B3 Chapter 62: The Wonderful World of Politics
B3 Chapter 62: The Wonderful World of Politics
The senate chambers were nestled deep in the center of the sprawling woodland city, among a cluster of other administrative buildings that ringed the central forum. Its tall, relatively plain walls gave the impression of a large wooden box that had simply sprang up from the ground, save for the massive roots that ringed its base.
“It is not the original Curia, as you may imagine,” King Glendale explained as they approached. “Merely an imitation of the original, grown and established after the fall of the empire.”
“I see,” Tiberius said simply. Iladrien had given him a brief overview of elvish history, but this seemed a good opportunity to glean additional details. “And your senators? Are they the same as when the empire fell?”
“Ah.” The king’s lips quirked in the suggestion of a smile. “A reasonable question, given our lifespan. In short… No. Not quite. Our country continued to rule itself in the manner of a province for a few hundred years after Rome’s initial destruction. However, it was eventually decided that a restructuring would be required—both for the longevity of our people and adherence to the old ways. Only then were the majority of our senators appointed to the post.”
The answer elicited a nod from the emperor. “Am I correct to assume that these positions remain lifetime appointments?”
The elven king smiled. “Indeed, they are. Quite a different prospect for a long-lived race such as ours. Yet even elves do not live forever, and given the rarity of children among our people… We are not particularly flush with options where early retirement is an option. However, there are a handful of senators who recall the age of the empire’s breaking.”
Tiberius nodded along as the old king explained their governing system. There were other changes as well, in particular with regard to the requirements to earn citizenship, which took significantly more time and effort, given elven longevity. It seemed they had indeed adapted their culture to create a miniature Rome. Of course, it came with many compromises borne of necessity, given the physiological differences between the races. But it appeared that they’d taken much of it in stride.
Still, Tiberius wondered. For all of their efforts to replicate Rome’s successes, had such efforts also come with the same issues? He wondered how long a senator actually served on average. Given the long lives of elves, perhaps it was possible that most of the turnover wasn’t due to old age at all, but something more nefarious. It was not something he wished to ask about directly, though.
“And you?” Tiberius queried. “Is the role of king also a life appointment?”
Glendale chuckled. “I suppose I do look as old as the trees themselves, do I not? No. I was merely a sapling when the pieces of the old empire scattered to the winds. I was bestowed this title by the senate two hundred years ago, when the last king stepped down after his allotted time.”
“Truly?” Tiberius couldn’t help but express a hint of disbelief. “And this transfer of power was peaceful?”
“Indeed. Such things must be, if we are to survive.” Glendale’s tone turned grave.
“Make no mistake by assuming all have been similarly bloodless,” Fenwyn spoke up for the first time since they'd begun to walk. “Our history is not wanting for those who proved unwilling to abdicate their thrones when the time came.”
The king’s eyes flicked toward her. “The high priestess speaks true, unfortunately. Yet such episodes are the exception rather than the rule.”
The fact that peaceful transitions happened at all was astonishing in itself. It was the largest departure from Roman culture that he’d seen, in many ways. Tiberius wondered where those retired kings went. Perhaps they served as advisors? He somehow doubted that such a position would be easy to acclimate to for a prideful man. Then again, perhaps the truly prideful ones were those who did not relinquish their rule.
He turned to the priestess. “And what of the gods? You worship Ceres, and it is clear that your people are aware of at least some of the others. Do they, too, have temples here?”
Fenwyn’s expression grew somber. “Some do. However, they are husks of their former selves. The voices of the gods no longer grace their halls or accept our prayers of supplication. None, that is, save Ceres. The lady of the harvest alone has remained to watch over and protect us, sheltering our people within her forest. Though her voice is weakened greatly, the face that her boughs hide us still serves as proof of her presence.”
“At this point, many of those temples serve as historical monuments rather than sites of worship,” the king elaborated. “Though I have heard that may no longer be the case.”
Their conversation was put on hold as they neared the Curia. As they approached the gnarled front steps, King Glendale and High Priestess Fenwyn took up positions just behind Tiberius’s flanks in places of honor. A pair of elven guards stepped forward to push open the doors, and the trio stepped inside.
