The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1. Андрей Кочетков

with the feeling that something big and important was about to happen, turned and strode toward the palace, where the richest and most powerful men in the empire were waiting impatiently.

      “Uni, I mean, Unizel Virando, interpreter,” he stated to the greeter in white. The man glanced up at him, and Uni’s insides quaked. I bet I’m in trouble. I should have been here earlier, he thought in shame. The greeter gestured to another man to show Uni the way and then promptly forgot about both of them. Uni’s guide was short, but he walked quickly, making it hard to follow him through the crowd. Instead of preparing himself mentally for what would come next, Uni was focused on not losing sight of his guide.

      When they reached the line of guards, Uni shuddered again: he didn’t have any proof of his role in the delegation, and his stomach started to slide toward his heels. However, the imposing guards parted before him without a word, and Uni and his guide entered the square. The crowd inside the square was just as thick, but the people here stood in two neat rectangles, all facing the palace’s grand staircase. There was a walkway between the rectangles, and here Uni’s guide handed him over to another short man in a white robe.

      “How many of these little guides are there?” the young diplomat wondered. His new guide quickly led him down the walkway toward the palace, and all the nobles in their bright robes stared at him as if he were being led down the gauntlet.

      This torture ended when the sea of bodies opened and Uni caught sight of the column of Norius the Founder, which portrayed the leaders of the eleven kingdoms raising their hands to hail the first Herandian Emperor, who held his palms up in praise of the Sun. There was a small group of people standing around the base of the column, and Uni suspected they might be the delegation. He was right. His guide led him to yet another greeter, who turned out – to Uni’s horror – to be the ambassador’s personal secretary, Zimius Groki.

      That dirty fraud, he exclaimed to himself, keeping his eyes off to one side as if he didn’t see his recent adversary. You’re the tool now, aren’t you?

      Meanwhile, his guide opened a scroll and read from it, “Enel Unizel Virando, interpreter,” and waited for the secretary to respond. Groki turned to Uni with a look of skepticism and suspicion, as if he were about to snap at the guide, “Who did you bring up here, fool?”

      Uni had steeled himself to be afraid of nothing, but now his heart hung over an abyss and goosebumps broke out on his skin. He knew that it was silly to be scared and that he didn’t need to prove or explain anything, but he couldn’t stop his stomach from quivering. A drop of sweat ran from his neck down his back. Groki leaned forward and gave a slight nod. The guide turned and was gone, leaving Uni alone with a man who was clearly his enemy.

      “If you’re late again, we will leave you to bake in the desert!” Groki spat at him.

      Uni nodded, trying to remember if there were any deserts in Virilan and what, now that he thought of it, the landscape and weather conditions were like. His place – at the far-left in the last row – spoke to his lowly status. The men standing near him turned to look at him before turning away in indifference. In the center of the front row, Uni spied Sanery’s extraordinary ears. The ambassador had heard his name announced and turned around to give him a slight but friendly smile. Uni was embarrassed, but reflected that a smile was better than nothing. The rest of the delegation ignored him, to his relief. The young diplomat stared at the men around him and soaked up the atmosphere of overblown formality.

      The palace square was situated between the Emperor’s Residence, where the Great Lord lived, and the Cathedral of Light, which was the Empire’s most important religious building. Educated Herandians loved to argue about the proper relationship between religious and secular authority. On the one hand, the Empire’s subjects were exceedingly religious, referring to the Heavenly Deity early and often, in everything from market gossip to official documents. On the other hand, most people’s beliefs went no deeper than these words and the occasional attendance at a ritual. Judging by the prominent works of imperial art, the Empire was founded with the protection of the Heavenly Deity, and the Emperor was merely his steward. As the official imperial terminology put it, he was a servant like all the other subjects. In reality, however, the Empire’s religious leaders had so little influence on government matters that they were not considered a political force. Priests of the Sun were content with their many privileges and high salaries (paid each year by the treasury), and they rarely raised their voices unless the issue concerned their own internal affairs, which were always in a foul tangle.

      Some people saw this as a sign of the inherent practicality of Herandians, while others complained that the government had drawn too close to the Cult of the Sun and strangled it in its embrace. The Emperor generally played the main role in the most important religious rites throughout the year, but he led the government on the basis of the law, the bureaucracy, and the army, not as a high priest, as was the custom in Mustobrim.

      The Cathedral of Light reflected the fate of the religion underlying it. Built of granite and marble under Norius to host all manner of government ceremonies, it was soon competing with the imperial bureaucracy and the Great Lord’s Chambers. By the time of Uni’s story, delegations always left from the Palace Square, which represented a balance between the religious and secular centers of power. Coronations, funerals, and rituals associated with the solar cycle were still held in the Cathedral, so the priests still felt very much in the game. They would have retained the right to send off delegations, too, if it weren’t for an irritating footnote in the law governing official ceremonies that allowed diplomatic missions to leave from the Palace Square, provided that the weather was fine, because it was a shorter walk from the square to the river dock. The footnote was criticized by many for stooping to mention the weather and the walking distance, but it remained in force nonetheless.

      Unlike his mother, Uni had never been particularly devout. He enjoyed the splendor of church services but secretly sympathized with the teachings of a sect of learned men who held that the sun could be worshipped for its life-giving rays without any need for cathedrals and priests. All one had to do, they taught, was rise at dawn, go to bed at sundown, and work hard in between. His job at the archive had kept Uni out of the sun for most of his young life, and he was especially glad on this day to part ways with his private fear that he would spend his best years shut away in a dank basement. He looked around at the sunlit square like a kitten that had just opened its eyes, nervous at first, but growing in confidence.

      The crowd in the square was getting increasingly impatient. Uni sympathized. When would everything begin?

      “Don’t squirm,” Groki barked from somewhere behind him. Or was he hearing things? Uni wanted to turn around and look, but suddenly a pure, deep tone rang out over the square. It was the Great Cathedral Gong, and the sound of its note penetrated deep in the heads and chests of all present. Even Uni’s nervous stomach was vibrating. It was time!

      The sound of the gong melted in the mid-morning sun, leaving behind a light hum that did not dissipate, but instead grew stronger and stronger until it sounded like the droning of bees. Uni realized it was the sound of voices. Inside the Cathedral tower, a choir of children was singing the Hymn to the Sun. Uni’s head turned like a swivel. He couldn’t shake himself of the illusion that the singing was coming from the sky. Soon he heard the stronger voices of the older boys, and after a while they were joined by the powerful voices of the adult men. Uni knew the words of the ancient hymn by heart, which was always sung in the language of pre-imperial Herandia. He had always admired the hymn as a historical relic, but now he heard it with new emotion. This time, he did not find the pomp and spectacle amusing. Touched, and feeling serious, he looked away from the Cathedral roof just in time to see the most important moment unfold.

      A long red and orange carpet had been rolled down the shining marble staircase in front of the palace. On both sides of the carpet, two lines of Imperial Guards descended the stairs in parallel lines. Covered head to toe in armor that shone with gold and copper, they stepped in perfect time down the stairs until they reached the polished granite of the square. The shining discs on their helmets all disappeared from view at once when the two lines turned to face each other and each warrior struck the ground with his spear. Then they froze, two living walls stretching from the square to