Episode V

Chapter 19

As Cordelia Moonblade moved forward, her mind had time to wander. The merchant convoy, a colorful and monotone mass, stretched across the poorly maintained roads of Illinois. Being a Griidlord of San Francisco was a prestigious title, but it came with an unspoken understanding that, from time to time, one had to provide the Field that allowed convoys like this to travel quickly. The world needed money, and money needed swift transportation. Despite this, Cordelia couldn't help but feel a gnawing frustration at her circumstances.

The caravan guards marched in their rugged uniforms, weapons at the ready, anticipating any threat that might lurk in the shadows. Her presence, a figure clad in a powersuit with abilities beyond their comprehension, offered the guards and traders reassurance that no evildoers would dare approach them. Even though Cordelia wasn't serving as a safeguard per se, she knew just her mere presence could deter almost many aspiring bandits.

The wilderness of Illinois blurred by in a breathtaking landscape as Cordelia's Footfield effortlessly carried her. Tall, ancient trees filled with the whispers of a thousand secrets stretched toward the heavens, their branches like arms reaching out for something just beyond their grasp.

Cordelia's mind, while absentmindedly noting the merchant wagons trudging along, could not help but focus on the road beneath her feet. Its cracks and potholes mirrored the inner turmoil she tried to contain. At times she wished for something more than this life, something more exciting and validating, something that would break through the monotony she had come to know all too well.

As her thoughts danced around, searching for any semblance of distraction, Cordelia suddenly became acutely aware of the road's surface beneath her feet. Suddenly, the ragged irregularities seemed to vanish, replaced by a smooth and well-maintained route.

A small smile played on Cordelia's lips as she recognized the shift in the road's condition. It was an unmistakable sign that Greenbay was close at hand. As her eyes scanned the horizon, she caught a glimpse of the Greenbay Tower peeking out over the tops of the treetops. It was a comforting sight, and it sent a warm glow through her tired bones. The end of this tedious journey was nigh.

As they neared Greenbay, the Footfield assisting the convoy accelerated their pace, the landscape around them becoming an even more indistinct blur. The guards and merchants were still under its protective spell, and it took them some time to notice the change. Cordelia slightly reveled in their surprise as they realized that they'd been covering more distance than expected in such a short amount of time.

The Greenbay Tower grew taller, and the jade-colored walls of the city materialized into view. Cordelia noted the southern approach's specific landmarks, which she'd long since memorized: the two stone badgers standing guard near a bridge that spanned a narrow creek, their eyes seeming to follow each traveler that passed by, the ancient oak tree with its massive, gnarled trunk that had the uncanny appearance of a face twisted with age, and the seemingly never-ending expanse of wheat fields that skirted the city's perimeter. Each of these markers brought her closer to the end of this tiresome journey.

All the while, Cordelia couldn't help but dwell on the various hero worshippers within the convoy who whispered her name in hushed tones, and the occasional fool who dared to contemplate seducing her. She rolled her eyes inwardly at their misguided attempts and turned her thoughts toward Greenbay, where she would finally be able to free herself from this burdensome duty and find solace in a brief respite.

As Cordelia trudged forward with the knowledge that her presence would be requisitioned in the morning by another convoy bound for San Francisco, she could not help but feel weighed down by the thought of repeating the journey. The five-day trek required a level of patience that tested her resolve as they halted to camp each night. These pit stops were filled with eager men questioning her about past victories as stories of her adventures and prowess had become the stuff of legend.

Still, their fascination and lustful dreams of bedding her brought forth nothing more than a twinge of annoyance. Cordelia found herself endlessly uninterested in their advances, ignoring sly smiles and deceptive compliments thrown her way.

Though the coming day in Greenbay also carried with it the obligatory meet-and-greet with local nobility, it offered a reprieve from the monotony that plagued her. Surely, the ceremony that would follow felt like a tedious process, an elaborate spectacle to celebrate the arrival of one of the greatest Griidlords on the continent. Cordelia would rather do without the pomp and circumstance, but she knew it was all part of the role she had inherited – one that demanded a display of reverence and respect.

Nevertheless, Cordelia couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that bubbled inside her chest as she looked forward to her private meeting with the nobles. For there, behind closed doors, she would discuss matters of great importance, advancing intricate plans that she had long been setting in motion. It was in these hushed conversations, filled with delicate promises and faint whispers of a world yet to be, that Cordelia found solace from the tedium that seemed to characterize her existence. Soon enough, the long journey and the trials of her transient life would yield the sweetest of rewards, as the convoluted pieces she had so carefully maneuvered would at last fall into place.

Cordelia slowed the Footfield as they approached Greenbay's looming city gate. She didn't share the reservations held by most Griidlords about letting these powerful energies flow so close to such important structures. She wasn't most Griidlords.

As the convoy took several more steps toward the opening gate, Cordelia could make out the delegation eagerly waiting for her arrival. Men and women garbed in elaborate robes that sparkled with the rich colors of Greenbay nobility stood in anticipation, casting her furtive glances.

With the passage of time returning to normal, she strode confidently ahead of the marching merchants and guards, her eyes fixed on the robed nobles. She knew, beyond any doubt, that their presence signified her importance – a Griidlord of such renown could not be received with any less pomp or circumstance. Cordelia steadfastly made her way toward them, her steps driven by a growing need to get this over with.

As she approached, her gaze fell upon Greenbay's leader, a figure known as The Voice. Cordelia acknowledged him with a nod, casting him a steely look before allowing her eyes to return to the crowd of nobles. She couldn't help but wonder if they were comparing her to other Griidlords, to legendary figures such as Peregrine Stormsword or Thorn Jaxwulf. These were names whispered in the same breath as the gods, considered paragons among even the most exalted ranks of Griidlords – living embodiments of valor, power, and awe-inspiring glory.

But Cordelia didn't view herself in that light. She had always seen herself as forging her own path, forging her legend with every difficult decision, every whispered conversation, and every clandestine alliance. Being compared to these living legends meant little to her – she was, after all, prepared to soar even higher on the wings of her grand ambitions.

