Ilros was a harsh place. Its weather was loud and brutal. Black clouds roiled in the sky; flashes of lightning lit the city as arcs of blue-licked steel rods mounted on roofs. Seraphina sat on the top floor of a glossy black tower, she had pushed her desk up to the window and lounged in the padded chair behind it. In her hands was a book, it was leather-bound and heavy. It was an ancient tome written by a Kessodorian scholar; it discussed the arcane arts.

She ran a hand through her hair of gleaming silver. It had been cleaned and brushed properly for the first time in months, it felt softer than it ever had before. She snapped the book closed with a tut, it was written in Kesso a language that had roots in old Arcanen but many of the words had been mangled, which made it difficult for Sera to decipher. She pressed her hands into her eyes and yawned, she slipped off the chair and turned to look at the mirror mounted on the wall, her eyes were a light red and there was some puffiness in her delicate cheeks. A long neck descended into a gentle frame, her arms were decorated with golden bands and a wispy white gown wrapped her from chest to her shins. It was uncomfortably sheer; she swore the eyes of the guards would follow her as she padded around the manor. Senator Evrim assured her that each of them was a eunuch with no interest in pursuits of the flesh, but she had always suspected the perfumed man had been a liar.

Her chamber was large and lavish, a vast four-post bed sat at its centre with a down mattress and sheets of silk and thin-spun wool. The senator had been incredibly kind to her, anything she desired was hers, no matter how expensive or esoteric. When she requested to dine in the company of the famed Witches of Storm Coven, the senator had arranged for an emissary of their order to come to his manse and dine with her. It was then she knew the depths of his influence, not only in the Empire but also in the Republic and the Free Cities.

She turned to look out the window, then walked to it rested her elbows on the ledge and leaned out. Despite the fearsome weather, Ilros was a pleasant place, warm and wet air left stickiness on her skin, but it never rained. The sun would cut through the dark sky and beam down on the darkstone buildings and the city would be delightfully warm. Ilros was east of the Imperial capital Centioch, across a series of dry plains pockmarked with lush rivers and oases. It was one of the largest cities on the Maw and it was where Seraphina had been invited to stay after spending years living in the fortress of the Holy Legion.

She remembered the day Ser Noen came into her cell to tell her the good news. She would be able to live like a princess again without fear of assassins. Sera had been a young girl then, but she had been no fool, she knew something would be expected of her in return, a betrothal at best or subjected as a concubine at worst. Senator Evrim had yet to make his demands, in fact, he had spent little time with her over the past two years. Business in the capital he claimed, old friends he was visiting he would say. Sera would nod politely and not inquire further. The knights of her household had advised her against it.

Sera had to laugh slightly at the thought of her household. It counted two knights- one in his sick bed- and a single ageing maid. They are all that was left from the flight from their homeland when the Pretender took the Sacred Seat. She had yet to be born when they were whisked onto the remains of the royal fleet and taken to the sea. They say her mother went into labour below decks and died bringing her into this world. Only the foreign soldiers of the Holy Legion had remained loyal to the Astrean dynasty, their commanders took her back to their fiefdoms and plotted to return her to the throne. Sera had sat in on councils of war for her entire life, and she knew they had been nothing more than theatre. Slowly they became disinterested in reclaiming her birthright and more interested in using her as a pawn in their political games with the then-newly crowned Emperor. Senator Evrim had offered her an escape and she took it gladly.

As she reminisced on the past, she reminded herself it was time to check in on Ser Noen. She flowed out of her chamber and into the hallway nodding politely to the many bronze armoured guards which patrolled the corridors. Handmaids and slaves bowed as she crossed them and left the tower. The senator's manse was vast, at times it felt like a city within a city. It was situated far from the sea, inland and near the main gates of Ilros. It was an unusual place to settle Sera had thought more than once, far from the wealthy magistrates who governed the city. As she crossed the central courtyard, she spied wagons being readied and covered goods being packed.

The Senator must be returning soon, she thought as she walked by.

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The other members of her household had chambers in her tower, but when Ser Noen fell ill, he was moved to more isolated chambers. The healers that Evrim had sent for instructed such, to avoid anyone else from coming down with his affliction. His room smelled like milk and death. The window flapped open and natural light poured into the room. Ser Noen had never been a young man, not as long as Sera could remember. Long grey hair stuck to his forehead and his beard was crusted with spit. Peffe was sat by his side occasionally wiping his face with a cool damp cloth. Sera sat on a stool opposite her and slid her hand into his giant paw.

