The Splendor That Was Roam
Giles' lance had drawn the short straw again, for the last reach and the approaching descent into Roamish airspace. The Princess's Bit had spent the night racing over the darkened Bitalian swamps and farm-lots that had replaced the open waters when they'd come to the eastern end of the Inland Sea. They'd passed over the coast just as the Princess's sun had just finished falling somewhere over the western end of that near-endless stretch of salty waters, and the dark hours had been the business of the troopers of Baker Troop.
With the dawn had come the hoof-over, and Apple Troop had set up a lance every hour on the hour to fly a combat air patrol in front of, and on the approaching vectors around, the Bit in the morning light. The easterly light of the Duchess's sun had cast the long shadows of farmhouses and vineyards across the foreign land streaking below, but now the countryside was being left behind, and City was taking their place.
The ensign had taken Giles aside, and ordered him in the pre-dawn hours to get his griffons shined up and polished. They'd worked feverishly to get their enchantment gems sparkling, and the cloth of their best uniforms properly charged. Because they were to be the last combat air patrol before the Bit arrived at her anchorage, the CAP that greeted the City Herself.
And the Equestrian anchorage in Roam was over the embassy, in the heart of the City, at the crest of a steep hill facing the central heights which held the vast, sprawling palace which was the Imperial seat and the centre of all. As the Bit's engines ran at full reverse speed, the great bulk of the light carrier decelerated smartly, leaving Giles and his troopers to break and separate, like a blooming flower in front of the ship's bow over the streets and buildings below.
The great imperial City spread all around the grounds of the embassy like the fifth wonder of the world that she was, or so Lieutenant Martin Gale had explained to her corporals and lance corporals the night before.
Gwaine had whispered to Giles the rumor that Martin Gale had indulged in this uncharacteristic bit of education for the senior enlisted, as an excuse to skip out on the last diplomatic dinner in the officer's mess. Giles had no idea if this was the truth, or just a vicious slur on the lieutenant's good name.
Since the lieutenant didn't have any good to her name, he figured it didn't matter much.
But dodging her social responsibilities, or just making sure that Martin Gale's griffons didn't embarrass her before the watching eyes of antiquity, it didn't really matter to Giles. Because the stiff-winged old buzzard had chosen to lecture her griffons, Giles was able to put a name to that glittering mass of marble and roofing tile and ancient stone. The Domus Garañón, re-built by the founder of the current dynasty and re-named as was their right. The gold and purple and white marbles had been a donation of the Duch- no, the Princess Celestia and her stone-masons, to the new dignities of the revived Imperium.
The marbles had been put to use by Perronese workers, and Rocinantean architects, and other strange, foreign names that Giles only half-remembered after a night of strange dreams. The pegasus mare's main point had been that the court into which they were delivering the Bit's payload of Equestrian diplomats was the result of Equestrian patronage of the ancient, doddering empire.
The signs of the decay of the once-mighty Roamish Empire were visible in every direction that was not the palatial hill in front of which the light carrier now came to a complete stop. The palace herself was new, and glittering, and rich, and beautiful, but the tumbledown neighborhoods stretching in every other direction were more… like old Trottingham, than the stolid red-tile-roofed prosperity of Barkalona. Giles' sharp eagle eyes could pick out the collapsed roofs and rotting, abandoned buildings that spoke of deep-down, generational poverty everywhere he looked that was not the Domus Garanon, or however you pronounced that.
Giles spotted the great city's airborne guard, as they approached from the northwest. He directed his first file to help the sailors with the mooring sheets, and told off his second file to follow him. He and his troopers rose on a thermal rising above an unusually warm building just north of the Equestrian embassy, to greet the representatives of the garrison.
However late they were in approaching the huge aerial warship that had gotten within storming distance of the heart of Empire without challenge.
"Hail Celestia, Protector of the Imperium!" shouted the foremost armored bird as the strange band of griffons stooped to meet Giles and his glittering troopers. The lance-sized unit broke lazily around Giles and his file, as the shouty bird backed his wings and came into a hover in front of Giles.
