Chapter 39: Chapter 37 – Allies

A few minutes after Corco had readjusted his plans, he found himself in front of the Petrocilius manor, with two of his warriors in tow. Corco decided to bring Fadelio and, against his own better judgment, Dedrick as well, though he had sworn in the mercenary on a vow of silence. Despite their agreement with Porcero's Lord, the rest of their expedition party was forced to wait outside of the city walls, by the harbor. No Medalan lord would ever allow a foreign army into their walls, the paranoid Governor of the East doubly so. In Medala, wars between estates were considered good form after all.

"Primus Vitus Petrocilius greets Crown Prince Corcopaca."

With a well-practiced formal greeting, the young noble went forward half a step and welcomed the emperor's heir. While Corco disliked the strict etiquette enforced at the courts, he would have to make a good impression if he wanted to win over anyone. Thus he decided to play along and reply in kind.

"Corcopaca Titu Pluritac greets young master Petrocilius"

"House Petrocilius is greatly honored to greet the crown prince as a guest."

"As House Pluritac is honored to be hosted."

With the stiff formalities done, the two family representatives were free to talk like normal people again.

“I really need to thank you for your help yesterday. Your presence during the arrest made things a lot simpler,” Corco started the proper conversation.

"On the contrary, House Petrocilius has to thank Crown Prince. We have awaited Prince Corco for a long time. Never did we believe the lies about Crown Prince's death. Just for this reason, we had stationed a few warriors at the port to spot Crown Prince's arrival. Even this young master was sent to Porcero to oversee the efforts. Of course, House Petrocilius is under direct administration of Governor Saliena and never intended to oppose the governor in any manner. Thus, this young master must apologize for any inadequacies."

"You did more than enough,” Corco waved off the kid's modesty.

“Oh no, this young master assures that any effects of his actions were nothing but a happy accident. No deliberate attempt has been made to oppose any of Governor Saliena's plans. Truly, as a small family, House Petrocilius would never dare act so bold as to-”

“Stop!”

Annoyed by Primus' endless apology, Corco interrupted the youngster's weasely words before he would get angry and start hitting people. This was exactly why he hated the court politics of Medala.

“There's no reason to do any of this crap. You get that, right? I mean, I understand. You're just trying to make sure Saliena can't hold any of this against you, but you're not making yourself any friends if you don't commit to a side. You're just gonna piss me off, and Saliena is still gonna hate you for your interference, deliberate or not.”

If there was one thing Corco had always despised about his homeland's culture it was the two-faced nature of its lords and their lackeys. Within the various courts and halls of Medala, it was standard procedure to flatter, deceive and deflect. In the face of higher authority, subordinates were quick to admit mistakes and degrade themselves. In most cases, the intention was to shame their masters into leniency. They would abuse all the rituals and formalities of the court as well as common courtesy to achieve their selfish goals.

Arguments based on feeling and rhetoric, short-term thinking and sophistry were what ruled the political debates of Medala. The winner would always be whoever was the greatest liar and whoever managed to bend the convoluted rules most adroitly. From a young age Corco and his brothers had been educated in the art of saying nothing. Since then, the crown prince had only grown to despise this way of doing politics even more. His new memories hadn't exactly helped matter either.

While the prince's remembrance of his past had put him in a progressively lousier mood, Primus had thrown awkward glances back at his guest, unsure of what to do. In desperation, he turned back towards the tall servant warrior who had kept himself to the young master's side. Called upon by his future lord, the warrior stepped in to support his lord.

“Young master, for now we should not let our guest stand outside like this. It is discourteous.”

“Of course. Let's go inside.” Eager to change topics, or at least to move the disagreement to a more private setting, Primus agreed with his warrior before he turned back to Corco. With a careful “this way please,” he led the way beyond the gates of the Petrocilius manor. As soon as they had entered they found themselves in front of a small rock garden, surrounded by three low wooden mansions.

"Ooh, what a truly magnificent water feature!” Fadelio said while he pointed towards the pond in the Petrocilius manor's front yard. “Master Corco, we should ask to hold meditation here."

Once more presented with the change to change topics and sell a favor all at once, Primus jumped on the chance to ease the atmosphere.

