1900, Year of the Prophet
It is a time of change for the Empire. Peasants are moving to the cities, some by choice and others by force, to work in the rapidly growing and modernizing Crown Manufactories. Those left in the countryside feel the impact of the 1892 Land Reform, as soldiers and state agents gradually abolish more and more of the old, corrupt feudal estates of the Old Empire. For many, it means newfound security and prosperity. For others, it means the loss of their ancestral tenant plots, and they must decide whether to hire themselves out as agricultural day laborers or move to the cities like many before them; neither fate is kind. The Raethonites, long neglected and oppressed, are now permitted to serve in the Imperial Bureaucracy, the professional army (Surv-Akur), and the navy (Surv-Vyaez). Millions who practiced their heathen religions in secret are now allowed freedom of public worship, so long as they sign pledges of loyalty to the Crown. But many of these same communities, formerly out of reach of the incapable Imperial Bureaucracy, are now expected to pay their taxes in full and on time or else face a visit from the re-invigorated Surv-Akur.
The good, the bad, the uncertain, there is one thing these trends all share. They are all new, and everything new is the work of Emperor Shayaer.
-----
The Emperor involuntarilty blinked just a moment after the camera flash. He hoped the photograph didn't catch that, because he wasn't going to sit for another one. With a gentle wave of his hand, the camera crew was gone along with their tripod and portable curtains. The Emperor stood. Now he could get to business.
“The Court will bow!” announced Grand Vizier Ayan Sujjid, a short but well-built man with a brown complexion and grey eyes, dressed in red and blue with plenty of gold finery to mark his position. All manner of officials sitting along the immense table of the Royal Council quickly slid their seats out and shot upright before bowing deep towards the head of the table, where the Emperor stood on his finely-carpeted dais. The Vizier bowed too, of course, from the corner where he always stood, closest to his liege of anyone.
“All hail his Majesty Shayaer Khaitis, first of his name: Chief of the Khaitis, King of Byrnia, Master of Raethon, Lord of the Holy City of Messara, Guardian of the Audejjai Sea, Sword of Aed, Rightful Heir of Raegar the Prophet, and Grand Survaek Emperor!”
“All hail the Emperor!” called back the assembled bureaucrats and commanders, still bowing low before Shayaer. Only when his Majesty raised his right hand did they permit themselves to rise. When he let his hand back down, they permitted themselves to sit.
“My loyal Council,” Emperor Shayaer began, speaking with a measured tone and no hint of mere platitude, “it is a comfort to see all of you assembled here today.” Indeed, everyone in the room had every reason to be loyal. Their predecessors, steeped in corruption and archaic ways, had all been killed upon Shayaer's bloody ascension to the throne. His enemies called it Shayaer's Purge, but the men assembled here preferred Shayaer's Restoration.
“I am sure all of you are as distraught as I am about the events in Kafu two weeks ago.” Several murmurs of approval rose from the assembled officials. “Thanks to the competence and bravery of the City Watch, order has been maintained, but I fear this is not the last time my Southern subjects rise in insubordination. I rid them of the corruption of the landlords and the cruel priests, but now new corruption has stepped in to replace them. Filthy foreign ideas of so-called 'national self-determination,' which go against everything the Empire stands for. I need your counsel, my skilled friends, on how to fight this plague. What shall I do to remind the Raethonites that their strength is in the Empire, not a dozen self-governing duchies ready to be eaten by greedy foreigners?”
“My lord, there are still too many bastions of feudal backwardness in the countryside!” exclaimed a young general, shooting upright. “We of the Surv-Akur have failed to depose the landlords who suck the peasants dry! We have acted too slowly, like tortoises whose every hesitant step takes endless contemplation! But only give us the order, and we will redeem ourselves! We will fall down on the tyrants like a great wave and wrest the land from all of their wicked hands in one fell swoop!”
“Preposterous!” shot back a white-bearded commander with the coal eyes and skin of a Byrnian, pulling himself upright and supporting his frame with his hands on the table as he leaned in to face his counterpart. “If we take them on all at once, they will arm themselves and unite against us! They will spread lies among the peasants and stir them against us too! You slander the Surv-Akur with your accusations, ignorant of the great progress we have made! If you will only be patient, we will restore the countryside, one estate at a time!”
“The landlords are not the problem, my lord,” proposed another, younger Byrnian man with a thin frame covered by a thick navy uniform. “Ever since the death of Vokoryn II, son of the Great Yvor, the Empire has sat on its heels like an old dog, backing away timidly from every threat. The Raethonites will be loyal, just as they were loyal to Yvor, if the Empire can restore its former power and glory. In your wisdom you have reformed and rebuilt the Surv-Akur and Surv-Vyaez. For years we have drawn up plans to reclaim our lost lands to the South and West. Do not hesitate to send us to battle, your Majesty.”
