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"Conquest by Contamination"
Date: August 11, 1999  The winter has not yet loosed its chill grip from the city, and so a Franklin stove burns in the corner and lets off a soft warmth. Soft, that's the word -- the city and its politics are a frustrating combination of softness and confusion. Still. Drusus sits at his desk, the crown at his elbow like some golden stain left by a mug of wine. He is poring over a document and his brows are furrowed. "Deus Augustin, Deus," Flavius shows Cassius in and announces his name with a flourish. Drusus looks up and then stands, hands smoothing out the papers as he rises. He nods and says, "Ave, Deus." Cassius is led toward the grand desk in the atrium, and he bows formally at the waist, inclining his head as he returns the greeting. "Ave, Emperor. I received your summons earlier this afternoon. I hope I am not tardy in answering it?" His tone is as it always is -- measured, formal, and cool; although that coolness does not seem personal -- merely an ever-present facet of Cassius' demeanor. He is dressed in his usual impeccable manner, wings snug at his back and hair neatly combed, although there are lines of fatigue marring his face and his posture is slightly stooped (then again, he's bowing). Straightening, Cassius does not seek a chair until he is bid to do so. Nor does he ask what the summons was for -- the Emperor will tell him in his own sweet time. "No, Deus," Drusus replies. He gestures towards one of the chairs fronting his desk. "Please, make yourself comfortable." There is a young Empyrean girl in formal (but plain) servant's attire in the corner and he says, "Tertia will bring you something to drink should you wish it, sir." He himself settles down in his own chair and gets right to the point: "I'd like you to inquire with the Varati if they have any information about this plague -- if they know what it is or how to cure it. There are also rumors, Deus, that this is an experiment on their part; if it is possible for you to find out if this is the case, I would like you to do so." After giving a mild shake of his head to Tertia, Cassius settles into the indicated chair and his wings unfurl and then resettle along his spine while he makes himself comfortable. Yet the word 'experiment' gives him pause -- his eyes flash to the Emperor and a puzzled frown bisects his brow. "Experiment of what sort, Deus?" he asks. "You don't mean... that this is something they concocted?" "Such has been rumored." Drusus leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap: his wings wrap around the back of his chair and then, with that scout-learned unsettlingness, he ceases motion but for the movement of his eyes and mouth as he speaks. "It's said, by some, that this disease has been loosed upon us in the hopes that it will spread across the Empyre and decimate us, saving the Varati from losing troops while causing our collapse all the same." Cassius' face betrays no expression beyond puzzled speculation, and his words are chosen cautiously. "If... this rumor is true, Deus, why would they choose to release this plague here in Haven, rather than a part of our Empyre where it would do more damage?" Yet he pauses, ruminating, and considers aloud, "Haven is an easier spot in which to spread a disease, yet there is considerable risk to themselves, as well. Of course, they are possessed of a far greater number of healers..." He trails off into silence, and the look on his face gradually changes from puzzled to perturbed. "With your leave, Deus, perhaps I will also make inquiries at Delphi or with other healers I know, to find out whether or not such a thing is possible?" Drusus nods. "Aye. As for your query, there are several possibilities: this is one of the Empyre's trading hubs; it is easier to spread a disease to us here than in other places where their agents would likely be more obvious. As for infecting their own people... what are several hundred people compared to the conquest of an entire nation? It is not that I think so, Deus, but it would not surprise me to hear a Varati thinking in such a fashion. But, all in all, I do not know if this is the case. I need to know if it is the case. If not, and if the Varati possess some bit of knowledge, we should have it -- as well as Delphi." The Augustin patriarch's agreement is immediate, evidenced in the form of a nod. "Of course, Emperor. I will do all that I can to discover more about this plague and its origins. And, if possible, a cure." He clears his throat, vaguely uneasy, before remarking, "There are, of course, healers of considerable skill with the ability to purge the sickness from one's body. But