"Of course, Crown Prince and his men may feel at ease and treat our family's estate as their own."

As usual, Fadelio had read the atmosphere better than anyone. With a gloomy sigh, Corco shoved the thoughts of his past into the back of his mind and restored his calm.

"One matter at a time,” the prince said. “First we should have a talk. There is much to discuss after all."

"Of course. Our servants have already prepared a lavish menu for prince to enjoy. This way, please."

Relieved to see his guest's mood restored, the young master guided the group into the mansion.

 

---

 

Like so many things in eastern Medala, the dining room they entered soon after was undeniably old-fashioned. Covered over and over with abstract symbols, the walls told the stories of the Yaku founding myth, as well as those of divine entities revered in the area.

Positioned by the large, open paper windows, a small table had been loaded with bowls of rice, grilled meats and greens of various kinds. Surrounded on three sides by three wooden sat upholstered lounge chairs.

This must be the most stereotypically traditional dining room on the entire twin isles, Corco thought.

“Prince Corco, please do us the honor of taking the head lounge,” Primus said.

With a nod, Corco spread himself on one of the chairs at the sides, before Primus took a seat to his opposite. According to the usual custom, the lounge in the middle would be reserved for the least important person at the table. As a result, Corco wasn't all too surprised when the warrior servant of the Petrocilius clan took a seat as well. It appeared as if House Petrocilius didn't trust their immature young master to handle negotiations by himself.

"Hopefully Prince Corco will find the head lounge adequate," an eager Primus continued after he had laid down.

"Of course. Though to be honest, after all these years away, eating on a lounge chair feels... uncommon."

In truth, Corco was being polite. Even seven years ago, before Corco's departure for Arcavia, no one in the capital had been using lounge chairs any more. As soon as the two young nobles started their conversation, the servants took it as a sign to start the feast as well. Armed with a jug of wine, a Petrocilius servant came to the table and poured drinks for everyone. At the same time, others brought an array of fruits as appetizers.

"Ah yes, so how was it? The Orient?" Primus asked with a sparkle in his eye.

"…unlike what some stories might suggest, the Arcavians don't have scales. They don't eat people either. But compared to here there are still a lot of differences. We should look at those and see if there's anything to learn. Especially when it comes to craftsmanship and other skill-based knowledge. Though in terms of intellectual thought, they're pretty much useless."

Corco showed some restraint and waited until Primus, the family heir, had taken a sip of the wine on offer before he took one himself. He wasn't interested in surprises.

"Haha, of course the barbarians cannot compare to the wisdom of our great ancestors,” Primus said with a beaming smile on his face, much to Corco's own dismay. “So what makes the foreigners so 'useless', if Prince Corco would be so kind?"

"Well, for one, they don't eat lying down,” was Corco's reply. Annoyed, he stretched his body and tried to get into a less uncomfortable position. After he had achieved minor success, the prince decided to answer in earnest.

“First, their cities are disgusting, sprawling messes. Some of their zealotry makes anything you say a risk, especially as a nonbeliever in their crazy Arcavus cult. Anyone who is even the slightest bit different will be ostracized.”

"Is that so." Primus asked, his smile still plastered all over his face. Either the kid was a much better actor than he seemed, or he still hadn't understood Corco's implication. Maybe it was time to be a bit more direct, the prince thought.

“So, what's going on with all the short-sleeved commoners I've been seeing around? Some new kind of fashion trend?”

Although Corco wasn't very interested in the over-seasoned meats of Medala's nobility, still put an unidentifiable piece in his bowl. In an attempt to improve the anticipated taste, he drowned it in the fish sauce of Medala he had so sorely missed in all of his years away. It didn't go too well. Disappointed, he realized that even the fish sauce served in the Petrocilius manor was old-fashioned, rather than one of the brands he liked. Even though the prince had given the other side plenty of time to answer the question, Primus still had trouble.

“That would be because...” At last he began an answer, but soon halted with a frown. To his luck however, the old warrior servant jumped in to save his young master.

“They are the new laws ratified by the capital. Governor Saliena would have been eager to impress Arguna.”

Reminded of the old man's presence, Corco stretched his neck to make eye contact with the warrior.

“So who's making all those laws then? There's no ruling emperor right now, isn't there? I thought that was why I was here.”