The interior of the Curia remained a relatively simple affair, at least in construction. Long rows of tiered seats lined the hall on either side, with a wide space between them where speakers would address the senators. The seats themselves were hardly visible beneath the dense assembly of white-clad figures that packed them. At the opposite end of the hall sat a wide and slightly raised platform of polished wood, atop which stood a single empty throne.
However, the relative lack of furnishings was made up for in sheer decoration. A ceiling of flowers clustered in colorful bursts reminiscent of stained glass. The walls themselves bore decorative whorls and elegant geometric patterns wrought from branches, the decorations more clearly intentional than most seen throughout the city.
Despite the clear differences, it was a familiar sight to Tiberius, who had spent many days amongst his fellow senators in such accommodations. It brought back memories. Perhaps not entirely fond ones, but memories nonetheless.
“Announcing Emperor Tiberius Rufius Maro, King Valden Glendale, and high priestess Fenwyn Dreysus!”
The trio's entry prompted the gathered senators to stand and applaud, togas draping their figures. Tiberius stopped in the middle of the room, not making for the throne quite yet. Instead, he turned to regard the assembly. “Senators. It is a pleasure to stand before you.”
NovelFire is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“Hail, Emperor Tiberius,” one of the older elves replied in a reedy voice. “The pleasure is ours. It brings my heart much joy to see one worthy of donning the laurel crown once more.”
Tiberius inclined his head slightly, the crown glinting as he did. “Bearing it is an honor, as is the trust that you have put in me as emperor and leader.”
“Trust? Pah.” Another surprisingly grumpy-looking senator spoke up from the side. “These fools were so eager to shove that responsibility off, they would have crowned a raccoon if they could.”
“You dare disrespect the emperor?” Another cried.
“I do no such thing. The only ones I’m disrespecting are the hotheads who leaped at the chance to kick our soldiers out of the nest. Honestly…”
“It was agreed upon by the senate, Celus.”
“Not unanimously.”
“Unanimously? By the gods, man, since when have we ever decided anything unanimously?”
Tiberius held his peace as voices shouted at each other. Despite the increasing fervor of the words, the senators did maintain some level of decorum. But it seemed that even the elves were not immune to such squabbles. The realization had him hiding a smile.
The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted what was quickly turning into a full-on argument. One of the younger-looking senators smiled disarmingly. “Now, now. Let us not spoil such a joyous occasion with such antics. Rather, would it not be better to yield the floor to the emperor? I am certain there is much that he wishes to discuss.”
The elf turned his smile on Tiberius as the crowd of senators fell silent, waiting expectantly. Tiberius simply nodded. “Indeed. Let us speak of the present first. Then we will discuss the future of Rome and your people's role in it.”
***
Mars gazed down from his throne at the puny speck of a world far below. The cries of battle sung in his ears, carrying easily across the vast distance as his Legionnaires battled their latest foe.
He breathed in the wisps of golden energy drifting up toward him. The conflict invigorated him. Sustained him. Even more so than the offerings offered in his name.
Each day, his power grew. Each day, he grew one step closer to his former glory.
Yet as he watched, he felt something. A brief wisp of a presence, as though some inscrutable veil had been brushed aside for a mere moment. It felt… familiar.
Frowning, he searched for its source. Rather than fleeing into obscurity, the presence seemed to welcome him, reaching back until they made contact.
The sky around Mars disappeared as a thick canopy of emerald leaves burst forth. Tall shafts of wheat and grains erupted across the ground as it cracked with the intensity of their sprouting. The scent of sweet fruit and honey filled the air in a heady perfume.
Mars stood tall and confident. As the display neared him, he briefly flexed his own presence to bring the approaching forest to heel, the ground beneath his own feet remaining a slab of smooth marble. It did not push further, and he sensed no malice or aggression in its growth. Simply a desire to expand—something he understood quite well.
A moment later, a figure emerged from between the tall stalks of wheat. She was an older woman, with wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and a few streaks of gray shooting through brown hair topped with a wheat crown. A modest toga, the color of the fields, draped her figure and rustled slightly with a sourceless breeze.
