The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

NO MATTER HOW GOOD AN actor you are, no matter how much experience you have, it’s hard to conceal any amount of surprise if you’re not properly braced for the possibility. Fortunately, Sedotia—or Relucia, apparently, as it appears to be her real name—knows that all too well. She sweeps forward with a girlish squeal of delight, her over-the-top reaction taking the focus away from me. And then when she’s wrapping me in a fierce embrace, my panicked expression can easily be mistaken for shock at the intensity of the greeting.

“Vis! I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you!” She kisses me on both cheeks and finally holds me back, clutching me by both shoulders as if to examine me properly. It prevents me from flinching away, tamps down my instinct to run just enough for me to hold my nerve. The way she’s talking is nothing like in the conversations we’ve had before. It’s exuberant, almost vacuous. “I’m Relucia. You must call me that, none of this formal nonsense. And my, Ulciscor didn’t mention what a fine-looking young man you are.” Her tone is uncomfortably approving. I flush, still dazed.

“Now, now,” chortles Ulciscor, stepping forward and gently prying me from Relucia’s grasp. “Try not to embarrass the poor boy as the first thing you do. Give him some room to breathe.”

Relucia beams blithely in response, acknowledging the statement but not looking particularly bothered by it. “I’m sorry. I’m just excited. Ulciscor’s been looking for someone he thinks might do our name justice at the Academy for so long. How are you progressing, by the way? Which class are you in? What do you think of the Praeceptors? I never went there myself, but I know some of them. Do you have any favourites so far?” It’s a stream of questions that feels more like an assault than anything else; I can see Ulciscor’s father beginning to smirk, and Ulciscor himself sighs and turns away with a similar expression, shaking his head.

Relucia continues to look at me, eyes wide. She’s closer to me than the others, facing away from them. For the briefest of seconds, there’s something in her gaze that sharpens. A warning.

I smile blandly back, finally recovering enough to internalise my shock. “Uh. Um. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Relucia,” I say, doing my best to look a mixture of taken aback and vaguely pleased at the whirlwind, overly affectionate introduction. “I…”

“Perhaps before we go further, I should introduce my parents, too.” Ulciscor’s wry observation saves me from having to mentally sort back through Relucia’s questions. “Vis, these are your grandparents. My father, Lerius sese Quintus Telimus, and my mother, Milena sese Sextus Telimus.”

Sese. Both in retirement pyramids, then—unsurprising, given their age and previous status. Still contributing Will to the Hierarchy, and seeing the benefits of wielding it, but tasked with less crucial jobs. The retirement pyramids are for those over the age of fifty: they manage small, non-critical infrastructure, but nothing like Transvects or anything that could compromise safety in the event of a failure. Nothing that could cause disaster due to a death in the chain, a sudden lessening or absence of Will.

“A pleasure to meet you both, as well.” I try to focus, to not sound absent or disinterested, even as my mind races. I’m still reeling, finding it hard not to glance back over at Relucia. Ulciscor’s wife. His wife.

“And you, Vis. And you! Catenicus. A most welcome addition to the family.” Lerius has a deep, loud voice, the kind that seems like it would normally be telling a joke followed by booming laughter at his own humour. He repeats Relucia’s greeting, kissing me on both cheeks. It’s a far more restrained welcome, but not without warmth.

Milena doesn’t move, studying me. “I hope you understand what an honour it is to be here, young man.” An absolute contrast to Relucia. Not angry, exactly, but there’s antipathy in the words.

“Mother,” Ulciscor says sharply, at the same time as Lerius sighs and gives his wife a disapproving look.

“I do,” I say quickly, forcing my concerns about Relucia temporarily to the side. She’s not going to try and kill me here—not openly, anyway. I need to act naturally. Giving away that I know the woman will gain me nothing. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to live up to that.” I make my gaze earnest as I lock eyes with her.

“Hm.” Milena doesn’t look convinced, but there’s the tiniest softening of her expression. “I suppose we’ll see.” She turns to Lanistia, who’s been waiting just behind me. “Lanistia, dear. It’s lovely to see you again. Would you come and help with the preparations?” She nods with cool politeness to me, then vanishes into the back room. Lanistia trails after her, and the sound of quiet conversation soon emanates from the doorway.

