Free Prince of Wrath by Tony Roberts

the posts necessary to do this.”
    “Don’t tell me the obvious, Teduskis,” Astiras grumbled. “I want to see my estates, if there’s anything left of them after all this time. I’m willing to bet those Bragalese bastards burned it to the ground.”
    “Is that wise, sire? Surely you’re needed here to organise the town and province?”
    The Emperor grinned. “You said yourself that I need the right people in the right posts, and we have with us a whole company of former administrators. The militia are full of them!” He looked at Sepan. “Captain, I have amongst all this your report, and I must say I’m very impressed by it. Where is it?” he rummaged through the pile of parchments, throwing a couple over his shoulder irritation. “Ah, here we are.” He held up a couple of sheets before him. “Very neatly written, concise, informative. Here, have a look, Teduskis.”
    The bodyguard took them and gave them a brief examination. His eyebrows went up and he looked at the captain next to him. “Nice. Didn’t know you were capable of this.”
    Sepan cleared his throat delicately. “Ah, I had a couple of my men, former palace scribes, compose it under my dictation last night, sir.”
    Astiras took the report back. “Then, Captain, you have the beginnings of an administration here. Employ these people in this office under your command. You, Captain, are appointed castellan of Zofela, effective forthwith. Congratulations.”
    Sepan looked stunned. He stared at the Emperor, then bowed. “My thanks, sire. But I have no previous experience of such a post.”
    “I wasn’t Emperor before I took up the position,” Astiras said, heaving himself out of his chair, “but I’ve done a reasonably good job, wouldn’t you say?”
    Sepan nodded enthusiastically. What else could he say? No, sire, you’ve fucked up big time? “Then I shall set to my new post at once. I may need more to assist me, however.”
    Astiras showed him to the desk. “Captain, in my absence you will run Zofela. You know what I want; a clean, tidy town. No Bragalese. New people given rent-free incentives to come live here, and money to build new facilities, starting with a decent barracks. Organise a trade route from here to Kastan City, and also to Turslenka. We may also have to accommodate the Mazag. Worry not, I shall base myself here for the next couple of years. I don’t trust the Mazag nor the locals. But I think nobody will dare try anything as long as I’m here!”
    Sepan bowed and seated himself gingerly. Astiras slapped Teduskis on the shoulder. “So! Let’s get on our equines and ride to my estates. I want to see if they’re still there.”
    They rode with the Imperial Bodyguard out of Zofela’s main gate. Zofela had two gates, the northern one which was named the Frasian Gate and the southern one called the Mazag Gate. Astiras cared little for what the Bragalese had named them. He didn’t want to know and, besides, they were no longer in control of the town or the province. What he said went, and nobody had the authority to contest that.
    The landscape surrounding Zofela was spectacular. Mountains rose to north and south, snow-capped jagged peaks, while to the east and west the land was less mountainous, but still hilly. The long valley was dotted with farms further away from the town, and beyond Astiras knew the land changed to rolling plains, rich in timber and crops. The province was criss-crossed with dirt tracks but nothing that could be described as being proper roads. Once, a long time ago, there had been, but these had gradually declined and had been washed away in floods or torn away in landslides, and elsewhere they had suffered the same problem from invasion, neglect and even been the victim of other routes becoming more important over time.
    Now there were hardly any traces of the original road network left. Where they still existed they went nowhere, for the locals had created new routes that by-passed the isolated