Maxim Florin, The Voice of Greenbay, stepped forward to greet Cordelia. In an instant, his voice boomed across the gathered crowd, "Greetings, greatest of all living Griidlords, Greenbay is deeply honored to house you. Welcome to our city."

Cordelia returned the greeting with a polite nod, her tone respectful but tinged with an underlying hint of boredom, "Thank you, Maxim. It is a pleasure to be here in Greenbay, among so many esteemed individuals."

As Florin gestured to the assembled nobles, he continued, "The elected leaders of Greenbay have gathered here for the rare opportunity to observe one such as you. All Griidlords, friend or foe, are held in the highest regard. But Cordelia Moonblade, you are the greatest of all – San Francisco's Arrow has done Greenbay a great honor."

Cordelia struggled to suppress a snort at the flattery. She could see the pride these people took in their traditions, and she couldn't help herself from glancing around at the crowd. There, among the nobles, she spotted three out of Greenbay's five Griidlords standing almost inconspicuously – Jon Lightblade, Greenbay's Sword, taking center stage among them.

In most cities, Griidlords would have been considered the leaders or, at the very least, would have stood beside their city's leader during such a ceremony. For Greenbay, however, it was a point of pride that all their citizens were treated as equals – a Griidlord no better than a baker or a butcher. While Cordelia didn't necessarily disapprove of this sentiment, she couldn't help but feel that it had more than a tinge of artificiality to it.

Cordelia patiently endured the ceremony – the greetings, the cheers, the overwhelming energy of the crowd. At long last, it concluded, and the merchant caravan behind her dispersed as various groups went about to attend to their respective business. This was no ordinary convoy; it warranted a Griidlord to provide a Footfield for its precious cargo of rare and valuable goods. Eager to leave the ceremony behind, Cordelia fell into step beside Maxim Florin.

He leaned in, his voice hushed and conspiratorial, "At last, Cordelia, a chance for us to speak privately. Once we reach the tower, we'll have a secluded room where we can discuss matters further."

Cordelia's demeanor shifted, and for the first time since her arrival, she seemed more human, sincere even, as she replied, "Maxim, I've been waiting a long time for this moment, to speak without observers. Being assigned to this convoy may simply be a coincidence, but it has been a fortunate one."

As they walked through the city gates side by side, Cordelia couldn't help but take stock of the stark differences between Greenbay and other cities. It wasn't uncommon for squalor to be concentrated near the outer gates in other places, while splendor rose towards the center where the higher Order allowed for greater technological advancements. This arrangement catered to the whims of nobles, granting them the opportunity to live comfortably and luxuriously.

Greenbay, on the other hand, seemed to turn this conventional model on its head. Here, the finest houses, boasting medieval splendor, were situated near the outer walls. As one ventured deeper into the city, they would find not opulent dwellings but instead thriving industry – factories humming with activity, nestled close to the tower. It was a fascinating and unique juxtaposition that only added to Greenbay's allure.

Cordelia let herself take in these peculiarities as she continued her stride with Maxim, her thoughts wandering to the impending conversation and the secrets it might reveal.

Cordelia felt compelled to remark on the practicality of Greenbay's city layout, captivated by the wisdom of keeping industries close to the tower, where higher levels of technology could function.

"It's quite surprising that most cities waste this valuable space on providing luxuries for their nobles rather than encouraging industry and progress," she mused.

Maxim nodded in agreement and said, "Of course, it's madness. Nobles across the continent hoard wealth and power while the common man – the ones who truly do the most work – struggle to survive. Greenbay is different. We follow the voice of the old God, Marz, and embrace the belief that all people are equal. Ownership is the death of progress, after all."

His words illuminated the fundamental essence of Greenbay's society. Cordelia couldn't help but appreciate this unique stance – a city that prioritized the needs of its people over the whims of a select few. Though she might have been raised and shaped by a more traditional society, Cordelia was no stranger to questioning the status quo and daring to challenge preconceived notions of power and privilege.

Cordelia couldn't help but express her admiration, "I've heard stories about Greenbay, about no one person being better than any other, and about a city where everyone shares. I know many scoff at these ideas, assuming they're just a façade. But now that I'm here, witnessing the truth firsthand – the factories working so close to the Tower – I must say I'm genuinely impressed. I didn't truly believe in the concept, despite our correspondence. Seeing these principles put into practice has left me awed."

Maxim humbly replied, "Your praise is truly appreciated, but my role is not the driving force behind it. I am merely an elected Voice, serving my term with gratitude for the opportunity. I embrace the possibility that I may return to working with my hands following the next election. Our city's achievements are born from a long tradition, one that I am proud to be a part of. It wasn't I who placed these factories here; they have been here since the days when Lady Bridget herself bade Greenbay's tower rise from the earth so many centuries ago."

The conversation reaffirmed her respect for Greenbay and Maxim, and Cordelia found herself experiencing a newfound appreciation for this city built on principles of fair and equal opportunities for its citizens. Indeed, it was a place quite unlike any she had known before.

Chapter 20

The emperor didn't raise his voice, but the severity in his tone was palpable. "Your role is to organize your spies, gather information, and relay it to me. You are not to interfere in affairs or put your hand on the scale. Fulfill your role, don't overstep, and don't create peril for me."

Maddock Underbough, the Boston Axe, a formidable godlike entity and a force that could make a thousand men fear him, recoiled and took a step back from the emperor. The emperor's expression remained stern, his voice filled with disappointment. "I'll fix your mess, Maddock, but you won't get another chance. You've been doing this long enough to know better. Your job is to manage the ears, not to take action. The wolves are at the gate, and Ironveil is gathering forces. We need to understand his plan and find a way to diffuse it."

The throne room in the Boston Tower exuded grandeur. Beneath a soaring crystalline dome, luminescent pillars lined the hall, embedded with glittering gems. The floor shimmered in a seamless expanse of iridescent metal. At the center, an intricate throne crafted from silver alloy stood like a beacon, a testament to power and authority.

