Serpents and Stairways

Chapter IX - Part 2

Narine raised her hand and started counting aloud—just like Michel a few weeks before.

"First—the symbolic meaning: archduke's murder would be considered a blow to the symbol of power and monarchy's authority. Agreed?"

Some nodded. Pasha, feeling that the winds had changed at last, interjected with a tirade on why this was the most important of all arguments.

Pasha's voice ringing in his ears, Georg slid down the statue's pedestal, and sat down among the dried leaves and dead fairies.

"Next. Foreign influence," Narine bent the second finger, "The archduke Franz's wife and muse is a northern princess who had kept her ties to motherland. The emperor-to-be may imagine gentle reforms all he wants, but in the end he will concede to the desires of his heart's sovereign. We can't know just what her desires would be by the time Franz ascends to the throne, but we do know that North and the two-headed crow's government prefer keeping this region stable, by any means necessary, even if it means stuffing its national minorities into the colonial meat grinder. Something similar had happened in Sublime Porta, and we have seen the consequences. It's better not to risk it."

Agatha sighed and shrugged, agreeing.

"Pro three. The emperor and his noblemen might not be fond of the current heir, but the army—both the high-ranks, and the simpler men—is decidedly in his favor. Probably because Franz has served in three El-Maghreb crises, unlike his socialite brothers. One is epileptic, another had been seen with men of ill repute, and because of all the drinking, can't even keep up in the saddle when touring his honorary regiment. Soldiers wouldn't be glad if either of them becomes their emperor—there's conversations about that even now."

Well... Michel did overhear in a conversation, which was never intended for his ears, two young little officers in light inebriation calling the younger princes pampered paperweights. But there were gossips of Franz too: that he is not that great of a shot and scared of blood, that he surrounds himself with yes-men and can't handle the truth, that he wears robes and plush shoes instead of soldier's boots... Those who arrived from Viena would also mention a certain speech, which piqued Michel's curiosity enough to learn more.

Some time ago in the aughts, receiving some kind of a scholar association in his command, Franz held a speech, expressing a need to loosen the reins of Empire's national regions, which managed to infuriate, it seems, absolutely everyone. The Decafold Empire's press was especially outraged, and kept bawling for weeks on end that the prince had (finally) become a liberalbrained alcohol-free soy-consuming toothless herbivore. Funny that nobody has mentioned this yet in today's discussion—the story probably made less of a splash in the local news. Yes, probably. In that case, why are Silverhand and other town guests quiet?

"Then what would killing someone they love accomplish?" Gris argued.

Narine wrinkled her eagle-like nose, proving that it was, after all, wrapped in skin and not prey-bird's horny sheath.

"Come on, Angel. Nobody actually loves him," she said, "The soldiers do not find the prince off-putting because of his feign down-to-earthness. That's all. In any case, if a civil war breaks out, whoever has the army on their side wins. Without Franz we have a higher chance of causing what little dissent is possible amidst the local generals."

"The fairies spend decades in the ground awaiting chrysalis to only live for a season and fall dead into the autumn leaves," Michel was once again sinking in viscous thoughts, "but they are conscious creatures. How must it feel? To leave the cocoon knowing that most of your time had already passed?"

"Which brings us to the fourth pro: the civil war. I can't say that we're fully prepared for it now, however, if the heir dies in these lands, the goverment would most likely respond with repressions. Repressions lead to frustration. Frustrated workers stop showing up, frustrated bureaucrats...