when it happened. Henrich was resolving a dispute between eastern farmers and the merchant’s guild, whose role was to distribute grain, vegetable, and animal product. The merchants wanted to increase their share at the farmer’s expense, which would have plunged many of those already poor laborers into severe hardship. Henrich regularly stood up for those who lacked the power or leverage to negotiate for themselves. That was just the kind of man he was.

Unfortunately, Angkor dropped their weaponized firebombs at just the right place, and the explosion caused the room to collapse, killing everyone inside, instantly. The damage to the surrounding areas was also extensive. Konrad remembered being thrown across the room as the castle crumbled around him.

Body shaking, eyes watering, breathing labored, he guided the castle staff down the escape tunnels. He took as many as he could, though he was unable to save the man who meant the most to him. Henrich died alone, under rubble, without so much as a proper funeral. For all the good he had done, for so many across Kitezh, he deserved better.

And still, the Angkorian forces persisted. It was only a matter of time before they found an entrance to the Network. The Kitezhian resistance would fight for their lives, but against a force as powerful as Angkor, survival was far from certain. Konrad knew he might very well be heading to his own death, but he was ready and willing to die for his country.

At least Józef would be far away from the bloodshed. The neophyte king was especially vulnerable, since he knew the way inside the family vaults, as well as many other Kitezhian secrets of value to invaders. Konrad was confident he made the right choice to send him away. His only hope was that his handpicked men would protect their king and get him to Loulan in time.

Somewhere in the midst of these thoughts, he awoke to find a bright light shining in his face. It was already highsun. He yawned and stretched, noticing wide open fields of grass passing by on either side. He was surprised and a little worried that Géorg hadn’t taken the safer routes to the south.

He shook his head to dispel the grogginess. “Mister Töller, did we not agree to travel through the woodlands for protection?”

The one-arm appeared to be in good spirits. “Have not seen airships all morn. Is faster to go through plains.”

Konrad was too drowsy to argue, and he was eager to make it back to Rungholt. Also, he trusted Géorg enough to believe he wouldn’t have deviated recklessly. So he sat back and watched the hills and quarries, thickets and groves, and small streams that populated the Kitezhian landscape.

After a few hours, Géorg broke the silence. “Sir, forgive if I assumed wrongly, but you said your family name was Rommel, no? Is it, eh … relation to late general?”

Konrad let out a weary breath. He had hoped Géorg wouldn’t bring it up. Many had asked him the same question, and he loathed the answer every time. After living his whole life in his father’s shadow, he wanted to be free of it for good. Although, given the polite request, he could hardly refuse a few words.

“No apologies needed, Mister Töller. You are correct. Friedreich Rommel was my father.”

Géorg looked over his shoulder, his eyes as wide as his smile. “Must be huge honor. General Rommel was hero of mine since I was boy!”

Konrad cringed. Indeed, much of the country celebrated Friedreich as a model strategist and valiant fighter, until his death in the battle of Dobb’s Plain. But to those who truly knew him, perception didn’t live up to reality. Behind closed doors, Friedreich Rommel was a very different man. Even so, Konrad felt that some things were better left hidden. It wasn’t his place to sully his father’s name, no matter how he felt about him.

While he groaned on the inside, he made the obligatory response. “Yes, quite an honor. But, also a huge responsibility.”

Géorg looked interested. “How so?”

Konrad hadn’t intended to carry on a conversation, but he had nothing else demanding his time or attention. He also didn’t owe his father any favors, so he figured he’d tell Géorg the truth, not the fairytale told by Friedreich’s admirers.

“He was very strict, the kind of father who set demanding standards for his family. I was his only male child, so he expected me to follow in his footsteps and rise in military rank. And when I did not, he considered me a failure.”

Géorg shrugged. “You might not have risen to general, but are still king’s top advisor. Second in line to throne, no less. Is great accomplishment! You think father not proud?”

Konrad shook his head. Géorg didn’t understand. He was like a stranger at a pub, who listens to secrets spilt over cheap ale. Konrad didn’t want to be vulnerable on his lonely ride back to Rungholt. The truth was, he had trained hard to be a soldier, but he didn’t have the stamina. And when he failed to keep up, his father would beat him after practice to ‘toughen him up’. The bruises healed, but the anger endured. It wasn’t easy for Konrad to explain this to someone who idolized his abuser.

It was easier to lie. “I think he was. It was just not his way to show it.”