“Don’t mind her.” Lerius is apologetic as he leans in. “It’s not you. She just doesn’t like the idea of anyone else being here when we’re remembering Caeror. She’ll warm to you.”

“Of course. Completely understandable,” I assure him agreeably, doing my best not to focus on Ulciscor’s wife. The young woman doesn’t help as she merrily loops her arm around mine, guiding me over to the couches, where I’m forcefully made to sit. I try not to flinch at every touch. Lerius and Ulciscor follow and join us, both wearing amused expressions.

“Now,” Relucia says, draping an arm around me in far too familiar a fashion. “I have so many things I want to know.”

We talk for the next half hour—largely Relucia asking rapid-fire questions, and me sorting through the jumble and answering as best I can. Her enquiries are always either innocuous, or easily related to the past which Ulciscor and I have fabricated. Occasionally Lerius steps in to make a comment or joke, but for the most part he’s content to just listen. He has an easy way about him, and appears more relaxed than his son. Far more at peace than anyone in the room except Relucia, in fact.

In the background are snippets of Lanistia and Milena’s reunion. They seem to get along well, chatting and laughing, though it’s never boisterous. Glad of each other’s company but here to share their sadness, I think, not enjoy the time together.

For his part, Ulciscor seems pleased that his wife is taking to me so well, showing no sign of suspicion. My initial panic has waned, but I’m still reeling for most of the conversation as I reassess their relationship. Re-evaluate everything that’s happened so far through the lens of this new information. She shot him. Relucia seems genuinely pleased to be here with Ulciscor, but is plainly also an exceptional liar. Even taking the political marriage and long stints apart into account, I can barely comprehend the lengths she must have gone to for this deceit.

“It’s time,” comes Lanistia’s voice from the doorway behind us. Her tone’s sombre.

We all stand, and Relucia touches my shoulder. “Tell me, Vis. Have you ever been to the Necropolis before?”

I shake my head.

“It’s a beautiful sight after sunset. I must insist on showing you around once we are finished.” She glances askance at Ulciscor, who wavers, then acquiesces. She smiles. “As a bonus, it will give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

I smile back, and resolve not to stray anywhere she can easily try to kill me.

The ceremony is conducted by Lerius, who intones the sacred rites to the Telimus ancestors and offers sacrifices of wine-soaked bread and wheat on the tomb’s altar. It’s a brief affair, solemn. Melancholy radiates from the group.

As he talks, I feel the lump in my throat before I recognise the emotion starting to swell in me. I’ve deliberately ignored the Festival of the Ancestors since Suus, excepting when I stole offerings from gravesites in order to survive. But the sense of loss emanating from the others at the moment… it’s too potent. Too familiar to ignore.

For the first time in too long, I find my thoughts drifting to my own family’s fate. I’ve heard only the half whispered rumour that my mother, father, and sister were hanged before dawn, left there for hours so that the entire population of Suus could see them and know that their former rulers were truly gone. But even if that’s true, there’s no telling what might have happened to their bodies after that. Would they have been laid to rest in some unmarked grave? Burned? Tossed into the waters of the Aeternum to join Cari?

There’s pain in my chest, pressure behind my eyes. I try not to think of them, most of the time, because I know deep down I haven’t done enough to avenge their loss. Would they be proud of the decisions I’ve made? Would they approve of what I’m doing right now? I’m not sure. Part of me thinks they would be horrified that I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. The other part of me remembers my father’s lessons about honour. About how it exists to provide a guideline for how to live, not how to die.

With an effort, I take a few discreet, measured breaths.

When Lerius is done, before we sit at the table, Lanistia steps forward and lays a flower garland on the altar, too. She says nothing, but Milena puts an arm around her. In that brief moment, Lanistia’s stony façade crumbles. I pretend not to have seen.

I can’t help but watch Relucia from the corner of my eye throughout. Ulciscor’s wife seems genuinely sorrowful, albeit mourning the others’ loss of Caeror rather than her own. She clasps Ulciscor’s hand the entire time, and whispers something tenderly in his ear before we sit to eat.