"Hail the Emperor, Donkey Hotay, third of his name!" responded Giles, with the ritual words that the lieutenant and the ensign had drilled into him. "The Equestrian Sixth Guards brings his Imperial Majesty the new Equestrian envoy from her Royal Highness, the Princess Celestia, and her Court!"
"Wonderful!" said the other griffon, as he grinned widely. His feathers were poorly groomed, and stuck out slightly from under his heavy helm. "I'm Lieutenant Grigario, of the Eagle Guard. Good to have an Equestrian representative in the city again. You… wouldn't know if the new ambassador brought the year's tribute?"
The lieutenant had explained that the enormous subsidies which Princess Celestia used to underwrite the newly revived imperial pretensions of her client, the Emperor of Roam, were technically and pompously referred to by its recipients as 'tribute'.
She hadn't mentioned that the garrison troops in the city were likely to be griffons, nor that they would speak with an accent like… well, the master sergeant's. Nor that their armour was likely to be tarnished where it wasn't spotting with rust.
"I certainly wouldn't know about that sort of thing, lieutenant, sir."
"Come on, tom, your name, now!" the slovenly Griffonstonian said, insistently.
"I am Lance Corporal Giles, if you must. May I escort you onto the ship? My troop commander would be able to speak to these matters."
"What, you're enlisted? Dressed like that? What do they pay you birds?"
"Again, sir, my lieutenant would be the one you'd want to talk to about that."
"Ha! Aren't you a boring bird. Fine, take me to your leader, Jeeves."
"Giles, sir. This way, if you would."
Giles twitched his wings, and his file-leaders directed the Crystal troopers in a smoothly executed move to envelope the mercenary griffs of this so-called 'Eagle Guard'. Giles couldn't follow behind the supposed 'officer' as a good NCO ought, but only because he was obliged to lead the garrison soldiers to where Lieutenant Martin Gale was standing, placidly, below in the griffon's nest atop the Bit's envelope.
Let the lieutenant deal with these birds. Giles had some things to think about.
Among other things, how this Griffonstonian tom compared with that Prench officer in Barkalona. How could the same 'Empire' contain both officers at the same time? One had been just a pony, but protective of his district's dogs and griffons. The other… made Giles ashamed of his beak and bone.
And yet, the one was a simple provincial officer, and the other a lieutenant of the Guard in the Imperial capital. Well, a guard, and really, what was in a name?
How could you call yourself a guardsgriff, if you weren't worthy of the name?
And with griffons like Lieutenant Grigario taking the Princess's bit, what would it take to keep griffons from looking at him and his, and seeing that slovenly mercenary smiling greasily back at them?
"Fife, wake them- oh, hello, Ensign Fuse. I see we don't need to get the bucket of piss." Gilda frowned thoughtfully down at the most junior of the squadron's ensigns.
"Oi! I don't keep buckets' ov piss in my nice neat brig!" yelped the earth-pony jailer.
"Shut up, Fife. Go look in at our other guest."
"Guest? Wot guest? I keep a nice orderly correctional institution 'ere, serjant! None ov that mockery, I ask you!"
"Shut up, Fife, and bugger off."
"Yes, serjant. Buggerin' ovv."
"Right, Fuse? What were you thinking?"
"You met me, Master Sergeant Gilda? You seen my jacket, haven't you?"
"Are you the sum of your records, Ensign Fuse?"
"Looks like, don't it? What made any of you think I was 'diplomatic dinner' material?"
Gilda almost sighed. He wasn't wrong. They'd tried to cycle through the officers, to keep the diplomats amused, but they'd gone one too many ensigns, it would seem.
"Do you have regrets?"
"Do I have regrets? Sarge, I am nothing but regrets. I regrets not being able to apply to the Wonderbolts. I regrets being assigned to the 14/3rd instead of the second or first or the squadron of some other regiment that didn't get sent to the buckin' birdy isles! I regrets getting half-cashiered, and told I was good for nothin' but the jumped-up imaginary regiment of a pet of the princess's! I regrets-"
"Fuse, shut the buck up. That wasn't an invitation to free associate. Are. You. Willing. To. Apologize?"
