Shattered Sanity

Shattered Sanity Volume 3 :- Surrounded By Enemies On All Sides

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(One Year After The Unification Of The Valdrak Empire, Roughly 350 Years Ago)

Emperor Rossi Valdrak sat upon the newly constructed Imperial Throne with his head resting between his palms, staring towards the dozens of reports scattered across the floor before him as though each parchment represented another crack forming within the empire he had sacrificed so much to create.

One year.

Only one year had passed since the final opposing kingdom surrendered, bringing an end to decades of conquest and allowing Rossi Valdrak to accomplish something that generations of kings before him had considered impossible.

For the first time in recorded history, the majority of the continent answered to a single throne.

The four most powerful noble families had sworn allegiance to House Valdrak, countless lesser lords had followed their example, while kings who once ruled independent nations had either bent their knees, surrendered their crowns or died attempting to preserve them.

On maps, the unification appeared complete.

However, unfortunately for Rossi, while the conquest was complete, the issue of governance still remained.

Throughout the conquered territories, embers of rebellion continued burning beneath the surface, with reports arriving almost weekly regarding former nobles gathering supporters, villages refusing Imperial taxation, soldiers deserting newly formed garrisons and entire communities still refusing to recognize Rossi Valdrak as their rightful Emperor.

Worse still, the agreement holding the Empire together remained dangerously fragile.

In exchange for recognizing Rossi as Emperor, the four families powerful enough to challenge his rule had been granted enormous territories of their own, with each becoming a Great Ducal House possessing considerable autonomy over the lands beneath its control.

It had been a necessary compromise.

Without their cooperation, unification might have required another decade of warfare and hundreds of thousands of additional deaths, yet now that peace had finally arrived, Rossi increasingly wondered whether the treaty that had created his Empire would eventually become the very thing that would destroy it?

WOOOSH.

The enormous doors of the throne room suddenly opened.

"You called for me, my King?"

A calm voice asked, as Socrates entered the chamber alone.

Rossi slowly raised his head.

Among the thousands of men who had served him throughout his campaigns, there was perhaps nobody whose counsel he trusted more than the strategist walking towards him.

Socrates had planned campaigns others considered impossible, negotiated alliances between men who despised one another and repeatedly found solutions whenever Rossi believed himself trapped without one, which was precisely why the Emperor had summoned him tonight.

"Yes, Socrates, there is something I must discuss with you."

Rossi replied, as he gestured towards the empty chair beside the table.

Socrates quietly took his seat.

For several moments, Rossi said nothing as he gathered the reports scattered before him, until eventually he pushed several of them towards his oldest advisor.

"Three rebellions this month, another two suspected conspiracies within the western territories, and according to this report, several former Commanders of the Harkonnen Kingdom have begun secretly gathering weapons again."

Rossi muttered, as Socrates calmly skimmed through the documents.

"None of that surprises me."

Socrates replied.

"An Empire conquered within a generation will not begin thinking of itself as a single nation within a year."

"I know."

Rossi said, before leaning backwards within his chair.

"The rebellions themselves do not frighten me, Socrates. We have armies capable of crushing every one of them, and if some fool wishes to raise a banner against me tomorrow, I can have his head displayed above his own city gates before the month ends."

His fingers slowly tightened around the armrest.

"What frightens me is what happens twenty years from now."

That caused Socrates to finally look up.

Rossi rose from his throne before walking towards the enormous map of the newly unified Empire hanging upon the wall.

"The greatest problem I face is that my most talented men have increasingly fewer reasons to remain loyal to me after I surrendered control over the majority of this Empire to the Four Great Ducal Houses."

He pointed towards the vast territories divided across the map.

"Look at it. I am supposedly the Emperor of everything within these borders, yet how much of this land can I actually distribute without violating the treaty that created the Empire?"

Socrates remained silent.

"Very little."

Rossi answered his own question.

"I can pay soldiers, grant them fancy sounding titles, award gold and offer positions within the Imperial Army, but land is what creates dynasties, and land is what every ambitious man eventually desires."

He turned towards Socrates.

"So tell me, my friend, why should a common soldier strive to distinguish himself beneath the Imperial banner when one of the Ducal Houses can offer him the same wage, perhaps even more? Why should an exceptional Commander remain loyal to me for thirty years when a Duke can promise him an estate, servants and hereditary lands in exchange for changing banners?"

Rossi slowly shook his head.

"The strongest Ascendants within this Empire will eventually realize the same thing. I possess prestige, yet the Dukes possess enormous territories from which they can carve rewards for anyone whose loyalty they desire."

