Surrounded by half-empty bookshelves, King Pacha leaned over a map of the Medala Empire. This map depicted the territories of all the noble houses, as well as their allegiances marked in different colors. Unlike what the outside world may have believed, there were more than the colors of the three kingdoms represented on the table. Beyond the white of the north, the red of the center and the blue of the south, there were three more.

Gray represented the neutral lords, who had nominally declared for one of the kings, but mostly stayed out of the battle between them. This color also included those whose true allegiance Pacha couldn’t determine just yet.

Black territories were those controlled by the Orientals. For now, this was limited to a single piece of land, Port Ulta in the south. Far away and weak in strength, it was the least relevant for him at the moment, though it remained important to keep an eye on the development of the foreigners within his family’s lands.

For him, the most relevant was the yellow color, those houses controlled by his uncle, Divitius Ichilia, Governor of the West. When all the additional forces were added to the map, Medala’s true balance of power was revealed. It also made him realize just how lacking his own strength was.

His uncle controlled a good chunk of the lords that should have been beholden to him, mostly in the west, around the Ichilia stronghold Huaylas. His fellow kings in the north and south had also both taken land from him in the last war, though he didn’t miss the traitorous lords. Despite its nominal allegiance to the central kingdom, he didn’t control Port Ulta either. All in all, his strength was still the weakest among the three kings, though he had taken great pains to change that in the future.

Over the past few years, this map had been the main focus of his thoughts. He had won over a good few lords in that time, through various means. Some, he had offered important positions in his court. Others, he had offered more concrete benefits, like secret trade deals, or security of religion.

The last one had netted him the support of three estates already, and he could expect more to follow. Quite a few of the northern lords were deeply religious. That was especially true in the conservative eastern region, as it was true for the estates around the Sallqata mountains, where many of the country’s sites of pilgrimage resided.

These religious lords had grown unhappy with his brother Amautu’s flirtation with the western scholars over the years. As Amautu began to dress and talk more and more like someone from Chutwa, and as his brother’s Chutwa teacher gained more and more power there, the lords had lost hope for Amautu’s rehabilitation.

By this point, many had had enough of their king’s attempt to marginalize their religion, and would much rather serve a pious king. Thus, Pacha hadn’t hesitated to throw out his loose alliance with the Arcavians, at least on the surface.

Although they were useful to have around – since they provided good money and even better soldiers – by now his own people had begun to copy the weapons he had retrieved from his war with Corco. While the rifles his craftsmen were making for him weren’t as good as the originals, they were still good enough to quickly create cheap armies that could rival any other.

With his own supply of guns and a steady stream of wealth from the silver mines around Arguna, the usefulness of the foreigners was, ultimately, limited. However, removing them from his lands had brought him great benefits.

Without any foreign influence to hold him down, he could present himself as the religious, and traditionalist candidate among the triumvirs. In that regard, his name alone was a big help. Some of the shallower religious lords simply liked the idea of an emperor named ‘Pachacutec’, which had opened him more than one door. With Corco’s escalating conflict with the high priests, he had taken over much of the goodwill his nephew had enjoyed before.

Yet despite his best attempts, he still looked like the third strongest power on the map, far behind both of his brothers. In truth, he really struggled with the intricacies of policy. It didn’t help that he didn’t have many trustworthy people around him. At least some of House Pluritac’s trusty old servants had remained by his side. Despite his questionable heritage, he was still a Pluritac, and still in charge of his family’s heartland. Around servants like Pallatio, he had been able to build a new advisory that could support him with diplomatic matters that were too much for him.

Still, sometimes he felt like his head was about to explode when he thought about the plans, plots, and ambitions all of his rivals might have. With a wistful sigh, he looked around the half-empty bookshelves all around him. Back when Corco had asked for the old emperor’s library during the peace deal, he hadn’t really cared.

As far as he had been concerned, the library didn’t have any use besides the maps inside it. However, now he yearned for the chance to call on the knowledge of his ancestors and use it to his advantage.

Pacha felt like he had matured a lot since then, but the ignorant, young man from a few years ago had done a lot of damage that he now had to fix somehow. Before he could return to the map that had been his life for the past few years, he heard the door behind him open.

“No need to overwork yourself, son. Please rest some time,” a familiar voice said. When he turned around, a gray-haired woman with a cramped smile had entered the room.

“Mother, what brings you here?” his voice was harsh, but his frown softened as soon as he saw his mother, Empress Mother Spuria Ichilia. Her poise was still as noble as ever, but there was a profound sadness in her eyes that had taken hold at some point and wouldn’t let go again. Her perfectly set hair had turned from a stately gray to a thin white, and the wrinkles around her eyes had become worse again since last time he had seen her.

Over the past three years, Pacha’s mother had aged visibly. Although he somewhat resented her for the position she had forced him into – and for the poor education and overblown ambition she had instilled into him – he didn’t want to see her suffer. However, this aged appearance was the result of her ownunreasonable ambition, never letting go of the ghosts in her past, always trying to solve problems that had long become irredeemable.

After the incidents of the succession war, the rumors of her infidelity and of Pacha’s father had persisted, which had ruined her reputation and forced her out of public life. Only three people were still willing to talk to her: Her brother Divitius, him, and his no-good father Caelestis, who had hidden away in the Ancestral Hall.