"What? Oh, buck, yeah. If I can get through the apology without decking him again."
"Let's see, then," Gilda said, and turned the key in the cell-door's lock.
Ironically enough, the diplomat was still dozing when they turned to the much nicer cell at the front of the section they'd built out into a brig. And he stank of booze.
Gilda looked back at her nominal superior officer, and shrugged, dismissing him with the wordless wave of a wing.
"Your lieutenant should be out of the infirmary, and ready for duty."
"What lieutenant is that? Baker is still being run by us ensigns."
"Didn't she tell you? Lieutenant Lulamoon wants you for her battery. You're to move into the artillery's quarters. Go get your shit. I'll deal with your drunken opposite number, here.
"Go on, you little dweeb, get!"
Gilda shrugged the snoring unicorn over her shoulder, and went to go find the ambassador before the diplomatic delegation escaped the ship and left their alcoholic liability in the rueful possession of the Guard.
Sadly, Gilda failed to find the diplomats before they'd decamped. By the time she'd tracked down the major and the ambassador, they'd fetched up in the ambassador's new office.
Which, honestly speaking, put Government House back in Trottingham to shame. The wainscotting was some obscenely rich looking carmel-colored wood with beautiful grain, carved by some clever talon or hoof into delicate mythological friezes. There were ivory stands the size of small ponies in each corner, likewise scrimshaw'd into fragile-looking artwork in some savage style beyond Gilda's narrow base of experience or limited capacity for art-appreciation. The rest of the office was likewise extravagant and intimidatingly expensive-looking.
"-can't believe somepony laid out for this- this- waste!" the major was hyperventilating. "I've been to the Palace in Canterlot, the Princess doesn't surround herself with this sort of excess! Who authorized all of this- this- taxpayer abuse!"
"I really couldn't tell you, Major Shield," drawled the middle-aged orange unicorn. "You do realize that this is my first posting to the Superb Ouverture? I didn't lay out the bits for any of this. However much I approve of it."
"Approve of it! It's grotesque!"
"My dear major, this is what the courtiers of the Imperial Court expect of Equestrians. We are, after all, made of bits." The ambassador turned to acknowledge Gilda's existence, facing towards her and her burden. "Ah, the royal sergeant!"
Gilda snorted in offense.
"What may I do for your dubious excellency, master sergeant? We are, as you might have noticed, somewhat busy."
"Your Excellency, ma'am. You left so quickly, you seem to have forgotten some of your baggage," Gilda said. "Perhaps you might tell me where I might deposit this particular parcel. I haven't had a chance to go through the rest of your delegation's quarters on the Bit, to make sure you haven't forgotten anything else. Like, perhaps, the subsidies we were transporting for you."
"As if I'd forget the subsidies! They're my entire purpose for being here!" exclaimed Ambassador Flare. "If I dared present myself to his Imperial Majesty without the bits, I'd be summarily executed!"
"I rather doubt that, ma'am," drawled Gleaming Shield. "After all, if they kill an Equestrian ambassador, I'm fairly sure the princess would never send another 'tribute' again. And the Emperor's well-armed neighbors would swoop in and execute him in turn."
"Yes, yes, to put another donkey on the throne that would keep the subsidies flowing, but it'd be too late for me, wouldn't it? Yes, master sergeant, I'd like my bits, please."
"I'll be sure to send you a well-armed guard, with a reliable sergeant to keep them honest," Gilda promised, shifting the snoring drunk on her shoulder. She trusted Gustav to stay bought by the honor they'd ladled on his aged, one-winged shoulders. "Meanwhile, where can I decant this wine-skin you left in our brig?"
"Right back where you found him, master sergeant!" the ambassador said, smiling. "Mr. Blush's employment has been terminated. He was told that this was his last chance, and he chose to take it, didn't he? I don't care what you do with him. Pour him into the alley out back. Throw him into the Terrier River. Sell him to the garrison out at Castel d'Aramaspi for their meat-larder. I honestly do not care. He is no longer my responsibility."
