IdeasGuy
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Legends Never Die: Inspiring Ambition (ch. 107)
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 15:52:44 +0000 UTCIf I had to describe the meeting of two of the most powerful monarchs in midgard in a single word, then my word of voice would be… tense. Or perhaps uncomfortable. If, however, I was allowed two words, then they would be painfully awkward. The ancient senate building was filled with a tension that I could only liken to the feeling of knowing your parents were fighting, and you were wary of even breathing too loudly, fearful it might set them off.
Irene and Charlemagne sat across from one another at a round table, each of them flanked by men of note. Diplomats, administrators, and military men. They each mirrored one another in position in contrast to the other kingdom, with five people, including the monarchs, representing their side. The ten people seated at the table were, in turn, attended by a translator that stood behind them.
Beyond the round table were the guards and Paladins. They arranged themselves in a circle around everyone, checking everything that went by them as servants refreshed goblets of wine or fetched foods to snack on.
As a translator, I stood behind Irene, in constant view of Charlemagne but, for the most part, he seemed determined to ignore my existence. A difficult thing to manage when the meeting actually began with Pope Adrian casting a less than friendly glance in my direction with his nose crinkling as if he had just stepped in shit. “Empress Irene, I'm sure that there are more… suitable choices for a translator we can provide. There is no need to subject yourself with… his presence.”
He uttered the words in Latin, making Irene offer a thin cutting smile that didn't come close to reaching her eyes. “You doubt my translator's ability? You needn't, Pope Adrian. Siegfried is quite skilled- tell me, how many languages do you now speak?” She added, offering a pointed glance at me. She too was speaking Latin with the full expectation that I could understand her.
She knew I could speak Latin. I'm not sure when exactly she figured it out, but she knew.
Well, I supposed it didn't really matter anymore. “I'm in the process of learning my fourteenth,” I answered in Latin, making Pope Adrian shift ever so slightly. He gave himself away by his guard going all the way up. “Frankish and Latin were my third and fourth languages, respectively.”
There was a flicker of surprise in Irene's eyes, but it wasn't that I knew Latin or Frankish. She was surprised by the sheer number of languages I had learned over the past few years. And I had amassed quite a collection, especially when Morrigan began to teach me the language of her home -- Gaelic, as she called it.
That surprise was quickly wiped away as she regarded the Pope with an even look, “Are there any further concerns, or may we begin?” She asked, her tone authoritative and despite being seated at a round table, she projected power to give the impression she was the greatest power at the table.
“No, let us begin,” Charlemagne uttered in Frankish after his own translator quietly translated Irene’s words. He guarded his thoughts well, but I suspected he was taking an approach like one did a troublesome chore -- gritting his teeth and looking to get it over with. “Through letters, we have both discussed the scope of this alliance -- military, politically, and economically -- in the hopes of forming a lasting union with our respective empires.”
I only saw it because I was translating Charlemagne's words, but I saw her clenched her hands at the mention of empires. She didn't like that Charlemagne saw himself as her equal, but her expression betrayed nothing. “Indeed, yet a letter hardly has enough room to detail all of the… particulars,” she noted, and Charlemagne agreed with a small nod.
“Then let us start with how our borders shall meet,” Charlemagne decided and, again, Irene clenched her hands.
“Naturally, as your military strength is currently tied up in Hispania, my armies shall conquer up through the balkans,” Irene uttered, delivering her own dig back at Charlemagne that his Paladins responded to more so than him. There was an anger that seeped into their posture at the reminder that the war wasn't so quick and easy, and that two of their number had perished while another was crippled. It spoke of the tension between the two parties that an otherwise reasonable remark was taken so poorly, something that Irene was aware of.
“Your generosity is boundless, Empress Irene,” Charlemagne replied, unbothered. “Yet, my pride compels me to insist upon a joint effort. A secondary army of twenty thousand can march into the balkans to meet whatever force you see fit to send.” Tell Spotter detected a lie, but it was a small one. Likely about the number of men that he could muster while already having so much of his strength tied up in Hispania.
“A joint effort between allies sounds like the right step forward,” Irene easily agreed, telling me that she already planned on such a thing. “Further details can be discussed between our ministers of war.” And, on cue, Irene's man presented a written out plan to the table. Just as Charlemagne's did and how they differed was obvious.
Mostly in how the spoils would be divided. Naturally, the Franks envisioned a Frankish bureaucracy while the Romans favored a Roman bureaucracy. And that, I think, told me about the uncertainty of both parties were going into this venture.
