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Jan. 13th, 2026 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticityjust doing fun explorations of ezar dropping the escobar thing on aral and being like 'Oh. so what you want is another civil war then?'
"I refuse."
"Captain -- " Negri began, angrily.
"Let him wriggle, Negri," Ezar said, holding up a hand, "Very well, Aral. You don't. Maybe you even do manage to stop us from going to Escobar at all. My son becomes the Emperor. That is the man you serve, then. A man who I have been steadily dissembling his death squads because I am the only man who can. A man who delights in stocking his playmates with rapees. He has been tidying the torture chambers in the castle, did you know? You refuse for the life of him. You know I perhaps shouldn't even say you serve him; you are far, far too close to the throne for his liking, and surely you know how jealous he is of you - Komarr, Ges Vorrutyer, my favor, all of it."
Aral's jaw clenched.
"Whether or not he arrests you on a trumped-up charge, we can imagine the immediate and extreme re-arnament of everything I have disarmed. The absolute abolishment of the welfare state I have structured. Not all the Counts will agree, of course. Maybe some of them will disagree more than other. And Serg will annihiliate them for their disagreement. And the rest of the Counts will stare at each other, and re-arm, and consider perhaps that it is not so valuable they follow Vorloupulous's Law indeed."
"Sire."
"I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, Aral. I know you're not an idiot. I appreciate your honesty and your 'moral high ground' for what it is. I find it rather charming. I'm telling you that _your father_ had sent me many messages about his concerns about Mad Yuri's behavior before your family was slaughtered. I'm giving you the opportunity to avoid that. Consider it learning from one of the few mistakes your father has ever made. So. Tell me again that you refuse. You know, I will let you refuse me because I want you to see the consequences of doing so. And I will find someone else to do it. And they will not refuse me, and they will do half a good a job or fail entirely. I will be dead by then. Unfortunately, you will be alive."
"I'll do it."
"Yes, I knew that. Negri, continue with the briefing."
Negri started up again, for a while.
"It's impolite not to pay attention," Ezar said. Negri was talking, but Aral wasn't listening.
"You don't have to do this," Aral said, quietly.
"I believe we discussed this matter."
"You don't need all of this. You need me."
Ezar's eyebrows went up. He tilted his head, considering. "Just you?"
"Just me. Stack him with disloyal armsmen and send me in at night. It would be quick and painless." His voice was hollow. "No one would ever know it was me, I swear it."
Ezar smiled, which did nothing but make his face look harder and colder. He shook his head. "Ah. Yes. That would delight me, I admit. Perhaps your father too. Unfortunately, it is a half-measure, and we are past the time of half-measures. It creates panic and rashness amongst his allies. It fosters terror and pain around my grandson. Grishov will still make us die at Escobar."
"All those men, Sire," Aral said, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Yes, it's terrible," he agreed, "But we are a people and a planet of sacrifice. A bold new Barrayar will be born from their ashes, as one was born from the ashes of the occuptation and the rebellion."
"Is that all there is," Aral hissed between his teeth, "We find creative new ways to build a future of the bones of our people, and then they make new bones for new futures."
Ezar huffed. "Poetic. No, you're smarter than that, mastermind of Komarr. The point of all of this is to _stop_ making our sons grist for the mill."
"No man who cares about the mill would come up with a strategy like this," Aral said, baring his teeth.
"You may cast me as the villain if it is balm to you." Ezar shrugged. "In fact, since I am lucky enough to have the confidence of the greatest Barrayaran strategist of the age, I will ask you to provide me an alternative. Here are the qualifications: you must remove my son and the War Party without causing a major civil upheaval or suggesting anyone be the next emperor _but_ my grandson. I will give you one week. If you do not, in one week, give me a better idea, I will tell Grishov we should start as soon as he can put the uniforms on officers, and you will be among them, Captain."
A week later Aral was back in his office, jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck tight. Ezar smiled at him. "Yes. I thought so. Come. Eat some crow for Grishov for me, Lord Vorkosigan. The sooner we start, the sooner it will be over."
