In the middle of the capital, the Emperor sat in quiet contemplation about the events that took place in Gattania, his mind racing as news of the color’s spread constantly grew more concerning on his already taxed mind. Markus was a bearded fellow, with nice, clean, kempt hair, and dressed in formal attire adorned with gold trimmings.
His court grew more unruly as time passed. General Staff, Advisers, and conflicting reports were never a good mix when it came to deciding what to do in Gattania’s matter. As the muddled state of his mind increased, he closed his eyes as he let out a deep sigh, imagining the events taking place in his own capital. The color was spreading, and previously he would not have considered any action as many stated it would not reach the Empire.
“Markus…” a voice broke him out of his deep trance. Markus looked up to see where it came from, finding a man in full military dress stride towards him from across the room.
“The color they speak of… it’s unnatural, it’s spreading. At this point, we have to consider action.” The man spoke, fiddling with his full moustache thoughtfully. His voice was rough, deep, and full of concern; he was the Field Marshal of the Military, Mikkel.
“We?” Markus echoed, internally questioning whether responsibility really fell unto them. He wondered whether it should be Emruen’s responsibility to clean the colors, an enemy that couldn’t be fought by conventional means.
He slipped back into his thoughts and the room grew quiet. His unspoken response hung in the air as his words were order, his words were law. An onslaught of ‘what-if’s came upon him; what if the colors reached them, what if no one could stop the colors, an entity so malicious and so unknown.
He gathered his thoughts and after an especially pregnant pause, the words finally spilled out in the Emperor’s croaky voice.
“I feel…it is necessary to find a way to combat this color, but I also feel it necessary to wait and see if any of Gattania’s neighbors have an answer to this threat, so I want our best minds here in the capital to converge as a way of preparation as we will try to think of a way to defeat this unknown threat.”
Mikkel decided to interject for a moment. “Should I send the scouts?”
Markus then turned to him and said “No, send an ambassador to the closest nation that borders Gattania; I want to know whether they even have a plan in mind, and I want the Ambassador to return with details of what is happening in the towns nearest to Gattania’s Borders. I request of you to give them a military escort, an extra pair of eyes. Do you agree?”
It took no more than a few seconds of considering for Mikkel to nod in agreement, before speaking again. “Maybe we should wait until we have at least one scientist here in the capital to go there and investigate for himself, so he could get a piece of this so called color to study.”
In objection Markus shook his head, “Perhaps, but that is for a later date. For now, focus on getting a better flow of information, as I don’t want to touch this… disease without knowing its effects as well as how it is believed to spread. We must be careful and clinical about this Mikkel, I don’t want any more conflicting reports.”
Again, Mikkel nodded in agreement. He turned to face the door and made a brisk exit. The room fell into silence once more and Markus turned his gaze to look at the remaining occupants.
“Well what are you all looking at? Get the message out and gather our best minds! I don’t care who or where they are, whether they believe that the color will reach us or not, whether they’re busy or free,
I. WANT. THEM. HERE. NOW. MOVE!”
His voice boomed into the large, ornate room and not even moments after he spoke they all rushed out the door to follow Mikkel, leaving only the Emperor and his family in the throne chamber. He looked upon his son, aged twelve, his daughter who was turning sixteen in the next year, and his beautiful wife. His deepest concerns, if not for the country, were for his family, and he pondered what horrors the Gattanian People had to suffer, and what would happen to his people, including the ones who mattered the most to him.
The gentle touch of his wife’s hand on his own broke his current contemplation as she beckoned him to join her outside, the children moving to follow after their mother. It had passed Markus’s mind, it was already lunch time.
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Mikkel glanced behind him to see the various people running past, their hurried footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Over his shoulder, he could see Markus seated, shoulders hunched and face clouded in deep thought. He and Markus shared a profound history; Markus was once a child of the Royal Family clan of Fredriksen, during the time another Family Clan was in the seat of Ruling power. Mikkel, on the other hand, was the son of a prestigious General who was then in the General Staff. They resided very close to each other and shared a close friendship, but now the times seemed to have changed as all that was currently in Markus’s mind was the wellbeing of the state; as for Mikkel’s , it was the smooth operation of the military.