Underbough, cowed by the emperor like no other human could make him feel, tried to make amends. "I saw an opportunity and I knew the threats to you. I thought I could arrange something to spare you the danger. I was stupid and I know that you need us to fulfill our roles, and you depend on us to stay within our roles."

The emperor's stern expression softened slightly. "You are my longest-serving Griidlord, and I am disappointed that you didn't know better. I will give you no credit for your intent, but the mistake is in the past, just don't make it again."

Underbough responded, "Yes, Emperor, never again. I have failed you."

The emperor commanded, "You did, in that much, so now redeem yourself. Tell me what you know."

Underbough regained his composure, his power armor glowing and the axe pulsing on his back. "My sources tell me that Ironveil has been meeting with senators, many of them over the past few weeks. They've been individual meetings, but he hasn't been meeting with senators known to be utterly loyal to you."

The emperor inquired, "Has he met with Hugo?"

Underbough continued, "That's why I came to you. He met with Hugo, he may have fallen for the bait. As you instructed, Hugo has been speaking against you openly, attempting to lure out the plotters. Ironveil waited and was cautious, but he finally met with Hugo last night."

The emperor pressed, "Did he reveal his plans to Hugo?"

Underbough shook his head. "Not exactly. Ironveil is smart and may suspect that Hugo is spreading dissatisfaction as a ruse to draw out any plotters. Their meeting was more of a feeler to gauge his intentions. Hugo wants to talk to you himself, but he knows that doing so would spoil appearances and arouse suspicion."

The emperor's impatience was evident. "You wouldn't have come to me with nothing. Get to the point."

Underbough explained, "The sense Hugo got was that Ironveil is trying to get senators to pin the future on the next Sword. You built this empire by having the power to choose and train Griidlords, but Ironveil is implying that your powers are failing. He's trying to arrange a sentiment that if the next Sword is a failure, then it's clear you're beyond usefulness, and he'll expect the senators to turn against you for the good of the empire."

The emperor, unsurprised and bored, responded, "I suspected as much. That's why he wants me to import a new Sword, so he can broadcast the idea that I need to hire and bribe powerful Griidlords, that I can't find and make the best ones anymore, not like I did with Tiberius."

A moment of silence fell between them, both understanding that the Boston Griidlords were not like the golden age heroes, such as Galeheart in Cleveland or Jaxwulf in Pittsburgh. In recent decades, the strength of the empire had come to depend on the vassal Griidlords and their numbers, rather than a few elites. The only exception was the corps of heroes in Baltimore, but questions hung over how they would submit to commands as the empire declined.

Underbough said, "The Choosing draws near. I see the apprentices practicing in the courtyard. Are the prospects good, Emperor?"

The emperor, weary, responded, "I innovated and created schools to train children from a young age to become great Griidlords. The fruit of Boston would show that our city is the greatest, producing the greatest. For centuries, our ranks have been filled by powerful Griidlords, with others waiting to fill the suits if any were lost, unlike other cities where it may take years to replace a fallen Griidlord. But centuries of comfort, wealth, success, and power have made the field infertile. They are all too soft, with no mettle. We have a thousand children trained to be the next Sword, yet only a handful show any prospect at all. I have hope for one, a diamond in the rough, but she might not succeed at the Choosing."

It went unspoken between them that the emperor also imposed personal loyalty on his Griidlords by training and conditioning them from a young age. Underbough himself had been raised in the schools, learning to love the emperor and worship him like a god. Now in his prime, he understood what had been done to him – how he had been made to crave the emperor's approval rather than the empire's. Yet, he couldn't remove that need, which enabled the emperor to cow him even though he had the power of a god.

This loyalty was a complicated part of the calculus for conspirators like Ironveil. They knew the Griidlords would always choose the emperor, rendering votes and armies of limited concern when five loyal demons lay at his command. To overthrow the emperor, a conspirator would need absolute control over the senate and military. Yet even then, they could expect to lose thousands of soldiers in an attempt to destroy the five loyal Griidlords.

And after all the bloodshed, they would still have to deal with the daunting task of filling the five empty suits – a process that would surely take too long for the empire to endure. This loyalty and the balance of power that underpinned it formed the foundation of the emperor's grip on the Boston throne.

Underbough shifted the conversation to another pressing matter. "What of Cincinnati? They have rebelled, but we haven't moved against them."

The emperor replied, "I am arranging forces and waiting for the Choosing. It's a chance to start the new Sword off on the right foot by crushing the rebels and winning victories."

Underbough said, "The New York Kings are watching and waiting to see how we act. They are preparing to act themselves, perhaps to break free from the empire. There are whispers that Detroit might be doing the same."

The emperor acknowledged the challenge. "The key is to arrange our forces to crush Cincinnati while still keeping enough in reserve to subdue ungrateful vassals. In a vacuum, Cincinnati is nothing. Even if our Griidlords are not elite, we have dozens to throw at them from vassal cities, as well as tens of thousands of soldiers. The finesse lies in disposing of Cincinnati without appearing to need the full might of the empire and without directing enough forces away to give other vassals the sense that they have an opening."

Underbough was uncertain and unsure if he had been dismissed, or if he should be doing something else. "Emperor, what should I do now?"

The emperor replied, "You've done enough with your ridiculous gambit of sending an assassin to New York. If you have no means to intervene, then I need to act and try to turn this idiotic move into something useful." Underbough hung his head in shame. The emperor continued, "Go out. The army is gathering outside. You can join them and move them with your footfield. Help with the assault. We're not moving on Cincinnati yet, but we need to show punishment and response. Nibble at Cincinnati's holdings on the edge of their territory, slap their hands, and establish outposts for war."

Underbough nodded, eager to prove himself again. "Yes, Emperor." He quickly left the throne room.

The emperor was left alone in the cavernous chamber, his thoughts heavy. Underbough's risky gambit involved sending an assassin to the South King of New York, intending to make it look like North King's plot and shatter their reconciled relationship. If it worked, it would have been a wonderful coup, but the cost of failure was too high. If the plot were discovered, the Kings of New York would realize the empire didn't feel strong enough to control them directly, which would only inspire more insolence.

