Chapter 2
October 12, 2241: Centauri Imperial Palace, Centauri Prime
The Centauri Imperial Palace is often considered the best in Centauri architecture, landscaping, and ornamentation. The soaring walls of formian stone, once thought to be the hardest substance in the known galaxy, glisten either by sun or moonlight. The gracefully arched windows of hand-cut and polished rock crystal sparkle with a life all their own. The grounds and gardens have been tended and manicured by the finest horticulturists and arborists for over ten centuries. Countless plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees, both native and others gathered from over a hundred worlds grace the walkways of meticulously placed stone. Within the groves are the rare orez'epau, from distant crystalline Minbar, that 'sings' when the bloom is tapped due to the high crystal content of the plant. Rarest of flowers from Terra is the kadapul that only blooms at midnight and dies with every dawn. In one secluded niche is a single bush, perhaps the only left in the galaxy, of stalimna, whose flower legend says was a favorite of Warmaster Jha'dur from dead burned Omelos.
The glorious flowers, the manicured lawns, the exquisite stonework, none of these could ease the mind of the man walking those paths. Emperor Turhan of the Centauri Republic was troubled. The debacle (some were calling it a massacre) at Quadrant 17 had blossomed into a large more sinister bloom. The call for war, not pretend war but actual war was now ringing across the Republic. One simple speech by a second-tier noble had made all the difference. And now the war Emperor Turhan had hoped to avoid was on his doorstep, much like the man himself, Lord Jentavus Roglark.
Lord Roglark strode across the open courtyard, glancing to the right only once as the colored lights inside the reflecting pool fountains changed colors again, this time to the softer pale blue. This momentary distraction brought Lord Roglark out of his musing and allowed him to hear his footfalls echo off the front of the palace. He was dressed in his uniform of Governor and Admiral of Quadrant 1, complete with his top boots that were adorned with the ankle strap and heel irons. The traditional heel irons struck the occasional spark from the stone walkway. Lord Roglark smiled to himself at the sound of his footfalls. Only officers that had been in command of a capital ship victorious in combat were permitted to wear heel irons. The heel irons were made from small pieces of the ship's armor recovered from either the combat zone or during repairs. It was not uncommon to have new heel irons made from the flagship once flag rank had been attained (though Lord Roglark kept his very first ones for good luck). These current ones were made from the armor of Terhali's Satisfaction, the flagship of Quadrant 1 and House Roglark. Though the tradition was fading, Lord Roglark cherished his; they were a mark of his accomplishments just as much as the medals that jingled on his chest, his admiral's epaulettes, and his Imperial Governor's sash.
Lord Roglark proceeded up the stairs while glancing at the sun to confirm he was precisely on time for his private audience with Emperor Turhan. Though tardiness became fashionable once a Centauri male attained a certain station, Lord Roglark believed a military commander and regional governor was never late when called upon by the Emperor.
At the double doors two Imperial Guardsmen came to attention. Heels clicking together, they saluted him as he approached. They crossed their right fist over and struck the opposite shoulder. Had they been armed with shoulder arms rather than just their short swords, they would have presented arms and crossed the fist over the rifle. Lord Roglark passed between them gravely returning their salute. The doors opened silently and he and stepped into the softly lit foyer.
Silent servants closed the doors behind him. As Lord Roglark's eyes adjusted to the change from the bright daylight to the more subdued lighting in the Palace, he snorted softly and shook his head thinking, "In times of war those Guardsmen should be armed with more than swords. Ion rifles or even the bulky, ancient, yet highly lethal matter guns of Old Emperor Peraini's time."
A Chamberlain rushed in from an adjoining room. He paused to straighten his jacket over his considerable paunch and brush food crumbs from his neck-cloth. His dignity regained, though his flushed face and slight sheen of sweat on his brow detracted from it somewhat, he entered the foyer.
"Greetings Lord Roglark," he said while bowing deeply from the waist, "Our Emperor bids you welcome to his home".
Lord Roglark looked him over, calling on his near photographic memory to place a name to the chubby, florid face and the considerable paunch. "Thank-you Chamberlain Compolo", Lord Roglark replied while returning his bow with a short bob of the head. Allowing the smallest amount of sarcasm to slip into his words he asked, "I hope my arrival did not discommode you too much"?