"I refuse."
"Captain -- " Negri began, angrily.
"Let him wriggle, Negri," Ezar said, holding up a hand, "Very well, Aral. You don't. Maybe you even do manage to stop us from going to Escobar at all. My son becomes the Emperor. That is the man you serve, then. A man who I have been steadily dissembling his death squads because I am the only man who can. A man who delights in stocking his playmates with rapees. He has been tidying the torture chambers in the castle, did you know? You refuse for the life of him. You know I perhaps shouldn't even say you serve him; you are far, far too close to the throne for his liking, and surely you know how jealous he is of you - Komarr, Ges Vorrutyer, my favor, all of it."
Aral's jaw clenched.
"Whether or not he arrests you on a trumped-up charge, we can imagine the immediate and extreme re-arnament of everything I have disarmed. The absolute abolishment of the welfare state I have structured. Not all the Counts will agree, of course. Maybe some of them will disagree more than other. And Serg will annihiliate them for their disagreement. And the rest of the Counts will stare at each other, and re-arm, and consider perhaps that it is not so valuable they follow Vorloupulous's Law indeed."
"Sire."
"I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, Aral. I know you're not an idiot. I appreciate your honesty and your 'moral high ground' for what it is. I find it rather charming. I'm telling you that _your father_ had sent me many messages about his concerns about Mad Yuri's behavior before your family was slaughtered. I'm giving you the opportunity to avoid that. Consider it learning from one of the few mistakes your father has ever made. So. Tell me again that you refuse. You know, I will let you refuse me because I want you to see the consequences of doing so. And I will find someone else to do it. And they will not refuse me, and they will do half a good a job or fail entirely. I will be dead by then. Unfortunately, you will be alive."
"I'll do it."
"Yes, I knew that. Negri, continue with the briefing."
Negri started up again, for a while.
"It's impolite not to pay attention," Ezar said. Negri was talking, but Aral wasn't listening.
"You don't have to do this," Aral said, quietly.
"I believe we discussed this matter."
"You don't need all of this. You need me."
Ezar's eyebrows went up. He tilted his head, considering. "Just you?"
"Just me. Stack him with disloyal armsmen and send me in at night. It would be quick and painless." His voice was hollow. "No one would ever know it was me, I swear it."
Ezar smiled, which did nothing but make his face look harder and colder. He shook his head. "Ah. Yes. That would delight me, I admit. Perhaps your father too. Unfortunately, it is a half-measure, and we are past the time of half-measures. It creates panic and rashness amongst his allies. It fosters terror and pain around my grandson. Grishov will still make us die at Escobar."
"All those men, Sire," Aral said, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Yes, it's terrible," he agreed, "But we are a people and a planet of sacrifice. A bold new Barrayar will be born from their ashes, as one was born from the ashes of the occuptation and the rebellion."
"Is that all there is," Aral hissed between his teeth, "We find creative new ways to build a future of the bones of our people, and then they make new bones for new futures."
Ezar huffed. "Poetic. No, you're smarter than that, mastermind of Komarr. The point of all of this is to _stop_ making our sons grist for the mill."
"No man who cares about the mill would come up with a strategy like this," Aral said, baring his teeth.
"You may cast me as the villain if it is balm to you." Ezar shrugged. "In fact, since I am lucky enough to have the confidence of the greatest Barrayaran strategist of the age, I will ask you to provide me an alternative. Here are the qualifications: you must remove my son and the War Party without causing a major civil upheaval or suggesting anyone be the next emperor _but_ my grandson. I will give you one week. If you do not, in one week, give me a better idea, I will tell Grishov we should start as soon as he can put the uniforms on officers, and you will be among them, Captain."
A week later Aral was back in his office, jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck tight. Ezar smiled at him. "Yes. I thought so. Come. Eat some crow for Grishov for me, Lord Vorkosigan. The sooner we start, the sooner it will be over."