They were both preparing for failure in securing territory gains for when things fell apart. Rather than treating the gains as a natural extension of both of their borders.
That same hesitation was in everything. When they discussed military matters, the proposed plans favored one side more than the other. When they discussed economic matters -- such as taxation, coins minted, tariffs, trade rights, and more… all of it revealed what everyone already knew. The Frankish Kingdom and the Roman Empire were deeply divided and fundamentally different political and cultural states.
Especially so in regards to the latter. “It is unnatural! A man without a cock can hardly call himself a man!” One Frankish nobleman spat across the table, glaring openly at Staurakios over an argument brewing over.
“Why not? I see a man without balls across from me,” Staurakios shot back without hesitation, making the man flush a furious red when the words were translated. Then, speaking more broadly to the table, “It is a matter of loyalty. I cannot bear children. My legacy shall be my actions in this life, leaving nothing but dust and bones upon my death. I say it is a natural extension of a practice you have already begun, King Charlemagne, with your vice-lordships. A temporary lordship granted by you, by your generosity, upon a eunuch circumvent the most natural problem for such a thing -- the vicelord attempting to secure a position for his children.”
Staurakios was naturally selling the idea, downplaying the negatives. The practice of eunuchs was a puzzling one, and not something I sought to replicate. Because, in the end, the premise was flawed from the start. A man’s ambitions weren’t in his cock and balls, so cutting them away didn't remove that part of himself. There were many who would be content with satisfying the ambitions of this life, and all the more reckless because they wouldn't have children to suffer for the sins of their father. Making a man a eunuch didn't make him trustworthy, something that Rome's own history proved time and time again.
But, I didn't offer my opinion as Charlemagne openly considered the point. Much to the chagrin of his own lords that seemed to fear he planned to unman them here and now.
It was but one of many points that were a source of contention between the alliance and hope of union. Some of those points seemed insurmountable for the task at hand. Something none of them seemed ignorant of as time went by, wine flowed, and so did their opinions. All the while, Pope Adrian acted as something like a balancing force to the whole conversation, but it was fairly clear where his bias was leaning.
Upon the end of the meeting on the first day, my overall impression was…
These people were going to tear each other apart without me needing to do a thing.
…
“Your thoughts, Morrigan?” I asked the raven that once more perched itself upon my shoulder as I gazed out the window to my quarters that were given to me, as well as Empress Irene. True Sight revealed the enemies lurking in the darkness, but they didn't seem to have any real intentions one way or the other -- they were just keeping a close eye on the villa.
In response, Morrigan used a claw to trace runes into my shoulder, telling me what she had seen with her Blessing. The information, for the most part, wasn't really surprising -- both parties were plotting against each other, amongst themselves, all the while brokering secret deals to advance their personal ambitions. Though, Morrigan had noticed something of note.
“They arranged this whole alliance between themselves. It would only be natural for them to work together in secret,” I noted to Morrigan as she scratched the message into my shoulder. I was answered by a light peck at my neck before the scratching resumed. The information wasn't surprising -- Charlemagne and Irene working together in secret to restore the Roman Empire… well, the fact that we were here at all already proved as much.
But, when Morrigan clarified, I felt a knot of tension forming between my shoulder blades.
“Is it performative?” I echoed, my lips thinning. “You think they've already come to terms, then?”
‘Partly. Dislike real. Conflicting plans real. Most compromises already settled.’ Morrigan scratched into my shoulder and I didn't like the idea of that, even if I also didn't find it too surprising. Again, neither monarch would waste the trip unless they were confident that an agreement could be reached. ‘Kill one to advert plans.’
Morrigan’s advice was something I had already considered. Heavily, by this point. I hadn't felt a need to exactly because it was so likely that everything would fall apart without my involvement, but that ‘what if’ was in the back of my mind and it wouldn't leave me be. It would certainly complicate our departure, but if it meant killing this restored Roman Empire in the cradle…
“We'll wait and see,” I decided, petting Morrigan's feathers before turning away from the window.
I did exactly that. I didn't sleep on that first night, but upon the morning, after breaking our fast, the conversation picked up almost exactly where we had left off the night prior. Down the arguments with the same people. I stood back, simply translating the words that were said and watched it all unfold.
I hadn't doubted Morrigan, but seeing was believing, I suppose as the first compromise was spearheaded by Charlemagne and Irene. A border near the middle with Francia claiming more of the shoreline in exchange for the Romans claiming more territory. Neither side was happy with it, but such was the nature of a compromise.
