Bergraz - First Level

173rd Summer – The First Year of the Regency (Earth Date 21st January 2017)

Father Leo was waiting for me down on the First Level, at the Shrine. I hadn’t been back to this part of town since the Rookery had burned down during the Civil War. The tatty familiarity of the place hit me like a hammer blow. If I half closed my eyes, I could still see the Rookery in my mind’s eye overshadowing everything, a ramshackle, ten story maze of slum housing run by criminal gangs. My childhood home, gone, as if it had never existed.

The Shrine was a small open-ended, shed-like building housing a weather-worn statue of a woman in blue holding a baby, something to do with one of the Christian sects, I think. A couple of sad little candles flickered under the statue’s serene gaze.

“I bet she brings back memories, lad…or should I be calling you ‘My Lord’ now?” The priest held out his arm and I grasped it, genuinely pleased to see my former mentor. He didn’t seem to have changed since I’d last seen him, he even appeared to be wearing the same tatty old robe.

“You may call me George,” I said quietly in my best Imperial manner, Father Leo looked at me, shock showing on his face. I grinned. He smiled and relaxed.

“You almost had me there, here, come round the back, you need to wear something a little less… Fifth level.” He took me around the back of the shrine and unlocked a battered door. When I’d been younger there had been a lot of speculation between us street kids about what had been behind this never-opened door. Chests of stolen gold, a secret Gateway to Earth, or a dungeon where Father Leo locked up the really naughty kids.

In reality it was a small, dusty room with a sink in one corner and a cupboard in the other. Father Leo opened the cupboard and took out a robe and handed it to me. It was a Druid robe, I looked at the tatty grey garment that had been washed many times. It looked, felt, and even smelt genuine.

“That’s the real deal, no mucker will look at you twice.”

“Except for other Druids. Do you know what Druids do to people who impersonate Druids?” I said, Father Leo grinned at me.

“Don’t shit yourself, this was all set up through the Druids; they provided the threads. I’m only involved as a go-between.”

“So this isn’t anything to do with you?” I asked, suddenly wary. I trusted Father Leo as far as I’d trust anyone these days but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t using him for their own ends and I was suddenly very glad of the four discreet palace guards shadowing me.

“Relax George, this is all straight, I’ve known the sybil who set this up for yonks. There’s a Sick at the pool you need to talk to, they was injured bad in the recent unpleasantness.”

“Who?”

“No idea, I was just told the fate of the Empire depends on what this sick has to say to you, and it has to be you.” I sighed, took off my jacket and quickly donned the robe but not before Father Leo noticed my Earth-made body armour.

“Nice to see you’re all wrapped up warm on a summer’s day.” Father Leo commented as he led me down a back alley in the approximate direction of the Sacred Pool.

“Well, I’ve been treading on a few toes, street kids ain’t meant to make it all the way to the top. I’m only alive ‘cos no other sucker wants my job.” I replied, easily slipping back into the street cant of my youth. Father Leo stopped abruptly and turned to face me. He was almost a head shorter than I was, but he was still right up in my face and I remembered, back in the bad old days, not even the worst of the gangs dared cross him.

“Listen George, the nobles may think you’re scum but down here you’re a fucking hero, you’re one of my lads and my lads are everywhere.” I nodded, wondering, not for the first time, how many street kids Father Leo had educated, how many he had negotiated apprenticeships for, how many had become Craft Masters, Priests, Guards, or wormed their way into the Empire’s bureaucracy. I may have reached the very top of the slippery pole, more through luck than ruthless ambition, but I was willing to bet there were quite a few not far behind, especially now the Guilds were acquiring real power.

“You may be shaking at every shadow but you are safer down here than you would be in your nice comfy bed, especially now your nice posh boyfriend is no longer around to protect you.” I turned, the rage I’d kept in check since Marcus died, flared.

“My nice posh fucking boyfriend as you call him was your Emperor. He was going to change the world…” The rage suddenly drained out of me as quickly as it had come, “It was a stupid pointless death… we were going to be married the next day… and I loved him.” I felt myself sob and I pulled it in. This was not the time or place for grief. Father Leo who patted my arm. To my surprise he didn’t seem angry or even surprised, just sad.

“Sorry lad, we’ve all lost loved ones. Just remember when those arseholes up the palace are looking at you like shit on their shoes there are ten thousand of us down here cheering you on.” he said, then straightened up, “so let’s go see this Sick who wants to see you so bad.”