A rebellion by New York would have a dual impact: first, it would remove 10 Griidlords and a vast vassal army from the empire's control, and secondly, it would add another enemy alongside Cincinnati, making the situation even more difficult. The emperor had initially thought that the defiant Brightforge acted rashly in rejecting the empire, but now he wondered just how calculated Brightforge might have been.

Pausing a moment longer, the emperor sagged slightly and sighed. He had wanted to avoid it, but the situation was too grave and perilous. Reluctantly, he realized he had to extend communication to the nominal vassals of Baltimore – the fearsome Griidlords, the finest in the empire. Yet they were vassals only in name, difficult to control, and their allegiance posed a considerable and dangerous unknown.

Chapter 21

As they sat in a quiet corner of the magnificent Tower gardens, Clive and Aerilyn tossed stale breadcrumbs to the water birds that had congregated around them. The pond, dappled with golden sunlight stemming from the late afternoon sky, provided a serene backdrop as the water birds playfully fought for morsels. The Tower gardens were renowned for hosting a multitude of bird species, each more unique than the last. Great plumaged swans glided gracefully across the pond's surface while plump, speckled ducks waddled on the lush green grass. Nearby, reigns of white marble herons stood like sentries of the shoreline.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It was a scene of peace and tranquillity, a stark contrast to Clive's restless thoughts. Despite the pleasant company and surroundings, he could not ignore the growing concerns about the demands of the enigmatic Trident and his secret venture to the oil fields. Far from the idyllic oasis of the gardens, danger and uncertainty loomed over them, casting a shadow on what little happiness they found.

As the wind rustled the leaves of the ancient oak trees lining the pond, Aerilyn broke the silence, "I can sense you're troubled, Clive. Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

Clive was caught off guard by Aerilyn's perceptiveness. "I'm just nervous," he admitted, "I leave for the oil fields soon. We have a couple more wagons to prepare, and then I must join them. I need to please Elder Jarway; this venture is important for my future. But..."

His voice trailed off, as he neither mentioned Trident to her nor expressed his sadness at parting from her. Over time, he had grown quite fond of Aerilyn. How could he not? Yet, he struggled to understand the rules of their society. She was a maid, and he was an adviser, a rogue priest, or something else entirely. If he made an advance, would he humiliate her, or would she feel obliged to accept?

Aerilyn offered him a sweet, innocent, and intimate reassurance. "You'll be back, Clive. The Order fields at the oil wells only run for portions of time - when there are full shifts working around the clock. There aren't enough Flows to spare for anything less than that. You'll be back in a week or two."

Clive smiled. "Of course. It's just unnerving. I know nothing of this world. What little I do know is of the Tower, or I've learned from you." Aerilyn smiled back, making warm eye contact, then lay down on her back in the grass, staring at the clouds above. "How about some more lesson time? Ask me more questions about the world. It makes me feel smart to be able to teach you things. The only person who knows less about this world than you is silly ol' me, so teaching you makes me feel learned."

With a smile of his own, Clive joined her, lying back alongside Aerilyn. As they both looked up, their gazes found shapes in the clouds - swords and charging horse armies. "Okay," Clive said. "I'd best get what I can from you before I leave."

Aerilyn sighed contentedly, a dandelion fluff sticking to her nose. "Come on then, ask me something."

Clive asked absently, "There's a lot made about Griidlords – some being better than others, but how much of a difference can it make? Their power suits are amazing, making any of them akin to gods."

Aerilyn's eyes shone as she explained, "It makes a huge difference, Clive! The difference between good Griidlords and bad ones can be like a thousand men, or even more. Cities with one or two good ones win more Flows and have better lives."

"But really, how much difference?" Clive pressed.

Aerilyn continued, "It's like the difference between a good swordsman and a bad one; the good one simply wins. Some Griidlords extract special abilities from their suits. They say the Redking can fly, and Brightforge, The Sword in Cincinnati, can fire beams of fire from his sword. Others are just stronger, like Jaxwulf in Pittsburgh." She shuddered at the mention of Jaxwulf, but her enthusiasm for the subject was contagious.

Clive asked, "Who's the best?"

Aerilyn shrugged. "I don't know all that much. I'm just a serving girl, with a simple life and upbringing."

"But it's half of what everyone talks about," Clive prodded. "You must have some opinion."

Aerilyn replied, "I don't have many opinions of my own, but I've gathered some information whether I wanted to or not. I think most people would say Redking is the best. He has won an awful lot, saved a lot of Flows, and they say he's ready to start an empire. That could be bad news for us, considering Denver is awfully close to Kansas, but maybe it's good news, too. An empire could bring more Flows and make us better off."

Clive nodded. He had heard many stories about the Redking and was intrigued. "Who else?" he asked.

Aerilyn didn’t hesitate, she said, “Coredlia Moonblade, the Arrow from San Francisco, she might be greater than the Redking for all I know, she’s definitely spoken about with terrific fear and respect. San Francisco is another city burgeoning with wealth, on the verge, maybe, even of forming an empire, even if just out West for now.”

"Jaxwulf in Pittsburgh might be the scariest," Aerilyn said. "They say he kills many Griidlords, laughing as he does, and has even killed a Shield. Shield suits are supposed to beat Axe suits; that's just the way of things. Galeheart in Cleveland is also feared, and he and Jaxwulf are fierce rivals."

"I know those names," Clive admitted. "I hear people talk about them. What about Denver's Griidlords?"

"Caelin is good, but nothing like those famous names," Aerilyn informed him. "People say our Scepter, Perrin Starfire, is formidable, but we haven't had legends for decades, hence our lack of Flows."

Clive mentioned names he had heard spoken of in awe. "I've heard people talk about Talon Hawkstone in the south and Julia Ironstrike in the north with the same regard as the others."

Aerilyn nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, like Jaxwulf, Redking, and Galeheart, Hawkstone and Ironstrike are on a different pedestal. On their own, they're able to carry a city. Teamed with other good Griidlords, they can make cities rich. They say Hawkstone was once a friend of Redking, but he left for the south and is now the favorite of the Queen there."