"Gilda, let it go," Gleaming said, repressively. "Bringing the topic back to what we were talking about, Your Excellency. We cannot stay as long as you've requested. It's completely out of the question. We're on a very tight schedule, and I cannot spare three weeks to 'show the banner', whatever that might mean. And anyways, aren't you putting the trooper before the chariot? You haven't even presented your credentials!"
"What do you think all this is, Major Shield?" the ambassador waved a hoof at the enormous, beautifully carved desk she sat behind. Which was covered quite impressively with half-unrolled scrolls and scraps of paper. "The return of my predecessor did not end the importunities of the Superb Ouverture upon our credit and arms. And I do not have the surplus 'subsidies' to afford a proper mercenary army to send up into the Roamagna to cow the Bulldognese into a proper acknowledgement of their Imperial allegiances."
"That is not my problem, Your Excellency. Imperial politics is not the business of the Crystal Guard. We delivered you and your funds intact - or we will as soon as Gilda and I return to the Bit and get your bits out of the vault. That's the whole and complete mission that the governor-general of Fort Bing forced upon me, no more, no less. I will not be bulled into one thing after another like this. I have obligations!"
"You will concede that an Equestrian ambassador to the Imperial Court outranks a mere governor-general of a humble EUP port fortress!"
"I do not concede. There are many alleged imperiums in the world, and the old Roamish court only has precedence due to age and their peculiar ability to survive disasters that would have swamped greater kingdoms. And the governor-general had paperwork from Canterlot giving him the right to divert us onto this sub-mission. And it was in our general direction, anyways. Now you ask me to neglect the very purpose which sent my regiment out this way! I won't do it."
"But Major, if you could only see it my- oh, master sergeant, you're still here. Please take that sot out of my presence. He's no longer an employee, and his security clearance is revoked. Good day!"
"But-" Gilda objected.
"No! This conversation is over, until you get him out of here! I think he's waking up."
Gilda looked over her shoulder at the little horse as he dozed on. "I don't think-"
"Master sergeant! You're not paid to think! Take him away! Now!"
"Your Excellency," the major drawled again, a dangerous look in her eyes. "You do not, in point of fact, pay my sergeant at all. Only I have the right to order Gilda about."
And the major turned to Gilda. "Sergeant, please take the prisoner back to the brig. We'll figure out something we can do with a discharged diplomat. I will return to the Bit shortly."
Gleaming Shield smiled, dangerously, turning back to the almost-ambassador. "If I do not return shortly, send a fully armed troop to retrieve me. Tell them they won't have to be gentle if they have to come. Go on, Gilda. I've got this under control."
Gilda left, hauling her burden of inebriated diplomacy back to where she'd found him in the first place.
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I think Flare is going to regret stepping on some hooves here. Then again so is that other governor as this is a change in a mission assigned by the Princess herself. Any delay is not going to be good.
Reminds me of an ancient period in the Chinese history where the King of Zhou Dynasty was only nominally the ruler of the country and in reality several of his “vassals” could crush him and his whole court rather easily if they wanted to.
How many wonders does this world have, anyway?
There's a mental image. Celestiphas Cain.
"Of course, if I had known what I'd be getting into at the Gala, I'd have sooner charged into Grogar's lair with nothing more than a rusty horseshoe."
And yeah, getting in Gleaming's way is a very good way to end up in a very bad way. This will end messily. The only question is whether it leads to another fall of the Western Roamish Empire.
Even in the original timeline going against Twilight has made a ruler fall (Storm King)
I have the sneaking suspicion that, sadly, this Emperor is not an Aurelian, Diocletian, Constantine, or Justinian. Strikes me as the type to make his pet a senator.
On the upside, if he tries to have them detained, they have all his money.
I rather hope he does, if only for them to leave roam burning properly and someone to find a fiddle to play out the blaze.
10457301
Seems more like an Ottoman "Kayser-i-Rum' ruling the 'sick man of Equus' than a classical Roman emperor, of the East or West. "Supreme Ouverture/Sublime Porte" and so on.
