“Interesting,” Tenel mused. He had read the official reports on all the highest-ranking Alliance commanders, and while virtually all of them had a personal reason to hate the Imperium, he still found it hard to believe they would actually wish to fight another war. Perhaps he had given them too much credit.
“Regardless, this brings us to the High Sovereign’s plan,” Damir went on. “He will order an all-out assault on the Solarian border before winter.”
Tenel’s mouth gaped open before he could stop it. “Erm,” he managed, clearing his throat. “There has been no mention of this to High Command as far as I’m aware.”
“At the moment, only the Sovereigns and a select few high-ranking officers are aware of his plans.”
The admiral licked at his suddenly dry lips. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, Your Eminence, but an unprovoked attack on our part seems….misguided,” he managed, struggling to be as diplomatic as possible. “The Solarians are correct that we have been weakened; it will be years before the army is back at full strength.”
“That particular analysis is shared by most of the senior officers,” Damir agreed. “There are also other serious diplomatic considerations. If we invade, we risk provoking the Asgardians, and possibly even the Talishites again if they smell blood in the proverbial water.”
“And the Last Dawn,” Tenel added. “They will assuredly come to the defense of Solaria against an out-right invasion.”
“Very likely,” Damir agreed. “The bottom line is that if we fight another war now, we will lose.”
Tenel pursed his lips, wondering yet again if this was some kind of perverse test. Was she just waiting for him to speak ill of the High Sovereign before carting him off and sticking his head on the block?
“Fortunately, the High Sovereign is not insane,” Damir said into the pause. “He is fully aware of the risks of invasion, but he also believes we have a unique opportunity before us. The Alliance is facing its own potential insurgency even now, and His Supreme Eminence wishes us to exploit it.”
“An insurgency?” Tenel asked, frowning. “Has he told you why he believes this?”
“He didn’t need to. I was the one who informed him of it in the first place.”
“I see,” he murmured, feeling a bit foolish. Of course the Zarul would have been the ones to ferret out the truth. Still, the idea of a brimming insurrection inside the Alliance seemed almost impossible. The provincial lords were as ambitious and manipulative as any politicians, but they also had a long tradition of obedience to the throne. Tenel may have disagreed with Solarian principles, but he was objective enough to recognize their strengths as well. They had managed to remain stable despite a weak king while the Imperium had been faltering with internal rebellions under strong despots. “Do you know what these insurgents want? Do you believe they have any chance of success?”
“Yes to the first; a qualified yes to the second,” Damir replied. “A few well-connected individuals are unhappy with the way King Areekan has chosen to deal with the Unbound in Solaria, and this has made them believe that the time has come to replace him with someone more…open-minded.”
“I’m surprised the provincial lords would care about such a thing,” Tenel commented. “They have always supported the king’s policy of quarantining renegade channelers.”
“The provincial lords don’t care; I’m referring to others with influence in the Alliance government,” the Sovereign clarified. “But on to your second point, yes, we believe the insurgents can succeed. Our operatives have played a vital role in fanning the flames of rebellion for years, and with our continued help we may be able to push the dissidents over the top.” She tilted towards one of the crystalline mirrors, and the image shifted to something Tenel recognized—Garos, the fortress guarding the northwestern border of Solaria. “The objective of the High Sovereign’s invasion is not to crush the Alliance forces, but rather to distract their king. With his mind and powers focused on coordinating a defense against three separate, simultaneous invasion forces, he will be weak and vulnerable.”
“Allowing the rebels to strike at him directly,” Tenel said, nodding in grim understanding. “If Areekan dies, their Bound will falter.”
“If Areekan dies, the Alliance military will collapse,” Damir corrected. “With proper timing, we will be able to march straight to Celenest before they can hope to respond. The war will be over in a matter of weeks.”
Tenel rubbed a hand across his chin in thought. With its capital conquered, the rest of Solaria would quickly buckle. The Alliance Council would disband, and the provincial lords would start looking out for themselves. It would still take months to round up all the rebelling forces and probably years to squash the throes of domestic uprising, but it would still save millions of lives in the long term. Tenel had always hoped to avoid a third war, but he knew it was almost inevitable given the contrasting ideologies of Torsia’s most powerful nations. The only question, really, was when. The Crell standing forces might have been weakened, but the Solarian king was old and feeble. If there was a way to attack during a transition of power, it would be their best—and perhaps only—chance at victory.
Of course, this was all completely theoretical. A million things could go wrong with this plan, not the least of which was this assassination attempt. They would be placing the fate of their entire empire in the hands of a few rebel insurgents…
“If the rebels fail, it will be a disaster,” Tenel said. “We’ll be stuck in a bloody war that we won’t be able to win.”
“And that is why His Supreme Eminence has ordered us to ensure it succeeds,” Damir said matter-of-factly. “But there is much work to be done, and I want a clear-eyed commander with ground-level experience to oversee this operation. I believe that person is you, Admiral.”
