6
Sebastian had dreamed of seeing Magna Alto, but not like this.
The city did not disappoint, of course. It was the grandest thing he’d ever witnessed. It was easily five times as big as Gogoleth and had been built onto a mountain. The city walls at the base of the mountain were a gleaming white marble. The major thoroughfare of the city, Ascendant Way, gradually spiraled up the mountain so that the entire thing bristled with brightly colored buildings and culminated in the sparkling gold of the imperial palace at the very top.
But Sebastian had a hard time savoring the city’s majesty. He imagined anyone who arrived against their will under armed escort would have felt similarly conflicted. Not that they had been mistreated in any way. Captain Leoni had been the soul of courtesy, particularly where Sebastian’s mother was concerned. But he had also made it very clear that they were all his prisoners and he would tolerate no dissent or delay.
During the first few days of captivity, Zaniolo had tried to thaw the captain’s demeanor with idle soldier’s talk but met little success. He never seemed frustrated by his failures, however, and even when he gave up the effort, he did so with a show of high spirits and a knowing smile, as if to say that was how he’d expected it to go, but he’d had to try anyway.
Vittorio continued to say little, do little, and eat little during the trip. But his brooding wrath seemed much closer to the surface now. Perhaps it was Sebastian’s imagination, but it seemed like whenever Leoni was occupied with something else, the ex-commander would glare openly at the captain with dark, furious eyes. Leoni had been kind enough not to restrain them. But if Vittorio did something so foolhardy as to attack the captain while surrounded by imperial soldiers, that nominal freedom might be taken away. Sebastian wondered if he should warn Leoni about the possibility, but remembered Zaniolo’s request to only speak when necessary. It also felt like that would be a terrible betrayal to Vittorio. Betraying his former commander and mentor at perhaps the worst moment in his life would be the actions of a disloyal coward. Imagine if Rykov had betrayed Sebastian during his darkest hour during the battle in Gogoleth? Such a thing would have been devastating. No, Sebastian must remember the good man he met all those months ago and stand by him now.
Despite his resolve, it was an anxious and exhausting ride to Magna Alto. But at last their horses crested the top of a hill and the magnificent city came into view for the first time.
“My word…,” his mother sighed.
“Is this your first time to Magna Alto, my lady?” asked Leoni.
“It is, Captain. And such a sight to behold.”
He seemed pleased by her awe. “It’s said that it took twenty-three years and more than a hundred thousand laborers to build.”
“Astonishing,” she agreed.
The captain pointed to a line of white marble that stretched east and west from the outer city wall, ending somewhere beyond their view. “Do you see those edifices, my lady? What do you suppose they are?”
“Additional defenses?”
He chuckled heartily. “Far more than mere walls, my lady. That is the Saint Morante Canal system, a miraculous feat of Aureumian engineering that took over a decade and tens of thousands of workers to build. It stretches west all the way to the Poca River, and east to the Estraneo River, which I believe originates at your Sestra River. This allows Magna Alto, formerly a landlocked city, to be the hub of both land and water trade. Not only that, it provides fresh water for drinking and irrigation to support Aureum’s renowned agricultural region.”
Sebastian stared at the miles of proud, uncompromising white that had been carved in a straight, unwavering line through the uneven landscape. It seemed like a declaration that not even the whims of Nature could hamper Aureum’s ambitions. And this canal was clearly why Vittorio had been so concerned about bandits on the Sestra. Their river piracy had directly impacted Magna Alto.
Except they hadn’t been bandits or river pirates, he reminded himself. They’d been rebels. Not selfish opportunists but regular townspeople unhappy with the empire’s rule. Perhaps not so different from the poor people of Les…
“Apologies, my lady.” Captain Leoni’s voice broke into Sebastian’s thoughts. “We should continue on to the palace without further delay. I was ordered to present my charges directly to the empress with all due haste.”
Sebastian’s mother nodded. “By all means, Captain. We cannot keep the empress waiting.”
He smiled gratefully, then signaled to his men and they began their descent.
The road sloped gradually downward until it leveled out about a half mile from the outer wall of the castle. Sebastian could see the glint of steel at the top of the wall, most likely a sentry. The gate was easily twenty feet tall and made of stout oak beams bound in iron. Even the ancient entrance into Gogoleth looked flimsy by comparison.
“Unfurl the flag,” Captain Leoni told one of his men.
“Yes, sir!” The soldier unfurled a flag with a white falcon on a golden background and fixed it to the back of his saddle.
“The imperial crest,” Zaniolo told Sebastian as they rode. “It’s a signal to the gate guard and all within the city that the good captain is acting on direct orders from the empress and should not be impeded in any way.”
Sure enough, the gate opened immediately and they entered the city without hindrance.
“You know, Sebastian.” Zaniolo leaned over and spoke just loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the horse hooves pounding on the cobblestones. “You could have easily wiped out Leoni’s entire company with your magic when we first encountered them.”
“Sir?” Sebastian’s eyes went wide.
“I’m not saying you should have,” Zaniolo said quickly. “And it’s far too late now. But it’s important not to forget one’s advantages. You’ve seemed a tad discouraged since our… well, let’s be frank and call it an arrest. But don’t ever think of yourself as truly helpless, my boy.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
As they rode through the city streets, people looked out of windows and doorways with mild curiosity. A pack of children came scampering out of an alley and tried to keep pace with them for a little while, shouting and waving at the soldiers. Captain Leoni smiled good-naturedly and instructed one of his men to throw a few coins. The children shouted with glee as they stopped to wrestle over the coins that bounced across the cobblestones.