Clive turned to look at Aerilyn, admiring her face in profile as she serenely gazed upwards. "You know more about this than you give yourself credit for," he said.

Aerilyn, seemingly momentarily surprised and almost annoyed, quickly replaced her expression with a bright smile. "Like you said, everyone's always talking about this. I can't help but learn some of it. I'm really not interested, and now you probably know as much as I do."

Clive replied, "And that's probably more than enough. I can't imagine I'll ever have much dealing with Griidlords, except to try and learn about their armor. Caelin is nice enough; I don't need to fear him. The thought of the others terrifies me. I can't believe technology could produce such beings. There's so much to learn."

Aerilyn, with a wistful expression, said, "I hope you learn things for Denver. We're not the worst city in the land, but times are tough and have been for a while. I don't like the idea of you helping people find ways to kill each other."

Clive, his tone bitter and filled with regret, responded, "I don't like it either, but I have to find a way for myself. I know nothing about shoeing horses or raising cattle, but I have special knowledge. Jarway promised to reward me much, to make me rich, giving me a chance to secure a place in this world. People will kill each other with or without me."

Aerilyn, tentatively, suggested, "And would you care if you could do things to make lives better for people? If maybe the things you will make out in the oil fields, the things you will learn, could be used to help the common people?"

Clive, growing nervous, said, "I don't want to get involved in upheaval or conflict. That sounds like a good way to be dead before long. I just want to find a quiet life, give Jarway what he needs, and gain enough value to have a secure, comfortable place in the world."

Aerilyn appeared a little sad as she replied, "Of course. I want that too. It's what all of us want, but the course of the world is guided by a select few, the Griidlords and the very rich, while the rest of us live on scraps."

Clive observed and thought that this was a very worldly view for a simple serving girl. He wondered what unrest was brewing in the world around him and sincerely hoped never to find out nor be drawn into such conflicts.

Chapter 22

The expeditionary force marched through the verdant valley, the sunlight casting a warm glow upon the landscape. It was a small force, yet it moved steadily as a fluid machine, attuned to the beat of their feet against the soft earth. Their Empire reds clung tightly to their bodies, boldly proclaiming their allegiance to the American City States.

Banners streamed through the air, rippling like ribbons against a backdrop of blue sky. The wilderness stretched endless and untamed on either side, brimming with life that dared not to venture too close to the men who held steel in their hands. The men knew that they were far out of range of their Tower or any orbs that could generate Order Fields, thus there was not a trace of advanced technology among them.

Instead, swordsmen stood tall, swords proudly displayed at their sides. Their boots crunched over twigs and stones as they marched onwards. Horsemen rode alongside them, keeping their steeds at a steady pace to avoid exhaustion. The horses' hooves occasionally kicked up little clouds of dust, dissipating into the soft light of the late morning sun.

Realizing that the force was approaching a clearing, the commanding officer raised his hand, and a chorus of hooves and footfalls began to slow to a halt. Men standing in the row behind him took the signal and wordlessly repeated the gesture, the order traveling down the entire line until the only sound in the valley was the gentle whinnying of horses.

The silence before battle hung thick and heavy, like a smoke-filled room that was impossible to breathe in. For a brief moment, every soldier stood still and contemplated the fate that awaited them all.

Brightforge, adorned in his remarkable orange and black power armor, stood on a tree-covered hill, overlooking the valley below. The shimmering armor seemed almost surreal as it glistened in the sunlight, a testament to the man inside who wore it with pride. From his vantage point, he was able to survey the progress of the outriders as they returned to the main force of the Empire army.

He counted 10,000 men, a significant force for any city but measly in comparison to the might of the Empire. These troops were well-trained and moved as one. His amber eyes studied the Empire's formation and his heart swelled with confidence. Their impetuousness worked in his favor, for they had unknowingly traversed into territory where Brightforge and his forces had set a trap.

His major concern, however, was the five Griidlords accompanying the main force. As a contrast to the cohesiveness of his own team of Griidlords from Cincinnati, the Empire's team was composed of Griidlords from different cities, the only remarkable among them being the dreaded Axe from Cleveland, the notorious Galeheart.

Despite the force that Galeheart brought to the table, Brightforge was confident in the superior talent and unity of his own Griidlords. It was a substantial risk to remove them all from Cincinnati, as the Empire most likely didn't expect much resistance this far towards the border.

However, that risk was calculated. This battle was meant to be symbolic, a demonstration to the other cities that the Empire could be defied – and defeated. For if other cities didn't join the fight, the Empire would eventually outweigh and crush Cincinnati. But should they inspire revolt, the Empire's entire reign could crumble.

Brightforge turned to Arcstone, and spoke with a mix of urgency and resolve, "Think you can contain Galeheart? He's easily the biggest threat among them. If you can keep him neutralized to allow the rest of us to go four on four, we'll have the advantage over the others."

Arcstone's voice held a confidence that belied the fear flickering in his eyes. "Of course," he replied, "I only can't promise he'll still be standing by the time you finish with the others."

Brightforge offered a sincere smile at his friend, "Just keep yourself alive, Arcstone. Use that Shield, keep him penned."

Shield Suits often had a prodigious advantage over Axe suits, but Galeheart's talents brought the match worryingly close to even.

"I just need to get to him, get him engaged, before he can lock onto you or one of the others," Arcstone said, fully understanding his crucial role in the upcoming battle.

Brightforge's eyes narrowed as he took note of the Empire's forces starting to move again. "They're on the move, the time is nearly upon us!"

Hunter, the the Cincy Arrow Griidlord whom Brightforge held tremendous confidence in, moved alongside his comrades Haldor, the Cincy Axe, and Flameheart, the Cincy Scepter. Each Griidlord sought to engage an opponent that would give them an advantage: Haldor would leverage his strengths against the Empire Sword, Hunter targeted the opposing Shield, all while preventing their counterparts from engaging other Cincy allies that they themselves held inherit advantage over.