That was but the first as I watched a masterful political play unravel all around me. The decisions started small. Little things that hardly mattered but most refused to compromise on out of a sense of pride. At least, until suddenly one side gave an inch. Which began a back and forth between the parties -- one gave ground on a topic, then, almost as if a favor was being called, that party would give in to the opposing side on something else.
As the second day went on, the meeting felt less like a rudderless ship taking on water. By the third… the meeting had momentum. Men who had been at each others throats just days prior were having civil conversations as the meeting became less formal with far less rigid dividing lines.
It wasn’t Charlemgnes or Irene’s guiding hand at play, not exactly. I’m sure that they had nudged some things one way or the other over the past couple of days. No, what got the meeting actually moving along was one thing and one thing only.
Everyone in the room realized that they stood to benefit if this plan moved forward. Much like a horse, they could be led to water, but they couldn’t be forced to drink. However, with enough time, just as a horse would become thirsty, the squabbling nobles began to plot to secure their own advancement.
Greed was an excellent motivator, I had to admit, and the two monarchs wielded it with mastery.
With the less formal nature of the meeting, I found myself as an outsider once more. Largely because Charlemagne wasn't giving Irene the reaction to my presence she had been looking for, so the insult had worn itself rather thin. Which was how I found myself walking through the streets of Rome with but a handful of guards to accompany me as I decided to explore rather than waste my time pretending I couldn't understand the people around me when they whispered behind my back.
Rome itself was revealing, I thought to myself as I explored beyond the streets that had been carefully selected for us to pass by upon our arrival. I could feel the weight of history in the stone -- how this city had been the beating heart of the Roman Empire for centuries, how it begun a legacy that had endured for a thousand years and would likely endure for a thousand more.
Yet Rome was less than a shadow of its former self. The vast majority of the buildings in the city were abandoned and those that weren't were inhabited by beggars. Rome revealed how empty it was when we could walk down winding streets without seeing a hint of another person. It was said at its height, Rome boasted a population of a million people. A number so vast that I couldn't even imagine what such a crowd would look like.
Now?
Now, I would be surprised to hear if it was inhabited by a hundred thousand people. My guess would be half of that, and of that population, at least a third were beggars and the sickly that came here in the hopes of salvation. It was a saddening sight to see. Especially as I approached the remnants of Rome's former glory.
The Flavian Amphitheater, as it was originally named. Built by Emperor Vespasian, though he would not see its completion. It would take near a decade and an army of slaves to build it, with it being finished by his son. Upon its completion, it earned the title of the Colosseum simply because there was none greater in the world. I had caught a glimpse of it as we were marched by, but now I walked through its ancient gates and into the Colosseum itself, marveling at it.
It was an awe inspiring building. A feat of engineering that hadn't been matched in centuries, I reasoned. I had read the tales about it, but it was another thing entirely to see it myself -- the retractable awnings, the pipe network that allowed the stadium to be filled with water for much sea battles, how there were ramps hidden beneath the sand where gladiators and animals for all corners of the world would be risen up to fight.
A small breath escaped me as I rested my hands on the stone railing. The feeling of jealously was still there, but it was tempered by knowledge. Knowledge that I could build this. That I could do better. It would just take time and work, but I was convinced that I could do better.
Still, I was lost in my thoughts and I noticed someone approaching only when my guards shifted. Glancing over, I was surprised to see the grinning face of Astolfo, who waved a hand with a greeting, “Sieg! You know, for two guys that hate each other, you sure think alike.”
I paused, my gaze flickering to the stadium, “King Charlemagne is here?” That was surprising.
“He needed a breather from the politics, and he wanted to check out the sights. He wants to know why you followed him, but it seems like you two just had the same idea.” Astolfo explained, jabbing a thumb up to the balcony in which the Emperor would sit. Looking up, my gaze met Roland's, who wore a flat expression. “He's invited you to sit with him. If you want.”
I didn't. Not really. A conversation with Charlemagne sounded like a tedious and frustrating thing. But, at the same time…
“... very well,” I decided, making my guards shift as I turned to face Astolfo. Even she seemed surprised that I agreed and, despite the friendship that we shared, she still tightened her grip on her spear.
There was a telling pause between us before Astolfo jerked a hand in a gesture, “Follow me then?” She said, and I nodded. We headed up the stairs towards what would be the Emperor's private balcony. Upon heading up, I saw the door being guarded by two of Charlemagne's Paladins -- Rinaldo and Adrian. Adrian in particular stiffened at our approach, a hand clutching a sword at his belt.
