B3 Chapter 35: Cleaning House

Tiberius resisted the urge to shift on his throne. It was astonishingly uncomfortable. Not for lack of trying—the regal seat was positively piled with padding and elaborately stitched cushions that made him feel as though he were sinking into a cloud.

But the sheer amount of the stuff was so excessive that it wrapped right back around to being problematic. It made him worry that he wouldn’t be able to navigate to his feet when he needed to stand. Not to mention that the decadence itself filled him with a deep discomfort.

The irony was not lost on Tiberius. But still, it was a throne.

He shifted atop the mountain of pillows and considered how far he’d come. This was a position he’d never thought to be in, though it would be lying to say that he’d never seriously considered the possibility. Even before arriving in this world, the thought had crossed his mind. Not that he’d had the political capital to act on it. Not quite.

If things had gone to shit back in Rome, perhaps it would have come to that. But here in Novara, he had no such moral qualms. The throne was all too easy for him to take.

To either side of the hall stood a combination of Legion officers and the Novaran nobles that had chosen to swear fealty to Rome. Before him knelt a sweaty, balding man decked out in all manner of finery and rich clothes. Legionnaire guards flanked him on either side. His face was contorted in impotent rage as they locked on Tiberius—or rather, the throne that Tiberius sat upon.

“Gerald Antinori,” Gaius began, reading off a long scroll. “You are charged with the following crimes: Embezzlement of kingdom funds, conspiring against the noble houses, wrongful stripping of noble titles, unjust imprisonment…”

The list went on and on. The charges were honestly rather irrelevant. The fact that he’d stood against Rome was enough to damn this man to death. Yet there were ways to go about such things. And after speaking with the Duke of Redcliffe and a number of the other nobles, it was agreed that this approach would do much to satisfy the populace.

Gaius finished the list of charges before stepping forward. “What have you to say in your defense?”

“You people are insane,” the deposed Novaran king spat. “You think you can take this country from me? Me? I am the king!”

The man continued to ramble for a minute longer before Tiberius had heard enough. He motioned for silence. When the kneeling man didn’t comply, one of the guards struck him upside the head. That shut his mouth immediately as he whimpered in pain.

Gaius turned to Tiberius. “Emperor? What is your verdict?”

“Guilty.” He spoke without hesitation, the “trial” a mere formality. “I sentence him to death.”

His young Legatus nodded. With a few more words, the doors of the hall swung open and the people inside began filtering out. Tiberius waited for them to leave before following suit—seeing one’s emperor struggle to rise from his throne wouldn’t exactly be the greatest for his image.

They reconvened at a platform that had been erected in front of the castle. A massive crowd of Novarans gathered before it, many jeering and throwing stones or rotten fruit at their former ruler.

Gerald was forced to his knees atop the platform, where Quintus and a few contuberniums of Legionnaires waited. More stood guard at the platform’s base to ensure the crowd didn’t try anything. But given their disposition? He supposed he should be more worried about them trying to kill the former king themselves rather than the Romans.

The man’s rage slowly turned to fear as the reality of his situation set in. Gerald’s wide eyes darted back and forth as he began to blubber and beg for mercy.

Of course, his pleas fell on deaf ears. If he wanted mercy, then he should have done the honorable thing and committed suicide before his trial—though he admittedly hadn’t been given much time to do so. Though from what Tiberius knew of the man, he honestly hadn’t expected that.

Besides, this really was a mercy. The man’s standing as nobility meant that Tiberius wouldn’t crucify him or subject him to any other shameful method of execution. Instead, a simple beheading would do.

At Tiberius’s order, Quintus raised his gladius up high and swung. It arced downward in a flash, neatly parting the king’s head from his body.

The Legionnaires flashed with blinding gold and white light, turning the crowd’s shouts of approval into cries of surprise. But they weren’t the only ones to undergo a change.

[You have successfully seized the kingdom of Novara! You have gained experience. See a Class Stone for territory management options.]

The author’s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He hid a smile. Perhaps his next visit to a class stone wouldn’t be so disappointing after all.

Yet as much as he longed to immediately go and investigate the changes, he restrained himself. There was more work to be done.

After concluding the public execution, Tiberius returned to the castle to do just that. Rather than the throne room, however he instead chose to utilize one of the adjacent rooms for his purposes. The decor remained opulent, but at least it had a more functional chair than that gods-forsaken throne.

A Legionnaire appeared before him, saluting smartly. “Emperor. The men have finished clearing the castle. The remaining staff, nobles, and other individuals we found have been rounded up and imprisoned for the time being.”

Tiberius nodded. “Good. I will see to their fates.”

