Chapitre Quarante

La Danse du Marchand

Empress Mariette VII

"Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Mariette Baleine VII."

All eyes turned as she entered Marquis Étranger's ballroom, the Imperial Guard flanking her on both sides. Every head bowed before her glorious majesty, even those whom the Empress knew hated her and plotted her demise showed respect when she entered.

Even Lucien Renart.

Good. Let this be a reminder of his place.

It was an insult, and it was most certainly intentional; for the Empress to arrive at a lower lord's masquerade when she'd not attended Duke Renart's. She hoped that every lord was as astute as Lucien was, and therefore able to recognize it.

With the Imperial Guard watching his every move, Marquis Micaedon Étranger, clad in a coat even her eldest son would envy, swept across the floor to the Empress, bowed his head, and kissed her hand. "Your Majesty, I am truly glad that you were able to attend."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world," said Mariette, ensuring that she was loud enough to be heard by all nearby. "I would speak with you, if you have a moment."

Micaedon nodded to her. "Certainly, your Majesty. Would you care to speak on the dance floor?"

"I'd be delighted," said the Empress.

Micaedon gestured to the musicians, who started to play a waltz. Mariette offered her hand to Micaedon and he led her to the dance floor, where none but the two of them would hear their words.

And the Empress' agents, who took to the dance floor in disguise, would ensure to block any couples from dancing too close to the Empress and the Marquis.

"Marquis Étranger, how are you settling in?" asked the Empress.

Micaedon gave her right hand a pull and left hip a light push, silently asking if he could twirl her. She complied, and returned to face him as he said, "Things have been well with my house. I have learned that being Marquis is not so different from being a merchant prince."

Mariette laughed at his strange statement. Such arrogance for a lowly merchant prince to compare his old life to Le Jeu Fatal. "How are the two occupations similar?"

"Allow me to give an example, your Majesty," said Micaedon with a sly smile. "Years ago, I discovered that some of my traders were... shall I say, misplacing goods? Then, mysteriously, they would buy some expensive piece of property they should not have otherwise been able to afford."

"Embezzlers, hmm?" the Empress giggled. "I assume no one is stealing tax money from you? If they are, such a thing is treason."

"Oh, no!" said Micaedon, twirling with her. "No, not at all. Please, bear with me. So, when I discovered that some of my traders were stealing from me I knew that I had a choice. I could simply inform the police, have them all arrested, or I could earn the loyalty of a majority of them while dealing harshly with the truly selfish and greedy minority.

"I had a loyal friend sit down with them, listen to their concerns. Many complained that they had not been making enough money otherwise. There was no chance for any of them to invest in their futures, no chance of moving up in the game."

Micaedon bent her back slightly, and when Mariette leaned into his movement he dipped her. "So, I made a deal that whomever either confessed to their misdeeds and swore to never steal from me again, or those who turned in those who had, would receive a small pay raise." Micaedon chuckled. "Now, your Majesty, when I say 'small,' I mean to people like myself; merchant princes. I'm sure someone with your wealth would find such a sum infinitesimal. But to them it was most generous. In the meantime, I made sure that they all knew that anyone who didn't confess would be sent off to the prison work camps."

Over Micaedon's shoulder, Mariette could see Andre Renart dancing with Duchess Poignard. A dangerous combination. She gave her partner's left hand a light tug and pulled her hips away from him, leading both of them to an area of the dance floor further from Andre and Colette. Two Imperial agents twirled into the gap between them, preventing Andre and Colette from drawing any closer.

"How did your plan turn out?" Mariette asked.

Micaedon smirked. "Well, those who had betrayed me were all so terrified that someone would turn them in that nearly all of them confessed. As for those few thieves who weren't smart enough to confess, well, their fellows told me all about what they'd done, and I had them sent off to prison, as promised."

"A clever decision," said the Empress. "But how does this apply to being a marquis?"

