No matter the world, winter snows put a damper on matters. That was no less true here.
In this period of reprieve, I doled out the military honors earned during the pacification of the Raul region and divided up some of the territories from a few of the noble houses involved. Those whose loyalties had lain with the former Duke Raul had surrendered quickly upon the heir’s death, and my rulings on them were exceptionally generous; the smaller houses in the region also enjoyed a great deal of lenience.
Still, it wasn’t as if my “harsh” penalties were particularly severe, as I only exiled the head of household at worst. I couldn’t handle the power vacuum if I were to go any further: Getting rid of all those who’d opposed me would have left me with no one to run the territory.
As far as the Raul domain itself, it was to be split into pieces and managed by lower lords. For example, I planned to turn the Duchy of Lower Raul into five to nine counties. I didn’t want to hold on to them myself—the nobility would get antsy if the crown were to keep too much—but seeing as a haphazard division would only lead to border disputes in the future, it would remain under my control for a year until I could get a proper report on the land’s productivity.
But what was most important of all was the coinage...and the minting equipment that I needed to recover. I would not be making any compromises on this front—what kind of emperor couldn’t print his own coins?
I also took the opportunity to poach some talent from the duchy. The former chancellor had used his position to nab a great many competent workers, and I wasn’t going to let them wander off.
Furthermore, I enacted some reformations. Well, more precisely, I introduced a few laws to reform our system, and as all but one had no ill effect on the aristocracy, they met little resistance.
The lone law that caused trouble was my formal ban on selling governmental positions, which also abolished posts invented solely to be sold, like unearned knighthoods and the like. I wasn’t totally heartless, though, and decided to allow the current generation of purchased titles to be grandfathered in so long as they came to the capital to file their status within a year’s time; their heirs would not be inheriting those positions, however.
That said, legally, I couldn’t take away a title without just cause. That was another factor in why I’d chosen to simply reclassify their titles into “uninheritable” ones, and the yearlong window to finish their paperwork was to give me an excuse to say, “Well, I dunno if you’re alive, so let’s just assume you aren’t,” and cross out their noble claim in the books. This wouldn’t have been possible if we had census data like modern Japan did, but we didn’t. Even if they were alive somewhere, the official records would reflect their presumed mortality by voiding their title. The classes who’d come to enjoy their purchased positions—merchants, mercenaries (who were frankly closer to bandits), failed knights, and the like—flew into a frenzy at this.
However, higher nobles were completely unaffected, and I went out of my way to confer new titles to those of my vassals who had fought on my behalf—titles not given during the usual ceremony of military honors. It wasn’t that I wanted to get rid of all conferred titles, after all: Those who would work for me would find me an eager employer.
Even those who’d opposed me were unlikely to resist the change, as I offered them and the nobles captured in the capital clemency in exchange for their backing. As a result, I was able to push the law through in all lands under the crown.
As the snow finally began to thaw, I gathered all who had sworn me their fealty at Chelán Hill to pass down a new decree: conquer the region of Agincarl. They seemed to understand that this was a test of allegiance, and while the campaign was far from perfect, five months was enough to subjugate most of the domain. The few holdouts would fall in a matter of time.
Convinced of our impending victory on that front, roughly a year from the Battle of Chelán Hill, I once again raised the imperial banner in the name of subjugating rebellion. This time, my army marched to the Teyanave Confederation.
The only resistance left on the Agincarl end came from the main fortresses held by August and Phillip, and a small pocket of nobles tracing their lineages back to the old Agincarl Kingdom. Neither group had enough men to call themselves an “army” at this point, but I knew their morale would be unmatchable with their backs against the wall. Not wanting to compromise, I elected to leave a siege force behind to subjugate them as I turned my attention to Teyanave.
Allied with the nearby Gaeweigh and Aeri and backed by the Golden Sheep Trading Company, I led a combined force seventy thousand strong into Teyanavi lands.
The Teyanave Confederation had unilaterally declared its independence while I had been a mere puppet. Although they had left the Empire de facto, the official imperial stance was that such an allowance was the folly of the Chancellor and Minister of Ceremony; Emperor Carmine acknowledged no such thing. Naturally, that put them in the same category as the rebellious factions of Raul and Agincarl, and I could not let them roam free.
This campaign was notable for being personally led by My Imperial Majesty. Truth be told, I was just tagging along at the back of the march, but that meant I was technically in charge of twenty thousand elite troops from the Gotiroir and Atúr peoples.
There were a few reasons I came in person.
The first was that the Empire itself was significantly smaller than it had been even a generation ago. Part of that had been settled before my birth, with cessions to the Kingdoms of Apraada and Rocourt, and the other part was the secession of the Teyanave region. As emperor, my performance was naturally going to be compared to my immediate predecessor, and reclaiming our lost territory was an absolute must to maintain my standing.
However, invading Apraada or Rocourt was not a smart move. They, along with the Kingdom of Benima, were allied together. I didn’t want to pick a fight with them...until I had a chance to break that bond, that is. As such, the only realistic target left was Teyanave.
Furthermore, this was my way of currying favor with the Kingdom of Belvére, Rosaria’s motherland. Beyond the northern borders of the Confederation lay the state of Tomis-Ashinaqui, who fiercely antagonized Belvére. Once we finished Teyanave with an enormous imperial army, the presence of our troops would become a check to deter further action in the region; Tomis-Ashinaqui would not be able to advance their troops so easily with us at their doorstep. By leading this campaign personally, I was emphasizing that warning.
My presence also made it easy to meet with the King of Aeri and Duke of Gaeweigh. I planned to hold an audience with them in Teyanave once the fighting was over. My choice to travel all this way was a symbol of compromise and a show of good faith, but since the region would once again be part of the Empire after we conquered it, I could maintain the dignity of a superpower by hosting the meeting on imperial soil.
There were also the logistical benefits of my presence, such as how it would speed up reintegration. Giving orders from the capital would have been a tedious task in too many ways to count.
But most importantly of all, the quantity and quality of our troops meant my own person was not in danger.
Or, at least, not from the Teyanavi.
On Day 11, Month 10, Year 469 of the New Calendar, as my armies across the realm reigned victorious, I received a message: Count Kushad, Count Baylor-Torei, and Count Baylor-Novei had just kicked off a massive rebellion.