As Lin made his entrance to Emperor Ehajdon’s throne room, he made an impression, but for all the wrong reasons.

As the blue light of the Min shown down upon him, Lin faltered, and fell to the ground, covered in blood that had long since caked.

The ground around him let out a collective murmur, and stepped back. They were aristocrats. They were damsels. The did not expect to see bloodstained warriors limp through their protective bubble.

Interestingly, Lin noted, as he forced his bruised and battered body to get to one knee, the only man who seems to care about me, is the only one who matters.

For Ehajdon, upon seeing Lin, had leapt from his throne, and had rushed over to him.

“General,” said Ehajdon, his words powerful, but tinged with sadness, as he saw what Lin was going through. “I am glad to see you are alive.”

Courtiers formed a ring around the two men, but an invisible barrier, composed of their own fear, held them back from coming any closer.

“I am, Your Majesty,” said Lin, holding to his kneel, “but few others are. I know you have heard other reports, but I was there, right in the thick of the Battle at the White Gates. I directed our armies, and I saw us fall. General Xaien is dead, and I saw him die. But I am sure you know that already.”

But from the look on Ehajdon’s face, it seemed he had not.

“We have had little news on the Battle at the White Gates,” said Ehajdon. “Our information systems are in horrible disarray, and we are still trying to collect and reform all the units that survived that day. We knew as much about what happened to Xaien, as we knew what happened to you. We knew nothing.”

A silence spread across the room. Lin could tell that all within had been trying to forget that horrible defeat, had been trying to forget that Ehajdon and his Empire were living on borrowed time.

Lin realized he had reminded them all of the truth of their situation. He was too tired, to exhausted to be sorry.

Ehajdon seemed to realize that Lin’s presence was causing an ever-increasing detrimental effect on morale. He turned to his chief advisor, Arek is Tomel, and muttered, “Calm the people down.”

Ehajdon then turned to the assembled audience, and spoke to them at large. “I and General Lin have some catching up to do,” he told them. “And so, I will leave you, for now.”

Ehajdon looked back at Lin, and gestured for him to rise, but Lin’s knee seemed to not wish to budge. And so, Ehajdon helped his last remaining general to his feet, as the crowd stared.

Ehajdon and Lin then quickly took their exit, down a side hall.

Lin had to limp to keep up with Ehajdon, and the Emperor, realizing this, slowed down.

“So,” said the Emperor, as the two of them headed for one of the meeting rooms. “How did you come to make such an impressive entrance in my throne room, today?”

“After the battle, I was barely left alive,” said Lin, “and my forces were scattered. I made my way back here as quickly as I could.”

Ehajdon nodded. “A simple tale,” he said, “but one that shows that God smiles upon us still. You are still amongst the living, and you bring with you a glimmer of hope.”

They entered an empty meeting room, and sat down.

“Those who were your audience did not seem to think I brought hope,” said Lin, once he was settled in.”

“They will, once I put the proper spin on it,” said Ehajdon.

Lin had nothing to say to that. He paused. “So, what now, Your Majesty? I stand willing to do your bidding, but I must ask: do your advisors tell you we have a glimmer of a chance against the Makini, anymore?”

Ehajdon paused, and a small smile crept to his face. “We may have lost a battle, Lin, and an important battle at that, but we have not lost the war. Your sudden reappearance was not the only omen that God smiles upon the Roseped Dynasty. A trump card, yesterday, was delivered into my lap. Something that could turn the war around, in a single stroke.”

“I do not wish to foil, your optimism, Your Majesty,” said Lin, “but I do not understand. Now, the Makini must have an army ten times our size, and the last of the Vedil lands have fallen to them. What can you possibly have?”

“Something that will bring the other Houses to our side, Lin,” said Ehajdon. “Every last one of them, sans the Makini. As of yesterday, I have the Princess.”

“What princess?” asked Lin.

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“Mentis’ daughter.”

And suddenly, Lin understood. If she endorsed Ehajdon, then…well then, everything he had said would come to pass.

But Lin, perhaps because of the dangers he had so recently escaped from, was cautious to begin to celebrate. “How did she come to you?” he asked. “Is she cooperative?”

“Yesterday, a battered a damaged ship sailed into Tarang’s port,” said Ehajdon. “A ship, which contained both the exiled lord of Asan Paril, a man named Savel, and Maiako as Arathou del Tachen.” Ehajdon paused. “The Princess is not cooperative yet,” he said. “But, given time, she will be.”

Something about the Emperor’s calm, collected manner disturbed Lin. Without warning, he ripped off his torn and tattered shirt, exposing bandages that covered his chest. He, wincing from the pain the sudden movement had caused them, began to unwrap his chest.

Ehajdon stared. “What are you doing, Lin?” he asked quizzically.

Lin threw the last of his bandages to the floor, exposing his chest. A huge gash was rent from his left shoulder, to his right thigh. Scars had formed to stop the bleeding, but they were crooked, ugly.

And the slice was an inch wide.

Lin took a hard breath, visibly reminded of how much pain he was in.