The buildings and even the street layout had changed beyond recognition around the high walls of the Sacred Pool since I’d last been here. Where there had once been rubbish strewn alleys right up to the front of the main gates there was now a large bustling market around a memorial to those who’d died in the Civil War.

This had been where a Father Amos, a rebellious, foul-mouthed, warrior priest from the Militant Order of the Church had ignored his orders to protect the High Temple on the Fourth level and instead brought the church forces down to the First Level to protect the Druid’s Sacred Pool and the Healing Rooms from the madness sweeping through the City. Not even eight years old, I’d fought side by side with that glorious bastard, swept up in the chaos, fighting for our lives as the world burned around us. Almost everyone I knew had died, including my family who’d most likely died a horrible, fiery death when the Rookery burned.

I’d been there, standing with Father Amos as he’d broken his sword and renounced violence. A few weeks later he’d been made Bishop and I’d found myself with a powerful patron whose no-nonsense attitude struck a chord with the then Emperor.

The Bishop found me a place in his retinue as a junior secretary, then a couple of years or so later the Emperor mentioned his son and heir, Prince Marcus, could use some help with the paperwork and perhaps a bit of companionship of someone close to his own age. The Bishop recommended me. Maybe he knew Marcus’ sexuality before even Marcus did, maybe he just wanted a man on the inside. Whatever his reasoning it ended up as a rags to riches fairy tale with a tragic ending. There was never going to be a happily ever after for us now.

Marcus always claimed he fell in love with me from the first moment he saw me. I thought he was just a horny young noble. I was just a servant, and I didn’t really want to be that servant so I resisted Marcus’ advances, more or less, for almost a year before succumbing to his charms.

He was, when all was said and done, an actual Prince, heir to the throne of Midriver and, despite myself I fancied him rotten. When I’d pointed out my lowly origins, he’d laughed and promised me a Dukedom just as soon as he became Emperor. It’s not every day a lad from the Rookery gets an offer like that, not that I ever expected him to make good on it.

A year later his father was murdered by the Iron Brotherhood and he ascended the throne. He made me Speaker of the Lord’s Council. Not quite a Dukedom but certainly moving in the right direction, with the added bonus of being able to boss the entire Council of Lords around and I’m not even going to mention the almost offensively large amounts of money the position paid.

Then, on the anniversary of his father’s death, the day before we were due to marry, Marcus was killed, a stupid, tragic accident, hit by a ricochet from his own gun. Admittedly he was being held hostage at the time and he did manage to blow half his captor’s face off with the same bullet, but still, it’s the sort of thing that makes you want to scream out loud at the universe and throw yourself off a convenient battlement.

Instead, while the government was in disarray, before Marcus’ body even had time to cool, I’d taken control. I’d reconvened the long adjourned The High Council that had advised the Emperors of old and chosen their successors. To my surprise its reinstatement had been met with almost universal approval, especially by the new council members whom I’d bullied, cajoled and bribed to put Marcus’ radical plans for bringing democracy to the Empire into motion and somehow, despite everything, I’d managed to hold the Empire together for nearly a season.

“Come on lad, don’t dawdle,” Father Leo said, sounding just like he had when I was a kid. I couldn’t help grinning. The de facto Duke of Bergraz I might now be, but to Father Leo I suspected I’d always be the kid that came up with the ideas that got all the other kids into trouble.

My old teacher ignored the busy main entrance of the Sacred Pool and led me down a narrow alley. I glanced back to check at least one of my discrete bodyguards was still in sight, then followed him. Halfway down the alley was a battered wooden door. Father Leo knocked on it once and it was promptly opened by a middle-aged woman wearing Druid Healer robes.

“Allo darlin’ looking for a good sermon,” Father Leo leered at the Healer.

“Go stick a holy book up your arse, Godbotherer,” the Druid replied pleasantly. “Actually, we had someone who tried that the other day, it didn’t end well.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to put anything you’d actually want to reread up there,” I said. There was a pause as two of them just looked at me.

“I told you I’d get him here, Mavis. Where’s the Sick?”

“I never doubted your contacts for a moment, Leo. But you can’t come, whatever the patient has to say, it is not for your ears.”

“Fine. I’ll stay out here in this alley and get mugged, shall I?”

“Well, if you really want to. Just try not to get blood everywhere. Or you could wait out front in the market.” The Healer slammed the door in Father Leo’s face and gave me a grin.

“By the Goddess, I just love winding him up, come on, there is someone here who really wants to talk to you.” The Healer led me through a maze of corridors to the back of the Sacred Pool where she knocked on a door and looked up at me, a worried expression on her face.

