"We have an issue," Tharval said.
"Oh?" Thrang raised an eyebrow.
"An approach was made to Dahar Master Khreg. His response was, apparently, to take his own life. Questions will undoubtedly be asked." Tharval held out a PADD. Thrang took it and studied it.
"Interesting," he commented.
"Is that all?" said Tharval.
Thrang pursed his lips. "I take it our friends can't be implicated?"
"They could be, if someone on the High Council were so minded. They were the last persons to see Khreg alive... it would be natural for suspicion to alight on them."
"But the poison was clearly self-administered."
"Such was the conclusion of the first investigators, yes. That conclusion might be challenged, though."
"Well, we have many friends on the High Council," Thrang observed. "They can squash any unwanted speculation."
"Will they? Our friends are not, as it were, spontaneously friendly."
Thrang shook his head and chuckled. "We will just have to point out that continued friendship is in their interests. T'Khal and Dillan will have to make a lot of calls. But... in the end, this can work to our advantage. If you're going to run a successful blackmailing operation, it helps to have an example of the... disadvantages of non-cooperation."
"You propose that Khreg should serve as such an example?"
"I'm determined to get some use out of the man." Thrang stood up. "When life hands you a lemon, you make lemonade, as they say. Which prompts another thought. Khreg knew things, didn't he? And now he's dead."
"Indeed."
Thrang smiled. "I think it's time for you to become more actively involved. In fact, with your natural abilities, you might even be better at this business than I am." He picked up another PADD from the desk. "I've got full details of the procedure here, and all the information you need to make a discreet run past the Council blockade and all the way to Qo'noS. Recover Khreg's body, and... make enquiries."
He held out the PADD. Tharval hesitated a moment, then took it. "You trust me with this?"
"I have to. I'm going to be busy. I can't be everywhere at once, and -" Thrang's smile broadened "- as a nobleman of the Grand Imperium, I have duties to attend to."
---
The guest quarters aboard the Nihydron destroyer were larger and more comfortable. Grand Admiral Johan ter Horst was stiff and ill at ease, though, as he sat in the armchair and watched Kalevar Thrang pour two glasses of whisky.
"Authentic Earth Scotch," Thrang said. "One of the amenities that you - that we, I should say - forsook during the exodus and the establishment of the Imperium." He walked over to the chair and handed one glass to ter Horst. The Grand Admiral took it, but did not drink.
"Oh, relax. My lord," said Thrang. He took another chair, lounging casually in it with his legs crossed. "If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't spoil a good Scotch to do it."
"You have some aim in view, Baron," said ter Horst.
Thrang grinned. "I always do."
Ter Horst took a cautious sip from the glass. He gave a minimal nod of approval. "I have had some thoughts as to where your aims might be directed," he said. "Your most obvious goal is... the one which chiefly concerns me. Your performance in the space battle exercises makes my tenure as Grand Admiral insecure. To put it mildly." He frowned. "So far, I have been able to explain to His Imperial Majesty that your victories are inevitable, due to the superiority of this vessel. But, frankly, I think you could beat me, even in an evenly matched ship."
"Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself," Thrang quoted, "but talent instantly recognizes genius. Yes, I could probably take your place as Grand Admiral, if I pushed hard enough. But, well, do I want it?"
"You are an ambitious man, Baron." Ter Horst's eyes narrowed.
"I am indeed. And I'm aiming very high."
"Oh, of course. His Imperial Majesty's throne. The summit of all ambitions." Ter Horst rolled his eyes.
"Not yours, though," said Thrang.
"I am Grand Admiral. I am content with that. It is a position that I will fight to retain... in whatever way I can. I will concede that you have considerable ability - very considerable - but I am familiar with politics in the Grand Imperium. I have experience, alliances, which you do not. You may not find me so easy to dislodge as you might think."
"The home field advantage - yes, it counts for a lot. But I don't even want your job, my lord."
"You need it, or something like it, as a stepping stone towards the throne. If that is your goal."
Thrang laughed. "You're happy enough to talk treason with me, I see."
"Competition for the Imperial throne is not treason - it is healthy. A dictum of the Imperium's founding fathers. Of course, His Imperial Majesty is free to discourage competitors... in various ways."