Tenel took a deep breath. This was certainly the last thing he had expected when the Green Coats had brought him here, and he belatedly realized there was an ominous catch to everything she had just told him—Damir obviously expected him to accept the offer, or she never would have revealed this much sensitive information. What would happen if he refused? Did he really even have a choice?
“I’ve arranged for you to stay with us for a day if you wish to think about this offer or mull over specifics,” Damir said, as if responding to his thoughts. “If you are concerned about your family, you will get to speak with them soon, and I can assure you they will be well taken care of. Neither your wife nor your children will ever need to worry about their future again.”
Chalandra wouldn’t like it, Tenel knew, but she had never cared for him being in the military, either. She also hailed from a small village, and she’d never had aspirations to be anything else besides a simple farmer. But when the Galvians had brutally attacked Geriskhad and killed their five-year old son years ago, Tenel hadn’t been able to just stand by and do nothing. He joined the service shortly after, and within a few years he had been promoted to an officer. Now, over a decade later, he commanded the Perilous and was responsible for over a dozen ships and thousands of lives.
He worked to keep the Imperium safe, to protect his family and their lifestyle. He was not a man of conquest or war, but if it was going to happen, he could probably do more good here than on one ship far from the major land battles that would decide its outcome. Damir was certainly right about one thing—many within the Crell officer corps had no concept of what normal life was. They acted and thought in a bubble filled with power and ambition; few had families of their own, and almost none had children. They fought too easily and gave lives too freely. Perhaps here he would have a chance to change that.
“I will need some time,” he said after a moment. “This is a lot to think about.”
“Of course,” Damir assured him. “For now, though, I’m sure you wish to weigh your options. Allow one of my people to escort you to your chambers—everything you need will be provided for you. We can talk again once you’ve had time to think up some more questions.”
Tenel nodded and stood. He definitely needed time alone; there was just too much to consider here. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”
“Excellent,” Damir replied. With a gesture of her hand, the double doors at the back of the room parted, and a green-cloaked man was standing there patiently. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
Tenel bowed and then slipped out of the room. His footfalls once again echoed down the long empty corridors.
***
His presence seems unnecessary.
Damir raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the man in the left corner of the room as he whispered his thoughts directly into her mind. Most of his face was covered by the cowl of his dark cloak, though of course the disguise wasn’t really needed. He and the other two men in the room were invisible to anyone other than their Sovereign, including Admiral Tenel. As long as they could touch someone’s mind, they could erase their very presence from it. It was one of their most useful and notorious abilities.
The Zarul called them Shadows, and while they were Bound just like the Imperators, they were far more than mere soldiers. They were the most elite operatives in the Imperium, and they were her eyes and ears across Torsia.
And that is precisely why he is here, she told him. If you can’t see the value of an intelligent vorhang, then you really have lost perspective.
He is a sympathizer, a second one said. He may turn on us.
He is a patriot, Damir corrected. He will do what is in the best interests of the Imperium. Right now, that means serving us.
And when that changes?
She turned to the third Shadow. If it does, then he will be eliminated. By then, he will have served his purpose. She folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. The Admiral is a keen analyst and tactician; he proved that at Vienshel Harbor.
None of the Shadows responded. They really didn’t need to; she could feel the concern in their thoughts.
Of more immediate concern is this Hassian relic, she told them. Heist’s failure leaves us vulnerable.
Our brother will obtain the cube, the third Shadow promised. It will never reach the resistance.
She arched her fingers and brought them to her lips. If the younger Moore makes it to Lyebel, he might threaten our plans.
Or his father may ignore our arrangement, the first Shadow warned. The elder Moore cannot be trusted.
Without him, we would need to rely exclusively on the priestess, the second added. We are not convinced she is ready.
Then we should take control of her directly and remove the elder Moore from our plans.
Damir shook her head. Not yet. But we do need a contingency; a way to motivate her if General Moore fails us.
We can provide that, the Shadows said in near unison.
I know you can, she told them smiling. And soon, you will.
Chapter Seven
“Beware the answer to an unspoken question.”
—Solipean Proverb
Two long days after surviving Heist’s ambush, Jason and the others arrived in the sleepy little town of Taig. To his mild surprise, they hadn’t needed to dodge any Crell patrols or additional groups of bandits or thugs along the way. The journey proceeded as smoothly and quietly as they could have reasonably hoped, and Tam and Gor spent most of their waking hours debating the best way to spend their forthcoming fortune. Jason, for his part, was too distracted by his ruminations about the origins of their mystery cube to waste any time thinking about piles of gold.
The cure, as it turned out, was to actually look at said piles of gold in person.
“A hundred and sixty gold bricks,” Tam whispered for probably the fourth time since Jason had set the newly-minted bars out on the massive marble table. Even Gor was mesmerized; his feline eyes were so dilated it looked like he was about to pounce on something.
“Forty a piece,” Jason said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “But remember that’s for the whole lot, and only once we get to Lyebel. The forty here is just a down payment.”