Compolo smiled indulgently, "Of course not my Lord. I simply assumed since your audience was for midday you would…um…uh…well," he stammered looking nonplussed. He abruptly brightened saying "Well and here you are. Precisely at midday!"
Lord Roglark's eyes narrowed as he allowed steel into his voice, "The Republic is at war with the Narn and Drazi. Time is precious both for the Emperor and myself. I will not waste it celebrating my rank and station."
If anything Compolo's smile grew wider, his manner obsequious, "Most definitely not my Lord. I shall conduct you to our Emperor immediately". Chamberlain Compolo bowed from the waist again. Lord Roglark saw that most of his impressive court-arrayed hair was transplanted. Compolo led Lord Roglark through a doorway down a long hall that was softly lit with candles. Lord Roglark sniffed and caught the scent of terien wax. "Wholly appropriate…" he thought. Terien wax was normally used in temples and the houses of the wealthy as it gave off no smoke, no harsh fumes and burned more than ten times longer than conventional wax. Lord Roglark drank in the architecture, furnishings and decorations. "A veritable panoply for the eyes to caress," he thought.
Lord Roglark had only been in the palace twice before. Most recently was eleven years ago to renew his family's fealty when Lord Turhan became Emperor Turhan. The previous time was as a very young man, little more than a boy really. His father, Lord Quillan Roglark, had presented him to Old Emperor Peraini as his rightful heir as was the tradition. Though it was often a mere formality, all Centauri Emperors had the final say on who was heir to a particular family. Lord Roglark remembered his father's strong hand on his back, guiding him through the network of hallways. Leading him down that long purple carpet bordered in blue to the throne room, the very same purple carpet on which he now walked. Lord Roglark had been drilled and tutored for hours on how to act in front of the Old Emperor, what to say, what to do, and more importantly what not to say or do.
As a boy Lord Roglark had read much Centauri history (his father required a proper appreciation of history), and had read of mad Emperors killing anyone who displeased him. These Emperors sometimes engineered elaborate deaths for simple improper forms of etiquette. Lord Roglark believed, in his boyish way, that he would make some gaffe and be executed by grim-faced Imperial Guardsmen on the spot. Even though he was desperately afraid of meeting the Old Emperor, his father had demanded that he go. Inevitably Lord Roglark had to marshal his courage and meet Old Emperor Peraini.
In the end, he needn't have worried. Somehow his father knew the Old Emperor, and in fact they seemed friends of a sort. The Old Emperor made a show of inspecting his uniform, asking after his mother and brother, even calling him by his birth name, Jentavus. At the time the Old Emperor seemed a jolly old man, perhaps a bit silly. It was years later that Lord Roglark understood: the mild madness that haunted Old Emperor Peraini's later years was on display. Though that madness, and the somehow friendship of the Old Emperor, would benefit House Roglark, it also hindered with the Old Emperor's successor, Emperor Turhan.
Abruptly Chamberlain Compolo turned off down a side hallway. Lord Roglark stopped short, his musing on the past immediately halted. Though he hadn't been in the palace in eleven years his amazing memory did not fail him. He loudly cleared his throat to halt Compolo and said," The throne room is this way," while motioning to the right.
Chamberlain Compolo stopped, turning about with a smug look, "Of course my Lord".
After waiting a moment for Compolo to speak further, Lord Roglark broke the silence, "Then why are you going that way?"
"Why this way lies the Gantz Room of course, my Lord," Compolo replied.
Lord Roglark's eyebrows went up. "And…"
"And the Gantz Room adjoins the garden at the Exotics end," Compolo said with a slightly pitying smile.
Lord Roglark would have liked nothing more than to smack the smile off of Chamberlain Complo's face. He mastered the impulse saying, "The Emperor wishes a private audience away from the throne room? In the private wing? "
Chamberlain Compolo said "Of course my Lord." Compolo's smile changed to a wide-eyed innocent look. "Was it not self-evident?" he asked.
Lord Roglark was about to retort hotly when it clicked. He recognized a play to make him off balance when he saw one, like banter during a duel. Either Chamberlain Compolo was as much of an ass as he seemed, or he was under orders to be this way. Lord Roglark suspected it was a bit of both, but he recognized a test when he saw it. Compolo's manner and attitude were designed to keep him off balance.