Géorg swiveled his head back. “Fair enough. So, how did you become Minister?"

Konrad didn’t enjoy all the personal questions. It brought back pain … and regret. He figured he’d pose some of his own. “What about you? Did you live up to your father’s expectations?”

The one-armed man seemed taken aback, but he nodded slowly. “Papa was a good man. He served in army, and I wanted to be like him. But, Mama … she feared losing us. She begged me to find, ehm … exemption from draft. My parents owned land. They believed they could find me job, if I was willing. But, eh … I wanted to fight. For Kitezh. I could not agree to civilian life.”

Konrad listened closely, noting the change in Géorg's tone. The one-armed man usually spoke so confidently; but now, his voice trembled. He breathed deeply, only to let out a shudder.

“Several years into War, Papa perished in battle. I was supposed to fight beside him, but, um eh … administrative error resulted in transfer. Arrived days later, after battle was over. Still, Mama received word that we … were both dead. Sometime later, she took her own life.”

Konrad's heart sank. He had been so worried about exposing his own vulnerabilities, he forgot that Géorg likely had his own painful past.

He felt ashamed. “I’m sorry. I should not have pried.”

Géorg glared back. “You asked, did you not? So I am telling. You will listen, yes?”

Konrad’s face flushed. He nodded rapidly. “Of course, please continue.”

Géorg looked satisfied. “You must understand; Mama did not take life out of grief. Her parents had passed, and she had no family. Without husband or son, she had no income. Could not afford to live. She believed a quick death was better than suffering. Such is the way for many in Kitezh. Is not easy for others to understand.”

Konrad felt a jab at the notion of class inequity. The government made every attempt to rescue people out of poverty, but the wealth needed to serve every needy family was always far beyond the nation’s budget. Still, he didn’t want to interrupt Géorg again. He waited for him to finish.

The one-armed man shook his head. “I was angry … learned of Mama’s death on eve of battle. Wanted to punish Angkor for what they did. Fought aggressively, and allowed grief to cloud judgment. For my recklessness, justly I paid with my arm.”

He raised the stump on his right shoulder for emphasis.

Konrad's heart ached. War was nothing but grief. For both sides. He wished there was something he could say.

“War is terrible, Mister Töller. Perhaps that was why I never cut it as a soldier. I never wanted to take lives. I just wanted to … make the world a little bit better. I’ve always believed in the Brandt family, because they believed the same way.”

Géorg did not respond. Konrad felt that there was more he needed to say.

“I … also want to apologize. Not for anything I have said or done today, but on behalf of our great country. Kitezh failed you when you needed help, but … no one was more regretful than Henrich. In those darkest days, when he knew his people were suffering … and dying ….” Konrad’s voice cracked. He felt choked up, but he couldn’t stop. “He … he wanted to help everyone. And it crushed him that he could not.”

Géorg stopped the craft, suddenly. It took Konrad by surprise. He figured he must have said something offensive, and he feared Géorg’s reproach. However, it didn’t seem to be one-arm man’s intent.

“Do not misunderstand, Konrad. I do not place blame on Henrich. Or on anyone from Kitezh. Neither do I harbor hatred for Angkor. At least, not anymore.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Too much of world’s suffering is out of our control. But, not all. If I can make difference for just one man, that is my mission. Whether I sell him herbs, or listen to story, or … if meager sandskipper transports emissaries across enemy lines—these are my desires. So, do not take pity. Do not apologize. Is how I cope. How about you?”

Konrad didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. He just stared back in stunned silence as Géorg returned to piloting his sandskipper. And for some reason, it felt right.

For a while, things on the sandskipper remained peaceful. It glided across verdant hillscapes and was making good time. But then, unexpectedly, the air in front became wavy, like at the boundary of a flame. Konrad recognized magic, having seen this spell many times before. He bolted up front, alongside Géorg, as the distortion coalesced into a sphere. In its center, an image formed of an elderly woman in a blue, noblewoman’s dress. She had white hair, though her cheeks were smooth and youthful. Her only wrinkles came from around her thin lips and deep, sapphire eyes.

“Lady Azul!” Konrad was relieved to see Kitezh’s most powerful sorceress still alive. “Thank the Goddess! I haven’t seen or heard from you since the attack, and I was worried that … well …."

Lady Azul gazed back with a single raised eyebrow. “I’m not dead, yet, Mister Rommel.”

