A large platter of olives, cheeses, and other appetizers sat in front of Torneus. It was almost entirely untouched. A spare tumbler sat next to Torneus.
Nathan closed the door behind him. The sound finally alerted Torneus.
“Ah, so you’ve finally come to take my head?” Torneus said. He gave a half-smile and raised his glass. “Care to join me? It’s my last drink, after all.”
“Is the other tumbler laced with poison?” Nathan asked.
“If it was, would it kill you?”
“No, because I’d remove it with magic,” Nathan said.
“Then no, it’s not.” Torneus poured a tall glass of ouzo and water. The clear liquids turned milky when they mixed. “Drink. Remove the nonexistent poison if you’re worried. It’s not like it matters. I’m going to the Spires, aren’t I?”
This wasn’t how this was supposed to play out.
Nathan tested the drink with magic and found no trace of poison. He tasted it. It was high-quality ouzo, with the typical anise flavor he expected.
“I didn’t take you for a heavy drinker,” Nathan said. “I was surprised to see you drinking so much at the negotiations.”
“Really? I drank before I learned to walk. That’s how it works around here.” Torneus chuckled. “Or did. You know nothing about what I went through to get here. And now it means nothing. All because the Spires betrayed me, and you’ll be the next one with a dark elf dagger in the back.”
Nathan leaned against the back of a chair. He stared at the small, worn man sitting in front of him.
“I know plenty about you,” Nathan said.
“You know nothing,” Torneus spat. “You’re a noble brat who—”
“You’re the son of a merchant, born and raised in Tartus. But you got into politics anyway, after being inspired by the stories from the ancient times, back when the people had the power. Before the commoner vote was reduced to a formality,” Nathan said.
The fiery speech that Torneus gave in Nathan’s timeline was etched into his mind. He could almost recite it word for word.
Torneus stared at Nathan, glass halfway to his lips.
“You were a master orator and caught the attention of a noble family. Once you married into nobility, you had real power. And with real power, you tried to change things. But that’s not how the world works. Nobody relinquishes power once they have it. They crush those below them. Every time more nobles gained power, they took power away from the commoners. Until, eventually, Tartus was ruled and governed solely by the nobles,” Nathan said.
Torneus whispered, “Just like every other city-state and country.”
“Yes. Just like the Empire,” Nathan said.
“I fought my way to the top,” Torneus said, staring into his ouzo. “I made friends who wanted Tartus to be more than a pathetic city-state with an amazing history. The greatest of friends. We destroyed households. Crushed other city-states. Annexed territory. And, eventually, we became the High Lords and convinced the king to retire.”
“And then you killed those friends. For power,” Nathan said.
“Hah. Hahahaha,” Torneus laughed. Then he almost wept, his head tilting forward until his forehead pressed against the rim of his glass.
Eventually, he faced Nathan. “No, not for power. To ensure the future.”
“What?”
“We agreed that we wanted Tartus to be something more. But we disagreed about what that ‘something more’ should be. The Empire was rousing from its centuries long slumber. Nationalist rhetoric was on the rise everywhere. My contacts in Arcadia spoke of beastkin rebellions. If Tartus didn’t prepare for war, we would be ground into dust when it eventually came,” Torneus said.
Shaking his head, Torneus continued, “That’s why I tried to strike a blow against the Empire, while it appeared distracted. The tolls in Gharrick Pass were an excuse to draw Korvell’s support. Money talks, and it’s necessary to fund the military. George wanted the territory, too. That made Gharrick Pass ideal to push back against the Empire, before it turned its greedy eyes on us.”
Nathan remained silent, his attention captured by Torneus.
“You understand me, don’t you? You know why I did this. That’s why you’re playing everybody in the Empire.” The old puppet master laughed. “Like recognizes like. You see me as a villain, but that’s because you don’t have enough experience in life. It took me decades before I realized how many others worked the world like I did.”