“Whatever he has to say, please don’t hurt him, we’ve only just fixed him. And we quite like him.”

“Okay…” I said frowning, wondering who exactly was behind the door. I opened it and stepped into a bright airy classroom lit by skylights. There was a small table piled with books and papers, an artist’s easel with a half-finished painting of a boat on it, and in a corner, a narrow bed. On one of the chairs a stick thin figure wrapped in a blanket sat reading a book. The figure looked up at me and I gasped in shock.

“You… you died.” I blurted out.

“Yeah, but I got better. Hello George,” Marcus said, a ghost of his old smile flitting across his sunken features.

“I saw you buried,” I stammered. The last time I’d seen Marcus he’d been in his coffin, his features grey and… mask like.

“That wasn’t me, just some poor bugger in a mask, it’s not like there was any shortage of bodies lying about.”

“Mother Stephanie, the most senior Healer on the Druid’s Council and the actual Goddess of the River both confirmed your death.” I continued, unable to believe the evidence of my own eyes. Marcus sighed.

“I was dead for just long enough for Her Holiness to convince Mother Stephanie that I was dead. When she left, Her Holiness somehow brought me back to life, healed me enough to keep me alive and had me brought here with all the other wounded. I never asked for this George, I really didn’t.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone you were alive?” I asked. Marcus put his hand in his pocket and brought out a sealed bag made from pure, clear Earth plastic with EVIDENCE BAG printed in blue across the top, inside were two small gold-coloured cylinders flecked with a rusty brown, one of them was half the size of the other.

“Both of those were pulled out of me. I only fired one of them.”

“They are bullets?” I asked, my mind racing.

“Yeah, the smaller one was the one I fired, it went through Bonner’s face, bounced off the ceiling, hit me in the back and went into my lungs.” Marcus pulled the blanket away to reveal his back. Once he’d been, if not plump, then well fed. Now he was so skinny I could count every rib and vertebrae, and even after almost a season there was a livid scar, pale and ghost-like against his dark skin, across the middle of his back. I winced

“Ouch, that looks nasty,”

“It got infected, I’ve been at death’s door for… well, what date is it? They won’t even tell me that, they said they didn’t want to upset me.”

“The 173rd Summer.” I told him.

“Holy fucking shit. That long? It’s almost Samhain.”

“Yeah, I know. What about the other bullet, where did that come from?”

“I’ve no idea, that’s the problem. it hit me right in the chest, from the front I think, it looks like it hit where my heart is… but it couldn’t have been…” Marcus revealed his bony chest. Compared with the damage to his back, the scar was large but neat and looked long healed.

I’d heard the rumours of course, sick people around Her Holiness suddenly got better in ways that other Healers weren’t able to explain, or even attribute to her access to Earth technology. I’d never heard any mention of her bringing anyone back from the dead though. Not until now.

Then I went cold, realising who’d been standing in front of Marcus when he’d been shot. Brand had never explained fully what had happened in that room above the unicorn stables and he was the only eyewitness, the one person who could have taken the throne without out a murmur of protest… and yet he’d declined, smashing the crown of the Midriver Emperors in front of me and the entire High Council.

“Did Brand shoot you?” I asked. Marcus grinned, shook his head and I breathed again.

“You are so paranoid sometimes, George. He was in front of me negotiating with Bonner and Bonner wasn’t stupid enough to let our friendly neighbourhood Dragonslayer have anything in his hands. No, I shot Bonner, then grabbed his arm. Something hit me in the chest and I’m on the floor trying to breathe. The next thing I know I’m in one of the rooms in the palace, Her Holiness and Lord Xavier were there, having one of those arguments, you know the ones, when your parents are trying to stay quiet, so no one hears.”

“My parents never had an argument without trying to share it with the whole of the Rookery.” I said, trying to smile but I just felt numb. Marcus gave me his ghostly smile.

“Lord Xavier was not happy with Her Holiness but he would never go against her, and he knows it.”

“Who knows you are alive?”

“As far as I know, it's just them. The Druids will be discharging me tomorrow. Want to elope to Earth and get married…?” I looked at Marcus in shock and amazement, he caught my look and trailed off.

“What? I’m not about to march back and ask for my throne back, am I. Who’s ruling now anyway? Brand? Blodwyn? Little Gord...?” Then he looked at me, his face fell, and he seemed to shrink into himself as he saw my reaction. “Or are you not interested in me now I can’t give you anything?” I shook my head feeling tears prick my eyes.