She spoke gracefully, enunciating each syllable with perfect pitch and clarity. He should have known that such a venerable spellcaster wouldn’t have succumbed so easily. The name ‘Azul’ was a title, rather than her birthname, and it reflected her rather distinguished record. Her counterpart, the powerful witch, ‘Lady Rouge’, had a title that reflected her mastery of wizardry. Both women served their country for many decades, ever since Józef’s grandfather, Ulrich Brandt, ruled the land.

Lady Azul clearly came to deliver a message, and she wasted no time with pleasantries. “I regret that my absence caused you concern, but I’ve been working tirelessly with Lady Rouge to keep our Network secure from Angkor’s tireless attempts to find an entrance. However, we would have spoken sooner, had you been inside my scrying range. I have an urgent message for King Brandt. I trust he shouldn’t be far from your side?”

Konrad recognized the term scry as being the magical equivalent of a message. The sorceress in front of him was merely a projection, so that her voice could carry over large distances. Scholars enchanted certain objects, like mirrors or crystal balls, with the ability to send the scry, and those at the other end would be able to converse back. The magic had limited range, however.

“My apologies, My Lady.” Konrad wasn’t sure if she had spoken yet to the Ministries, so he decided to fill her in. “His Majesty formed an emissary to Koba and is currently enroute. I saw him personally to the base of Mount Abakai. Surely, you must have heard—"

Lady Azul wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I’m aware of the king’s intent, but it seems you’ve traveled faster than I anticipated. It is unfortunate, since His Majesty’s absence puts us in a predicament. You see, the Angkorian occupation is a growing concern, and I regret to inform you that some people have taken matters into their own hands.”

Konrad’s eyes went wide. “Are you telling me that someone in the Ministry intends to challenge the king's prerogative? He clearly ordered the Network to await reinforcements!”

He thought he heard a harrumph from the sorceress, but her visage remained stone cold. “Indeed. Our own illustrious Captain Unruh is leading a bona fide rebellion. And he appears to have found support from others.”

Konrad was outraged. “Traitors! They must be arrested at once!”

Lady Azul shook her head. “It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. Angkor appears close in discovering an entrance to the Network. If King Brandt has only just arrived at Mount Abakai, it will be far too late by the time he returns. The Ministry is divided, Mister Rommel. And I believe Captain Unruh will push for a surrogate vote.”

Konrad cursed under his breath. “He wouldn’t dare! Then again, if he succeeds ….”

Lady Azul lamented. “Things have degenerated more than you realize. Reason has given way to recreancy, and I expect the vote will be imminent. Assuming all goes in the captain’s favor, he’ll soon have the power to order a counterattack.”

Konrad’s heart clenched. Hans’ recklessness would lead to bloodshed, not just for his supporters, but for all of Rungholt’s survivors. He cursed again, this time aloud, and thanked Lady Azul for her warning. The sorceress nodded, and her magical scry disappeared.

Géorg glared back, wearing a confused look. “What was that all about?”

Konrad gritted his teeth. “It’s the king's Minister of Security, Hans Unruh. Ever since the attack, I noticed Hans’ growing ambition. But I never thought he would vie for the throne—or use this crisis like an opportunist! You see, Józef is legally young enough to qualify for a surrogate to rule in his stead, if the Ministry deems him unfit. This would only last until he comes of age, but if Hans becomes this surrogate, it will give him the power to overrule His Majesty’s orders. In effect, he’ll become the acting King of Kitezh.”

Géorg's lips tightened. “But, you are Primary Minister. Surely your vote matters.”

Konrad sighed. “Unfortunately, if I am absent, a unanimous vote from the surviving Ministers will be enough. If Lady Azul is correct, then Hans has already started a pressure campaign and will intimidate the holdouts to vote in his favor. Under the circumstances, he might pull it off. The Ministry can’t stand idle if Angkor is on the verge of discovering our Network. It’s just a matter of time before they choose a foolish counterattack over the alternative … which, admittedly, is certain death at the hands of Angkor.”

“I understand.” Géorg pushed forward the sandskipper's throttle. “Hold on. I will get us to Rungholt faster.”

Konrad gripped the side of the vehicle and allowed his mind to hunt for solutions. If there was one area he trusted his instincts the most, it was politics. He could save Henrich’s legacy, as long as he reached the Ministries before the vote. He just hoped he could make it on time.