eyes decidedly frigid as she said, “I think it fair to point out that I wasn’t the one asking my husband for a tour of the legion’s camp.”
“Peace, peace,” Lydia murmured, but the words were hardly necessary, as a commotion from the group of men caught the attention of the young women around her.
“You can’t be serious?” a senator barked, rising to his feet. The man had long been a close associate of Lydia’s father, but he was staring at her father like he’d never seen him before. “Fourth sons as well? The cost will be incredible, never mind the damage it would do to the population.”
“Now, now.” Her father made soothing gestures, glancing quickly at Lucius, who remained silent. “Don’t be so swift to condemn the proposal. Cassius is not suggesting a blanket conscription policy as we have for second sons. This would be more … targeted.”
“What do you mean, targeted?” Cordelia’s husband asked.
“The boys would come from poorer families. From those who already struggle to feed all their children, and whose sons are unlikely to grow into contributing members of society,” Lucius answered. “We can turn those who would be a burden into assets.”
Several of the men’s faces darkened, and Lydia’s own stomach soured at how Lucius coldly reduced children to commodities. Cordelia shifted on the couch, and though her gaze was fixed on the glass in her hand, Lydia could tell she was listening intently.
“What Cassius means,” Lydia’s father said carefully, “is that we can provide those less fortunate boys with skills and opportunities that they would not otherwise have. At Campus Lescendor, they’d be given an education and provided with marketable skills.”
Lydia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All her life, her father had fought against the legion conscriptions, had fought against war, but this … this was the exact opposite.
“Campus Lescendor raises soldiers, not farmers,” one of the men said flatly. “Something the Empire hardly needs more of. And you still have not addressed how it will be paid for.”
“It’s an investment that will repay itself within a generation, if not sooner,” Lucius replied, sipping at his wine. “Those schools you proposed the Empire build will no longer be necessary, and the Empire will no longer bear the burden of caring for young men who leech off society and contribute nothing in return. As to your other point, the Empire will always need its legions. Our footprint is large, and we never know when we might need an army of size.”
Cordelia’s husband’s eyes flicked to his wife, but the young woman only drank deeply from her glass, shifting so that she was right next to Lydia.
“Cassius’s passion for his proposal makes him careless in his phrasing.” Lydia’s father laughed, patting Lucius on the arm as though they were old friends. “Do not think of his proposal as a way to mass an enormous military machine, but as a way to improve opportunities for all our young people. Training more boys at Lescendor will allow us to release older legions from duty earlier. Imagine the benefit of having thousands of men trained not just as soldiers but as physicians, engineers, craftsman, and administrators being introduced into society right at the age best suited for them to start families.”
“Precisely,” Lucius said with a smile.
“Liar,” Cordelia muttered, and Lydia was inclined to agree. She held her breath, waiting for the men to spit and scoff at Lucius’s proposal. Yet as her father continued to talk, spinning Lucius’s plan to appeal to their way of thinking, she realized what was happening and had to clench her teeth to keep her stomach from emptying itself on the floor.
“Didn’t you realize there would be a cost?” Cordelia asked under her breath. “Cassius hardly needs coin and he certainly doesn’t need a new wife. What he needs is someone to sway votes.”
There was no one in Celendrial more suited to that task than Lydia’s father. “He did it to protect me.” The words sounded strangled in her own ears.
“I know.” Cordelia’s voice was toneless. “All of this is for you. And I hope you remember that when Cassius begins stealing tens of thousands more boys from their families. And when he sends them off to die.”
Then Cordelia scratched meaningfully at her cheek, and a servant appeared at her elbow, bending low to whisper in her mistress’s ear. Sighing, Cordelia rose. “Excuse me.” She approached her husband, resting her hand on his elbow. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but we must retire early.