Lord Roglark smiled broadly showing all of his teeth. "Excellent! I have never seen the private wing of the palace. Lead on Chamberlain Compolo."
Compolo deflated somewhat at seeing his ruse fail to perturb Lord Roglark. He turned and did indeed lead onward. Lord Roglark took note of his surroundings as he followed. He noticed the change in decoration and furniture as the more public area of the palace was left behind. The styles became older and more chaotic as various periods blended. Even the color of the carpet had changed from the lighter purple bordered in blue to an almost wine-colored crimson. Lord Roglark had a moment of apprehension that he quickly quashed. The 'crimson carpet' had a sinister reputation in Centauri history. Almost the entire private wing of the palace had the same crimson carpet. Often Emperors and nobles past would conduct private audiences and intrigues in these areas. Sometimes carefully assassinating rivals or enemies in the catacomb-like halls and rooms. Legend had it that the crimson carpet had been installed so the bloodstains would not show on the floor. This had given rise to the saying 'commanded to stand upon the carpet' as a euphemism for being slain by enemies. Lord Roglark remembered the Centauri's delight in discovering their good friends from Terra had a similar saying 'to be called on the carpet' though the Terran meaning was somewhat different than the Centauri.
Chamberlain Compolo stopped in front of an ornate door. Picked out in gilt with a gold handle, it looked much the same as any one of a dozen doors Lord Roglark had passed on his journey to the Emperor's inner sanctum. "The Emperor is within my Lord," Compolo said, stepping aside and motioning with his hands for Lord Roglark to enter. Lord Roglark took a moment to make sure his uniform and hair were in proper order. He recalled his boyhood lessons on how to properly honor the Emperor of the Centauri Republic. He then turned the handle, opened the door, and walked into the room beyond.
Inside it was much like a sitting room. Several plush chairs and small tables dotted the room while short couches lined two walls. A wall of windows was opposite the door causing Lord Roglark to squint at the abrupt change in illumination from the dimly lit halls. "Well," Lord Roglark thought, "here are the armed Imperial Guardsmen". Two Guardsmen stood within the room, armed with their traditional short swords and ion rifles. At Lord Roglark's entrance, they came to attention and saluted while clicking their heels together. Lord Roglark acknowledged and returned their salute. The Emperor was not present in this room, yet one of the Imperial Tetrapathy (the Emperor's four telepathic women) was standing in front of a chair near the exit to the garden. Though she seemed poised, Lord Roglark glanced at the chair behind her and realized she must have just stood as he walked into the room. "She must have sensed me beyond the door." Years of training slipped into place as he mentally began to recite a short piece of poetry (a ditty really). It was designed to put up a block to telepathy. All Centauri nobles practiced such things. Though it would not stop a determined scan, it did tend to protect against surface scans or a telepath picking up on easily projected thoughts.
She seemed to smile slightly. "Such green eyes," he thought, "much like my first wife in the blush of womanhood…" She caught his glance, inhaled deeply and truly smiled. Lord Roglark was briefly distracted by the rise and fall of her bosom. "She really is quite attractive. Does the Emperor…value such beauty?" Lord Roglark's mind drifted into the ramifications of that thought, then caught himself. "What am I thinking? I am in the lion's den and here I am thinking of this girl and what I would like to…" Then he realized: while the repetition exercise would block a surface scan, or mask thoughts, it offered no protection from implanted suggestions. "Just another tripwire to distract or test me. Well, I know how to fix this…" He scowled while dredging up a horrific memory from his early military service: the after-effects of some Narn terrorists and a dirty bomb.
The telepath's face blanched as her gaze fell away from him. Lord Roglark crossed his arms and said, "Enough of this. I am commanded here to see the Emperor. Please dear lady, do not waste anymore of his time or mine." He paused as if in thought and said, "Or perhaps you would like to see my thoughts again. Have you ever seen what an oxygen fire in zero gravity looks like? And what it can do to a man?"
She drew back from the door, extending a hand in motion toward it while saying, "The Emperor awaits you in the garden, Lord Roglark." As Lord Roglark passed her she seemed plainer than at first, not as ripe or lush. All thoughts of lust for her were gone. He noticed here eyes were more brown now as well "Ah, it was just glamour…" he thought. He swept past her and stepped back out into the sunlight.