Micaedon lifted her, and when she returned to the ground he said, "It's how I intend to deal with these soldier uprisings. From what my agents have gathered, copies of Magnus Forbin's Manifesto still circulate amongst our infantrymen. But I got my hands on a copy of the Manifesto and read its contents. Magnus preyed on some very real concerns that his comrades had. Still have, actually."

Mariette wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "And those concerns would be?"

"Well, first of all, there's the way the aristocracy treats them with such disrespect." Micaedon twirled her again. "Honestly, I'm not sure how we can expect anyone to fight to protect those who hate them."

"How would you propose changing everyone's opinion?" asked Mariette.

"Many of the younger lords are fascinated by war stories and the exciting lives the soldiers live," said Micaedon. "I would suggest hiring journalists to remain with the soldiers on the front lines so that they may pass on stories of the soldiers' valor. Let all of Salia read about both the harsh reality and the romantic heroism of the front lines."

This was a pleasant surprise. It seemed this young merchant prince was far more intelligent than she expected. Her spies' reports had fallen short in their descriptions of his prowess. "I assume you're not just telling me this for the good of the Empire, though?"

Micaedon laughed. "I wish I could say it was pure altruism, your Majesty. Truly, I do. But, if I am being honest, I must confess that I would like credit for this idea." Micaedon pulled her in closer. "I need the utmost loyalty from my soldiers. I'm sure you understand."

Mariette smirked. "Of course. Well, that sounds like a wonderful solution."

"I'm afraid that's not my only solution, though, your Majesty," said Micaedon.

The smile disappeared from Mariette's face. She had a feeling where this was going. Micaedon attempted to twirl her again, but she refused. "Do tell."

"One of the reasons the soldiers decided to rise up was because they heard you were about to cut their salary." Micaedon's palm was starting to sweat as he led up to his suggestion. Undoubtedly, the scowl starting to form on Mariette's brow must have helped make him nervous. "I have a plan--"

"I will not pay off traitors and bullies!" the Empress hissed. "You expect me to reward these treasonous dogs for what they've done? They'll rise up in arms every time they decide they want more money!"

"Oh, my plan is a little more nuanced than that," said Micaedon, trying to force a confident smile. "See, the new year is coming up soon. I suggest that when the new year starts all soldiers be asked to swear new vows of loyalty to the Empire, to you, and to upholding the treaty of Fausspaix, with the understanding that if they do so they will receive a pay raise. If you attach a reward to the oath then it becomes all the more vital for them to keep it, especially given how much they value honor."

Mariette grunted and dug a fingernail into his shoulder. "We don't have the budget to give every soldier a pay raise."

"I can fix that too," said Micaedon, sweat starting to appear on his brow. "I know dozens of merchant princes who would invest a fortune in a plan to achieve better trade relations with Ponticia. Ponticia is an exceedingly wealthy nation, but the way things are now, the traders either have to go through both Piast and Shinar to reach Poniticia, or they can take a much shorter route through barbarian-controlled territories." Micaedon scoffed. "Only a fool would take this route. But, what if we started a military campaign to capture and control an old road that leads from Salia to Ponticia?"

"You want to conquer barbarian lands?" Mariette asked. "Ambitious... ambitious indeed."

"As I said, my old colleagues would be more than happy to invest in such an endeavor. All we need is your approval."

The Empress chuckled, and her laughter seemed to alleviate some of the Marquis' stress. Here was a clever young upstart, a great potential ally against her enemies.

"I'll think on it," she said. "Perhaps you might be willing to do a little favor for me in order to foster good relations?"

"Oh, most certainly, I shall do whatever her Majesty wishes," said Micaedon.

The Empress pulled him in close, until her lips were mere inches from his ear. "Do you see behind me Lord Leon Renart, helping himself to another glass of your wine?"

"I do, your Majesty," Micaedon whispered back.

"He's been avoiding his step-mother, Beatrice," said Mariette. "I don't care how you do it, but somehow or another I want you to make sure that the two of them end up dancing to a slow waltz before the night is through."