“You’re saying we’re all caught up in the machinations of others?” Nathan said.
“That’s what politics is.” Torneus raised his glass for a moment and drained it. Then he laughed and filled it again. “But the reality is that most of the players of the game are terrible. They realize too late where all the pieces are, or that their allies aren’t what they seem. Gorthal is slowly realizing that he’s being cornered, but he’s played his hand poorly throughout his life.”
Silence followed Torneus’s words. He swirled his glass, and alcohol splashed all over the table.
“If life were like a card game, things would be simpler,” Torneus said after close to a minute. “Discards are simple, losing a hand isn’t that important, and you can learn quickly. And, in the end, it’s only a game. But life isn’t a game. Or if it is, it’s a game that never ends, and every decision carries weight. Discarding and choosing new cards has ramifications beyond the game itself.”
“A question,” Nathan said, finding his voice.
“You have me by the balls,” Torneus said, laughter leaking into his voice. “You can ask me the combination to my safe if you like. Although I won’t tell you it.”
“If you could go back and redo your life, what would you change?” Nathan asked. “Because while you’re reflecting on things, you don’t sound regretful.”
Torneus frowned. He stared at nothing in particular, his gaze becoming distant.
“Redoing my life…” he muttered, voice trailing off.
After a long wait, Torneus finally said, “A family. The one regret I have is always telling myself that I would wait until later to have children. I always had more ambitions. There would never be a ‘later’. I watched as countless men my age had children. Saw their children grow up. Many regents my age have similar regrets. It’s fun to fool around, but family is a legacy that I always wanted and actively refused. Stupid decision. Cost me the woman I loved.”
“That’s it?” Nathan asked.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“You think you’re about to die, and you don’t want to change that?”
Torneus smiled. A small, bitter smile. “Yes. I wasn’t sure of it a few hours ago. A month ago, before I met you in person, I know my answer would be different. But now I know that my decisions are what they are. Would the results be different if I made different decisions? Of course. Would they be better?”
Raising his glass, Torneus paused. Nathan eventually realized the old puppet master wanted to do a toast. Their glasses clinked together.
“To the future that we’ve chosen,” Torneus said. “Because only the goddess knows if the others would be better or worse.”
Only the goddess, huh?
Nathan drained his glass alongside Torneus. When they both lowered their glasses, Torneus didn’t refill either one.
“This changes nothing, you realize,” Nathan said, pushing down his feelings. “The Spires want you for heresy.”
“And so do you.” Torneus chuckled. “I imagine you have a deal with them. They crossed me. That cascade was a nasty trick. I knew the moment it happened that I was done, and that I had outlived my usefulness to the Council of Aurelia. One day, you will as well. Do what I couldn’t and find a way away from them before that day comes.”
Nathan wasn’t surprised that Torneus denied being involved in the cascade.
But was it a truthful denial? It could be another scheme. But Nathan had been doubtful even before this heartfelt conversation over drinks.
�
��I think that’s enough,” Torneus said, trying and failing to rise to his feet. “I can barely see. My father made this stuff and gave it to me for my wedding. Said it was his best product and I should drink it to celebrate my first child.”
The smile on Torneus’s face spoke of true regret. But there was a hint of something else.
Chapter 40
Nathan asked Sunstorm to return to camp and return with Narime. His original plan had been to leave with Torneus. Now, that felt off. As if he would be putting the former High Lord through a humiliation he didn’t need.
Funny what a conversation over a few drinks could do. Nathan had never known much about Torneus’s personal life. Most of what he knew were rumors. Plus the fiery speech given, right before Narime had turned that fire back on him, in a literal sense.
Narime raised an eyebrow at Nathan’s request when she joined them. “You didn’t want me to come. Now you want me to teleport him out?”
“If you don’t, he’s liable to fall off his horse and split his skull open,” Nathan said.
They stared at Torneus. He attempted to stand still by taking two or three steps at a time. Fei held him upright, a broad grin stretched across her face. Giggles snuck out of the catgirl’s mouth.