Peasants that actually appreciated their imperial protectors? Sebastian thought it a welcome change after dealing with the ungrateful bumpkins back in Gogoleth.
Ungrateful bumpkins? The thought jarred Sebastian with its harshness. That wasn’t how he really saw the simple farmers and laborers he’d grown up around. It was more like something Vittorio would have said.
He glanced back at the commander, who stared ominously at the back of Leoni’s head as though he did not even see the bustling city around him. Sebastian still vividly recalled the night of the Ascendance, when Vittorio had looked into the night sky with glistening eyes as he’d spoken of his longing to once again see his beloved Magna Alto. Yet now his own wrath seemed to have blinded him to the very thing he’d so desired to see. If he was to be punished for his crimes, Sebastian thought the least the man could do was enjoy its meager rewards. But no. Vittorio seemed to have succumbed to his own seething, impotent rage. For the first time, Sebastian felt a stirring of pity for the man.
They followed the spiraling main road up the mountain toward the palace. Sebastian noted that the closer they got, the brighter and more luxurious the homes were. Toward the bottom, the buildings had been mostly stone and mortar with slate shingle roofs. They had been small and packed in tightly. Neat and well kept, but not ostentatious in any way. As they progressed along Ascendant Way, the structures became larger, more spread out, and made of brick, sometimes with plaster facades painted in bright colors. Then, as they neared the palace, the buildings became more like estates, each as large as Roskosh Manor, with copper roofs turned green from age, and surrounded by sweeping lush gardens dotted with colorful flowers.
“The Silver Ring is always a feast for the eyes in spring,” said Zaniolo.
“The Silver Ring?” asked Sebastian.
“This neighborhood,” said Zaniolo. “Only the most prestigious citizens of the empire live here.”
“The nobles?”
Zaniolo shrugged. “Nobility means something different in Aureum.”
Sebastian’s mother gave him a curious look. “Oh?”
“Aureum was once a republic,” said Zaniolo. “The idea of a noble class is a relatively recent concept installed by the first emperor, Alessandro Morante, near the end of his life. Titles were generally given as rewards to those who had served him in some exceptional way. And they could be taken away just as easily if that person failed him. It’s a tradition that has continued to this day.” He looked at Sebastian and frowned thoughtfully. “You know, it’s possible that your father was given a title by the empress after winning the Winter War. Perhaps a count, or a duke.”
“Really?” asked Sebastian.
“He never mentioned it,” said his mother. “But he’d never been particularly impressed by titles. Least of all, his own.”
“Since he married you, was he given the title of Lord Portinari of Izmoroz?” asked Zaniolo.
Sebastian’s mother shook her head. “Nobility in Izmoroz is only by blood. When he is of age, Sebastian will be the first lord of our family estates since his grandfather perished after the war.”
“I thought my grandfather perished during the war,” said Sebastian.
“What—”
“But that is a topic for another time,” she told him firmly.
Sebastian gave a reluctant nod. He still didn’t know what had become of his grandparents or his aunt, all of whom had died before he was born. And he knew nothing of his father’s parents or siblings. It was entirely possible he had relatives in this very city. The only family he’d ever known was his parents and sister.
He frowned. “Will Sonya be Lady Portinari someday?”
“Assuming she outlives me,” replied his mother.
“Hardly a foregone conclusion, given the powerful enemies she’s managed to collect,” said Zaniolo.
“Will the empress retake Izmoroz soon?” asked Sebastian.
“It depends on how well the war is going in Kante. My last information on that matter is months old at this point.” He looked at Leoni. “Perhaps the captain has more current news.”
Leoni returned his look but did not respond.
Zaniolo winced, as if the silence itself was a reply. “I see.”
“Is it not going well?” asked Sebastian.
“It’s a rare soldier who can resist bragging about a recent victory. But none care to speak of defeats. Unfortunately for some…” Zaniolo turned around in his saddle to look back at Vittorio. “That might put the empress in a less benevolent frame of mind when meting out punishment.”
At last they reached the golden walls of the palace. Now that he was able to look more closely, they were not solid gold as they’d seemed from a distance, but made of marble with a great deal of gold inlay. As with the outer gate, the palace gate opened immediately for them and they clattered into the courtyard beyond.
Captain Leoni commanded his men to form up around Sebastian and his companions, and they all dismounted. Except Vittorio. The ex-commander still sat on his horse, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the palace before them as if only now realizing where he was. His jaw muscles twitched spastically and he seemed unaware that everyone else had come down from their horses.
“Sir.” One of the soldiers reached up and tapped his arm with what Sebastian thought was a great deal of respect, considering the circumstances.
But Vittorio’s eyes narrowed to slits and he glared balefully down at the soldier.
“Unhand me!” he snarled.
Surprised by the sudden outburst, the soldier went immediately for his saber.
“At ease.” Leoni’s voice was like cold steel as he walked over to them.
Vittorio shifted his scowl to the captain, and Sebastian couldn’t help feeling a twinge of embarrassment for his old mentor. His ire was almost childish, like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. But Leoni regarded him with cool disdain.
“If you prefer, Franko, I can have you brought before the empress in chains.”
The two men stood there for a moment, then Vittorio sucked at his teeth and began to dismount. “There is no need for threats. I merely object to being manhandled. I will obey all that you command.”
“Wonderful,” Leoni said dryly.
He selected a few men to accompany them, perhaps on account of Vittorio’s belligerence, then dismissed the rest to care for their mounts.
“Please follow me,” he said, then led them across the courtyard and into the palace proper.