“We'll-” Astolfo started as my guards didn't fail to notice the latent hostility, “-wait out here. So, it'll just be you, Roland, and Charlemagne inside.” She said, and I could tell the others disliked the idea as much as my own guards did. They just didn't have a way to argue without doubting Roland or my abilities.
“Very well. Stand guard here. This shouldn't take long,” I reasoned. I would be right, one way or another.
Astolfo seemed a bit relieved before she opened the door, revealing the balcony where Charlemagne sat in a prepared throne. He wasn't looking at me, instead gazing out at the empty Colosseum while Roland met my gaze, standing next to him with a hand on his sword. Stepping inside, Charlemagne spoke, “I'm surprised you accepted the invitation. I can only think of one reason why you would accept it.”
The door closed behind me and I could feel the tension swelling. Especially as I approached the throne that was seated next to Charlemagne.
“I haven't written that reason off yet,” I admitted, taking a seat next to Charlemagne and with my expanded vision, I saw the corners of his lips curl up ever so slightly.
“You would make a poor assassin,” he offered, none to bothered by the admission. There wasn't a point in hiding it. He had all but served me his head on a silver platter, if I chose to take it. I had no idea how I would fare against Roland now, but we both knew that I would take his life before Roland could stop me. “If you're not here to kill me, then why did you accept the invitation?”
“Curiosity, for the most part,” I admitted. “About why you would offer an invitation to a man that stands to benefit greatly by your death.”
Charlemagne tapped a finger on his throne as if he was considering the question itself for a moment. “Curiosity,” he decided. “About a few things. First, I wanted to know if you think it's possible.”
The it was clear enough.
“If it was anyone else, I'd say it was doomed from the start,” I answered easily enough, looking out at the Colosseum. Imagining the sights that centuries of Emperor's had to have seen from this vantage. “Your people are too different, which only compounds the reasons that the empire was divided in the first place. If it was anyone else, even on the assumption that they did manage to make this alliance, it wouldn't survive their death.”
Charlemagne hummed, “I suppose I should feel honored you hold my abilities in such high esteem.” He remarked evenly, not disagreeing with me.
I snorted, “At this point, I'd be a fool not to.” Then I paused. “I acknowledge you no more than you acknowledge me.”
To that, Charlemagne inclined his head to me ever so slightly. Conceding that point. “That is true. My estimation of you wasn't off -- you were a wolf amongst the sheep. I just never anticipated that you would prove so… troublesome.” At the admission, my lips curled into a faint smile.
“Do you still pray about that meeting?” I wondered -- Astolfo has painted quite a picture of Charlemagne's rage.
“I did just this morning,” Charlemagne confessed without hesitation. “However, I have mollified my anger by sending Horrik twenty thousand talents to aid him in the wars to come.”
That wiped the grin from my face, and it seemed to flee to Charlemagne's. The news wasn't entirely unexpected. I anticipated some level of reprisal for the humiliation, but it was still unwelcome to hear. “Hm. Well, I suppose I won't be adverse to taking more of your coin when I return home.” Twenty thousand talents was a considerable sum in my homeland. The kind of wealth that would allow Horrik to buy a kingdom if he so wished.
Charlemagne made my return a little more complicated. I was still confident in my victory, but Horrik may have enough wealth to provide an army of quantity to meet mine of quality.
“That too, I must confess, I am quite curious about,” Charlemagne admitted, still wearing that grin as he knew he won a point in this verbal sparring match. “I never expected to hear of you again after the war in Saxony. I believed you would return to Denmark, slay the man who brought such troubles to your family, and live out your life as a petty warlord beyond my borders. I will confess, I was quite surprised to learn that you ventured to the Roman empire of all places. Why?”
I considered the question for a moment, pondering on how honest I should be. Then, with a mental shrug, I told the truth. “Because of you,” I admitted, and that surprised Charlemagne enough that he looked in my direction for the first time.
“Because of me?” He echoed, and I turned to meet his gaze.
“You and King Widukind showed me what it was to be a king,” I told him, holding his gaze for a moment before I looked away. “I could have returned to Denmark after Saxony. I had enough strength to overthrow Horrik, and I could have ruled unchallenged before the year was over.” It was something I considered a lot. A scenario that I put a great deal of thought into, especially in the early days when I wasn't quite sure if I made the right choice.
“My rule likely would have been a fine one. Not good, not terrible, not great -- just… fine. Our raids would be successful. Perhaps our borders would expand. However, nothing would change. Not really. I would be exactly as you said -- another petty warlord in a long line of petty warlords, who would be perhaps more successful than most.” I had envisioned that other path more times than I cared to admit. Exploring the possibilities and I came to a conclusion.