In the distance, beastkin servants watched with hands over their mouths.
“Fine,” Narime said. “Make sure you’re back soon.”
Blue light flashed and took Narime and Torneus out of the city.
Nathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His gaze turned distant.
Torneus would go to the Spires. Once there, he would spend months or even years going through public humiliation in front of the Council of Aurelia. Eventually, they would be satisfied that they had made an example of him.
Nothing about that conversation made Torneus less dangerous to the world. But his reasons struck a chord with Nathan.
A long, long time ago, a young, foolish Nathan Martel had spurned his father and apprenticed to a Bastion. He had hated the noble frippery that he had been expected to inherit and loved the martial history of his beloved kingdom. Over time, he also grew to hate the Bastions, because they were entwined with the nobility of Falmir. He backed Princess Charlotte and her desires to change the Kingdom when she became queen.
But nothing came of it. Nathan became the most powerful Bastion in Doumahr and was exiled to the Far Reaches because he backed the wrong horse in a political race. A coup took place, and the royalty was toppled. Nathan had been in Trafaumh with Gareth, attempting to save the only other remaining country on Doumahr from complete destruction. Nobody from Falmir helped them, because they were too busy with glorious revolution to save countless millions.
Torneus had come to terms with his life. Nathan hadn’t. But that conversation made it clear that he needed to make this life count.
“Deep thoughts, I take it,” Seraph said. Her eyes glimmered.
“Torneus had a lot to say. Not all of it is easily dismissed,” Nathan replied.
“You still have the same look in your eyes that drew me to you. So long as you don’t waver, you’ll always have us,” Seraph said. She placed a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed.
Fei gave him a smile, and they walked to the entrance hall.
Dozens of beastkin servants were waiting there, wearing plain white robes. Many of them carried kitchen knives, hoes, and other improvised weapons.
“Is… Is this liberation?” one of them asked, his eyes wide.
Ah, shit. Nathan had hoped to avoid this part until he returned with the dark elves.
He considered it fortunate that none of the beastkin were covered in blood. Tartus was a few words away from a slave uprising.
A few words from Nathan’s mouth. When the hell had he gained that sort of power?
“Not yet,” he said. The beastkin stared at him. His next words were dangerous, but he needed to say something to quell open rebellion. “I’m coming back after Torneus is handed over for judgment. You will see me again soon.”
Several beastkin stepped forward, their weapons clattering to the ground. “Can we come with you?”
In the end, he left Tartus with a trail of beastkin slaves following him. Former slaves, he corrected himself. They became free the moment they left the Federation. The magical tattoos on their bodies could be removed and nobody would know they had ever been enslaved. Besides the beastkin themselves, of course.
Nathan doubted that any beastkin ever forgot the time they spent in slavery.
Nobody stopped them as they left. The journey out of the city was uneventful. Solemn, almost.
Nathan marched back along the path he took to get to Tartus in the first place. His scouts reported that Federation armies from the surrounding provinces swept into Tartus within days of his departure. Nobody reclaimed his binding stone. Probably because the method he used to protect it was from a future that didn’t exist anymore.
Idly, he wondered if the defensive techniques and magical technology he knew would be invented in this timeline. Much of the monitoring technology and land-based defenses were developed in a time of crisis, where countries either invested in war or were wiped out. Nathan could prod people about methods to monitor demonic energy levels, crystals that record audiovisual, and complicated magical control terminals powered by magic.
But Nathan was a soldier, not a magical scientist. He lacked the means to reproduce what he had used in the past. Without examples, he could only describe things. How many mages would laugh him off as a dreamer? How many nobles would refuse to fund him?
Then again, he was about to conquer the Federation. He planned to secure his own supply of Champion gemstones. Maybe he could fund his own research. If anybody laughed at him, he could fire them.