10457359
Eh, maybe. I'm getting either 3rd or 5th century vibes though.
What a beautiful country.
'The visible signs of the decay of the once-mighty Roamish Empire was visible in every' - but were they visible?
10457428
Gah! Shrink, that was almost certainly my fault, last-minute-tweak-error. Sorry.
Fixed.
10457439
Grrr.
Donkey Hotay
10457186
Probably more similar to the Medieval Papacy. He only really controlled Rome while the region of Romagna which he only officially controlled was dominated primarily by warlords and powerful landholders that gave the Papacy lip service but not much else.
10457846
Going off my own comparisons to the Papacy. That would make the sleazy Griffon mercenaries the Swiss.
Hmm.
Well...at risk of promoting speciest stereotypes (which they definitely are, I'll own up to that)...one is a pony and the other is a griffon. The standard cultural viewpoints between them clearly would still apply.
Which is why the world needs griffons like you, Giles, otherwise, griffons such as this Lieutenant Grigario would be free to continue such blatant speciest stereotyping like the such I just listed above.
That said, I'm not surprised, if only because I know a thing or two about how this sort of thing worked in the RL late Roman Empire which this is all drawing clear inspiration and reference from--the best ranks usually went to the ones who were either the richest or most influential...or could kiss butt the best.
Only up to a certain point. Like all things, eventually those bits still do run out. How do you think your little empire went into the decline in the first place?
Probably not exaggerating either, that.
Though there is that too. But it wouldn't surprise me if said emperor would only think of that after the fact.
Well...technically...where they first found him was in your company madam ambassador, so....there you go, I guess.
...You still smiling now?
Ah, the power of paperwork. We all hate doing it (well, except maybe Gleaming here), but there's no denying it's the paperwork that guarantees things get done in the end.
It would seem Flare isn't following her own advice and doesn't seem to have a plan. For shame, Flare! And after your canon show alternate self made such a big hullabaloo about it, it practically became a meme!
In any case, give it up. Gleaming's going to need a whole lot more motive to comply before she'll bend on this matter, motive you simply do not have, MUCH LESS the authority to.
10457301 10457359
It's definitely extremely late in western Roman Empire history towards the very tale end of it all, right as when everything was going kaput, probably right when historians of today consider the western Roman Empire to have "fallen," if not well after that and what we're looking at now is the frankly rather embarrassing aftermath.
10451732
I do sort of want Gilda to stick her head into the infirmary long enough to say "Hey, Hawk Eye? Fish Eye says she's expecting," and then run like Tirek out of Tartarus, just so to see the ensuing fireworks.
It’s interesting that Roam is a Prestige State. The title and likely the city are only relevant due to the continued prestige of holding them while also being considerably weaker then many of the states surrounding and within the “Imperium”. I could see Donkey Hotay’s family having originally taken the throne in an effort to restore the Empire under their family name only for Roaman politics to gradually ware away at their ability to do much of anything beside building their palace and claiming “tribute” from their effective overlords.
10457957
I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason why it’s propped up is some sort of nostalgia on the part of Celestia. Or maybe even just a means to cripple any authority that arises in the region. Claim the authority of Roam and gain the legitimacy of the title and the economic capital of Celestia while also being saddled with all its outdated institutions with neighbours or vassals who seem to be establishing puppet rulers just so they can keep getting Celestia’s money.
10457846
Well, I was only trying to offer an East Asian perspective. Come to think of it, the Japanese Emperor also excelled in being the titular ruler of a country controlled in reality by one Shogun or many battling warlords. Though the Kings of Zhou, as well as the Popes were in certain times powerful lords and in other times less powerful lords within their empires, while the Japanese Emperors, to my limited knowledge, either rule the whole country (mostly without other powerful lords warring against each other) or are complete puppets.
10457985
Yeah all sorts of different situations across history that would be similar to this. Though I don’t know any situations where a powerful empire just handed money to a weaker state beyond modern economic aide programs and North Korea.