The fourth voice to chime in was none other than the Vizier himself, and the Emperor smiled when he heard him speak. Although he looked like a Khaitis, it was no secret that Sujjid was of mixed Raethonite blood, and appointing him highest authority outside of royal blood had provoked discomfort from many older officials (some who later disappeared under mysterious circumstances). Yet, Emperor Shayaer seemed to trust the man more than anyone else, perhaps even more than his own wife and children.
“My lord, there is wisdom in what everyone has said so far,” he acknowledged. “But, if I may be so bold, I would propose that the rioters, though nothing can justify their treason, had valid grievances.” Grumbles immediately filled the room, but a stern wave from the Emperor silenced them before they could get too far. “These were city-dwellers,” the Vizier continued, “not peasants, so the landlords probably had nothing to do with it. And the uprising was clearly in response to the issue of the grain shortage, which leads me to believe power and glory alone will not prevent further disturbances. I believe the problem ultimately lies in the middle ranks of the bureaucracy. Rumors have it that officials in Kafu are quietly seizing all manner of produce for themselves and locking them up in the Crown granaries, so they can force prices upward and eventually sell the food for a great profit. You rooted out corruption in the bureaucracy once, and I have no doubt that in your wisdom you will continue to do so. Give me the command, and I will organize an investigation into the matter, find the culprits, and bring them before you in chains.”
“Fascinating,” spoke the Emperor, smile widening into a grin. “Your eyes deftly discern the root of the problem, as always, my dear friend. You boldly speak words no one else will, no matter the challenge they present me. Aed smiles upon you! Organize the investigation at once!”
He turned his gaze to the rest of the table, expression growing more stern. “For the last time, I will not permit insults against my chosen men at these meetings, neither Vizier Sujjid nor anyone else. Hold your tongues and consider the will of Aed before moving them.” His eyes slid towards the old general who had spoken earlier. “Now, General Klawu, I understand your caution, but General Jheutu is not as naïve as you think. You are right to celebrate the progress of the Surv-Akur against the landlords, but that very progress is why your younger comrade has a point. We have weakened the feudalists enough, now is the time to deliver the killing blow. I want you all to work together on this: Bureaucrats, identify and make a list of the names and locations of the remaining landlords. And then, commanders, organize an assault. I want resources from the navy available here, not just the army. I want the last scraps of the Old Empire expropriated, dead or alive, by the end of the year. It is a new century after all, and we cannot reap the new harvest that awaits us without burning the rest of the chaff. That is an order.”
Everyone at the table bowed their heads in acknowledgment. There would be no more discussion on the subject, only action and results.
-----
“I never thought I'd see the day when we march into the Raethonite countryside,” joked Lieutenaint Gveliu. He barely had time to close his mouth before the camera snapped; moments later the flash hit his eyes. He squinted, but did not blink; he was used to this by now. Corporals Jareyu and Nel had hardly gone a day without taking a photograph ever since Nel's cousin had mailed them the damn machine. At least now there was something worth documenting.
“I don't know why the Surv-Akur needs the help of the marines for this, but we might as well enjoy the weather!” chimed in Jareyu with a grin; he was still holding the camera, apparently contemplating whether or not to take a second shot. Everyone in the platoon except Nel was from Byrnia, where even the locals sometimes resented the year-round blistering sun and muggy air. Here the sun was soft, and the shade of a tarp or the occasional tree could offer relief when they needed it.
“Lieutenaint,” spoke the tall soldier by his side, the usually quiet but deep-voiced Sergeant Veliu. “How much farther till the target?”
“Don't you worry Veliu,” the commander replied, “we'll be in on the action after a couple miles. Maybe we'll even get to use our rifles, if the landlord and his lackeys want a fight. But we have to wait on the Army battalion, we're ahead of schedule. You think I'd let these fools snap photos if we weren't?”
“Aye, Lieutenaint.” Instinctively, everyone took a moment to check the chambers of their guns. They weren't going to embarrass themselves in front of the Army by going in with empty or faulty loads, or else the Surv-Vyaez Marines' reputation might never recover.
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SUMMARY:
-- The Emperor orders an investigation to determine the cause of the grain shortage in Kafu. The operation is lead by Grand Vizier Ayan Sujjid, who suspects mid-level bureaucrats in the city of seizing and locking away grain to manipulate prices and enrich themselves.
-- The Imperial Bureaucracy, Army, and Navy cooperate in a massive operation to expropriate all of the remaining Old Imperial lords in the Raethonite countryside by force in one fell swoop. The bureaucracy will lead the initial investigation to identify these lords, and the Army and Navy will lead the ensuing military phase.
-- A group of Imperial Marines relaxes in an uncultivated part of the Raethonite countryside while awaiting their Army counterparts. Once they arrive, the two units will move to expropriate a local landlord. The marines are unsure whether it will come to shooting, but if it does they are prepared to fight just as hard as their Army comrades.