“Is that you princess.” Ser Noen’s voice was so weak.

“Yes ser, it is.” His hand squeezed hers tenderly.

“He’s been getting weaker. The healer says it is only a matter of time.” Peffe said her face haggard and sad. Peffe had been her wet nurse, her handmaiden, her teacher, a surrogate mother. To see her like this every day broke Seraphina’s heart.

“There isn’t much time princess, I can’t protect you any longer-”

“Shhh my knight. Don’t think of that now. You’ve done so much for me, and you deserve an easy rest.”

Ser Noen opened his eyes with a start and hoisted himself up. “There will be no peaceful rest for me if you do not listen. Your birthright, your throne, promise me you will not give up. It is more important than you know, you must sit the Sacred Seat it must come to pass-” He crashed back into his bed with a coughing fit. “We have had many setbacks, and many times I have seen the doubt in your eyes. You must persevere. An Astraeus must be placed on the Sacred Seat.”

“I promise Ser Noen, with all my heart, I will reclaim the throne,” Sera said the words and placed all the emotion she felt at that moment in them. And she lied.

“Good.” He coughed. “Good. They’ll try and use you, manipulate you, convince you of thoughts you never had. You can’t let them. Trust no one truly except yourself.”

“Even Ser Cyprian.” Sera thought to the dark-haired knight of the north who had offered her his sword some months ago.

“Him least of all. To my shame, there is much I kept from you, and it is too late now for that to change. You’ve good instincts, don’t mistrust them.” Sera put her hand on his head and stroked it gently.

“Say no more sweet Noen, I can see it pains you. Rest now, save your strength.”

The next morning Ser Noen died, and Sera did not weep for him. Herself and Ser Cyprian Blacburn were sat in the shade in the corner of the courtyard. The Senator Evrim’s slaves had informed them that he was set to return that day and they should wait to meet him in the courtyard. She sat demurely on a pile of silk pillows, wrapped in a dress of silk and a thin shawl covering her head. Ser Cyprian had fetched a nearby crate and squatted down in it heavily, he was working his way through a pile of dates spitting pips in a neat pile by his feet. He was a lean man with short dark hair and brown eyes, his skin was tanned from years of touring the East, and he claims to have fought as a mercenary in the various squabbles and wars between the Republic and the Free Cities. Sera could believe him as his face was lined with fading white scars. He was younger than Ser Noen but still nearly twice her age, she had been warned when accepting his sword that he would be trouble but as far as Sera had seen the only thing troubling about him were his manners. He wore a simple green tunic opened at the chest, a sword and dagger hung from his belt, and occasionally a finger would brush against their hilts reassuring him they were there.

The senator arrived at his manse at the head of a grandiose caravan. A massive wagon house was pulled through the gate by an elephant, its rider tickled one massive ear and the beast blew its vast trunk with an announcing trumpet. The wagon house was pulled closer to the main building and pulled to its side. Household slaves rushed forward carrying platters of food and wine, stools and steps, anything their master might desire. Senator Evrim emerged from his wagon house and stepped down the stairs produced by his slaves. Sera and Cyprian were both on their feet. The knight bowed as the senator approached and Sera held out her hand for him to take.

Evrim pulled the pale hand forward and kissed it with relish. “Oh, how I have missed you, beautiful princess, all the beauties of the Centioch cannot compare to your radiance.”

“And I have missed your sweet words, Senator.” Sera drew her hand back and forced herself to smile.

Evrim was dressed in the traditional robes of the Empire's elite, a well-tailored tunic of white hung from his shoulder to ankles and a sash of dark red chased with gold wrapped around his shoulders and waist. Long sandals wound their way up to his knees and gold and silver coated his forearms and fingers. Brown and wiry hair was held tight against his head with golden bands and a neat beard hid his double chins.

“I trust your travels were pleasant,” Sera asked.

Evrim nodded quickly pulling a cup of wine off a nearby platter. “Certainly, the highways are in good repair, and I hardly noticed as my caravan ploughed across the vast plains to deliver me to you.”

“And I pray your business at the capital was productive.”

Evrim laughed. “Soon princess, soon we will discuss such things but first we eat. I have collected delicacies from all over the Empire for you to sample. And once we have eaten our fill we will retreat and discuss such things.”