He had already rented out the largest suite at the Riverpeak Inn, Taig’s finest and newest establishment. Ten years ago, not many towns in this part of Galvia would have bothered maintaining luxurious accommodations, but since the occupation, Crell nobles occasionally traveled down the coast from Lyebel and into their homeland, and apparently the increase in business and merchant traffic was enough to support some expensive renovations.
Still, while the 300 year-old tapestries, ever-flowing fountains, and imported Talishite silks were definitely impressive, at this point Jason could have probably purchased the whole bloody inn if he had been so inclined. After years of hard work and research, not to mention evading vicious competitors, he had finally struck gold—literally, at this point. There was enough here for each of his friends to live comfortably the rest of their lives anywhere they wanted in Torsia or beyond. And that didn’t even factor in the mystery cube, which apparently was worth so much that Slaan had been willing to hire assassins to try and take it.
“At least now we know why Slaan was willing to backstab you over this junk,” Tam commented as if reading his friend’s thoughts. “And why a Crell soldier like Heist was willing to try and hide it from his superiors.”
Jason sighed softly and took a sip of his wine—an Izarian vintage he never would splurged on just a few days ago. “Heist was only interested in the cube. Slaan too, I imagine, which tells me there’s a lot more going on than just gold.”
Tam didn’t respond or even look at him, and neither did Gor. They probably hadn’t even heard him, not with the candlelight still sparkling off their newfound fortune.
Selvhara, for her part, was staring right at him. “Have you had any new revelations about its origins?”
“Not really,” Jason conceded. “I still don’t—”
“Wait, you didn’t sell that thing?” Gor interrupted, his eyes and attention finally shifting back into reality.
“No,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Not yet. Not here.”
“And why the hell not? You found enough stupid humans willing to spend a fortune on useless baubles.”
“I had to speak with seven different buyers over the past day and a half just to unload what we had,” Jason explained. “Taig isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis; there’s no one else here with that kind of gold.”
Tam snorted. “Oh, come on, Jace, at least be honest: you just want to know what it does.”
“That too,” Jason conceded, finishing his glass and leaning backwards. “You’re staring at more gold than you’ve seen in your life. Don’t complain.”
“But we could have more,” Gor pointed out. “By your own admission, considerably more.”
“And we will,” Jason assured them. “But we need to reach Lyebel first. We’re much more likely to find someone who can properly appraise it, not to mention buyers for the stash we have left. You’ll just have to be patient.”
Gor studied him for another few seconds before finally grunting and turning back to the bricks. He hadn’t even touched them yet; it was like he was afraid they might crumble the moment his claws made contact. Having spent most of his life as a slave, he likely had no idea what to even do with so much gold besides hoard it.
Tam didn’t buy Jason’s bullshit for a moment, of course, and he flashed a knowing smirk even as he returned to fondling his brick. He knew his friend was more interested in mystery than money, and he also knew that Jason wouldn’t quit until he had an explanation.
“We could reach Lyebel in three days on horseback assuming we took the main roads,” Selvhara said into the silence. “But considering what we’re carrying, we might want to travel through the woods instead.”
Jason pursed his lips. “If the Crell haven’t found us yet, I don’t think they’re going to. And the once nice thing I’ll say about the Imperium is that they keep their roads safe. Even if one of our buyers got the sudden urge to try and get his or her money back, I don’t think t
hey would risk crossing an imperial patrol.”
“We also have enough gold to bribe off a king if someone starts asking too many questions,” Tam put in. “That has to be worth something.”
“Once we reach Lyebel, we’ll be fine,” Jason told them. “Last I heard, the Resistance basically controls the entire eastern side of the city. We’ll be safe there.”
“Personally, I’m more worried about your impoverished little freedom fighters trying to guilt you out of this fortune,” Gor said flatly. “We’ll need to store the gold somewhere they can’t find it.”
“Oh, look, the great Jason Moore has returned to lead us to victory! Now buy us weapons!” Tam said mockingly. “That’s pretty much what I’m expecting.”
Selvhara started to reply but stopped herself. The disgust on her face was obvious; she knew many of the people in the Resistance, and even if she didn’t always agree with their methods, she naturally supported their cause. But thankfully she was wise enough to recognize that there was no point in reasoning with Tam or Gor, especially not right now.
“Personally, I wouldn’t mind staying here a night or two,” Tam said after a minute of silence. “I’m sick of sleeping alone in the mud.”
“I think we should keep moving,” Jason told him. “I’d rather set out first thing in the morning.”
“You just said you didn’t think the Crell were even after us,” Gor pointed out. “So why are you so concerned about moving on?”
Jason sighed. “Just a feeling.”
“Well, we definitely need to stay at least one more day,” Tam said. “The Sor’sal are supposed to have new dancers performing tonight and tomorrow, and I want a private show.” He twisted the brick around in his hands as he smiled. “I think I’ll need some change.”
Jason grunted. “Take what you need, but leave the rest here. I’ll feel better with all of us watching over it.”
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