With their plan in place, the Griidlords sprang forth. Their superhuman speed took them through the confines of the forest, eschewing the use of Footfields in the dense foliage. As they darted toward their quarry, the roars of their own hidden forces erupted from the surroundings –- the ambush was sprung.

The battle had begun, with every man, woman, and Griidlords fighting not only for their own lives, but for the hearts and minds of a nation teetering on the precipice.

The element of surprise generated by the ambush played heavily in Cincinnati's favor, disrupting the usual strategic chess match that unfolded when Griidlords fought. The Empire's Griidlords, inherently unaccustomed to working as a coordinated unit, were quickly drawn away from their formations to engage ambushers, unknowingly exposing their flank to the full onslaught of the five Cincinnati Griidlords emerging from the treeline.

As chaos descended upon the Empire troops, Cincinnati's army showed itself to be a well-orchestrated system. Their archers and crossbowmen emerged from hiding to let loose volleys of arrows, streaking through the air like a storm of death against the harsh backdrop of battle. The projectiles found their targets with surgical precision, penetrating the vulnerable gaps in armor and sending soldiers to the ground, writhing in pain or realising the abruptness of death as they bled out with their eyes wide open.

A sudden charge of small cavalry units, previously hidden on the sidelines, burst forth like a bolt of lightning. Horses surged forward with fearless riders atop, closing in on the Empire troops with an unwavering determination. The sound of iron meeting iron filled the air, punctuated by the screams of men and animals alike, as the Cincinnati cavalry broke the Empire's lines like hammer through glass.

Infantry rushed in from all sides, like a rising tide of determination and fury. The Empire troops, shocked and disoriented by the unexpected wave of losses, found themselves in an apparent encirclement. Caught unprepared, they scrambled to defend themselves as best they could, but the relentless push from the synchronized assault spared them no respite.

Visceral moments unfolded as soldiers clashed in close quarters, their screams of battle fury drowned out by the cacophony of metal, sweat, and blood. They ripped at each other with blades and spears, exchanging desperate blows. Helmets were shattered, revealing faces twisted in pain or determination, and throats gargled the guttural attempts to speak or breathe. The air was thick with terror and despair, as hope seemed to slip further and further from the grasp of the startled Empire forces.

As the battle raged on, Galeheart was the first among the Empire Griidlords to recognize the incoming danger. The very sight of him sent a shiver of fear down the spines of the Cincinnati Griidlords, his intimidating presence almost tangible in the battlefield. Despite his keen awareness of the threat, his companions were slower to react, and their delay allowed the Cincy Griidlords to position themselves perfectly: Hunter against the opposing Shield, Haldor against the enemy Sword, Brightforge set to face the enemy Arrow, and Arcstone, wielding his gigantic energy shield, forcing Galeheart into a defensive stance.

Brightforge's tense confrontation with Kara Bladeborn, the Chicago Arrow, began in earnest. She was an older Griidlord, but still a formidable opponent. However, the natural advantage of Brightforge's Suit against her own shifted the odds in his favor.

Their battle was a spectacle of athleticism and acrobatics, a dance of immensely powerful beings locked in a contest of life and death. They weaved and lunged, their footsteps thundering on the ground as each tried to predict and counter the other's moves. Brightforge's energy beams crackled from his sword, casting an eerie glow over the scene as they sought their target. Each strike was met with a dazzling display of defensive maneuvers by Kara, but the constant barrage slowly eroded her defenses.

Kara Bladeborn showed her experience as she relentlessly countered Brightforge's blows. She whirled, agile and precise, managing to land a surprising blow that sent the veteran Cincy Griidlord reeling back momentarily. The sudden sense of peril sharpened his focus, and he realized that he could not afford to underestimate his opponent.

Brightforge swiftly regained his footing and resumed his assault, but Kara's earlier success had imbued her with renewed determination. She dodged and twisted, dancing around Brightforge's swipes and occasionally striking back. One such counterattack ripped a gash across the orange and black armor of her opponent, a warning that ultimately served to make Brightforge even more resolute.

Despite the peril, a masterstroke was beginning to form within Brightforge's mind. He feigned a moment of weakness, allowing Kara to press her advantage with a deceptive charge. She knew she would need to take any opening given the advantage a Sword held over an Arrow. As the older Griidlord rushed toward him, he channeled his remaining strength into a well-timed sidestep, sending a laser-focused beam of energy from his sword directly toward Kara.

The searing beam caught her off-guard, slashing through her armor and scoring a grievous wound. The pain was overwhelming, forcing her to back away from her opponent. Brightforge had made his mark, and now victory was within his sight.

Brightforge's every instinct urged him to press on against Kara Bladeborn, to finish her off and deliver a crushing blow to both the Empire forces and their morale. But his focus shifted as he took in the unfolding battlefield: the other Empire Griidlords were attempting to maneuver away from their ill-fated match-ups, and Galeheart continued his relentless assault on Arcstone, forcing him back.

It was evident that Galeheart might soon disengage, which would leave him free to attack Brightforge or any of their other allies. Exercising strategic foresight, Brightforge channeled a mystic surge of energy toward Arcstone. This intervention reinvigorated Arcstone's floundering shield, causing it to pulse with newfound strength.

Undeterred, Galeheart put all his might into swinging his glowing axe, determined to breach Arcstone's defenses through sheer force of will. For a heart-stopping moment, Brightforge feared that his rivalry might succeed. However, Arcstone, seizing the opportunity provided by Brightforge's intervention, managed to land a concussive blow on Galeheart, enhanced by the channeled energy from Brightforge.

The impact sent Galeheart reeling, and Arcstone pressed his advantage, forcing him back. The tide was turning, and the other Empire Griidlords could sense it. As soldiers who were present due to their obligation to the Empire rather than true loyalty, they had no inclination to die for it. The unseen tendrils of doubt and fear began to weave through their ranks.

At the same time, the Empire army bore witness to the success of the ambush, already beginning to falter and rout. The monstrous blow to morale only worsened as they became aware that the Cincinnati Griidlords were winning their own battles; any moment now, they might descend upon the mortal troops with the relentless fury of gods.