Emperor Turhan was standing before a small flowering shrub, his back to Lord Roglark. Two more Imperial Guardsmen could be seen nearby. As was proper, Guardsmen in the presence of the Emperor did not salute. Though Lord Roglark was not required to, he saluted them. He came to attention a respectful distance from Emperor Turhan, clicking his heels and bowing deeply from the waist, though no more than was required. He said "Your Majesty, I have come as commanded,". He continued to maintain the bow as etiquette required the Emperor to give him leave to rise.
Emperor Turhan turned, motioning with his hand for Lord Roglark to rise. Turhan looked at the man as he straightened and again wondered how best to handle him. Emperor Turhan had already received the reports from one of his female telepaths, Elena. Lord Roglark had shown self-control with the insulting and pompous Chamberlain Compolo, and effectively thought on his feet with his telepath Elena. The tests proved that Lord Roglark's mental skills were as impressive as his purported memory. The rumors of his exceptional memory had been proven as well. Lord Roglark had recognized the proper way to the throne room even though Compolo had been given instructions to take a circuitous route before turning off to the private wing.
"Decisiveness" the thought floated into Turhan's head from both Elena and Ardrella, another member of the quartet of female telepaths. "Strength. Honesty. He will respect you and thus do your bidding with less likelihood of disobedience," they counseled. Emperor Turhan had given no sign that he was receiving suggestions via telepathy. He merely appeared to be gathering his thoughts.
The telepathic conversation had taken only a moment. Emperor Turhan took a deep breath and turned to fully face Lord Roglark. "On time Lord Roglark. Good, we shall need such precision in the coming days." Turhan paused, then turned towards the garden again, "Walk with me," he commanded, and began to walk with his hands clasped behind his back.
Lord Roglark fell into step behind and slightly to Turhan's right as the Emperor began to speak, "Lord Jentavus Roglark, I command you to begin the prosecution of this war. I am informed by Vice Admiral Lord Catus, your Patru, that you have submitted an excellent plan for a strike against the Narn. This is so?"
"It is your Majesty. Does your Majesty wish the details or perhaps a summary?" Lord Roglark replied.
"No I do not," the Emperor said. "The Vice Admiral has agreed to it, and speaks of it in glowing terms. He has given your plan his strongest recommendation. He has also advised adding some Imperial Guard forces to your strike fleet."
Lord Roglark wasn't sure if the last was a statement or a question, "Yes your Majesty."
Turhan continued, "I have allowed these forces released for your use."
Lord Roglark prevented the elation he felt from showing on his face. He bowed again from the waist while saying, "Thank-you your Majesty. Your largesse has increased the chances of the attack succeeding."
Emperor Turhan stopped and turned to face Lord Roglark, "Not guaranteed?"
Lord Roglark straightened and began quoting an axiom taught at the Imperial War College, but also learned by experience, "In war there is only one guarantee your Majesty". Lord Roglark waited to see if the Emperor would finish the axiom. Emperor Turhan stared at him impassively. He realized that the Emperor actually might not know the phrase. "And he leads us in this war…"he thought while mentally shaking his head. Lord Roglark continued, "The only guarantee is that men will die, your Majesty."
"Yes," thought Turhan, "that men will die." Turhan regarded Lord Roglark for a moment as they stood facing each other. He noted in the sunlight that Lord Roglark's uniform was not the typical deep blue of the Navy, but black. "Such devotion," he thought as he remembered Lord Roglark's vow to only wear black publicly until the Buffer Zone was returned to the Republic. "Such devotion to an outdated idea," he thought while mentally shaking his head. "Would that I could convince him to my way of thinking. But then he would not be in the proper place for things to come. "
"Lord Roglark," Turhan said then paused. "I have only one thing to add to your attack plans."
Inwardly Lord Roglark groaned. Emperor Turhan was not a military man. His service had been as short as possible for a future Emperor. Steeling himself for the worst he said, "I am yours to command your Majesty." Lord Roglark even went so far as to make a leap toward diplomacy in the hopes of mitigating any damage to his battle plans and objectives by saying "In what way may I improve my plan to meet your Majesty's wishes?"
"Only in one way Lord Roglark. I noticed several of House Roglark's capital ships detailed for this strike carry mass drivers," Turhan said with the slightest note of disapproval.
