Aleks glanced down at the mountain-city that unfurled beneath him, took only a moment to regather himself, before darting nimbly down. The perfect vision of his mask helped him find footholds and sturdy landings as he moved, the wind once more roaring in his ears and threatening to pull him from the side of the mountain.
It was too loud to hear what was happening above, and he couldn’t chance a look back without risking a fall down Mount Miasto. But if the creature was going to catch him—if he’d followed and realized he’d used the sheer mountainside as his entrance, Aleks would be hard-pressed to stop him. All he could do was hope he’d escaped and keep moving.
The many archways that dotted the mountainside acted as little more than viewing platforms for the citizens of Wiernock. Clear views out over the valley that stretched beneath them and the clouds that dominated the sky overhead, with no railing to prevent a fall.
So, of course, they were an easy enough place for Aleks to enter the city undetected. The sound of the roaring wind cutoff as if a door had shut behind him when his feet touched the landing, some kind of magic keeping the forces of nature outside from entering the porous mountain. A throng of people greeted him; travelers from all across Ogien here to witness the crowning of a new emperor and the farewell of their once all-powerful oligarchy. But Aleks’ mask hid his entry from anyone near enough to notice.
The mountainside was steep and crusted with moss and sliding rock—unclimbable for most. But Aleks was not most people. He was the King’s assassin—one of the last three of Kinian Maa’s Ivory Masks. Breaking into unassailable cities was his bread and butter.
He’d landed at one of the lower-levels of Wiernock, in a hallway so tall the ceiling would have disappeared into darkness were it not for his mask. The lower-levels of the city were home to traders and merchants, but those of lower standing. Restaurants, taverns, and brothels were carved into the niches of the mountain—sturdy and beautiful work, but available to visitors and so holding none of the prestige of the establishments above.
It was exactly the sort of place Aleks would have to hide if he was to avoid capture; because surely if that creature was important enough to order the would-be-emperor around, he was important enough to coordinate a search.
Ducking into one of the many crevices that lined the hallway, away from prying eyes, Aleks pulled his mask free and tucked it into a pouch at his waist. The creature had not seen his face, so though his clothes might give him away should he run into him again, he’d a small window of anonymity.
Head down, he moved back into the hallway and stalked his way through the crowd. Even without the mask to aid his vision, it was hard to miss the number of pendants glimmering around people’s necks. Whether these were longtime believers in the cult that now threatened to take over Ogien, or new converts showing their faith before the crowning, they were a sign that this new emperor and their new god had more support than King Nalan had expected.
At the end of the hallway was an expansive opening, the stone ceiling at least fifty feet high and marked with engravings difficult to make out from this distance. Wide tunnels split off in several directions, with stone plaques marking each road. Aleks had no use for them, his feet following his internal map to the tavern he’d taken up residence in.
The Mountain Blossom was a hub of energy when he arrived, a crowd gathered in the tavern bar. There was a heavy tension in the air, and a clear divide amongst the patrons, those wearing the silver pin of The Sons of Inan seething at a small group of traditionalists who sat quietly at the bar.
A man sitting alone at the bar, puffing at a curled, wooden pipe nodded to Aleks as he came in. Fan, a regular at the Blossom, had been here every time Aleks had visited over the last few years. It was only natural that they’d developed something resembling a friendship. Aleks returned the nod before disappearing upstairs for a change of clothes.
Despite his hurried escape, he knew he’d have to return to the higher levels immediately. There was more to the Sons than he’d been led to believe, and he intended to find out exactly what he was facing. And with them running Wiernock, he’d have to venture up toward the pricier establishments located near their quarters to get any answers.
He pulled a roll of vellum from his pack and unfurled it on his desk. Everything still fresh, Aleks jotted down a quick note of what had happened and wrote Matias a request for more information. What he’d been given was misleading, and whatever he’d faced above had certainly not been in the job description.
The tension downstairs seemed to have simmered over when Aleks returned, loud voices and hot words erupting as he stepped through the door. Grimacing, he strode over to the bar, careful not to do anything to antagonize anyone on either side of the divide.
“Been like this long?” He asked Fan, leaning beside him. The stench of his pipe filled the room, old Ogien root pungent and strong.
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The older man nodded, pulling his pipe from his lips. “’Bout a month now.” He jutted his chin out, gesturing to the large men bearing the silver pin of the Sons. “These mongrels got no heart. Weak. But walk around like a proud cock trying to fight everything.”
“New converts?”
“Of course. They saw chance to be important. Sold all of Wiernock for their pride.” He shook his head and took another puff of his pipe, dark smoke twisting around him. “Worse than trash.”
Aleks sighed, watching the two groups posture, waiting to see if anything would come of it. After a quiet moment, he turned back to Fan. “Think they’ll do anything?”
He shook his head again. “Their Emperor will be crowned and they will bully others. But they have no spine for violence. Just like to feel strong.” He pointed with his pipe toward the traditionalists. “They will be problem, though. Strong in their beliefs. Hold them down for too long, they will bite.”