Given that these people had been ostensibly on the side of the former king, that meant they had stood against the Legion. But what exact form their punishment took would vary.

“Additionaly,” the man continued, “We found prisoners in the dungeon. Many of them. Most are criminals, but many claim to be advisers, nobles, guard captains, and others whose only crime was offending the king. What would you have us do with them?”

He leaned back in his chair and thought. It would be simple to leave them to rot. But if there were as many as the man claimed, then perhaps it would do them good to clear out some of the space. And if they had gotten themselves locked away due to disobeying the king… perhaps their allegiances could be swayed.

He came to a decision. “Interview each of them to determine their abilities, skill sets, and loyalties. I may have use for some of them.”

Simply throwing away assets, especially ones that were well versed in the management of Novara, would be a monumental waste. Not that he expected to keep all of these people around. There were certain to be some whose incompetence had aided in bringing the kingdom to its current state, and others that wouldn’t hesitate to betray Rome. But perhaps some would prove salvageable.

“… Include Marcus in the interviews,” Tiberius continued after a moment of thought. The bard’s ability to read people might come in handy in a situation such as this. Not to mention that he might be familiar with some of the imprisoned court members.

“Yes, sir.” The Legionnaire saluted. But rather then running off to do as he was bid, the man hesitated as though he had more to say. Tiberius raised an eyebrow.

“There is one more matter, emperor,” the man admitted. “That of the royal family. Specifically, the former king’s daughters…”

***

“So, the emperor requested my assistance in working with the prisoners?” Marcus clarified with the Legionnaire leading him.

“That’s right.”

“Then wouldn’t it make more sense for us to make our way to the dungeons?” Marcus gestured behind them. “If I recall correctly, they were located in that direction. Unless you lot have already done some quite impressive restructuring.”

The Legionnaire chuckled. “No, nothing that major. Not yet, at least. As it turns out, there are a few prisoners located elsewhere.”

Marcus frowned. While it was true that there were a few more comfortable accommodations for noble prisoners in the towers, the fact that they would start with those surprised him. Surely Tiberius would be more interested in the functionaries and other officials that were directly responsible for the day-to-day operations of the kingdom.

They began heading up a set of winding stairs, making idle talk as they moved. Marcus had spoken with this particular Legionnaire a number of times and found him to be a rather pleasant fellow—considerably more laid back and agreeable than the majority of his brethren. He wouldn’t have called them friends by any means, but Marcus had found himself by this man’s campfire or drinking alongside his contubernium a disproportionate number of times. His appreciation for music certainly helped as well.

“All right,” the Legionnaire said as the end of the latest staircase came into sight. “Looks like we’re just about here.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed more deeply. A glance out a nearby window confirmed that this was the top of the tower they’d been climbing—though the exertion had tired him less than expected. Who could be so important as to justify imprisonment here?

The Legionnaire fished a key out of his pouch. “So for these two, we mostly just want you to help verify their identities. The others will be a bit more complicated, since the emperor wants to know how likely they are to betray Rome. But the guys and I thought it best to start off simple.”

“You still haven’t told me whose identity I’ll be verifying,” Marcus pointed out.

The other man grinned. “Well… these two claim to be princesses.”

Marcus felt his heart stop as the soldier rapped on the door. The world around him seemed to slow to a crawl as it was thrown open.

A pair of two identical women occupied a table at the center of the chamber, both of them primly picking away at plates of food. Although merely calling them “women” was as insufficient as calling the radiant form of a phoenix a simple bird.

Hair of finely spun gold fell down their backs in waterfalls, with a few resplendent strands braided into circlets that crowned their heads. Fine features that the greatest of artists would only dream of putting to paper characterized their perfect skin. They sat with regal poise befitting of their stations, the very picture of class.

It was a level of beauty that inspired men to compose their greatest works. Him included.

Their eyes rose to meet his as the door opened, then widened further in shock. Both women shot to their feet.

“Marcus!” they exclaimed in the eerie unison they often spoke in. “You’re alive!”

The twin princesses rushed toward him, their food forgotten in an instant. It was at that point that he noticed their physiques. Neither princess had the gaunt or slightly withered look about them that one might expect from a prisoner, even ones as well treated as them. Instead, they looked more radiant than ever. In fact, it seemed that they’d actually gained a bit of weight. Especially in the belly area.

Both princesses wrapped about him in a crushing hug as Marcus fixed a broad grin to his face. For once, he was caught entirely off balance. But there was no way he’d let them see that. Or the Legionnaire that was currently grinning with obvious amusement.

“Well,” Marcus managed past his constricted ribcage. “You found the princesses, all right.”

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