The Prince (The Florentine 0.5)(8)
Author: Sylvain Reynard

Christopher muttered something pejorative beneath his breath.

He lifted his hands to the Prince. “Am I not to be afforded a trial?”

The ruler regarded him coolly. “I think you are confusing this principality with a democracy. I am judge and jury here. Now kneel.”

“My lord, let me investigate. Let me find the invader.”

The Prince’s gray eyes moved to the two men sitting to his left.

“Maximilian, Pierre.”

The two councilmen moved forward but Christopher continued to address the Prince. “I served the principality and I did it well. It was my idea to implement the security systems. This, this is not justice.”

The Prince nodded at the men flanking the accused.

They were just about to physically restrain him, when he shoved Pierre aside and sprinted toward the door.

With a speed that made him almost invisible, the Prince overtook him, standing in front of the exit.

As Christopher skidded to a stop, the Prince lifted his hand.

“Without security, there is no principality. So you are incorrect, Christopher, as well as incompetent. This is justice.”

The Prince pointed to the stone floor. “I won’t ask you again.”

“Mercy,” Christopher whispered.

“I know no such word,” the Prince replied.

He took a moment to look over Christopher’s shoulder at the remaining Consilium members as if to ensure they were watching.

Christopher opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but the Prince placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. With a look of carefully controlled fury, he ripped his head from his body and threw it across the room before Christopher could utter a single syllable.

The Prince stepped over the body with an expression of distaste. “Pierre, summon Gregor to remove the refuse.”

Pierre bowed and scurried to the hall.

Once the body and head had been disposed of and the blood had been cleaned from the stone floor, the Consilium resumed their meeting.

The Prince addressed his lieutenant from the throne.

“Lorenzo, please inform Ibarra of the Euskaldunuak that he is to be promoted to head of security and will now join the Consilium. I expect him to be briefed and ready to meet with me in two hours. His first assignment will be to find out who sold the schematics from our security systems to the invaders.”

The lieutenant bowed, his eyebrows knitting together.

“As you wish, Prince. Should I perhaps wait until the meeting is adjourned?”

“No, I wish Ibarra to be briefed immediately.” The Prince’s tone held a warning against further protestations. “Take care that no one other than he has any knowledge of the subject of this meeting.”

If Lorenzo was displeased, he hid his reaction masterfully, responding to the Prince’s orders with a sweeping bow before withdrawing.

The remaining Consilium members murmured amongst themselves, but they dared not say anything critical of the Prince or his choice for Christopher’s replacement.

Aoibhe had smothered a smile at the mention of Ibarra’s name, while Maximilian scowled. Niccolò’s expression was, as usual, almost impossible to read.

The Prince gestured for him to stand. “Niccolò, was there any intelligence about an attack?”

“No, my lord. Our relationship with the Venetians has always been uneasy but there were no whispers of an attack by them or anyone else. And we have spies inside their city.”

“Task the spies with uncovering who ordered the incursion. Perhaps it wasn’t the Venetians, after all. Were you able to identify any of the bodies?” The Prince’s tone was cautiously optimistic.

The Prince knew, as did the others, that images of the members of their kind were exceedingly rare. It was unlikely that the limited database maintained by the principality would contain images of the would-be assassins.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been able to identify them, my lord. But I should mention our spies provided images of Marcus’s closest associates. None of the men at the border or inside the city match those images. However, we were able to uncover something else.”

“I hope this is good news, Niccolò.”

The head of intelligence reacted nervously to the Prince’s tone.

“Potentially good news. The swords the men were carrying are Venetian-styled cross-hilted swords, common in the Middle Ages. This isn’t enough to prove the invaders came from Venice, but it’s an interesting coincidence.”

“Find out if something stronger than coincidence can be found. I want the person or persons behind the attacks identified immediately.

“You’ll be working in concert with our new head of security and with Pierre’s human intelligence network. I doubt they’ll contribute anything of use but one never knows.”

Niccolò genuflected. “Of course, my lord.”

The Prince’s eyes shifted to the largest council member, a great, bearlike man with long hair, a full beard, and piercing blue eyes.

“Maximilian, see to it the dead patrol unit is replaced and work with Ibarra to recruit new talent for the patrols.”

“Yes, my lord.” The large man bowed, his Italian heavy with a Prussian accent.

“Now we must discuss our response to the incursion.”

The Consilium members exchanged glances.

The Prince continued. “We were attacked, unprovoked. They wiped out a patrol and crossed into our territory, possibly having bought the schematics for our security systems. Then they attempted to assassinate me. Each of these acts warrants a strong response.

“We must prepare for war.”

Once again, the Consilium members murmured amongst themselves.

The Prince fixed his eyes on Niccolò.

“Send word to Venice through one of our spies that the mission was successful. Have the spy deliver one of the swords and say that the message is from Vincenzo, which is the name of one of the invaders I killed. Leave the true nature of the mission unstated, even to the spy.”

Aoibhe reacted immediately. “With respect, my lord, you’ll be informing our enemy that you’re dead.”

“Precisely.” The Prince seemed unperturbed.

Maximilian was the only council member who responded to the order with a smile.

Niccolò’s face was grave.

“My lord, even if the Venetians weren’t behind the attack, at the news of your death they’ll move to annex our territories.”

The Prince leaned forward from the throne.

“If our spy doesn’t know the nature of the mission, he won’t be able to offer it up under torture. The Venetians will only believe I’m dead if they ordered the assassination.