After chewing on Fan’s words, Aleks tapped the bar and straightened. “Well, best I’m not here when that happens.” He patted Fan on the shoulder. “Few more weeks and I’ll be gone. I’ll buy you a few rounds before then, eh?”
Fan smiled at that and nodded, eyes swiveling back to the contesting groups. “Will wait for that.”
Aleks had to push past swathes of bodies to make it to the front door, the rising voices lending him a moment of doubt at Fan’s words. The new Sons seemed plenty capable of violence in his opinion. Aleks would have to do something about it before that escalated any further than isolated fights in bars.
He made his way to another viewing port, away from where he’d made his escape and waited by the ledge. Not fifteen minutes had passed before he heard the soft beats of large wings and a large raven landed beside him. “Thank you, Jace,” Aleks murmured to the bird, tying the vellum to his foot.
The bird squawked once before hopping toward the ledge once more and then taking off. Aleks watched the creature only until it disappeared with a flare, ashes from its departure carried away on the wind.
Breathing a small sigh, Aleks turned back to the hallway. He was not one to sit idly, doing nothing in some poor tavern. He’d find what he could on his own and see if Matias’ information lined up.
Similar scenes of division greeted Aleks all across the lower levels of Wiernock, with small numbers of traditionalists railing against the appointment of an emperor. The country had been ruled fairly by an oligarchy for centuries now and the emergence of religious zealotry had taken all of Ogien by shock. But with the Sons of Inan controlling Wiernock, there was little anyone could do. The faithful were still a minority across the mountainous nation, but with the country so divided and so few soldiers, taking the capital had been easy.
As Aleks made his way toward the ramps that would grant him access to the upper-levels of Wiernock, he found something that gave him a moment of pause. Thundering hooves echoed in the wide cavern that marked the central square of the ground floor—by far the most populous area in all of Wiernock. A crowd had formed, skirting around the edges of the circular opening, curious voices and outraged cries mingling into a cacophony of sound that so often preceded riots.
The crowd parted, allowing through a column of horses, two abreast, each with a flag bearer carrying a different flag at its head. Aleks recognized the emblems, both white on red, almost immediately. The thick oak of Han Del, and the howling wolf of Jenzen. And then Aleks realized what the furore was about.
Han Del and Jenzen, two of the biggest cities in all of Ogien, were the homes of the last two remaining members of the Court of Ogien—the oligarchy that had ruled the mountainous nation for centuries. If they were here, at the head of what looked like a vanguard, then they weren’t about to take losing Wiernock laying down.
The procession came to a gradual stop, the men at the front dismounting and the crowd surging forward to greet them. Aleks let himself be carried forward, wanting to get a closer look at the last two members of the Court. If they were as opposed to the Sons occupation of Wiernock as he expected them to be, he may have another avenue for getting rid of Nereden.
A guard surrounded two men, both short of stature, but with solid builds from years of training. The two of them scanned the crowd, seeming to gauge the city. The representative of Jenzen, white wolf embroidered on his chest, scowled. It was hard to miss the number of silver pins shimmering amongst the crowd. More Sons than they’d anticipated perhaps? Aleks had been surprised as well.
The Court members, flanked by their guards, left their horses behind and approached the wide ramp that sat in the middle of the square. A dozen men and women, silver pins stark against their black, fur coats, bristled at their approach. A tall woman with a harsh face stepped forward, offering only the smallest of bows.
Staring down his nose at the her, the member from Jenzel spoke. “And you are?”
The woman grinned up at him. “I am Rown, one of the Emperor’s Sworn.”
“I assume,” Han Del’s court member boomed in a gravelly voice. “That we are forbidden to pass.”
“For now, yes. But the Emperor has requested an audience with you following his coronation in a few days time, if it pleases.”
A murmur swept through the crowd, some people scoffing at the word ‘emperor’. “’If it pleases’?” The member from Jenzel shook his head, turning to his partner. “Hear that, Jalid?”
Jalid nodded, his own scowl deepening. “Indeed.” He stepped forward, hand on the sword at his hip. The Sons bristled at that, but the woman held up a hand and they stilled. “Tell your Emperor that his coronation is a farce. And when we take our audience with him, it will only be to hear the terms of his surrender.”
The corners of the woman’s lips curled up in a small smile. “You are certain this is the message you wish to send?”
Jalid held her gaze with his own, steady as the mountain they stood in. “We are.”
There was a roar of approval from many of the crowd that had gathered, those who’d spent the last month quietly rejecting their new leader finally finding voice. Those who wore their silver pins on their chests remained muted, Aleks sensing equal parts anxiety and anger in their silence. The Sons grip on Wiernock was not as complete as they’d hoped, it seemed. And with the Court of Ogien here, it seemed Aleks may have found a rallying point for the people—a path to ejecting the Sons without needing to spill too much blood.
If he was right, if the peoples’ loyalty to the Court was as sure as it seemed, then he’d every reason to take the chance. All he’d have to do was kill a god. Simple enough, really.