10457195 Well, the standard is Twelve Wonders of the World, so I suspect at least that many.
10457309 Lyra can probably play the fiddle.
so how long before the subsidies get stolen and the crew of the Princesses Bit are accused of piracy?
"The signs of the decay of the once-mighty Roamish Empire was visible in every"
"The signs of the decay of the once-mighty Roamish Empire were visible in every"?
"Gilda looked over his shoulder at the little"
"Gilda looked over her shoulder at the little"?
So, among the interesting things in this chapter is that we've apparently learned (if I'm neither misinterpreting something here nor failing to properly remember something from earlier) that the Empire that's been seen in action is not actually the Equestrian Empire. Just maintained by Equestrian soldiers and money at the pleasure of Equestria's ruler, which is not the same thing due to Politics and Diplomacy.
Am I understanding that correctly?
Either way, I'm still quite enjoying this story; thank you for writing! :)
10458374
Fixed. And yes, the Roamish Empire is Equestrian in much the same way as the old Raj was English, before the Company reversed their allegiances and became the liege of their Indian prince-vassals, and not vice-versa.
Of course, the old East India Trading Company didn't have an immortal pony princess looking over their collective shoulders.
10458394
Ah, thanks! :D
10458539
I would imagine the revolting Bolognans to be a province that has prospered out from underneath the empire. Now they might be trying to lose the dead weight of the decayed Roaman government while also trying to find their own place in the sun. I’d actually hope they gain independence as it would allow them to escape from the cycle of Imperial deposings and regional warlordism that Roam has degenerated into while also freeing them from having to fund the lavish private constructions of the Imperial dynasty with their taxed resources.
Gleaming gonna feed him his teeth isn't she?
10458557
The Bulldognese are more or less in the same position as the various small independent operators of the Romagna and central Italy in our world. Both Cesare Borgia and Julius II, 'the Warrior Pope', spent a great deal of time around the turn of the sixteenth century waging war against these duchies and pocket republics between Rome and Milan. Among these little principalities was Bologna herself, which was taken by Julius II, after his enemy Cesare Borgia ran out of time when his father and patron died before Cesare could add that 'papal city' to his short-lived 'Duchy of Romagna'.
Celestia's policy in Bitaly, insofar as she has time to pay attention to it, is to maintain a balance of antagonism, and inject just enough money to keep mercenaries occupied and rusty rather than active and on campaign. And to lure clever engineers out of the region, into places where they can put their talents towards civilian pursuits rather than dreaming up ways to breach fortress walls.
Aw, heck. I'm caught up now. This has been a very interesting and entertaining read so far. I've enjoyed it immensely. I'm looking forward to Fish Eye and the Princess's adventure on fly-about or vision quest.
So how much of Bitaly (1) in theory does Roam rule over? (At least enough to share in the subsidies)
It doesn't really correspond to any period of Italian history: the tech is 19th century, but the political division is Renaissance and earlier (post-renaissance, Italy was mostly dominated by outside powers, aside from Venice, the papacy, and a couple States minor enough to fly under the radar. I wonder if they're going to have a Cavour and a Garibaldi along one of these days?
(1) princess bride ref?
10463556
A good quarter of Italy was Hapsburg until surprisingly late into the 19th Century, and another fifth or more were Hapsburg allies. In fact, I've read books that argued that the decline of the Hapsburg Empire began with the loss of their Italian provinces, rather than, strictly speaking, their serial defeats at the hands of the Prussians. And Celestia's policy in Bitaly is somewhat similar to traditional Hapsburg policies in regards to satellite principalities like the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. Better to subsidize allies, than to dominate and direct vassals.
10463566 I'll provide a good example to Celestia of how to properly run a global empire... in 2032. *sinister cackle as more chess pieces are moved about Alondro's 8D board*
Great now they have drunk waste of space.
I've given up on keeping track of all the characters in this story.
Giles, there is a difference in being a guard, and being a Guard. You will do fine.
Looks like the Bit just got somepony to clean the heads when there isn't some private deep enough down the shit list to do it.
And Flare... you have no idea the mare you are messing with. You are not going to bully her into submission. But it'll be fun to see you try.