"What are we doing today, Cord?" Fornulus mumbled as Munas helped him stagger onto his throne.

They were in an informal audience chamber, for meetings among the inner circle. Fornulus wasn't even wearing one of the crowns, just a disheveled royal purple robe. Cordelian was wearing his formal olive-green robes, as neatly as ever, all the better to contrast with the Doukar. Only he, Munas, Fornulus, and Pelagius, in his family's black, were there today. Meronion had already left for the north, with Ophelion in tow, and Theodorian had yet to return from the south, although she should arrive in the capital sometime in the next few days. Officially, Munas shouldn't have been present, having no official rank, but Cordelian generously turned a blind eye to the impropriety.

The chamber was dark even though the sun was high outside. Fornulus had taken to having the shutters closed any room he was in for the sake of his bleary eyes. The large chamber was almost filled by a massive porphyry table, which Cordelian had completely covered in documents, to demoralize Fornulus as quickly as possible. Once seated, the four of them formed two pairs on opposite sides of the table.

"There are a number of urgent matters requiring your attention, Your Exaltedness, as you can see." Cordelian gestured to the table.

"Of course there are." Fornulus sourly took in the state of the table.

Cordelian laid out the first item on the agenda, while Fornulus clumsily poured himself a cup of wine, shoving a slave away from him. Munas wiped up some spilled wine from his robe, which Cordelian noticed was starting to look tight around Fornulus' midsection. All that wine was taking its toll. It had been the same for their father.

Fornulus sighed loudly when Cordelian finished laying out the first issue, which was yet another dispute between two leading families. Even Cordelian grew tired of their squabbling sometimes.

"Why can't these whiny shits deal with their own problems? They always need something, and then they moan about whatever I decide."

"It is the burden of the crowns." Cordelian said, and quoted one of his favorite parts of Tarcassian. "'Those who have more, must give more'".

Fornulus ignored him, not recognizing the quote, instead turning to Pelagius, who was sitting next to Cordelian.

"What do you think about these," he gestured vaguely towards a scroll as he struggled to remember, "silk merchants, Nikolonium?"

"I'm Pelagius."

"Huh?" Fornulus leant closer, squinting. "Right, of course you are. It's the light, I can barely see in here. They always keep it so damn dark. Light more tripods!" He bellowed at the servants, who hurried to carry out his commands. They'd already lit all the tripods before the meeting begun, so some slaves left to bring more into the chamber.

"I imagine the Eukrates has a suggestion," Pelagius said. He had a good way of looking at matters, Cordelian thought.

Munas glanced towards Cordelian, before cooing over the Doukar. "Yes, why don't you let the Eukrates handle these sorts of things? You're tired, and you told me you didn't feel well. You're Doukar, you shouldn’t let the patros boss you around. Let them go to Prince Cordelian, instead of bothering you all the time. They're unworthy of your attention."

Fornulus liked that, of course. "Yeah, why can't you just handle these matters for me Cord? Tell these sniffy patros 'holes were to stuff it."

Cordelian patiently explained the situation, as if he was talking to a child. Which he was, speaking mentally anyway.

"Your Exaltedness, some matters require the Doukar's skilled hands. I would never presume to make judgments for you."

Fornulus groaned loudly, and Cordelian didn't even bother to conceal his smile. Fornulus didn’t notice.

"You sound like her now. Nag, nag, nag."

Cordelian feigned reluctance. "If Your Exaltedness insists, I could choose what should be done and draft the required documents. Then you would only have to sign them."

Fornulus thrust a sausage-like finger out towards him. "Good, do that from now on. Don't bother me unless it's, I don't know, civil war or fire or something."

"What about audiences?" Pelagius asked. "Patros will still expect to meet with the Doukar."

Cordelian frowned slightly, although Fornulus probably didn't even notice the small details of his act. "I suppose I could meet with them in your place, Your Exaltedness."

"Your Exaltedness, it is not the place of the Eukrates-" Pelagius began, frowning, but Fornulus cut him off.

"Shut up Pelagius. I'm bored of meetings. Meetings between us, meetings with Meronion and her soldiers, meetings between these greedy patros who all want a piece of me. From now on, only bring me the really important stuff. Not the whiners."

Cordelian bowed his head. "As you wish, Your Exaltedness." What a contemptible fool.

Pelagius said nothing more, having covered his own back sufficiently.

As Fornulus emptied his cup in one gulp, Cordelian told him what he wanted to hear. "Your Exaltedness, by those standards, I suppose there is nothing today which merits your attention."

Fornulus slammed his hand down on the table. "Fantastic. In that case, I think I'll go down to the gardens and get drunk. It's nice out today. What do you say, Muny?"

Munas giggled and flirted girlishly. She glanced back at Cordelian, a far more calculating look than those she gave Fornulus, as the slaves helped Fornulus wrestle himself up. Cordelian nodded slightly at her, in acknowledgement of her fine job in helping him. She at least realized the importance of staying on her patron's good side. Since the mourning period for Vicca now over the Doukar could take another wife, and no doubt all her thoughts centered on this. Cordelian saw Pelagius noticing Munas' lowcut dress as she bent over in the bow. Well, she was a beautiful woman. If she continued to serve him well, he could always push her in Pelagius' direction once Fornulus was taken care of. He wasn't such an ingrate as to leave her stranded without a patron in the court, and she'd served him too well to give her to Euphastolon.

