Chapter 9

Zungher Dol sat slumped in his chair, looking at his reporting device.  The images that flashed back showed the interrogation of Princess Lillian.  When Lillian clawed Saw Yatha’s face, he reflexively chuckled.  Suddenly concerned he might have forgotten someone in the office with him, Zungher swiveled his head to ensure he was alone.  When that was confirmed, he ran back the images to watch it again.  She was a feisty one.  Getting this leader to submit to him would be his crowning achievement and lock his dominance in the Seven Realms forever.

He remembered Nova’s “We Come In Peace” painting, and a thought arrived like a revelation, like a monumental stitching of two seemingly unrelated puzzle pieces. Now, he could see their relationship clearly.  While he’d been focusing on getting the edge on Coellum and the more stubborn of the realms, he’d let his grasp loosen on the others, including Merlain.  While there were no visible signs of a citizens’ revolt in the streets, this Nova character still felt free to express his errant opinions in public.  Moreover, the longer it took to find him and deal with his rebellion, the bolder he would surely become.

Add to Nova’s rebellion the stiffnecked Princess and her even more stiffnecked father.  He’d thought on her original capture that executing Lillian would so demoralize her father that the surrender of Coellum would be almost instantaneous.  But the newly inserted puzzle piece showed him that given the current state of things if Lillian were removed, there would likely be another rebel leader who would quickly take her place.  And this rebel would come from a place he never suspected.

Zunger set down the device and stood. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to imagine the likely scenarios. Whatever he did next regarding Lillian would likely determine how much he could relax and let his political and military machine work as designed or how much hands-on effort he needed to employ.

He stepped over to his refreshment counter and poured himself a drink.  Zungher caught his reflection in the glass of the counter.  He looked old.  Internally, he felt fine and never better, but his reflection told another story.  He’d aged a lot since establishing his reign over the Merlain.  Did he have it within him to put down rebellion after rebellion?  Or would that only put him in his grave?  And if he were in his grave, he would lose all control of how history would report on him.

The Chieftan left his drink untouched.  There had to be a way for him to retain the power he’d earned while not having to manage war after war.  He walked to his desk and called his assistant.  Moments later, a stiff young man stood at the Chieftan’s desk at full attention, reporting device in hand.

“I need you to look up something for me,” Zungher said, slumping back down in his chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“A bit of a research project.  I doubt it would take long.  You like research, don’t you?”

The assistant opened his mouth to answer, but Zunger cut him off.  “Look up for me creative ways imperial leaders in the past have established their reigns for generations.”

Zungher spun in his chair and gazed over the city.  He was lost in thought.  He knew his limitations and had never been one to delve into academic pursuits.  Everything he’d achieved had been by instinct, which so far had been flawless.  But he felt out of his depth.  The answer to his question was, he was sure, just beyond his grasp, and if the clouds could clear just enough, he might see another puzzle piece fit into place.  Certainly, he wasn’t the first ruler to deal with this problem.  

The problem would be timing.  Could he discover a workable solution before Lillian was tried and executed?  That issue, he felt, was on an unmovable trajectory, and if he wanted a different outcome, he would have to get ahead of it in time.  He hoped it would take days and not weeks to discover the —

“Is this what you wanted, Chieftan Dol?” he heard his assistant say.  Dol assumed he’d been alone.  He swung back in his chair to find his fresh-faced assistant standing before him, holding out his reporting device.

Zungher reached out and took the device, confident that this assistant would need to be demoted for returning an answer to this complex problem in a matter of seconds.  Who did his upstart think he was?

Dol thumbed through the research on the device.  So many words.  Then he came across something titled “From Throne to Hinterland: The Dynamics of Subordinate Regents in Imperial Expansion.”  Something jogged in Dol’s mind, something from his days at the Coellum Academy.  He’d heard of the concept of subordinate regents before; for the most part, they had been painted negatively.  But now…

“Thank you,” Dol said, not looking at his assistant.  “I’ll let you know when I’m done with this.”

“As you wish, sir,” Zungher heard the assistant’s heels click in salute, but his attention was tuned to the device.  Then the door slid open and closed, but Zungher read on.

According to what he read, the establishment of a subordinate regent was the practice of setting up a proxy ruler who was from the conquered people but loyal to the, in this case, to the Chieftan.  Zungher read that one of the benefits of such delegated leadership was that the subordinate regent served as a reminder to the native peoples that they had no hope of winning in rebellion.  In fact, the report highlighted if the Emperor,  Zungher changed it to Chieftan in his mind, if the Chieftan installed such a regent who was closely related to the recently overthrown leader, then the effect of dominance would be almost unbreakable.  In short, Chieftan Dol smiled at this revelation. If he could spare Lillian’s life and set her up as one of these subordinate regents on the condition that her father was sent into exile, it would break the Colellum’s spirit beyond repair.  And if their spirit of rebellion were broken, it would be a loud announcement to the other realms that they had no hope of breaking Zungher’s rule.

It was perfect. The Coellum king would spare his daughter’s life. She would rather live than die, as it would mean she could still care for her people, but he would always have his knife at her throat should she wish to exert her feisty side again.

Zungher could not keep the smile from spreading wide across his aged face.  It was a takeover without war.  He slid the device to the center of his desk and returned to the refreshment counter.  He lifted the vessel and once again caught his reflection.  Dol lifted his vessel in honor of his brilliance.  On second glance, he didn’t seem so much old as wise.  He was the supreme leader for a reason.  That he doubted it for even an instant was ridiculous.  He brought the vessel to his lips and savored the warming fire that the liquid spread through his chest.

Another thought occurred to the Chieftan.  He’d made such declarations over the cycles of the proud and hopeful day when Lillian would be brought to her end at his hand.  To reverse this, to let the Princess live would be a sticky path forward.  Many of his advisors, as well as, he assumed, many of his public, wanted her dead.  For him not to carry out her execution would be seen by them as a weakness in Dol.  They might say he was not strong enough to carry out his vision to its fullest extent.  A weak Chieftan would also leave room for rebellion.

Dol paced his office for many minutes.  He had to think of a way to lead his advisors to this new conclusion.  If it were their idea, then they would be behind the shift.  They would praise his stalwart leadership to the skies if he looked like he was going along with their wise and esteemed counsel.  The problem would be that he did not have weak-minded advisors that would be easily manipulated.  How to help them see what he’d seen was the question.  Zungher continued to pace.

Then his gaze caught the images still frozen on his device of Saw Yatha and his newly scratched face. If Lillian had drawn his blood, Saw would undoubtedly want to spill hers. Moreover, since Saw was no longer in a formal position in Dol’s government, he stood as a very present threat to the idea of the subordinate regent.  If there was anyone Dol knew, he feared it was Saw Yatha when he was angered.

He would have to chew on this a bit longer.  He needed Saw to disgrace himself so publically that the people would turn on him.  He needed all of Yath’s power and influence to evaporate in the air.  But how?  But how?  Zungher Dol took up his pacing, hoping for one more puzzle piece to fall into place.