“The new laws are ratified by the ancestral hall, which has taken to governance in the absence of a ruling emperor.”

“That's what Saliena says too. It's hardly normal though, is it? Nothing like this has ever happened, so what is different this time?”

“This servant is inconsolable that he cannot provide an answer to prince.”

“Maybe because of Prince Corco's grandfather? Elder Caelestis was the emperor himself and is not very old yet. Surely the elder must have great prestige within the ancestral hall,” Primus chimed in.

“No matter how the hall got this much power, why would the elders make an insane law like banning sleeves? Do they want to start another north-south war?”

With a dull face, Primus blinked back before his slow answer.

“I do not understand. Supposedly, all pirates wear inkings on their arms, easy to recognize, but otherwise hidden beneath their sleeves. The measure is meant to combat the pirate trouble, as requested by the Chutwa Empire. Why would this upset the southern lords?”

“In fucking Porcero?” Corco shouted in disbelief. “Where are the fucking pirates here?”

Corco calmed himself, despite the poor excuse. The western Chutwa Empire had been raided by Yaku pirates for a long time. Considering the arrogance with which the Chutwa handled their foreign politics, Corco was not surprised that they would try to force Medala into cooperation. However, any pirates on the east coast had nothing to do with an empire far in the west. Nonetheless, Corco wouldn't confront the young master just over some short sleeves. Things were looking increasingly murky and he would need all the help he could get. Thus, the crown prince took a deep breath before he explained himself to the young master.

“The new law not only targets pirates. It also showing off the biceps of all the men from the south, to reveal their own tattoos. It's like the only cultural difference between the north and south anyways. This way, it becomes easy to distinguish between the two sides. It'll only cause increased friction and make another civil war more likely.”

After he had shocked Primus speechless, Corco sank into thought for a while.

“What does my brother think about all of this?” he asked at last with another turn to the knowledgable old servant.

“This servant is unsure. However, third prince Pachacutec holds support from House Ichilia. It would be of no surprise if the third prince were to assume their attitude. After all, House Ichilia's dislike towards the south is well-documented.”

“...wait a second. Ichilia supports the littlest brother? That doesn't make any sense, does it? Why wouldn't they support Amautu instead? He's older after all, the oldest imperial prince with Ichilia blood.” Confused, the prince glanced between the servant and master, in hopes for an answer.

“That's...” Primus looked past Corco and out of the window, in an attempt to avoid eye contact, as obvious as it was inelegant.

“There is word that Prince Amautu and Concubine Spuria have had a disagreement in the past. Since then the lady and her family have decided to support her second-born Pachacutec instead.” Much less inhibited than his young ward, the old servant answered Corco's question instead. For a moment Corco just thought about the possible implications of this shift in power, before he realized something strange.

“Okay, so the ancestral hall is making up laws, the Ichilias don't like the southerners and the Ichilias support the third prince. That's still no reason for this sort of discrimination to slip through, is it? I mean, House Ichilia doesn't control the ancestral hall, do they? And they only have a leg up with one of the princes, not both of them, right?”

“While this servant cannot comment on the inner workings of the ancestral hall, at least when it comes to the princes, Prince Amautu cannot be called an adequate counter weight to Prince Pachacutec at this time.”

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“Wait, he isn't? He's the elder brother, why would they not stick with him?” Unlike the Arcavian nobles, the lords of Medala valued birthright far higher. In most cases, the eldest son would inherit his fathers title without question.

“Prince Amautu has not been back in the country for a long time either.”

Pensive, Corco thought back to what Saliena had said about his brother's allegiance.

“He's been in Chutwa, huh?”

“Indeed. Second prince has been away on foreign study. Emperor Titu sent his second son away shortly after Prince Corco's departure, to balance the scales they say.” the servant explained. In response, Primus threw the bowl in his hand back onto the table to produce a loud clatter, before he propped himself up with urgency.

“Oh no, in fact, I heard that the second prince's exile was related with the conflict between him and his mother. There seems to have been-”

“Of course House Petrocilius would never put any credence in rumors.” Unusual in his brashness, the servant interrupted the enthusiastic Primus, before he continued his explanation as if nothing had happened. “As a result of Prince Amautu's absence, Prince Pacha has become the strongest contender for the throne.”