All these years, she had tried to force another alliance between the three sides, to regain the power over the palace that she had lost, and to return to times long past. However, Pacha had to worry about the very survival of his kingdom and didn’t have time to consider these things. Not to mention, he didn’t trust his uncle’s word or his father’s competence, so he wasn’t willing to work with either. He was sure that the others saw it similarly.

Yet even though she didn’t have any sway with anyone anymore, his mother still kept traveling around, between here, the Ancestral Hall, and Huaylas, hoping to reforge a bond that had long been broken. By now, age was starting to catch up to her.

“Does a mother need a reason to see her son?” Spuria asked. In response, Pacha suppressed an annoyed grunt and tried to remain calm.

“Mother, you have only just returned from Uncle Divitius,” he said. “You have barely rested, and you look exhausted. Why interrupt me in the middle of my work if you have no reason to come here?”

Rather than quibble more, his mother went straight to the point.

“Your uncle needs a favor.”

Since she had entered the room, Pacha had yet to offer his mother a seat, or tea. However, he made no attempt to do so, and she made no attempt to demand it.

“Oh? Does he want me to hand over my crown at last?” he asked instead, a sneer on his lips. At the mention of his uncle, he could already feel his suppressed anger breaking through.

“Pacha, please be reasonable,” Spuria said, stepping half a step forward before halting.

“I am! And I am not blind! He-” Pacha’s palm slammed on the map which showed his uncle’s plans, but then he interrupted himself. As he looked at his mother’s tired, saddened eyes, his anger disappeared. After a sigh, he continued. “What does uncle want?”

“Your uncle needs your support. He plans to start another war against the southern kingdom. As family, we need to work together, even more so when we fight against our common enemy.”

Spuria was now calmer than before, maybe secure in the knowledge that she still held sway over her son, if only out of pity. However, while Pacha would go easy on his mother, he was no fool.

“So he expects me to send more soldiers of mine to die for his causes?” he asked. “Last time I fought a war against the south, I lost three estates.”

“No, mother would never ask you for anything excessive. You only need to close down the southern border again and deny them supplies, only until the war is over.”

“Impossible.” Pacha shook his head, and looked over the mostly empty shelves around him, a constant reminder of his deal to his nephew Corcopaca.

“I am a man of my word,” he continued. “Open borders were part of our last contract with the southern kingdom. And the agreed time has yet to expire. But this is not only an issue of reputation, it is also an issue of character. I will not falsify my words, not for uncle or anyone.”

“Son…”

Pacha waited for his mother’s excuses, but the single word simply hung in the room for a while, like a magic spell meant to solve every woe. Calmer again, Pacha explained himself. Maybe then, his mother would finally understand.

“If I do as uncle wants, I will only be chastised in the Triumvirate Meetings again. Then, the representatives of the north and south will jump the chance to punish my kingdom, and they will use the opportunity to slander me in front of the other lords as well. What do I do then, when I lose even more support?”

“There is no need for them to know,” Spuria argued. “The official reason for the border closure could be anything, they need not know the truth. Just invent an excuse. Maybe the border is closed for now because of bandits. Once they slander you in court over the issue, you simply accuse them of endangering trade between the estates, and it would be their word against yours. There is no loss for you, and it would be easy to do.”

“Bandits again… the lords have no creativity left,” Pacha mumbled to himself, before he thought for a moment. In truth, this really wasn’t such a terrible thing to do. He didn’t have to invest many resources in closing down the border between the kingdoms, and navigating the Triumvirate Meeting around this wouldn’t be a big deal either. Finally, he came to a decision.

“This king can comply, but uncle will have to accept fewer of the imported Saniya fertilizer for next year’s harvest. That is the price he will have to pay. ”

“But-”

“We are family,” he finished his mother’s words. “I understand. But I am not my uncle’s servant. In fact, the Governor of the West is this king’s subordinate, by right. I am already making concessions by even considering cooperation at this point, so how could he expect me to do everything for no reward, when he does not even have the courtesy to come here in person, and has to send my exhausted mother to beg for him? If uncle wants me to do his dirty work, he needs to put up something in return to make it worth my while. That is my final word.”

It seemed like Spuria wanted to say something, but in the end, she let go and took back the half step she had stepped forward at the start of their conversation.

“I understand,” she said. Her voice was much calmer, as if she had let go of something, or understood something. Pacha hoped it wasn’t just an illusion. “I will be making tea in the salon. When you are done and ready with your work, it will be finished. Do not take too long, you are in need of rest as well.”

“Thank you, mother. I will not be long.”

For the first time since his mother had entered the room, Pacha managed a genuine smile. However, it disappeared as soon as she was gone, his mind already focused on estate politics again. If his uncle were to agree to the deal, it would bring nothing but benefits to the king of the center. The increased harvest from the extra fertilizer would be nice, but it was only a cover for Pacha’s real purpose.

All this time, Divitius had been distributing the fertilizer he had gotten through Pacha’s trade with the southern kingdom to his loyalists. With less supply, the estates around House Ichilia would receive less. Once they grew discontent, they would be ready for Pacha to win over.

While his uncle may consider that he would not have to pay a thing should he quickly conquer the southern kingdom in his attempt, Pacha knew better. His nephew Corco wasn’t that easy to take down.

With one good deal struck today, Pacha’s mood was lifted as he returned his eyes back to the map on the table. Even now, it was still his entire world.