Ehajdon took a deep breath. “I knew you were wounded, Lin. Perhaps I did not know your injuries were quite this severe, but…you did not need to show me. I should have called for healers when I first saw you, and I will now. We can continue this conversation, later.”

But Lin was not going to be deterred, from making his point. “I show you this for a reason, Your Majesty,” he said.

Ehajdon’s concerned look paused, upon his face. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I am beginning to fear you are naïve,” said Lin. “Just as naïve as the others, who gasped when I walked in, but in a more subtle way. You think--and you think so strongly, that you make me almost believe as well--that Mentis’ daughter will win this war, single-handedly.”

Lin paused. “I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, and remain at your command, as always, but this scar you bear witness to is testament to the strength of the Makini.”

“It is a sword blow,” said Ehajdon. “A severe sword blow, one that should be looked at immediately, but a mere sword blow nonetheless. All your wound proves is that there is such thing as Makini steel, and our spies have already told us as much.” Ehajdon chucked, which Lin thought was in poor taste.

“The truth is, Your Majesty,” said Lin, “you are wrong.”

“An axe then? Or a nasty encounter with a spear.”

“Wrong, and wrong again,” said Lin. “A golem did this.”

And he witnessed the look he had expected to see on Ehajdon’s face: horror. That expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a mask of contentment, but both men knew what Ehajdon was really thinking, inside.

“They’re using them in battle, now?” asked Ehajdon.

“Mass production,” said Lin. “That’s what they’re doing, or at least, that’s what I hear. Forges all over the Makini lands have been converted, so that they can churn out metal beast, after metal beast. At one point during the battle, I saw four of them, together. If your reports were true, that would be one more golem than the Makini had. But apparently, your reports were wrong.” Lin paused. “This gash was given to me by one’s claws. They are built with claws, now.”

Ehajdon said nothing for a long while, considering, as Lin rewrapped his bandages, and put his shirt back on.

“I understand what being on the front lines has done to you,” he said, at last. “I understand how demoralizing it must have been to see your men routed. You are no longer the man who I promoted to general. You are a wiser man, one who has seen and endured a great deal more things. Your worries are justified.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Ehajdon was about to concede the point, but in the end, he did not.

“I must remind you though, Last General, that we have the Princess. We have Maiako as Arathou del Tachen. The Makini may have their metal monsters, but they will not be able to stand against an alliance of all the other Houses, which I will form, with her.”

Ehajdon stood, and walked to the door of the meeting room, and opened it. “Come with me, Lin,” he said.

“I thought you said I needed medical attention,” said Lin.

“If you could get this far without a healer,’ said Ehajdon, with a flash of annoyance, “you can surely last a few more minutes.”

Lin nodded, and followed Ehajdon, as he walked through the halls.

“What I have to show you,” said the Emperor, “shall hopefully allay some of your fears.” He stopped by a dark, hardwood door, and turned to Lin. “And what you fear is what binds you, my friend. You have proved, by living, that wounds do not matter. You could be as good a general as Varsis ever was, or ever will be, if only you can stop, and no longer fear.”

Ehajdon fitted a key into the door’s lock, and swung it open. A dark passageway, framed by flickering lantern-light, was revealed.

Ehajdon stepped within, and Lin followed him.

Then Ehajdon closed the door, bathing them in near-blackness.

Together, they continued to walk.

Lin had no idea where they were going; indeed, he had never known that passageways such as this had existed in the Minsu Palace, before. Yet, obediently, he followed his Emperor, and hoped what was to come would indeed allay his fears.

As they walked, Ehajdon spoke.

“These passageways were created because of fear, you know. My ancestors worried that their enemies were plotting to destroy them, and so, they built these tunnels, into the walls, to spy on others, throughout the Minsu Palace. From here, we can look through spy holes into most other rooms, undetected. There is a reason that you have not heard of these tunnels, before, Lin,” the Emperor continued. “Even though the secret of these halls is ancient, it has been carefully protected for a very long time. The secret is known only to myself, and a few select others.”

Ehajdon paused.

“You are one of the selected, now, Lin. I have put my trust in you, that you will keep this secret.”

“Your majesty, I am honored.”

“Good.”

A few moments later, they stopped, and Ehajdon turned to the wall. He slid something, and a tiny speck of light appeared.

Ehajdon put his finger to his lips, and then gestured for Lin to peer through the hole.

Lin did so. Beyond, his eye saw a room. Its furnishings denoted that it was a guest room of the Minsu Palace, but that fact did not seem all that important.

For a girl lay on the bed.

Mai. Maiako as Arathou del Tachen. A girl Lin had once thought it best and necessary to kill, but now held the fate of Ehajdon’s enterprise in her small, little hands.

Lin pulled back, and Ehajdon shut the peek-hole.

“Now, do you have faith, again?” he asked.

“You show me symbols,” said Lin, “but you do not show me proof. I am yours, Your Majesty, but I worry about the fate of us all. Mai may turn the war around, and I hope to God she does, but the Makini are as of yet, undefeated.”

Lin paused.

“Hope, however strong, cannot wash away the truth.”