Even so, Corco wasn't convinced.

“Still seems weird that the little one would have this much support.”

“Prince Pacha is not little! No, he is the greatest hero of our generation, even though he is merely six seasons older than myself!” an agitated Primus answered.

“That brat? I'm surprised he's even of age yet. His maturity rites can't have been more than a year ago. What heroic things can a kid have done?”

“Even though the third prince is young, Prince Pachacutec is already an accomplished duelist. Undefeated in a hundred bouts, they say. I have not had the pleasure of meeting Prince Pacha, but it is said that he is the true embodiment of a Medala warrior.”

While Primus was off in his own world, consumed with thoughts of his little man-crush, the old servant filled in the blanks for Corco.

“Indeed, the young Prince's direct attitude and martial prowess have won over many of the more martial lords, especially in the empire's center. In addition, since Prince Pacha has support from the eastern kingdoms of Arcavia, he has managed to win over many eastern lords as well, all those who would benefit from a trade route established with the Orient.”

Seems like those lords don't include Petrocilius, Corco thought. Of course this was not something he could say out loud. There was no reason to offend his hosts.

“But Prince Amautu should also have the support of the western empire, should he not? Why not build his own trade route to the west then?” Primus asked instead. This time it was Corco's turn to explain.

“Even if he does have the support, Chutwa was never interested in any lands beyond their borders. They won't value something banal like a trade route. Instead, we should be glad that the Chutwa don't have us in their sights. Otherwise, they might just turn us into another one of their tributaries, a slave state.” Corco answered Primus, before he turned back over to the old servant, the only one who could provide Corco with any meaningful answers here. “Even with those lords on Pacha's side, that still doesn't add up to even half the estates in Medala. Since he's the older brother, Amautu should have almost everyone else on his side, right?”

Rather than a straight answer like before, the servant showed emotion for the first time and replied with a light sigh.

“Indeed, one would assume so. But many of the lords have lost their way. Maybe things have been peaceful for too long, but it seems as if fewer and fewer lords value the ancient traditions. Only here, in the east, a number of lords are dedicated to our ancient customs and carried Prince Amautu's flag for a while. However, now that Crown Prince has returned, all of this might change.”

At last, the conversation had reached its critical point. Up until now, House Petrocilius had provided Corco with information to gain his favor. Now however, it was the crown prince's turn to return it. Now it was time for his sales pitch.

“Might?” the prince asked with caution. “So the support of the eastern estates is not guaranteed for me, is it? Despite their insistence on tradition, on the primacy of the firstborn?”

“Prince Corco, there are multiple factors at play here. After all, even though Prince Corco is the firstborn son of the late emperor, Prince himself has been declared dead by the ancestral hall. This gives the lords enough room to make a decision on whether or not prince may be worthy of support.”

“So you're playing sophist then,” Corco said with the sternest look he could muster. “This way, you can pick and choose however you want, while you pretend to follow the rules, huh?”

Despite Corco's harsh words, the servant only smiled. “Prince has been away for seven years after all. Seven years in foreign lands, surrounded by foreigners. Who knows what kind of man has come back after all this time.”

“Okay, guess it's time to bring my ideas to the table.” Corco raised his body from his lounge chair and turned towards his silent attendants to the side.

“Fadelio, bring the brandy!”

Without a sound, Fadelio held the bottle of five-year brandy they had brought and walked towards the table. Meanwhile, Corco kept the conversation going.

"So, what do think of your estate's wine, young master?" he asked towards Primus.

"Petrocilius wine is unique in its fruity flavor. Although we might not be as well known as some other estates, our wines are as good as any other in Medala." With a puffed chest, Primus made no secret of his family pride. "What esteemed opinion does Prince Corco have?"

"It's quite good, actually."

As Corco sipped the wine from before, he lied through his teeth without shame. Somewhat sour and astringent, far from the best wine he had ever tasted, in either life. Still, by the standards of Medala, the taste was commendable, if unremarkable. While Fadelio filled three fresh cups, Corco continued:

"This drink is called brandy. It is an eastern specialty product. Feel free to have a taste. Be careful though, it's pretty strong."