His expression darkened.

"I am chained, Socrates, and every year those chains will tighten further. The only way for me to create new landed nobles loyal directly to the throne is to take territory away from the Four Great Houses, yet doing so violates the very agreement preventing another continental war."

Rossi returned towards the table before placing both palms against its surface.

"I have conquered an Empire only to discover that I cannot freely reward the people required to keep it."

For several moments, Socrates remained completely silent.

Then slowly, the strategist smiled.

"Then we must change the manner in which nobility is inherited."

Rossi frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The treaty prevents you from arbitrarily confiscating territory belonging to the Four Great Houses."

Socrates explained, as he carefully placed the reports aside.

"But it does not prevent us from establishing qualifications regarding who is considered competent enough to inherit noble authority within the Empire."

Rossi stared at him.

Socrates leaned forward.

"Create an institution... Let’s say, an Imperial Academy for nobles."

Socrates suggested, as a wicked smile appeared on the advisor’s face.

"I don’t follow...."

Rossi muttered, as Socrates stood up and began to walk around the Emperor.

"I’m saying, we create a system where every noble child within the Empire will eventually be required to attend a school of sorts, whether they are the heir of a Duke, the son of a Baron or the daughter of some Imperial Army Officer above the Captain rank."

He began, as Rossi listened carefully.

"We will publicly justify its creation through competence. A person entrusted with governing thousands of Imperial citizens should understand taxation, administration, politics, law, military strategy, diplomacy and the responsibilities associated with noble authority."

Socrates gestured towards the reports of rebellion scattered across the table.

"After everything this continent has endured, who could reasonably argue against ensuring that the next generation of rulers are properly educated?"

Rossi’s expression slowly changed.

"And how does that help us?"

"It helps us, because we control who graduates.

While passing becomes a legal requirement for inheriting ancestral lands."

Socrates replied, as silence filled the throne room.

Rossi stared at his strategist as the implications gradually became apparent.

"If the eldest son of a Baron fails..."

"Then he cannot inherit his father’s lands."

Socrates answered.

"And if his younger brother also fails?"

"Then neither inherits."

"And if every eligible heir fails?"

Socrates smiled.

"Then upon the Baron’s death, his territory returns to the Imperial Throne, because there is no legally qualified heir capable of assuming governance."

For several seconds, Rossi said absolutely nothing.

Then slowly, he returned his gaze towards the map.

The same territories that moments earlier had seemed permanently beyond his reach suddenly appeared considerably less permanent.

"But the Ducal Houses will recognize what we are doing."

Rossi eventually said.

"They will never accept a system designed to gradually return their subordinate territories to me."

"Which is why we never present it that way."

Socrates replied.

"We present it as merit."

He began slowly pacing across the throne room.

"The Academy must be prestigious enough that nobles consider attendance an honour rather than an obligation, while graduation must become a mark of competence recognized throughout the Empire. We will employ respected scholars, famous generals, powerful Ascendants and experienced administrators as instructors, while teaching subjects genuinely useful to anyone expected to govern."

Socrates paused.

"The institution must actually produce better nobles, Rossi. That is what makes everything else defensible."

The Emperor slowly nodded.

"And how do we decide who graduates?"

He asked, as–

"We do it based on convenience..."

Socrates replied.

"The Imperial Throne establishes the curriculum, appoints the administrators and determines the standards required to pass. Those standards need not remain identical forever either, as if the Empire requires more nobles during one generation, the requirements can become reasonable, while if the throne needs territory returned during another..."

"...we make graduation harder."

Rossi completed.

Socrates smiled.

"Precisely."

He muttered, as the light in Rossi’s eyes brightened.

"We would have to be careful... Socrates. If they realize what our true intentions are, they’ll never let this reform come into practice."

Rossi muttered, as Socrates nodded in agreement.

"If every child belonging to a troublesome House suddenly fails, even an idiot will recognize what happened. The Academy must maintain enough genuine merit that its decisions remain believable, and occasionally the son of a man you despise will need to graduate simply because failing him would appear too convenient."

Rossi nodded.

"But over generations..."

"Over generations, the throne gains influence without confiscating a single acre by force."

Socrates replied.

"And there is another benefit."

Rossi gestured for him to continue.

"The children themselves can be used to keep rebellion under check."

Socrates said.

"Every powerful family within the Empire will willingly send its sons and daughters into an institution controlled by you."

Rossi’s eyes narrowed.

"You mean hostages."

"I mean students."

Socrates corrected with a faint smile.

"Calling them hostages would rather undermine the appeal."

A quiet laugh escaped Rossi before Socrates continued.

