Chapter 689: Alliances

Chapter 689: Alliances

Alliances

As evening approached, the delegates gathered in the discussion chamber once more, taking their customary seats. “I remain unconvinced of your plan,” Honorius declared. “The legal basis seems flimsy. Relying on the archaic laws of a city-state to decide the future of an empire?”

“Why are you captain prefect?” Martel stared at her, letting his question hang in the air between them.

“I was chosen,” she replied with a glance to either side of her at the representatives.

“By what authority?” he asked next. She licked her lips, realising his point, and he continued. “The same as I. Entrusted by the people of our territories. The law is just the mechanism. We have all been chosen to sit at this table, and for that reason, the people will accept our decision. For that reason, it will be legal.”Gét latest novel chapters on nov(e)lbj/n(.)c/om

“The people of Morcaster did not choose you,” Alexia spat out. “You sit here because you took it by force!”

Martel turned his gaze on her. “Which is why I won’t be a member of the Senate nor involved beyond its creation.”

“Your arguments of authority are all well and good, captain,” Caritas interjected. The Aquilan cleared his throat. “But laws must govern all, including such a Senate.”

“Once we convene the first Senate, they are free to make all the laws they wish,” Martel replied.

“But therein lies the paradox. How can laws bind an assembly and ensure they govern for the good of all when that same assembly has complete power over all laws?”

“Still better than if a single man or a council of few has such complete control,” Martel retorted.

“Yes, captain, I do not disagree with your notion. I simply point out that there must be a fundamental law that even the Senate cannot change at whim.”

Moments later, the duchess of Trior joined Martel in the parlour of his chambers. He had already removed his armour and wore simply a soldier’s tunic; he only carried the chain shirt to appear the image of a legionary rather than any fear for his safety. In comparison, the noblewoman wore a dress stitched with pearls, and Martel imagined both fabric and craftsmanship cost more than what a day-labourer would earn in a year. She fit the ostentatious surroundings, unlike Martel, who stood out in his simple garments, but it did not faze him; he was happy to remind his surroundings of his origins and nature.

The noblewoman bowed her head and spoke. “Captain, I have spoken at length with your counterpart. She still bristles at the idea, but I have suggested she might have to be practical for the sake of the realm.”

“Thank you, Lady Trior. Your efforts are appreciated. With a little more time, I’m sure we’ll have worn down their remaining resistance.”

“Happy to serve. At the risk of making wine before the grape harvest, I thought that with a successful outcome, we might celebrate with a solstice feast right here in the palace. The date is a little early,” she admitted with a shrug, “but the end to any war deserves a party, and tying it to the solstice might please those less satisfied with the results of our diplomacy, as is always the case where compromise is the result.”

“Why not? I’m sure the majordomo of the palace can see to it,” Martel agreed.

“Excellent! It will provide me with an opportunity to introduce my daughter to society. She has just turned fourteen, you see, and it is time I consider finding her suitable husband.”

It seemed absurd to decide a person’s future at such an age, but Martel knew that to the nobility, marriage was simply a tool for political alliances, and he kept his opinion to himself. “I hope all your family will enjoy the celebration.”

“I confess I am having difficulties deciding whom I could entrust my daughter to. In these times, it seems prudent to form closer ties with our military, but anyone less than a legate would never do.” Although her tone of voice remained casual, the duchess’s eyes glanced toward Martel as she paced back and forth in the room, and he suddenly wondered if she might be asking for his suggestion among his own prefects. None of them had such a rank, other than Eleanor, who was not a prospect.

“I’m sure you’ll find the right one,” he muttered, wondering how to politely get her to leave.

“The ideal candidate would be a captain prefect, of course, though considering such a rank tends to be temporary, I admit this is an extravagant desire.” She came to a halt and smiled at him.

“You could ask Sir Honorius, but I’m not sure she’d be inclined,” he jested.

“Probably not. Of course, if I could find such a man to marry my daughter, he would have the full support of my house to retain his position, perhaps making it not so temporary.” Silence took over for a moment as she watched him while he turned her words over in his mind. “Regardless, I shall see you in the morning for our renewed debates. I bid you a good night, captain.” She inclined her head and left his chambers.