Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 12: A Calm Before the Storm

The Vangen marched into the city now that the gate lay open. If the Black Ministry had any resistance to muster, they were long since gone. The battlements were empty. The streets were deserted, save for the Empress' statues watching in silent vigil. Only the sounds of marching boots and jingling chain mail echoed through the Forum of Constants, the only road leading straight towards the palace.

The other officers from base camp linked up with Dux, Magus, and Libro. Their rendezvous was at the toll office near the gate, where merchants paid the necessary fee to enter the city. A small price to pay, but Byzantia was known to leave a man more prosperous than when he arrived. If he was clever enough.

"I don't like this." Civis was the first to voice his concerns, as he always did. "It's too quiet. Surely the Black Ministry would have heard our less than tactful entrance by now." The imperial traitor waved a hand. "Where are the guards? The people?"

"It doesn't matter." Libro retorted. He still clutched the Vangen standard, now rolled up and bound in twine, two hands gripped tightly around the banner pole. "All that matters is reaching the palace."

Dux glared at both of them with that iron mask of authority he had. Both officers clamped shut, knowing all too well the look in their Captain's eye. The whole situation was rubbing him wrong. Silence in a city like Byzantia was an evil omen. Arguing now would only exacerbate the problem.

"Excellent points, the both of you," Dux said. "We should naturally assume the Black Ministry knows we're here. Regardless, reaching the Empress is priority number one. Once the palace is secure, then we can start planning our next move."

He pointed down the forum, past the rows of houses, past the royal bazaar, where the four high towers of the Empress's palace stood in silhouette. The domed bronze roof gleamed under the warm colors of the morning. The cold night's air was already starting to burn away, bearing forth to a hot and humid morning.

A bead of sweat trickled down Dux's brow. "If we get separated," He began to say. " Then our next rendezvous point will be the palace. Look for the towers, and you'll do just fine." The other officers voiced their agreements.

Dux was quick in passing out orders, shuffling the officers, petty officers, and their respective units together. Libro and Culter took to the Vanguard upfront. Regis and Magus protected the rear with the veterans and grenadiers. Leaving Dux, Civis, and Nox with the greenhorns in the middle. In a half-hour, the Vangen were marching in ten solid columns, ten wide and ten long, down the cobblestone forum. Ten by ten by ten. A thousand strong as goddess intended.

The silence began to affect the other Vangen soon as well. Concerned eyes scanned over the empty shops, barren streets and abandoned homes. Even the alleys, often choked with vagrants and wild dogs, were lifeless. It was as if the people of Byzantia had all departed from the city, gone to who knows where. The men whispered amongst themselves, maybe out of fear. Maybe just to fill the gnawing silence.

A glint up on a nearby roof caught Libro's attention. He looked up, and just for a second thought, he saw a flap of black cloth whip by before disappearing. Had it been his imagination, he wondered. Fear often left the mind susceptible to trickery. In the end, Libro thought best to let it go. His focus should be on the Empress.