Once the food is brought out, the conversation turns gently to memories—sometimes of other relatives, but mostly of Caeror. Much of the meal passes with Ulciscor and Lanistia laughingly reminiscing on his various irritating quirks, or Lerius recounting stories from twenty years ago that usually involve Caeror playing clever pranks on his older brother. He addresses many of those tales in my direction, I think understanding the awkwardness of being a newcomer, and doing his best to include me. And perhaps feeling that by sharing the memory, he is also sharing a small part of his son, too. I decide I like him.

Slowly, I get a picture of Caeror. Of the rarely serious young man who seemingly excelled at everything he did. Who, at least according to his family, was considered the very best chance for a Telimus to become Princeps of Military.

Unlike the others, Milena stays quiet and mostly watches the proceedings with a strange, sad smile. Occasionally her gaze drifts to the shrine, or the dead man in the Vitaerium, before she tears it away again, staring off into nothing. Lanistia sits next to her and every so often bows her head close, murmured exchanges between the two Milena’s only conversation.

As the food reduces to scraps, Relucia stands, touching her husband’s shoulder. “I can take Vis for that walk now.”

“You don’t have to,” says Lerius.

Ulciscor glances at him, thinks, then nods to Relucia and puts his hand briefly atop hers.

“Come on.” Relucia beckons, still playing her role to perfection. Light, but respectful to the mood. When I hesitate, she cocks her head to the side teasingly. “No need to be nervous.”

Hoping she’s telling the truth, I rise and follow her out of the tomb.

I TRY TO SHAKE OFF Relucia’s overly familiar arm as soon as we’re out of the crypt, but she holds tight, smiling all the while. “Don’t. People could be watching.” She waits until I stop resisting, then pulls me along the path running parallel to the Telimus mausoleum.

It’s quiet up here, high above the red fires and soft dirges of the valley. Stars dot the sky. Our footsteps crunch against loose rock. There are a few other illuminated tombs nearby, but no motion from them. The high ledge we’re walking along is only barely lit.

“So you’re not planning to kill me, then.” I’m proud of the calmness of my voice.

“Oh, dear boy. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet?” The cheerful, girlish demeanour from before is gone. This is the woman I remember.

We keep walking. Her tone indicates she thinks the idea of killing me is absurd. Which, now I’m able to clear the concern from my mind, leaves only one other option.

“You still want to use me.”

We reach a set of stairs cut into the mountainside and Relucia begins to climb, forcing me to follow. “Keep going.”

Another silence, then, “If you’re still wanting to use me, after I killed Melior and stopped your attack…” I trail off, almost missing a foothold as it dawns on me. “Vek.”

“Good! Good. Slower than I expected, but you got there.” Relucia takes a new path away from the stairs, settling onto a bench and patting the section next to her. It’s almost completely dark here; anyone looking would be hard-pressed to spot us, but we can see the entire valley from our vantage.

I take the offered seat dazedly. “You cannot expect me to believe you knew what I would do. That you intended for me to…” Even as I say it, I can see Estevan driving the spike into his own brain. Sacrificing himself, when I couldn’t make myself finish the deed. “You lost your leader. And hundreds of your people in failed attacks after, from what I understand. It was the biggest coordinated assault on Caten in a century!”

“We made them bleed. And had you not intervened, they would have been wounded far worse.” Relucia’s words barely reach my ears, despite the absolute lack of anyone else around. “But they will never die that way. Bleeding can be staunched, Vis. Wounds heal. The cut’s only worth it if there’s poison on the blade.”

“But I already told you. I want nothing to do with you.”

“What you want is irrelevant. I don’t expect you to work for us. You will simply continue on your current path, and from time to time we will tell you what you need to do.”

She doesn’t have to explain what will happen if I refuse.

“If you expose me, I’ll do the same to you.”

“And that would be unfortunate.” She smiles tightly. “Of course, I have reliable witnesses to my whereabouts for every instance you might say we’ve met. Even if anyone was willing to listen to the desperate reaching of a boy going to the gallows.”

My lip curls. We stare out over the inky vista.

“You killed all those people,” I eventually say softly.