"Think about what rebellion looks like under such a system. A Duke considering raising his banner against you must first remember that his sons, daughters, nephews and the children of nearly every important vassal beneath him are currently living within an Imperial institution."

Socrates returned towards the table.

"You may never need to threaten those children. Their presence alone creates hesitation."

The idea became increasingly attractive with every passing moment.

"Better still, we receive them while they are young."

Socrates continued.

"Before they completely inherit their parents’ grudges, before regional loyalties become impossible to change and before they begin viewing themselves solely as northern men, western men, eastern men or whatever identity existed before unification."

He tapped one finger against the Imperial crest carved into the table.

"Teach them that they are Valdrak citizens first."

Rossi remained silent.

"Make them study Imperial history together, train together, compete together and eventually bleed together during exercises. A boy whose grandfather fought against you may enter despising House Valdrak because that is what his father taught him, yet after spending years surrounded by children from every corner of the Empire, he may leave believing in the Empire more strongly than the kingdom his grandfather lost."

"And those who don’t?"

Rossi asked.

Socrates shrugged.

"At least we will know who they are."

That answer earned another smile from the Emperor.

However, Socrates had not finished.

"There is one final element that I believe matters more than all the others."

He said.

"The Academy cannot belong exclusively to existing nobles."

Rossi’s smile faded slightly.

"Explain."

"If only noble children may attend, then the common population gains nothing from its existence, while your original problem regarding talented soldiers remains unresolved."

Socrates replied.

"So create another path."

He raised one finger.

"Every year, allow the Imperial Army to recommend a limited number of exceptional young soldiers for entrance into the Academy, regardless of birth."

Rossi immediately understood.

"And if they graduate..."

"They become eligible for nobility."

Socrates finished.

"Not necessarily immediately, because land must first become available, but their names enter an Imperial register of qualified candidates. Whenever a noble line ends without a graduate capable of inheriting its territory, you suddenly possess a pool of talented men and women whose entire elevation from commoner to landed nobility came directly from the Emperor."

Rossi slowly leaned back.

Their loyalty would not belong to a Ducal family.

It would belong to the institution that had transformed their lives, and ultimately to the throne controlling it.

"Every farmer will believe his son has a chance."

Rossi murmured.

"Every blacksmith, merchant and labourer."

Socrates nodded.

"Most will never reach the Academy, of course, but they don’t need to."

His expression remained perfectly calm.

"They merely need to believe that exceptional service can take them there."

Rossi’s fingers slowly tapped against the armrest.

"Families will send ambitious children towards the Imperial Army because military service becomes the only path through which a commoner might someday receive noble lands."

"And even those who fail to earn an Academy recommendation will already be soldiers."

Socrates added.

"Most will remain within the military because by then it will be their profession, which strengthens the Imperial Army while simultaneously ensuring that the most extraordinary talents born among the common population aspire towards serving you instead of a local Duke."

The throne room fell silent again.

Only this time, Rossi Valdrak was no longer staring towards reports of rebellion.

He was staring towards the future.

An Academy presented as an institution of education would give him influence over inheritance.

A school built around merit would gradually return mismanaged territories to the throne without violating the unification treaty.

The children of potentially rebellious nobles would spend their formative years beneath Imperial supervision, while talented commoners would suddenly possess a reason to enlist beneath the Imperial banner.

And throughout all of it, the Four Great Ducal Houses could publicly support the institution without ever admitting that they had willingly accepted another chain around their own necks.

Slowly, Rossi Valdrak began to smile.

"Socrates..."

He muttered.

"How long would it take you to design this system properly?"

The strategist considered the question before looking towards the reports scattered across the table.

"Give me six months to draft the laws, another six to gather the instructors and perhaps two years before the first students can enter."

Rossi rose from the Imperial Throne.

"Then begin tomorrow."

He ordered, as he extended his hand towards the enormous map of the Empire he had conquered.

"I spent half my life winning this land with armies, Socrates, and I have no intention of allowing my descendants to lose it because I lacked the foresight to secure what we conquered."

Socrates lowered his head.

"As you command, my King."

Neither man could possibly know what the institution would become over the centuries that followed.

They could not know how many generations of nobles would eventually pass through its gates, how many rivalries would begin within its halls or how many future generals, Dukes, ministers and rebels would trace the beginning of their ambitions back to the years they spent there.

However, that night, within a throne room belonging to an Empire barely one year old, Rossi Valdrak and his most trusted strategist laid the foundations of an institution that would eventually become almost as important to Imperial authority as the army itself.

The Imperial Academy.