She smiled with the warmth of the summer sun. “Nephew. It is good to see that you’ve finally awakened.”
Mars returned the smile. “Aunt Ceres. It has been too long.”
Among all of the gods in the pantheon, there were few that Mars respected quite as much as Ceres. The goddess of the harvest played quite an important role in keeping all fed, not just the common populace. Few blessings were as valuable to an army as that of a full belly, and few curses as severe as an empty one.
The elderly woman scoffed. “‘Too long,’ he says. You have quite the nerve to say such things, young man. Especially when you were asleep for most of these past millennia.”
Mars chuckled softly. Perhaps her domain wasn’t the only reason he got along well with Ceres.
“You speak as if you were not,” he replied questioningly. And indeed, something seemed strange. Her power seemed far greater than he would have expected, almost on par with his own. It was still a far cry from what he recalled as her full strength, but still…
“That is because it is true.” She smiled again. “I remained awake, though not without cost. I sheltered with the remnants of the little ones, hiding us all away from scrutiny until the time was ripe to reemerge. And it seems that time has finally come.”
That certainly explained a few things. Yet it still brought a frown to his lips. “You abandoned the fight. You abandoned your family.”
The wind stopped. The wheat stood at attention, its tips pointing to the sky like manifold spears. Ceres’s expression turned serious. “The opposition was strong enough to defeat you, your father, and all the rest. Even hundreds of years after their victory, they continued to hunt and kill any who dared utter the names of our pantheon’s gods. No. I did not ‘hide’ to cling to what meager scraps of power I could. I hid to better ensure a future for Rome’s people and our pantheon. Something which you have already reaped the fruits of, boy.”
The pair stared each other down for a long moment. Then, Mars nodded. “I see. I meant no disrespect.”
Ceres scoffed. “You most certainly did. But I’ll forgive you this time.” The stalks began to rustle once more as Ceres’s smile returned. “It does warm my heart to finally see you all once more. Perhaps this time, things will be different.”
Mars nodded gravely. “They will be. I do not intend to allow those who opposed us to go unpunished.” He looked around the space. “Are you aware of any other gods who have similarly hidden away?”
“Just one!”
A new, boyish voice rang out from high above. Mars’s head snapped up just in time to see two goatlike hooves descending from above, landing gracefully amidst the field of wheat. The figure’s bare chest and chin were absolutely covered with thick curly hair like a sheep’s coat. Two horns sprouted from either side of his head to frame a grinning face.
Mars’s mood soured immediately as he scowled. “Faunus.”
“Please, please. Hold your applause.” The jovial goat chuckled. “Wow, did it get chilly in here, or is it just me?”
Mars turned to the harvest goddess. “Why him?”
“Hey, I’m right here, y’know!”
“Our domains work well together,” Ceres explained patiently, ignoring the goat. “And given the beliefs and values of the elven people, he has proved quite beneficial in subsuming any nature gods that crop up in opposition among them.”
“That’s right!” Faunus thrust out his chest proudly. “I’m not just Faunus, you see. I’m also Roanoke, the god of bears, Sylentha, the god of snakes, Argo, the god of deer—he and I actually got along as buddies for a while, until he tried to backstab me, of course. I mean, really. Who’dve expected it from a deer god?”
“Such worship would have threatened the secrecy of my veil.” Ceres continued. “And you of all people should know how important it is to understand one’s foe. A controlled opposition is far more favorable than an untamed one.”
Mars could only sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, his aunt had a point. Still… that did not mean he liked it in the slightest.
“What will you do now?”
“Now? Well, I suppose it’s time for me to rejoin the family, is it not? As much as I love my children, I have grown restless, you see.” Ceres’s smile turned as cold as the depths of winter. “And I do believe it is long past due for our enemies to feel the weight of their sins.”
“I’ll say!” Faunus chimed in. “I’ve only got what a few handfuls of elves who care about me? I could use some more worshippers. And some more nature gods to eat, too.”
His eyes sharpened and turned hungry like a wolf’s, the expression incongruous with his appearance. But Mars didn’t allow any unsettlement he felt show. Instead, he nodded. “I believe we are in agreement, then. Come. Let us meet with Father. It is time to take back what is ours.”