“Marc, there is no Emperor. Madoc is Regent and the Empire is only holding together because I am there holding it together with your memory. Have the Druids not told you anything?” I sobbed, unable to hold the tears back any longer as Marcus just sat there, looking accusingly at me.

“No, the fuckers insist me knowing about the outside world won’t help me heal. I did find out about my sister’s wedding, although I think I’d have heard about that even if I’d been dead and buried. I heard about the elections too, but why aren’t Brand and Blod ruling? What’s happened to them? Is Gord okay?”

“As far as I know they are fine, they should be in Selamu Alu by now.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice but failed.

“They’ve abandoned the Empire. Why?” For the first time I got a glimpse of the old Marcus, the Marcus angry at the world, the Marcus I’d fallen in love with. I resisted a sudden urge to sweep him up into my arms.

“You are not the only member of the Royal family to come back from the dead. Our very loyal Commander of the Guard somehow forgot to mention Brand’s daddy, the late and unlamented Butcher of Bergraz, somehow survived the Civil War, as did Brand’s brothers and sister. No doubt they will all have spawned by now so there’s probably a whole tribe of them, all with impeccable claims to the throne.”

“Father always suspected he was alive, I thought it was just wishful thinking on his part. I thought you were fine with Lord Gordon’s rehabilitation.”

“Only while he was safely dead and even then it was only to keep Brand sweet. I don’t want to see him standing where you once stood, living in your rooms…” I took a deep breath and realised I was crying again. Marcus took my hand, then awkwardly held me as I collapsed into my seat, great sobs racking my body.

“It’s been so hard without you,” I sobbed, trying to bring myself back under control.

“I bet it has,” Marcus said in his blandest voice. I looked up at him, looking at me as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Despite everything I couldn’t help smiling through my tears.

“I’m glad you’re still alive,” I finally managed to say, annoyed with myself for not saying it earlier.

“So am I… The question is, what are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know. Find out whoever was behind trying to kill you, nail the bastards, then plan your triumphant return…” I started, Marcus let go of me and took a step back.

“George, I don’t want to be Emperor, I never wanted to be Emperor.” Marcus said. I took a deep breath and the briefly held dream of Marcus sitting on the throne again faded.

“Then what do you propose we do?” I asked. A brief vision of Marcus moving into my rooms in the Royal Apartments as my lover took hold before I rejected it out of hand. There were people I saw every day who’d known Marcus since he was a baby. People who knew and loved him, who’d mourned him as much as I had. People who’d recognise him in an instant. Quite a few of them made good money from selling rumours and gossip.

“Fuck the Empire. We’ll elope. Give Her Holiness a call. If she sends the Raptor, we can journey up the river in style. We could be living on Earth in a few days.” I looked at Marcus and shook my head resisting the temptation to just walk out on everything.

“I’m sorry Marc, I can’t do that. When I said I was holding the Empire together I wasn’t boasting. I’ve reinstated the High Council and I’m the Chair. If I disappear Madoc is going to think he can take over. He’s a traditionalist, he’d like nothing more than to pretend the elections never happened and kick the Guildmasters out of the High Council, then the shit would really hit the fan. It would lead to another civil war...”

“Fuck. The clueless fucker would do it too, he really has no concept of how much power the Guilds hold now. You really are stuck here.” Marcus said, falling back into his chair looking tired and ill.

“Only until Brand returns, with or without his daddy in tow, I have no intention of staying here once there’s a new Emperor.”

“That’s going to take another season, at least. I can’t stay in Bergraz. Too many people here know me too well. That’s why I wanted to go to Earth. There’d be no chance of me being recognised there.” Marcus said. I sighed.

“You can’t even do that at the moment. Lord Xavier and Her Holiness aren’t even on this planet. They are on Earth, somewhere called Floor Rida, searching for the Gateway to the Iron Mountain. You were the one who gave Lord Xavier permission to raise a force to annihilate the Iron Brotherhood, once and for all.” I paused as I considered the practicalities of moving to Earth. “What would we even do on Earth anyway? For money I mean. I don’t think there are many job vacancies for Emperors over there... although their Queen is very old…”

“I don’t know but I can’t stay here, they are going to discharge me tomorrow and I have nowhere to go…” Marcus said, starting to panic. I thought for a second, then pulled out my phone.

“I’ll give Sorgi a call, if anyone knows how to smuggle someone out of Bergraz and keep them hidden, he does. And he owes me a favour.”