4
As further testament to the orderly efficiency of the imperial cavalry, the carriage that carried Sebastian and his mother reached Gogoleth early the next day, just as the captain said they would. Sebastian hadn’t been to the capital in years. He remembered as a child being simultaneously frightened and delighted by its frenetic pace and boisterous inhabitants, so different from the placid farm life to which he was accustomed. But at this hour, the streets were nearly empty. Without all the distractions, he was able to fully appreciate the buildings themselves, a fascinating mixture of grand old Izmorozian black stone structures beside bright new wood buildings built by the Aureumian Empire in the aftermath of the war. The best of both worlds, he thought.
They swiftly crossed the city and passed through the eastern gate to the imperial garrison, which comprised four buildings spread across the short stretch of land between the city’s outer wall and the Sestra River.
A man stood in front of the large central building and watched them draw near. His bearing was proud, and he wore the bright green jacket with white stripes and gold buttons that marked him as an officer. His tall green hat was held under one arm, and his other hand was placed on the pommel of his sheathed saber. Like all soldiers, his cheeks and chin were clean-shaven, but unlike the others, he had a thick mustache that had been meticulously waxed into points and curled up on the sides. Sebastian had never seen facial hair on an imperial soldier before and wondered if it was a privilege only given to the officer class.
Once the carriage came to a stop, the soldier leading the escort hurried over to the officer and spoke briefly with him. The officer nodded, then walked with firm, unhurried strides to the carriage. He unlocked the door and bowed to Sebastian and his mother.
“Lady Irina and Sebastian Turgenev Portinari. I am Commander Franko Vittorio, and I will be overseeing your accommodations here in Gogoleth.”
“You mean our imprisonment?” Sebastian asked bitterly.
“Good heavens, no,” said Vittorio. “Let me first apologize for any brusqueness you may have received from my soldiers during your journey here. They are but simple men, I’m afraid, with little experience in the niceties of more civilized company. I can assure you that from this point, I will personally ensure that you are accorded the courtesy and dignity you so rightfully expect.”
Sebastian had no idea how to respond to such a bizarrely formal speech. His mother seemed equally baffled.
“Lady Portinari,” continued Vittorio. “May I also offer my most sincere condolences on the loss of your husband? Although I realize it is scant comfort, I have been informed that he comported himself valiantly right up to the end, as befitted the great war hero he was.”
“You offer sympathy even though it was your men who killed him?” asked Sebastian incredulously.
Vittorio nodded gravely. “Had he surrendered peacefully, his life might have been spared. But he chose to fight, and his death was the inevitable fate of any who stand against the might of the empire.”
“But why did you order your men to attack in the first place?”
“All who break the law must face the consequences of their actions, regardless of who they are or how well respected they might be,” said Vittorio. “Anything less would breed disorder and, ultimately, the most profound injustice.”
“And just what law did my father break?” demanded Sebastian.
The commander looked surprised. “Why, refusing the command of a duly appointed representative of Empress Morante, of course.” His eyebrows and mustache curled into a frown. “Oh dear. Had he not shared that knowledge with you? No wonder you are so perturbed. This must all be such a terrible shock to you, then.”
“I was aware of it, Commander,” said Sebastian’s mother curtly. “He made his choice and believed it to be the correct one with all his heart.”
Vittorio seemed untroubled by her coldness. “I have always heard your husband to be a man of conviction, with a deep sense of personal justice. I certainly respect that, but freedom to choose is not freedom from consequence.”
The commander let that statement hang in ominous silence for a moment, then in a more brisk and businesslike tone, said, “Now, if I may speak of your lodgings, I fear our humble barracks would not be suitable for a lady of refinement such as yourself, so I have taken the liberty of securing more appropriate accommodations within the city. If you will allow it, I would very much like to ride with you in the carriage to our destination.” He turned back to Sebastian, his hazel eyes thoughtful. “However, if you wish me to ride separately so that you can acclimate to the series of surprises you have just received before we speak again, I will honor that request.”
Sebastian struggled to keep his expression neutral. This man was like his father in so many ways. Overbearing, stiff, arrogant. And yet there was a perceptive thoughtfulness to how he conducted himself—a sensitivity, really—that Sebastian could have only dreamed his father might exhibit.
“I would appreciate having some time to speak with my mother privately on the matter,” he said after careful consideration, trying to match the commander’s formal tone.
Vittorio nodded. “Very well. We will meet again at Roskosh Manor.”
Sebastian saw his mother’s eyebrows rise at the mention of that name, but she remained silent.
The commander stepped away from the carriage and closed the door, but did not lock it. He placed his tall cylindrical green hat on his head, then nodded to the soldier at the head of the formation. A few moments later, the carriage began to move.
“Roskosh Manor is one of the finest residences in Gogoleth, and home to Lord and Lady Prozorova,” said his mother. “I’m not certain why, after everything that’s happened, the commander would take us there.”
“Mother, what did he mean about Father disobeying a command from the empress?” asked Sebastian.
His mother sighed. “Your father did not want you to enlist in the imperial army as he had done.”
As a child, Sebastian had often fantasized about joining the mighty imperial army. The crisp uniforms, the orderly formations of infantry and cavalry, the gallant officers leading the charge. It all seemed so… important. He’d assumed that his father, as a veteran of the last war, would be overjoyed. But when he’d shared his dreams, his father had told him to put such foolish thoughts out of his mind and would speak no more of it.
“Yes,” Sebastian said now, his voice bitter. “Father made that perfectly clear, although he never said why.”
“My sweet boy…” Sebastian’s mother pressed her cool hand to his cheek. “He did not want you to experience the same horrors of war that he had. And he was afraid that if the empire were to learn of your gifts in elemental magic, they would exploit you.”
“That was why he wanted me to keep my magic a secret?”
“There has not been forced conscription since the war. But the empress may command that a person of exceptional ability present themselves for consideration to be included into the officer class of the imperial army. Your father tried to keep your abilities hidden for as long as he could, but eventually word got out. And when it did, the empire naturally saw great potential in including a gifted elemental magic user in their ranks. So you were commanded to present yourself at the garrison in Gogoleth.”