from the fear of a slave revolt, to further depredations from the pirates of the Isles and the Southron barbarians.
A handful even thought in terms of the more long-term health of the Confederacy. Not many, to be sure, but some. Demansk made a note to seek them out for private discussions in the weeks to come. He intended to break the power of the aristocracy, but he had no desire to shed more blood than was necessary—and knew as well that the political skills of the noblemen would be needed in the years ahead. Those of them, at least, who could be won over to supporting the new regime.
Still, although the tide was running heavily in favor of Jeschonyk's proposal, at least half of the Councillors were still wavering. Their fear, of course, was of the rise of a new Marcomann. And almost all of them had a single target for those fears: Demansk himself.
He alone, really, presented the possible danger. Jeschonyk was too old, and not enough of a military commander, to make a creditable dictator. As for Tomsien . . .
Ambitious enough, yes; wealthy enough, yes; and few doubted he was unscrupulous enough. But although Tomsien had a respectable record in terms of military experience and command, it was nothing compared to Demansk's. Among modern leaders of the Confederacy, only Demansk had the aura of Marcomann about him. Not simply the record of success in the field, but—what was even more dangerous—a proven capacity to gain the loyalty and allegiance of the ranks of the army.
So, late in the day, Demansk decided it was time to seize the greatbeast directly and wrestle it to the ground. He stood up, indicating his desire to address the Council. But then, unlike many of his predecessors that day, waited politely for Speaker Chollat to call upon him before speaking. The man who would be tyrant understood perfectly