He walked out of the large palace, an impressive building made of smooth white Marble. The tiles on the ground were stained to tell the story of the ascension of Emruen out of the Dark Ages. His boots clacked in a steady rhythm as they hit the old stone path that opened up into the royal yard, which held the many beautiful gardens meticulously tended by the many who were privileged to work there. The smell of fresh flowers and chirps of birds filled the sky, as Mikkel made his way to the Palace Gate, which led into a large clearing, a yard of sorts. Here, the Emperor’s Own drills ran for hours on end, and the ones who weren’t being drilled stood guard by the Palace gate. He walked through the lines of organized men; some of them had been under his command at one point during the selection processes, and he walked until he finally reached his carriage which was waiting for him.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked, bowing his head slightly in polite greeting.
“To the Military headquarters of the Capital Corporal.” He settled into the velvet seat and gazed idly out the window as he replied, watching the light cavalry carrying their rifles, the Cuirrasiers riding past, escorting the carriage wagon, and the men who were on foot, marching alongside them.
It was commonplace to see soldiers marching, and cavalry men galloping in and out of town. This was how life went by in Emruen; the Military bringing down crime and delivering order to the chaos of ordinary life. The ride was short as the way to the city was not very far. Mikkel watched as swaffs of farmland growing corn swept past them. The soft rustling of the wind brought with it a cool breeze from the western mountains, and you could almost smell the salt of the sea as it whiffed by.
The city was bustling with activity: merchants selling their wares, the strong smell of coffee and fresh fruits in the air as imports from other countries were being sold, soldiers passing by with sweat glistening on their cheeks. The warm humidity of the smells of a packed city came crashing in, but to Mikkel this was nothing more than regular life.
He reached the large military fort that served as the Headquarters in the area. As he entered, he saw criminals being punished and others being prepared for execution, most probably for charges of the unspeakable sort. He watched as more entered from the east gate; prisoners who had been tried and found guilty, now finding their way into detainment. The accused were usually kept in the dungeons along with the guilty until their trials. This was a stark contrast to the vibrant joys of the city.
He got out of the carriage as it came to a stop, and walked up into the Fort’s main hall where people ate, drank, and discussed freely. Stairways on the side allowed them to walk up into the private quarters, the floor above the private quarters serving as the General Staff’s meeting chamber. Mikkel entered the chamber and relayed the Emperor’s decision as they began their discussion.
“Who does he intend to send?”
“Should it be light Escort or Heavy Escort?”
“What should they look out for?”
“Should we quarantine them when they get back?”
As their questions came crashing down unto Mikkel, he answered each one crisply.
“I've yet to decide.”
“Light escort, a few skirmishers, a few armed guard, and some cavalry.”
“They should look out for any signs of infection, anything out of the norm, and anything that could give us more information about the Color’s properties.”
“Yes, definitely. This might be a disease which none of us would wish to take any chance of its spreading into Emruen.”
Their discussions went on until all their questions were satisfied and all their concerns were answered. Mikkel was efficient like that; this was mainly why the General Staff liked him, no huss or fuss. He was known to be a calm man, but he was also known as the man covered in blood during a battle against an uncovered criminal operation in a small port town north of the Capital.
They were all heavily armed, and they had used the small port town they were in as a mock fort with many barricades and the local Garrison had been coerced to surrendering used as hostages along with the towns folk, when the Army and Navy had arrived they were met with a fierce resistance along with hostage threats. The siege lasted four days, but as soon as Mikkel arrived, his leadership drove the men into the weakest parts of their defenses and a bloody fight occurred.
It was said that Mikkel killed a hundred men in the battle, and he came out of the front covered in blood, and his pouches empty, his rifle dirty and the bayonet still hanging on to a piece of bloody cloth. It was all folk tale, an exaggeration made by the men beside him, folk tale by the people he was able to save, however Mikkel barely talked about what happened there, he would grow quiet whenever anyone asks him about what happened that day.
When they had finished Mikkel stood up and announced;
“Alright, I will choose the Ambassador. I want only the best to escort, that lies upon you gentlemen.”
He returned to his quarters after the discussion, writing up the papers arranging for the travel. He also took some time to consider the route to use, he braces himself of what is to come in the following days, as Gattania's killer leaks out from its bleeding heart.