As instructed, the old servant took a careful sip, before he raised an eyebrow at the rippling amber liquid and then looked back at the crown prince's eager stare.

"This brandy is quite...”

“COUGH COUGH”

Both the interrupted servant and the addressed crown prince turned their heads to the source of the disturbance. On the third lounge chair, the awkward Primus had already handed his cup to another one of his servants. Instead, he was busy wiping his brandy-stained tunic. With his jaw still scrunched up from the taste, he looked out the window again.

“...apologies.”

“...”

“...”

"This brandy is quite something,” the servant brushed over the little incident. “The taste is powerful, like a drink for a true man should be. However, to this servant's surprise, it has a refined note to it. How should I say it..."

"Well rounded," Corco helped out.

"Yes, well rounded and well said," the servant joked before he took a second, larger sip. Satisfied, the prince leaned back in his lounge. From here, the rest would be easy.

"So a drink like this would be popular among the nobles here?"

"Of course. It could find its way into mansion cellars all across the land."

"What if I told you that this brandy is made from ordinary wine?"

For a second, the servant's eyes grew larger, before his face returned to its unreadable state.

"Prince Corco would not be in possession of this method, would he?"

With a smile the prince gave the expected answer.

"As it so happens, I am. However, I would still need the raw materials for it. A wine like this one would be perfect, I believe," he said while he held up the cup filled with Petrocilius wine. Although things were going so well, Primus interrupted the discussion with a frown.

"This young master is surprised Prince Corco would speak like a merchant. A prince should strive for higher goals than copper. What about honor, tradition?"

"It's not the copper I'm interested in. It's insulation and interconnection."

Despite the admonishment, Corco kept his calm. What answered him was a dull look from the young master.

"Would Prince explain?” the servant asked instead. “In age, this old servant has gotten quite slow."

"Sure thing!” the prince replied with an energetic voice. “First, Insulation. Now that the Arcavians have taken Medala into their sights, this brandy and many other novel products will soon flood our markets. They'll make their way into the noble mansions as well. As a result, the foreign merchants could make us dependent on their products, not to mention the wealth sapped out of empire in the trade. I want to avoid that. The best way to do so is to preempt them. If we can produce locally what they bring from overseas, we can insulate ourselves from their negative influence."

"Prince Corco is wise beyond his years. This old man is in deep awe."

Rather than acknowledge the obnoxious fake flattery, Corco continued his lecture.

"As far as interconnection is concerned... well, interconnectedness actually, but who likes disparate suffixes? In any case, assume the following: Every noble in Medala were to drink brandy. It would become a staple of noble life. What do you believe would happen to House Petrocilius if it was the sole producer?"

Deep in thought, both hosts frowned and stared at the food on the table.

"In the short term, the estate would grow in strength, but we would also be an easy target for attack. The ones to produce this brandy would gain immensely in wealth and prestige, but such a sudden rise breeds enemies." To Corco's surprise, this time it was the young master who answered back, accompanied by the servant's gratified nod.

"Exactly!” With emphatic force, Corco slammed his fist onto his headrest. By now he sat upright, to excited to see his long-term plans come to fruition. “But what happens if the wine is produced by House Petrocilius, but the brandy is produced elsewhere? Say, here in Porcero? And what if the technology to produce brandy controlled by a third estate? Like mine. In that case, an attack on any one of these powers wouldn't gain control over the brandy. As long as the three constituents of this alliance were to stick together, a successful attack on one of them would only mean no more brandy for anyone. Which would not only make the attacker three enemies at once, it would also annoy every lord who would then have to hold his banquets without his new favorite drink.”

“Oh, if Prince Corco had any more products like this, we could forge the entire east together into one solid block!” an excited Primus added. Contented, Corco himself calmed down again. His first talks with the nobles of Medala had been a rousing success.

"As I said before: There are many novel products across the sea and I have brought as many as I could. With them, I will connect the estates of Medala, reduce the influence of the foreign merchants, prevent further infighting between the families, improve their cohesion and stabilize the system. This way, we may rule these lands for centuries more."

"On that wish I salute." Animated by the thoughts of a prosperous future, the young master forgot his inhibitions and raised the cup of brandy once more.

"Salute," Corco answered in kind.