The Empire Griidlords regrouped, coming together in a defensive huddle. Kara staggered, sparks sizzling from her damaged suit, while similar signs of battle damage could be seen on the Sword and Shield Griidlords. Galeheart glanced at his ailing allies and his rage boiled over, turning his attention to Brightforge.

His voice boomed from the depths of his fury, "Twice now you've vexed me, Brightforge. You always have the advantage; never a straight fight. I hunger for a taste of one of you, any of you, alone."

Galeheart's anger surged and, in frustration, he swung his axe fiercely into the ground. The very earth trembled beneath his wrath, and despite their impending victory, every Cincinnati Griidlord hesitated and took a step back.

Galeheart's eyes roamed over his enemies, considering the possibility of pushing forward against all odds. But even he knew, deep down, that he was no match for five Griidlords on his own, especially with a Shield like Arcstone among them, along with the renowned talents of Brightforge and Hunter.

As the other Empire Griidlords began to disappear one by one under the cover of their Footfields, Galeheart leveled his axe at Brightforge. "I'll get my chance at you," he growled. "You'll make a fine trophy. Next time, I'll be back with a hundred thousand men and twenty Griidlords behind me. And I'll give you the chance to take me on, man to man."

With a final seething glare, Galeheart winked away, his form blazing across the landscape under the power of his FootField. The Empire's demoralized army finally crumbled, their retreat turning into a full-fledged rout. Cincinnati's forces, spurred on by the victory their Griidlords had claimed, pressed their advantage, knowing that the tides of power had shifted even if just for the moment.

Chapter 23

As Cordelia ducked through the side gate, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the Greenbay citizens' eyes on her. There had been a palpable excitement when they realized that a legendary Griidlord from San Francisco was among them. It made slipping away more challenging than she had anticipated. Clad in her snug-fitting power armor, she glanced around, hoping not to be noticed as she moved swiftly towards the edge of buildings that surrounded the outer walls of the city.

She was wary of the numerous bustling marketplaces and the everyday bustle that characterized life in these slums. Cordelia listened to the clatter of iron horseshoes on cobblestone streets as the neighing of horses mixed with the clangs and grinding of artisan workshops. The sounds of armor and weaponry being crafted and repairs being made to the stone fortifications filled the air. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from bakeries, and the laughter of children at play echoed through the maze of streets.

Finally, Cordelia reached the city's edge, satisfied that no eyes were upon her. In a fluid motion, she activated her footfield, and suddenly, she was spearing away into the wilderness, leaving Greenbay behind in a blur. She had the rest of the day free before she needed to accelerate the convoy back to San Francisco in the morning, using her footfield to bridge the distance. Her power armor pulsed smoothly, amplifying her pace as her legs carried her across the landscape with the speed of galloping horses.

Hurtling through the wilderness, she had a destination set in her mind, and it wouldn't take long to reach. As she headed north, signs of civilization gradually faded. Logging camps, the occasional farmstead, or a lonely hut gave way to the natural world. Trees, foliage, and fresh air enveloped her as she raced along the banks of Lake Michigan.

After a while, she spotted her destination: a fishing hut sitting alone and seeming almost forgotten, its wooden structure showing signs of decay and disrepair. It was the place Maxim had told her about during their journey through Greenbay. At last, they would have their moment to finally talk.

Cordelia's exhilaration surged as she glided faster than the fastest horse at full gallop, devouring the distance between her and the hut. In a daring, calculated move, she abruptly cut the footfield at the very last moment, screeching back into normal space-time, and gracefully transitioned to a normal walking speed just yards from the hut.

To her surprise, there was a man in a long, dusty coat sitting on the outside deck of the cabin, gazing out over the lake. He seemed unfazed by her reckless use of the footfield or her otherworldly presence. The stranger, although seemingly out of place, did nothing to hide his presence or identity as Cordelia approached with a mix of caution and curiosity.

The strange man, his face obscured by a ragged cowboy hat, spoke first. "I thought you suits were supposed to kill your fields further from your destination. Couldn't you hurt yourself doing that?"

Cordelia, unimpressed by being referred to as a "suit," retorted, "My footfield is more likely to hurt you or the cabin than to harm me. Field etiquette is more about respecting others and ensuring their safety."

The man chuckled. "All the more reason, then. I don't reckon I like the idea of meeting a footfield head-on."

Cordelia dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "You were never in any danger. I know the exact limits of my capabilities."

"Exact limits mean there's no margin of error," the man countered. "I prefer a little margin of error when my life's on the line, even if you're not concerned with your own."

Cordelia straightened, visibly ruffled. "Do you know who I am? I am one of the most powerful Griidlords in the land."

"You're Cordelia," the man said nonchalantly. "Course I know who you are. Wasn't I out here waiting for ya?"

Cordelia's anger simmered, her cheeks flushed beneath her helmet, grateful for the hidden blush. "I'm not used to being spoken to like this. It's a brave man who talks to a Griidlord so disrespectfully, all alone, out here in the open."

The man assessed her, seemingly unconcerned with her status. "It's not in your reputation to murder some poor innocent 'hick' like me. Reckon I'll be alright. I've got bigger worries than suits on my mind."

Cordelia, thrown off balance and unsure of how to respond, reverted to the matter at hand. "Maxim said you'd have something to show me."

The man looked her up and down, his gaze assessing and calculating. "Maxim's mighty sure of himself, taking privileges, sending you out here to me. I'll need to have a word with him. Can I trust you?"

Feeling slightly defensive, she answered, "Maxim trusts me and vouches for my character."

The man shook his head. "So you say. But besides, Maxim isn't the king of the world. I'll make my own judgment."

Cordelia, outraged, replied, "Maxim is the Voice of Greenbay. What more could you want?"

The man tilted his head, thoughtfully. "I want to get the measure of ya."

Suddenly, the man threw a knife from the folds of his coat. Cordelia's reflexes kicked in, and she easily grabbed it, the anger flaring within her as she threw the knife back, sticking it quivering at the man's feet. The man didn't even blink at the knife landing so close.