“They were there to cheer on strangers to a worse fate. What happened gave me no pleasure, but nor did I weep for them.”

The panicked screams and red-slicked stadium stand sharp in my mind. I let silence be my disgust.

“Caten is coming to a tipping point, Diago. The balance between Military, Religion, and Governance is shifting. Destabilising. The next decade will decide whether the Hierarchy survives, or is broken from within.” Relucia is calm, confident of what she’s saying. “Someone well placed, with enough influence, might be able to ensure the latter.”

“And you think that someone is me.”

“A champion of the system, beyond suspicion and reproach, raised up but not seduced by it? Yes, Diago. In time, I think it could be.”

I stand. “I’ve heard enough.”

“Sit down.”

I glare at her, but sit.

Relucia examines me with exasperation, then sighs, some of the anger leaving her shoulders. “We do not have to be enemies. For now, all we want is what you want—for you to advance at the Academy.”

“And after that? If I become Domitor, my goal is to join the embassy at Jatiere. Leave the whole rotting Republic behind. And if I don’t make Domitor, I’m going to run. Either way, you won’t see me anywhere near Caten after I graduate.” I keep my voice low and hard. Lend emphasis to my point with a derisive gesture.

“Running isn’t an option, Vis. I think you know that.” Relucia’s mild by comparison. Thoughtful. “Jatiere, though… that could work. Not as good as a position in Caten, but it’s no worse than military service in some other dusty province. If you do your part and make Domitor, we can afford to give you a few years there.”

I don’t respond, taken aback. She seems genuine. The worst of the knot of tension in my stomach eases. I intend for my time in Jatiere to be longer than that, of course—and Relucia surely knows it—but it’s a compromise, of sorts. Keeps us wanting the same thing for at least the short-term.

“What are your chances of reaching Class Three in time for the Iudicium, though? Your advancement thus far hasn’t exactly been noteworthy.”

“I know. Things have been… trickier than I expected.” I explain briefly about Dultatis, something Ulciscor advised me against mentioning around his parents. Relucia follows up with some probing questions; I answer them, but avoid any mention of my trip to the ruins or Ulciscor’s interest in them. It seems she doesn’t know a great deal about what Caeror was involved in. I have no desire to give her more information than she already has.

“Well. I have no doubt an opportunity will arise for you to advance soon enough,” says Relucia once I’m done, her dismissive, brisk tone indicating that I’m to figure it out. “Have they taken your blood, yet?”

“They did,” I say slowly. “After the naumachia, though. I don’t think it was anything to do with the Academy. Why?”

“We’re still figuring that one out. Seems to happen to all the students eventually.” She chews her lip as she says it, then stirs. “We shouldn’t linger much longer, and I won’t have an opportunity to talk with you again for a while. So if you have questions, now is the time.”

I think. “How did Melior… do what he did?”

She snorts. “Questions within reason, Diago. You have made it perfectly clear that you’re no friend to the Anguis. That is not information I am going to give you.”

There’s a tightening of need in my chest. This has been bothering me more than I care to admit, even to myself. “Fine. But he said he knew why the Hierarchy attacked Suus. Was that power the reason?”

Relucia vacillates. “I think so. But I don’t know for sure.”

I exhale. Disappointed but unsurprised. “Alright. Let’s start at the beginning, then. How long have you been watching me?”

“Getting reports on you? More than a year. You were spotted fighting in the Victorum league,” she adds by way of explanation. “Melior gave some of our more trusted informants your description, though no one knew who you were—he’d been searching for you since before he joined us. And your sister.” The last is half a question.

Dirges drift up to us from the valley, melding into a dark mess of melancholic chords.

“She died. In the escape.” I hold her gaze as I say it, preferring her to see anger rather than pain.

She looks away. Nods. “I saw you, back there. When Lerius was going through the rites. I’m sorry.” She sweeps back a strand of curly black hair, then continues. “I knew Ulciscor was looking for someone both desperate and educated enough to place in the Academy. And I knew he was watching for anyone else from Caeror’s class to question. When I found out Nateo was in a Sapper, and you were working at Letens Prison… well. It was easy enough to pull some strings and have him transferred there. And then the transfer document was all it took for it to reach Ulciscor’s ears.”