Lord Roglark clamped his jaw shut at the Emperor's tone. "The same old argument over using mass drivers. You are Basif to the core Turhan," Lord Roglark thought. "All of House Roglark's battlecruisers field mass drivers your Majesty," he replied.
"And your Octurion-class flagship," Turhan said, "What is its name?"
"She is Terhali's Satisfaction your Majesty," Lord Roglark said, slightly stressing the 'she'. "And yes she carries mass drivers as well. I have found they are the quickest way to reduce bases or other stationary military sites."
"I want you to be precise with your mass driver fire Lord Roglark," Emperor Turhan said. "Surgical hits against military targets."
Lord Roglark wondered for perhaps the thousandth time why those in power today did not understand warfare. "Surgical hits?" he thought. "There are no such things. I suppose if this were Earth Force he would tell me to use the 'gentle' nuclear missiles. "I will be as precise as I can your Majesty. Only targets of military value" he replied.
Even with his limited military experience Emperor Turhan knew what 'targets of military value' meant. He briefly considered placing a formal ban on destroying Narn infrastructure, but then decided against it. It would be less likely that there would be 'accidental' civilian casualties if Turhan gave no formal ban. He would just have to trust Lord Roglark not to get too bloodthirsty.
The Emperor has stopped at a small niche in the palace wall that contained another flowering bush, this one with dark red blooms. He kept his back to Lord Roglark as he said, "Our audience is finished Lord Jentavus Roglark. You are dismissed." He paused then continued, "You are to report directly to Vice Admiral Catus once you leave the palace." When Lord Roglark made no sound, Emperor Turhan added, "That is all. Perhaps we shall meet again upon your return."
Though the Emperor could not see, Lord Roglark appropriately bowed from the waist saying, "Thank-you your Majesty." He backed up the traditionally required three steps. As the Emperor had not chosen to face him, Lord Roglark was free to straighten and turn about as he left. If the Emperor was facing you, it could be a death sentence to show him your back intentionally. His fleet and the Narn base at Kotac waited. But first he must have his meeting with Vice Admiral Lord Catus, his Patru.
Emperor Turhan heard Lord Roglark leave. For a brief moment he was confused at the ringing steps as Lord Roglark crossed a stone walkway, then remembered that he was probably wearing the traditional heel irons on his boots. After that distraction he returned to contemplating the plant in the garden niche. This stalimna plant had been a gift of one of the past Dilgar emperors. Their emperor was only a figurehead, so it was really a gift from the Warmasters that governed Omelos, now dead burned Omelos. There were no more Warmasters. The stalimna was unique in that after a year, soil from Omelos had to be ferried to Centauri Prime or the plant would wither. Whatever was in the native soil had never been replicated. For many years, Dilgar ships had brought the soil so the plant would continue to thrive. Now, at great cost, Centauri ships had to make the long trek to dead Omelos and procure the soil themselves. The yearly ship was due to leave this very day.
And why did they do this: because the plant had been here for so long it was now tradition that the plant should continue to be here. It had thrived under emperors past and thus no one questioned that it should always be here. "How much we do because it is tradition, or expected, or simply because we cannot bear to think that what was yesterday may not be for today."
Emperor Turhan at last allowed the heavy sigh that had been building all morning to escape his chest. He spoke to another that was in the garden, "Lady Morella, have I done the proper thing? Is you vision secure?"
The Lady Morellawalked out of the foliage. She was the Emperor's third wife, but she was more than that. The Lady Morella was a prophetess, a skilled and powerful seer. Her ability to foretell the future was not widely known, even among the court. "Yes my husband, you have done the proper thing. This Lord Roglark will be successful but he will in no way threaten you. He will pick up the colors and shout 'Follow me!' and they will." She paused and sighed, "But in no way does he see himself or his sons wearing the White. By allowing him to charge forth, you will prevent others from taking the glory he will earn and use it against you. Men like Refa and Vezini may try to use this Lord Roglark, but they will not like what results. He is his own man, and loyal to the Republic." She paused before adding, "Though perhaps not to you personally."
Turhan digested this, then asked, "Has your vision of his death changed because of what I did here my Queen?"
She closed here eyes, casting about with her gift. "No, I still see him on the bridge of some vessel. The fires burn all around, there are men lying dead on the deck. He has given some dire command, and is praying it will be successful. He closes his eyes as a great brightness surrounds him... and then he is gone".
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