Cordelia, her fury barely contained, demanded, "Why did you do that?"

The man replied calmly, "To get the measure of ya. A lot of Griidlords wouldn't have stuck the knife in the floor, but right in me. Why didn't you?"

Cordelia, confused by his actions, said, "I didn't understand your intentions. It's easy to kill you after you explain, but hard for you to explain after I kill you."

The man cracked a genuine smile. "They say you're different from most of 'em, and maybe you are."

Cordelia challenged his notion. "What if I had just thrown the knife at you? How smart would your gambit have been then?"

The man looked unconcerned, a mysterious danger lurking in his eyes. "I have my own means of making sure I'm okay, don't you worry."

He stood, and Cordelia glimpsed glimmers of metals and flashes of plastics hidden within the dark folds of his coat.

He approached her and introduced himself. "Name's Pyre. Nice to meet ya."

He extended a hand, and she could see he was wearing a strange fingerless glove with intricate gold webbing.

She took his hand, shaking it while eying him, suddenly wary. "You're a knight, aren't you? A Wildknight."

Pyre smiled, tipping his hat back to reveal his cold, cold eyes. "I don't go by titles or definitions. Just say I know how to handle myself. I think we're gonna get along okay."

Cordelia found herself measuring him now. As a Griidlord, she was more powerful than any knight, but knights could possess tricky relics and mysterious artifacts, surprising others with strange powers. All the same, she was intrigued. Pyre's mysterious and exciting demeanor had her captivated.

"Maybe we will," she responded, challenging him further. "Now, are you going to show me what I came to see, or do I go back to Maxim and tell him it was a waste of time?"

Pyre smirked. "No, reckon you should come inside."

He turned towards the dilapidated shack, and Cordelia followed, noting that it was much larger than it had first appeared. The structure seemed to have once been a boat shed, perhaps housing a small fleet in its storied past.

As she stepped inside, she couldn't help but wonder what secrets awaited her within its hidden depths.

As Cordelia crossed the threshold of the shack, she was immediately struck by the pungent smells that filled the air – a mixture of decaying wood, damp earth, and the unmistakable mustiness of age. Initially, the interior seemed in sync with the dilapidated exterior. The dim, flickering beams of sunlight peaking through gaps in the rood did little to dispel the darkness pervading through the decaying timber shed, casting eerie shadows on the walls and warped floorboards.

However, as they ventured deeper into the structure, Cordelia noticed a small structure nestled within the rotting wooden frames. The contrast was striking: cold metal walls, smooth and polished, stood in stark contrast to the shack's decaying timber. Blinking lights winked from a panel.

It was an enigma – this injection of advanced technology within a crumbling monument of days gone by. This incongruity further fueled Cordelia's curiosity about Pyre and his agenda, pushing her to remain vigilant.

Cordelia demanded answers, "Those little lights, electric... How can that function so far from a city, from a Tower? No Order field extends out here. What are you up to?"

Pyre leaned against the metal wall, near the blinking panel, and replied cryptically, "There's more in heaven and earth than dreamed of in your philosophy, my dear."

Growing more suspicious, she pressed on. "You must have some relic, something that keeps it active."

Pyre shrugged nonchalantly. "Such things are rare, but when you've been hanging around as long as me, you learn things about the Griid and discover other secrets."

Cordelia was annoyed. Though Pyre looked like a weathered man in his forties or fifties, she knew that her age far exceeded his. Her life as a Griidlord had preserved her body, having served for 70 years, and she would soon celebrate her 100th birthday.

"What kind of secrets?" she demanded.

He smiled. "Get to know me long enough, and I might share a few with you." Pyre tapped the metal door. "This secret will be big enough for us to get started with."

Cordelia, impatient, demanded, "Well, let me see, damn it! What do I have to do?"

For a moment, the nonchalance melted away from Pyre. He spoke earnestly, "The real reason you're here is that you have a reputation. Some of us, in certain circles, have been watching you. You're different; you care about people. Not just like a ruler—although there are good rulers out there—but still rulers, still high up in the Towers. You care about people as if you're one of them. I know Greenbay is on your radar, and you're interested in the way they do things. My bringing you in here is a mark of that."

Cordelia felt slightly humbled, seeing the man so serious. He continued, "I'm about to share something very special with you, something I wouldn't trust anyone with lightly. But I need help, and there's not much I can do about it now. I've brought you this far, and I hope you understand how serious it is. I don't like making myself vulnerable."

Cordelia nodded solemnly, respecting the gravity of the situation. Pyre tapped at the console, producing a series of beeps, followed by the hiss of the metal door as it smoothly slid apart.

The soft electric illumination from the room inside spilled out through the open door. Pyre glanced at Cordelia before slipping inside with an air of cool grace. Captivated by the intrigue and mystery, Cordelia followed him into the blinding light.

At first, she was confused. She recognized an enormous metallic egg-like shape sitting in the middle of the floor, but she couldn't reconcile its presence. She had never seen one outside of a Tower before. She looked at Pyre, perplexed. "What... how... That can't be what it looks like."

Pyre maintained an aloof but grave expression. "It sure is. Now you have some idea why this is such a secret."

Cordelia took a step towards the curved object, which was about seven feet long and several feet wide, resembling an elliptoid coffin. She reached out a hand and touched it. "You could be executed... would be executed if anyone knew about this."

Pyre replied, "I'm pretty sure you're duty-bound to execute me for having it."

Cordelia barely heard him as she moved to the front of the object and noticed an opaqued glass window. "Does it...?"

"Sure does," Pyre confirmed.

He walked past her to the side of the pod and tapped something on its surface. The glass emitted a soft glow and became transparent, revealing the Griidsuit inside. A Griidsuit without a master, without a Tower – a weapon of terrible power that lay in the hands of a man who could direct it at anyone or anything at his whim. This realization sent a shiver down Cordelia's spine, as she stared at the suit, her mind racing with the consequences of its discovery.

At the possibilities.