Within days, Nathan and his army arrived at Castle Forselburg. He sent a message over the wireless to the dark elves.
Sureev arrived with a company of dark elf knights, and a pair of Champions who covered up their gems. Both of them were very familiar to Nathan. Hunters. Champions like Nurevia, whose purpose in life was to openly execute people who wronged the Spires. Both of them covered most of their skin, as well as their faces.
But Nathan knew the eyes of one of the hunters extremely well. Nobody forgot what it was like to look into the eyes of a legend.
“Amazing,” Sureev said, his face lighting up when he saw Torneus in the entrance hall. “The One True Council of Aurelia is delighted with our alliance with you, Bastion Nathan. As per the diplomatic accord struck with Emperor Gorthal of the Anfang Empire, we shall back your claim over the Amica Federation.”
One of the hunters grabbed Torneus and dragged him out of the hall. The knights left with him and Torneus.
The remaining hunter stood next to Sureev, her familiar green eyes boring into Nathan’s.
“Is something wrong, Astra?” Sureev asked.
Nathan blinked, surprised that he said her name. While almost nobody can claim to have met the only trigem Champion in the Spires, her name was legendary.
Murmurs ran through the hall. Sureev smiled.
“Now, now. Please calm your retainers, Bastion Nathan,” Sureev said. “Astra is an extremely common name among our people. It is a great honor to be named after our legendary trigem Champion.”
A bald-faced lie. The hunter was the one and only Astra, the trigem Champion of the Aurelian Spires.
“We’re taking the Federation, aren’t we?” Astra said abruptly. She nodded at Nathan. “You gave us Torneus. We give you the Federation. Stability is returned. That’s our agreement?”
“That’s the agreement,” Nathan said.
A look of satisfaction crossed Astra’s face. “It’s nice to meet a human who understands how to make a deal. No bullshit. I hear you even beat a Messenger.”
Nathan hid his shock, but nobody else did.
“Good poker face, too. Dark elves talk to each other.” Astra spun on her heel and began walking away. “Next time you have a Messenger problem,
invite me. I want to see you work.”
Sureev glared after the Champion. He hid his anger when he turned back to Nathan. “The Council will follow through on its word shortly. I trust that Emperor Gorthal will act just as fast.”
And that was that. The dark elves left, taking Torneus with them. Nathan dwelled on his brush with a trigem Champion and her approval of him.
The next few weeks flew past. Astra returned with the full might of the Spires at her back. Thousands of dark elves in dark suits of armor that covered all of their skin and protected their eyes. Far more humans and beastkin marched with them.
Many of those humans and beastkin slipped away from the armies of the Spires and into the villages of the Federation. Nathan suspected that many villages doubled in size. Although he wondered how many knew what they were in for. Life as a farmer was a little different to a life of perpetual poverty in the urban sprawl of the Spires.
Emperor Gorthal announced an imperial decree to annex the Federation in the name of overall stability for Doumahr. The Nationalists were shocked but could only watch. Leopold’s Champions moved in.
The regents were caught flat-footed. Or some of them were.
Others, like Duke Terrius and King George II, had been discussing their future plans with Emperor Gorthal behind the scenes since Nathan first approached them. When the annexation was announced, they turned on their fellow regents.
Faced with the might of the Spires, the Empire, and half of their own nation, the remaining regents came to the negotiating table.
This time, Nathan stayed away. He had already sent soldiers to protect the other binding stone Theus had controlled and the one at Castle Tartus. So long as the Federation didn’t engage in open war with the Empire, that allowed Nathan to focus on his own territory. It also meant that the Houkeem Desert wouldn’t be overrun.
He also had one other major distraction.
Right now, that distraction was rapidly slamming her hips into his while her panting filled his bedroom. Fei’s tail whirred back and forth at high speed. Sweat flew everywhere with each movement. Her generous mounds blurred in Nathan’s vision, nipples hard.
Heretic Spellblade 2 Page 37