I can’t hide my dubiousness. “It was still pure chance that he talked to me.”

“I told you back in the forest: I was going to make contact with you weeks beforehand. Prepare you to get his attention when he arrived.” Relucia’s annoyed at my doubt. “There was a miscommunication, and everything happened faster than it was meant to. Nateo got transferred two months early, and then Ulciscor’s people were suddenly in Letens, watching the prison. While I was supposed to be a thousand miles away in a different country.”

I grunt. That makes more sense. “You assumed I would be interested.”

“I assumed your family’s murder would be enough motivation, yes.”

A cool breeze whips up out of the valley, causing the torches closest to us to flare and sputter. I let it cool the anger heating my cheeks. Bite down a response that would be too loud, isolated though we are.

“So why attack the Transvect, then?” I ask eventually. “Why not just visit me at Villa Telimus? It’s not as if you didn’t have an excuse to be there.”

Relucia looks at me scornfully. “Because I’m not a fool. We’d never even spoken; for all I knew, you could have been a breath away from breaking and spilling your life’s story to Ulciscor. I wanted to assess your state of mind before you found out who I was. Ideally, to train you well enough that I could actually be confident in sending you anywhere near him.” Her mouth twists. “I wouldn’t even be here, except Ulciscor insisted. I had no way of getting you a message beforehand. You did well to cover your reaction, though,” she concedes.

Interesting. So there are no Anguis in the Academy. I mentally file away the information.

“Who else in the Anguis knows about me?” I do my best to mask my hesitancy. The thought of strangers out there knowing who I am, holding my life in their hands, is more than unsettling.

“One other person. So there’s no point trying to kill me, even if you incorrectly thought you could succeed.”

I choke off an instinctive chuckle as I realise she’s not joking. “Who?”

“Someone reliable. Someone who will die before revealing your identity. Unless something happens to me.” She smiles tightly. “Of course, that means everyone else believes just as the Catenans do. They blame you for Melior’s death. For stopping the attacks.”

Wonderful.

“We need to be getting back.” Relucia stands, her features vague in the dim. “Make sure you go to Caten for the Festival of Pletuna. I’ll contact you again there.”

“Wait. I need to know. If this works. If… somehow in the future, the Hierarchy really does collapse in on itself.” I stare down over the fires. “Are you going to destroy the Aurora Columnae?”

For the first time, Relucia looks surprised.

“I don’t even know if that’s possible,” she says gently. Like a parent explaining a simple concept to a slow child. “And only the Princeps know where they all are. So… no. We’ll wait for the right moment, wait until the Hierarchy is ready to crumble, and then strike. Remove our oppressors. Start again.”

My fists clench. It’s the answer I expected.

“That’s the problem with people, though, isn’t it? They always think that other people are the problem.” Quiet. Angry. “You want to remove the Princeps? The senators? You’ll just become them, sooner or later. If all you’re trying to do is change who’s in control, then you don’t really want to change anything.” I finish in a forceful, low growl. Letting her hear my disgust.

Relucia studies me.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says. “But you have to start somewhere.”

Clearly considering the matter closed, she sets off down the stairs.

We descend largely in silence. Plenty of questions still burn in me—about the Anguis, about her, about what they actually expect me to do for them once my time at the Academy is over—but I know I won’t get answers.

As we approach the lights of the Telimus mausoleum, Relucia slows. “If anyone asks about tonight, we talked about your past. Your time at the orphanage. That sort of thing.” She straightens her stola. “I know more than enough of the story you and Ulciscor have been telling to make it work.”

“How do you do it?” I frown at her. “I understand pretending, but this… you’re married to him.”

“Habit.” Relucia’s answer is brusque, but then she softens. “He’s not the worst of them, you know. Not by a long way.”

We’re almost at the entrance. I stop, forcing Relucia to do so as well. It’s not important—at least, it doesn’t seem to be, to her—but I need her to know.

“Estevan killed himself. I couldn’t do it. I had the spike at his throat, and he just…”

Relucia examines me. Nods sadly. “You cannot be free if you are afraid to die.”

Without anything further, she pastes on a wide smile and strides into the light of the tomb.