That life would have been a life of ignorance. I would have been successful. Our great raids would be great out of ignorance of what I, and my people, were truly capable of. But I wouldn't have brought any great changes to the land. After my death, it would just be more of what came before my life -- petty raids and squabbling jarls.
“But, during the war, I saw how you and King Widukind conducted yourselves. And, in you, I saw how I was lacking in comparison. So, you are the reason why I desired to come to Constantinople -- my people know it as the greatest city in the world, and I desired to be great.” I admitted to him, and Charlemagne was quiet for a moment.
Then a small breath escaped him, “Then I only have myself to blame for this self-inflicted problem.” He sounded quite annoyed but more exasperated than anything. “It also sounds like I have every reason to kill you before you can become a greater problem than you already are,” He observed.
“Aye, probably,” I agreed. “Do you think you'll succeed? With reforming the Roman Empire?” I clarified, not looking at Charlemagne.
The Frankish King considered the question as if he was asking himself for the first time. Then he answered, “I do,” he decided. “It will be my life's work, I suspect. Decades of rebellions and should the Lord take me before my work is done, I expect that it'll all be for nought. But… yes. I do think I will succeed.”
His thoughts mirrored my own about the task. I wasn't sure how he would manage it exactly, but I suspected that it would be the path he was already treading -- to concentrate power and wealth into his own hands by using the rebellions as a reason to strip away wealth and power from those that stood in his way. It was just a question of whether Irene would be an obstacle to remove or someone to aid him.
There was a loud profound silence between us after that. One that stretched on for minutes as both of us waited for the other to make a move while we both considered our next action carefully.
In the end, it wasn't us that spoke. It was Roland.
He let go of his blade and my gaze slid to his to find a steadfast conviction in them. “You are a killer, a thief, and a pagan -- but you have your own sense of honor. You will not murder my king.”
He spoke the words with certainty, and I was annoyed to find that he was right.
My gaze went to Charlemagne, who had turned to me and met my gaze unflinching. “No, I won't,” I agreed. “I've killed more people than anyone else in the world, I think. But I have never stained my hands with murder, and I have no intention to. Regardless of how good of an idea it is.”
I'm sure that there would be times that I would look back on this moment and regret it. That I would wish that I had drawn Gram from its sheath and cut Charlemagne down, no matter what consequences came after. All the same, I think that I would regret it more if I did murder him.
I hated him. I admired him as a king. He was uncountably going to be a source of never ending troubles in my future, but I wasn't such a coward that I would balk at the fate that the Norns chose to weave. I wouldn't let fear guide my actions.
It annoyed him to no end, but I could see a glimmer of respect enter Charlemagne's eyes.
“Then I shall extend the same mercy. Regardless of how much I suspect I will regret it,” Charlemagne acknowledged with a small tilt of his head before he rose to his feet. “This conversation has been… illuminating. But, I think it would be best that it ends before either of us reconsider.”
I nodded at that, watching Charlemagne go while my gaze lingered on Roland. He nodded in my direction, acknowledging me in a way that he hadn't when we last faced each other. I returned the nod before he followed his king, all of them leaving the stadium while I still lingered in my seat.
As I predicted, Morrigan soon arrived and wasted no time pecking at me at letting the opportunity slip between my fingers. I accepted the punishment easily enough, but even as I did, I spoke in a low voice.
“I was asking myself the wrong question, Morrigan,” I told her. “I asked myself how I could stop this from happening… but, what I should have been asking myself was what I could do deal with a restored Rome. Because even if Charlemagne fails, it is not as if Francia or his successors will be any less of a threat. I was thinking too small.” I said, and Morrigan paused, tilting her head at me.
Denmark was too small. Saxony was too small. Norway was too small.
I needed to think bigger.
Much… much bigger.
Comments
Sover_Invic
Agreeing with Ozymandias here, Empire of the North Sea?
Seto Kyba
I love the idea of mc stepping onto a larger stage.
santhinal
Meh, its not as if Seig would kill the guy who is likely to give his life meaning. Charlemagne in this is the Darius to his Alexander, the Flavius to his Hannibal, the Nelson to his Napolean. They compliment each other too much for one to simply murder the other. Their rivalry will shake the earth to its very foundations and pave the way to one of the great infelction points of history.
Bud
Great Viking invasion of the British isles
Ozymandias
Is this when the idea for an Empire of the North comes about?
Simplexity
Does this mean Seig might end up expanding his empire towards Ireland? Or would he be going the other way towards Russia.... Decisions decisions...
Skinnybonz
Awesome
