Empire

By Patrick Harris

An Empire in decline but still militarily powerful...its psychotic emperor wants absolute control...while Caliphate terrorists plan an attack that could have devastating consequences for the Empire and for the global economy...and the terrorists' target is largely undefended

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick Harris
• Release date: Sep 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516360673

Patrick Harris

The author was born in 1950 in Kent and still lives there. He was educated at the Harvey, Folkestone and Chatham Grammar Schools. He has now retired from the petro-chemical industry and is a widower. He has two grown-up children and has recently become a grandfather. This is his first novella, although he has written many short stories and poetry.

Book preview

Prologue

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Snow lay deep on the ground and hung heavy on the branches of trees in the Palace grounds. Black-capped guards wore dark greatcoats and gloves and fur-lined boots for warmth, while they passed between one sentry box and another through the hours of their duty.

Chief Minister, the Baron Heinz Knigge, came away from the Emperor’s large bedroom window and returned his attention to the thin, frail man lying under covers on the room’s enormous bed.

Knigge could recall earlier times and the frustrations of an aristocracy worried about Emperor Leopold not having an heir.

But aged forty-one, with his wife Mariette nearing forty, a royal child arrived in 1951. The boy was now fifteen and named Maximilian.

As custom dictated the name alternated with Leopold for each monarch. The dying Leopold was sixth to use the name, and his son would be sixth to use the name Maximilian.

He was the crown prince who ensured continuing rule of House Blanqui, founded as royal house in the year 1649, when Maximilian the First seized power from House Cattalone and its weak king.

And from the reign of Maximilian the First came Empire.

Like his father before him, the dying Leopold had never been a strong man. He was a sickly infant, boy, and adult, and it wasn’t surprising to Knigge that Leopold would die at fifty-five.

The boy who would soon be Maximilian VI was different, favouring Empress Mariette’s genetic heritage over the Blanqui line. He had his mother’s lean build and considerable height, her fair hair and good looks.

What was not known to other than Palace insiders was that Maximilian was mad.

Knigge was aware of Maximilian’s insanity, but he and others of the Imperial Council were greatly not troubled by it.

Knigge would be Lord Protector until Maximilian came of age in six years, and the Council ruled through the Protectorate.

Maximilian VI would be emperor in name only; real power remained vested in Council.

That had long been the case. Leopold VI and his short-lived father deferred to Council in most things. The few they did not hardly mattered; Council was happy to concede.

Knigge thought of it as a well-managed monarchy. And the sanity, or otherwise, of princes hardly mattered. But what Baron Knigge did not properly understand was the cleverness which accompanied Maximilian’s insanity.

In the hushed room all present heard Leopold’s last breath. Finality was somehow obvious in the sound of it.

Royal Physician Sir Niklaus Vane leaned over the bed and felt for a pulse on Leopold’s neck. No sign of life was evident. He raised his head and looked across to Knigge, then shook his head slightly.

Knigge felt a tinge of sadness. He had always thought of Leopold VI as a good man, if weak.

He looked across the room to Mariette, now the Dowager Empress, who looked serene even while she expressed sorrow.

But now it was time for the age-old declaration, coined at a time of kings, not emperors.

The King is dead, Knigge said. He had no time for the rejoinder. It was spoken for him.

"Long live the King!" Maximilian exclaimed.

Maximilian stood at the now-open bedroom door dressed in a full military parade uniform, complete with sheathed sabre.

Then, in a low and menacing tone that sent shivers along Knigge’s spine, Maximilian said, Long live the Emperor.

*

Dowager Empress Mariette missed her husband. He had been a good and kindly man, his manner commonly taken as weakness. He simply didn’t have the nature to wield an emperor’s power, though he understood its potential. He wasn’t stupid; nor was his father, Maximilian V.

Now her son was Emperor Maximilian VI, a reign overseen by Lord Protector Knigge and the Imperial Council.

She was glad of that. For as much as she loved her son she knew that he was mad, and he was dangerous. And for that she could not trust him; neither could she like him.

She was sure the blame was hers for the damage to his mind; she had been too old for child-bearing, and there had been several miscarriages preceding it.

She firstly thought of her son’s birth as a miracle. That had soured by childhood, when cruelty in his treatment of the people around him was readily apparent.

As pleased as Mariette was at the constraints on her son’s power by Knigge and fellow Imperial Council members, still her preference was the system of her native country, Albione. There, her brother’s rule as the king was constitutionally based and its citizens’ votes decided on governments.

The Empire’s difference was clear. Notionally, an emperor ruled under the advice of the Imperial Council – the body which formally appointed governors of all provinces, the judiciary, the heads of military and security branches, and appointments to the General Staff. There was no public office of importance not decided by it.

The Empire had no elected offices, save that of city mayors, a ceremonial role with no authority in law or control over any public sector budget.

Mariette sometimes wondered how long it might take for democracy to take hold in the Empire...if it came at all.

Part One

The Political Fugue

1

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Emperor Maximilian stood facing his study’s fireplace, where a large log charged with glowing heat poured steady warmth into his tall, thin frame.

From time to time, he rocked gently back and forth, heel to toe, while listening to Chief Minster Baron Knigge’s briefing.

Maximilian was now twenty-three. Since coming of age he had built links to key elements of the Empire’s administration and was steadily achieving his goals.

Effectively, he controlled the Justice Ministry and Military Commission. Imperial Intelligence Corps head Field-Marshall John Benning wasn’t with him, and would have to be eliminated when the time was right.

Those with him were aware of the rich rewards in joining his cause.

There would be peerages and great wealth for them, all due on the day Maximilian was again an Emperor with the power of governance.

Knigge finished his briefing and waited for the Emperor’s response.

Maximilian turned from the fireplace to look at Knigge. He had caught on quickly – electronic machines called computators that could store and analyse large amounts of information very quickly.

That’s very interesting, Baron. I imagine these machines could be used effectively in our security services.

Knigge smiled at the wily assessment. Yes, sire. We’re already trialing them in that very environment.

It was the Emperor’s turn to smile, an expression Knigge couldn’t help but think was somewhere along the path to evil.

Knigge hoped that his mild shudder wouldn’t