"And an upstart like me stands no chance, really," said Thrang. He held up the glass in his hand and turned it around, watching the amber liquid swirl inside it. "Though some other people stand no chance either, of course."
Ter Horst said nothing.
"The founding fathers of the Grand Imperium adopted many of Earth's warrior conventions, which they thought were in decline at the time. They took on warrior names, creating noble houses in the traditions of Caesar, Singh, Gaddafi, Sun Tzu, Attila, Mussolini... any number of others. Of course, there's room for people not in that nobility to... rise. To a certain level."
Ter Horst remained silent.
"The Imperium is divided into eighty-four sectors. Four are held by the Emperor personally; two each by the three High Kings; one each by the various sector Dukes, Archdukes, Princes... and three Margraves. The Margraves are, if you like, the lowest of the highest. Outranked by dukes and such, even if their holdings are equally extensive, and even better managed."
Ter Horst took another cautious sip from his glass.
"Interesting title, Margrave," said Thrang. "Originates from the Germanic Graf, of course - a Count in European culture, equivalent to an Earl in the Scandinavian-influenced countries. The Counts or Earls were the main body of the nobility for most of mediaeval history - lording it over the mere Barons and the mass of the commonalty. The superior rank of Duke is a relatively modern invention. But the Margraves... a Margrave is a Mark-Graf, a noble whose lands were on the marches - the frontier of a nation. It was a position of trust, of responsibility. A Margrave was a man who could be trusted to guard a frontier - someone whose ability, and loyalty, were beyond question. In a way, it's a more honourable title than Duke. A Duke derives from dux bellorum, a war leader. All a Duke needs is military ability."
"Which is enough," said ter Horst.
"I wonder. I think I would much rather have a Margrave by my side, than a Duke. Particularly if I were aiming for a Duke's position. As you say, I need a stepping stone. Or two."
"Two?" Ter Horst's eyebrows went up. "You propose to challenge your Duke, I can see that... once you win, you will be in a position, nominally, to challenge the Emperor himself. You will need support for that, though... and, I gather, you want mine."
"Absolutely. His Grace Duke Arthur Adolf Plantagenet McLellan... well, let's just say he shouldn't start any long books." Thrang grinned. "But the Emperor, now, he's more of a challenge. Yes, I need support to take him on. Support from a highly talented tactician - because genius recognizes talent right back, my friend - who's risen as high as he can hope to, under the current regime... well, that support would be welcome."
"There is not so much room for either of us to rise higher, Baron," said ter Horst.
"Oh, isn't there?" Thrang's gaze locked with ter Horst's eyes. "The Grand Imperium is confined to one M-class world, in one obscure system, now, Grand Admiral. And maybe our lord the Emperor is content with that. But I'm not. I'm taking the Imperium out to the stars, Grand Admiral. The sky is, quite literally, the limit."
"Assuming you survive."
"That is always a safe assumption."
Ter Horst smiled. "You have no time for false modesty, I see. The same is true of most of the Imperial nobility... but, for the most part, they are content to act out their parts, to play at being warriors and noblemen. You have seen the endless war games, you know the jockeying for position that occupies so much of our time. I think... I would prefer the friendship of a man with genuine ambition." He raised his glass to his lips and drank.
---
Thrang was back in his quarters when the comms console buzzed for attention. He sighed as he went to it. "Thrang. What is it?"
Tharval's leathery mask of a face appeared on the screen. "En route to Qo'noS."
"Is that all? I've had a long day, Tharval."
"I have had some tiresome complications, myself. Eluding my escort, for example."
"Escort?"
"A cloaked ship, attempting to match my departure vector. If you had me followed, Thrang, it would... displease... me. If I am your lieutenant, I should be trusted."
"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't have given you the details of the process. No, that wasn't one of mine." Thrang frowned. "Must have been an element of the High Council's informal picket. I can find out who it was, if you want them killed. Do you want them killed?"
Tharval considered. "Not especially. And it would take you too much time to identify them, I think. We shook off their pursuit. That ship's captain is unlikely to be anxious to advertise their failure."
"Very well. Keep me informed." Thrang yawned. "Tomorrow."
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