Chapter 3: Off to Prison

Rhode pressed his aching temples and looked out the window. A squad of imperial guards stood assembled in the courtyard, their heavy armor gleaming in the morning light. The carriage in their midst was especially conspicuous, with its dark-gold roof, purple velvet curtains and pair of magnificent horses.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide his unease.

“Hongye,” he said, turning to the maid as she adjusted his collar, “could we go another day? My hangover hasn’t worn off, and my head is killing me. I need some time to take things in.”

Without stopping, Hongye tightened his dark-purple cravat. “It’s unusual for you to turn down fresh prey delivered to your door, Your Highness.” She smoothed the fabric over his chest, her voice level. “But closing the rebellion case is the empire’s top priority. You snatched this interrogation from the tribunal yourself yesterday. If you skip the very first day because you drank too much, the First Prince will be delighted to use it as an excuse to invite you to the training grounds for some instruction in martial arts.”

A chill ran down Rhode’s back. In his predecessor’s memories, his muscle-brained eldest brother Leon’s idea of instruction amounted to a one-sided beating.

“You have a point,” he sighed. “You’re pretty clever.”

Hongye lowered her head. “Of course I am. I’m useful for more than just that…”

Rhode pretended not to hear the loaded remark. His head was in enough of a mess already, and the history between the former prince and Hongye was a tangled disaster. The man had been a thorough scoundrel; Hongye was not only his personal maid but also an outlet for his desires. Sometimes he had forced her, while at other times her compliance had been unnerving.

Rhode had no time to untangle that twisted relationship now. First he needed to understand his situation and stay alive.

“Let’s go to the prison.” He steeled himself and headed for the door.

They crossed the corridor into the courtyard. The captain of the guard snapped to attention and saluted. Rhode nodded absently and approached the carriage. He was about to climb in when he froze.

From a distance he hadn’t noticed, but up close the carriage was an embarrassment. The edges of its dark-gold doors and windows were covered with carvings of entwined men and women, their poses so varied and explicit that it was practically a three-dimensional erotic gallery on wheels.

Rhode’s mouth twitched. “Imperial transport is… rather extravagant,” he managed at last.

Behind him, Hongye rolled her eyes. “The carriage is yours, Your Highness. Only the guards are your escort.” She showed no mercy. “You drew every one of those designs yourself and had the craftsmen carve them half a month ago. Did that fall really damage your brain?”

Rhode had no answer. He climbed in mechanically and dropped onto the thick velvet seat. The interior was even more excessive, though the less said about that, the better.

The carriage set off, rocking gently. Rhode leaned back, and more of the prince’s memories surfaced with each bump in the road.

As children, he and his two brothers had ridden and hunted together on the royal grounds, and had been cordial enough. As they grew older, the brutal question of succession had come between them.

The First Prince held military power; the Second controlled the treasury. The third son, born to a common palace maid, had neither followers nor money. To keep his brothers from seeing him as a threat and killing him, the original Rhode had deliberately made himself into a useless nobleman interested only in wine and women, with no concern for politics.

In time, the act had changed him. He had sunk into that life until a modern office worker came along to inherit the consequences.

Rhode shifted in his seat and felt an uncomfortable ache in his lower back. This body was in dreadful shape. If he carried on indulging himself every night, he might drop dead before his eldest brother ever had to lift a finger.

He made two decisions. First, restore his health. Second, find some way to survive the dangerous struggle for power in the empire.

“Hongye,” he said, rubbing his back as he looked at the maid opposite him. “Tell me about the elven prisoners. After that fall, some things are a little hazy.”

She took a kettle from a small cupboard in the corner and poured him a cup of hot tea. “You forgot even that? They’re the leaders of the uprising in the Silvermoon Autonomous Region. Three serious offenders.”

She cleared her throat and began in the flat tone of someone reciting the day’s menu.

“First, the Elf Queen, Selena.” She raised one finger. “They say she’s a centuries-old witch, though she looks like a mature woman. She’s very voluptuous; the noblemen of the capital all talk about her figure behind her back. She seems dignified and gentle, but a woman who could lead a rebellion can’t be simple.”

Rhode took a sip from his cup and nodded. “Go on.”

“Second, the Elf Princess, Elia.” Hongye raised another finger and pursed her lips. “The queen’s daughter. They say she’s beautiful enough to have stepped out of a painting, an innocent little white flower. In servants’ terms, she’s a sheltered young lady who has never faced the hard knocks of life and is naive enough to be a bit foolish.”

“And the third?” Rhode set down his cup with interest.

“The third is more trouble: Vera, the elven general.” Hongye frowned, wary even of the name. “She’s half dark elf, with dark skin and white hair. A dreadful temper, too. She took the heads off plenty of our soldiers on the battlefield. Even captured, someone that stubborn won’t be easy to break.”