He'd received a tablet from Euphastolon a few days ago. His little brother seemed to be adjusting well to life in the south. Zeusis was beside himself with joy over finally becoming part of the royal family, and best of all, deeply grateful to Cordelian.

Pelagius turned to him once the two of them were alone. The slaves started gathering up the documents Cordelian had laid out on the table. Naturally most of the documents were reports on minor issues which never required the Doukar's consideration. There were even some copies of Tarcassian and other poets Cordelian liked mixed in, but his doltish elder brother wouldn't recognize them even if Cordelian rubbed them on his face. He found it much easier to manipulate the Doukar now Meronion had left for the front. She would have inconsiderately pointed out his deception and made an awkward scene. What a nasty woman.

"This is going to make some people unhappy," Pelagius said.

Cordelian shrugged. "No doubt, but not with me. I'm only reluctantly following the orders of the Doukar, as you yourself will attest."

"I suppose you're right. We all live to serve him."

"Precisely. Do be sure to convey that to Nikolonium when you see him next," Cordelian said with a smile. He knew all about the relationship between Pelagius and Nikolonium. It was tragic how Nikolonium thought he had the upper hand here.

Nik paced as he waited for Pel to arrive. He was in his private audience chamber, the one his mother had used to receive guests. Nik didn't get much use out of it. He turned at the sound of the door opening and sighed in relief at seeing his youngest brother finally show up. The brothers simply nodded to each other in greeting. Nik had no attendant to introduce the youngest prince, as he kept only the smallest necessary group of servants and slaves. The rest he’d dismissed once his mother had retired, sending them back to her. She was delighted, viewing many of them as friends. He had never been a fan of all the bowing and scraping their court "manners" required. While their people starved and died in warfare, prissy patros and royals conducted their elaborate rituals, substituting manners for compassion. It disgusted him.

"You got my message, good," Pel said.

Nik didn't waste any time in asking Pel what he wanted to meet about. The message Pel had sent him, scratched onto a sherd, simply said they should meet as soon as possible, to discuss "alarming developments." Nik knew who this had to be about.

"Earlier today I was in a meeting with Fornulus and Cordelian," Pel said. "Cordelian manipulated Fornulus into letting him deal with the patros without oversight, even meeting with them in Fornulus's place."

Nik's eyebrows shot up. Cordelian had been peeling duties away from Fornulus bit by bit since his crowning, but this was a new low. By meeting with the patros himself, they would start to view him as the Doukar. He wouldn't be surprised if Cordelian began to wear the purple.

"They'll be calling him 'Your Exaltedness' in no time," he said.

Pel agreed. "And of course, this allows Cordelian to boost his allies and hurt those who turn against him. Patronage will flow from him, and his favor, not the Doukar's, will be the most important in the empire."

Nik moved over to a table and poured himself some heavily watered-down wine, and offered some to Pel, who accepted gratefully.

"You weren't able to stop him?" He tried to say it as mildly as possible. He truly only meant it as a question, not an accusation.

"How could I? My position doesn’t have any real power." Pel didn't seem offended. "He's taking advantage of Meronion’s absence."

Nik thought for a few moments more before answering. "Right now, there's little we can do. Let's not panic. Meronion will put a stop to it as soon as she gets back. Cordelian must be counting on the war in the north dragging on, to give himself time to get people used to coming to him directly. He's hoping the patros will convince her to leave things the way they are when she returns. They won't be able to though, because our sister is one stubborn woman."

"Or perhaps he's hoping the war goes badly and then he can use her failure to discredit her," Pelagius said. "Or worse."

Nik didn’t believe Cordelian would rely on hope. It wasn’t like the man to rely on luck, and besides, Meronion never failed at war. No, Cordelian was counting on Meronion being gone for too long to stop him. He didn't bother to correct Pel. He didn't want to hurt Pel's pride by pointing out the flaws in his thinking – Pel could be proud, and Nik didn't want to cause another falling out between them. Pel was doing a good job as his ally. Nik was impressed with him.

"Pel, try to increase your own influence as much as you can. Anything you can do to minimize Cordelian as being the heart of the empire."

Pel chuckled. "Well yes, I can do that, much as it will pain me to promote my own interests. And you?"

"I think I'll talk to the church fathers, make sure that they insist on Fornulus being the one to carry out the imperial religious ceremonies. Then Fornulus will stay the Doukar in at least the noumens' minds, and in the patros' minds every time they go to a service. The church fathers already dislike Cordelian so I'm sure they will be willing."

Pel nodded. "That's not a bad idea."

"Don't sound surprised!" Nik said in mock anger.

They laughed with each other.

"We'll stop him having entirely his own way, at least," Nik said, "and when Meronion gets back she'll shove her boot up his backside."

They spoke for a while longer, until Pel left to finish some work. He invited Nik to spend some time with Helastus in the interim, but this reminded Nik how much he missed Ophelion, and of their impending permanent separation. He decided to go back to his private chambers and keep working on the letter he wanted to send to her. He wanted it to convey the entirety of his feelings to her, for it to be something she would treasure for years. It might give her some comfort down in the south once she was married to this Circiniad savage.