Forming Battle Lines

The Lord of Lions knocked back a swig of mjod before slamming the mug down on the table. "Enough pleasantries. What's this about, Alex?"

The High Regent wore a simple, purple robe. Hectarion was long familiar with his older brother's more humble attitude in private. Once, it had been his nature in public, but the years of Regency had worn down those instincts. By necessity, Hectarion admitted, but it was something he missed. Worse, Hectarion had met his share of tyrants. Long Night had created many. The poison of arrogance was a slow trickle. Curable if caught early enough. All-consuming if allowed to taint for too long.

Those fears bubbled close to the surface. It was unusual for Alexandros to personally visit an active warzone commanded by one of his brothers. Long had Alexandros prefer to delegate and then maintain a hands-off approach when it came to his kin. It had been his signature style during the Great Crusade. It was one habit which had survived the Regency.

Which made this visit all the stranger.

Alexandros wore a smile. Hectarion knew this weapon. Oh, some of his brothers had never understood. But Hectarion was a king. He was as intimately familiar with the political battlefield as he was with the physical one. A smile was as much as a tool in the courts as a knife was on the bloodied field. This smile further set Hectarion on edge. Small and soft and apologetic. Designed to comfort. Before the blow. "Succession."

The one word confirmed Hectarion's fear. Long had Hectarion struggled against this. A lone statue treating the tide with nothing but contempt even as the water creeped over it. Damn their father for not preparing any sort of contingency for the Imperium. It wasn't an absurd thought. Oh, yes. The Emperor had never been as immortal as he had portrayed himself to the masses. Twice had the Emperor come close to death. Damn his arrogance for not admitting the possibility of falling.

I'm becoming more bitter in my age, Hectarion reflected.

It didn't help that reality proved his bitterness worthwhile. Such as this moment. "You didn't come here to tell me you are finally following my advice."

The smile didn't waver. Hectarion wasn't the only one operating on cynicism. "Lukas is arguing for the opposite."

A new and not-new development. In hindsight, Hectarion often wondered if he should have thrown his support behind the Councilmen at the Conclave. Crisis often required a singular authority for speed and efficiency, and Hectarion had acted accordingly. However, that was eight years ago. Yes, echoing wounds and scars had to be addressed, but the existential threat of the Emperor's disappearance hadn't been a reality for several years now. That was when he had started his quiet campaign to persuade Alexandros to step down. Maybe the Emperor was alive, somewhere. But for all practical purposes, he might as well be dead. The solution was obvious to Hectarion. It was time to divide the Imperium equally among his sons. Had the Conclave settled upon a ruling council, the evolution would have been natural.

The High Regent sitting before him reminded him that path had long since been closed. Worse, the average citizen had grown used to seeing Alexandros as the High Regent. Popularity and inertia intensified Hectarion's struggle. Not merely from the citizenry either. Lukas was one brother who had made his peace with the Emperor's practical-death. The fact the Titan of Feuerstadt encouraged Alexandros to assume the throne was as predictable as the morning sun. It added yet another headwind against Hectarion's course.

"Lukas does not speak for his brothers," Hectarion replied, the tone more pointed than he intended.

Alexandros' riposte returned swift and relentless. "He's not the only one pushing for my elevation."

Hectarion pictured the battlefield in his mind. He and his political strength on one side against Lukas' on the opposing side. No, Lukas may be leading the other side, but how many others?

No, Hectarion said to himself. His view was wrong. Yes, there were others pressuring the situation. But, none of them held true control over the situation. Hectarion's eyes hardened as he stared at the brother Hectarion had long considered one of his closest. The subtle shift wouldn't go unnoticed by the High Regent. "Don't do this, Alex," Hectarion whispered.

The small smile faded now; a weapon dismissed. Hectarion swore within his mind. The campaign, and his trust, had distracted him from understanding what the situation was before him. Alexandros had not come to offer camaraderie or seeking counsel. The High Regent had come to determine if the Lord of Lions would be friend or foe on a political path they both knew could be quite dangerous.

Loneliness ripped through Hectarion's core.

The briefest of flinches revealed the High Regent was monitoring Hectarion's emotional state among the Empyrean. Another subtle betrayal. Hectarion's mind raced through the possibilities. Was his beloved brother set upon this path? No, Alexandros, much like his legion, preferred wise caution over reckless advance. It had been one reason so many of his brothers had willingly trusted him with the regency. Little risk he would rush into anything humanity would come to rue.

There was hope, but Hectarion could see it flicker weakly against other headwinds. If Alexandros sought the counsel of others, that meant he had travelled much further than Hectarion would have ever allowed. Only one option remained to him. His casual lounge across his seat left as he brought himself to his full height. "I will stand against you, if I have to."

Alexandros the politician had vanished. Only the older brother remained. His visage was both weary and regretful as he met Hectarion's merciless stare. And Hectarion cursed himself again.

The regency had left its own scars on his brother.

"I was afraid you would say that." [[Category:F]]