such healers are in short supply, I fear. I would propose, Deus, that we summon some of the Empyre's strongest healers to Haven, so that they might contain the disease here, before it spreads. Those of lesser abilities should be alerted to the danger, so that they might determine whether or not the disease is reaching our cities. And I would advise prohibiting our citizens from leaving Haven altogether, until the disease is contained. I know that you have already taken steps to do so, Deus, but I fear that they were not strict enough. If there is any merit to these rumors at all, we do not want to be caught unawares." More quietly, he appends, "The war caused enough damage. A nation-wide plague could ruin us utterly." Drusus nods again. "Oh yes," he says quietly. "So it could." He regards the other man. "Healers have been incoming over the past few months; there is a quarantine block set up on the wall-side of the quarter. There are good healers within that company, those who answered to call to assist the refugees. Your other suggestion is a good one, but I do not wish to start an uncontrollable panic, either. So far, the number who have left have been manageable. The policy can change, however, and will change, as the situation develops." "Then at least have those who leave checked by healers both upon departure and arrival," Cassius suggests. "I know both how debilitating and how contagious this sickness can be. We cannot take any chances, Emperor." Still that careful regard. "Aye, Deus," Drusus says. Seeming somewhat mollified (though it is difficult to tell beneath that impassive exterior), Cassius nods in return. "Very well," he says. "Is there anything else you require of me, Deus? If not, I shall request audience with the Varati government within Atesh-Gah immediately. And I shall, of course, report all my findings to you and to the Aegis." "Nay, Deus," says Drusus. "But for this: you are well? And your family also?" "We are, Emperor," Cassius answers, and his voice is firm enough that any rumors to the contrary could be suitably put to rest. For a second, there is a thawing in those icy blue eyes, and what might be a smile -- glimpsed as no more than a twitch of his lips -- as he adds, "Augustus is fortunate enough to have a new member. My son, Nikolos Cassio Augustin, was born not much more than a fortnight ago. He seems healthy and lively, and we will be preparing for his naming ceremony soon. You are, of course, invited." It seems that even the wintry-eyed Aegian, not known for outbursts of emotion, is as prone to displays of fatherly pride as anyone else. Drusus dips his head, solemn and grave. "You honor me. I will attend. Is the Empress also invited, Deus?" Ah, the thousand-dollar question, isn't it? To his credit, Cassius does not bat an eyelash, although there is the sense that his ensuing smile is a touch forced. "Of course, Emperor. And may I congratulate you belatedly on your marriage, since I was regrettably unable to attend the wedding?" "You may, and my thanks, Deus. I will convey your congratulations to Aurora, if you would be so kind as to convey my congratulations on the birth of your son to your lady as well as to yourself." There is a thawing here, too: somehow, Drusus' eyes seem less empty, less distant, and his expression is not so inscrutable. He means what he is saying. Sensing that moment's respite from a cool facade as formidable as his own, Cassius tips his head courteously. "I will do so, Deus. And might I remark that your wife, the Empress, is... a singular lady. I had the privilege of meeting her during my... stay in Atesh-Gah. Please tell her that I send my regards." With Cassius, it is not always easy to tell whether or not he is being sincere, but at least there is no evidence to the contrary in that remark. Singular. That is a good word to describe Aurora. "Aye, Deus, that she is. More than most would realize. I will do so." With a final nod of his head, Cassius rises from his chair, and his wings give a crisp rustle as they re-fold against his back. "Then with your leave, Deus, I shall return to my quarters and begin my correspondence. If you have further need of me, you have only to ask. The Aegis is ever at your service." The Emperor rises also, smoothly, his wings sweeping out away from the chair's narrow back. "My thanks again, Deus, for your assistance. Vale, and may Tyche and Tritonia grant you success in your endeavor." "Vale, Deus," is Cassius' shorter farewell, though it lacks nothing in respect. With that, he turns and makes his way out of the atrium, leaving the Emperor to the remainder of his seemingly never-ending duties.
FIN
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