Episode 6

Chapter 24

Lying in bed in his allocated room in the Denver Tower, Clive tossed and turned as the strange, unfamiliar sensations of the metallic, futuristic space unnerved him. The cool steel gray walls were a stark contrast to a bedroom that had long since crumbled into he decay wrought by a thousand years of time passing. Bright blue lines illuminated the boundaries of hidden compartments, giving shape to the room in an eerie glow. The technology in this room made him feel as if he had truly been cast centuries ahead, which only made him feel more homesick.

Clive found it hard to focus on one thing, as so much had changed in his life since his arrival in this world. As he lay in bed, his thoughts wandered to the days spent with Aerilyn, preparing the wagons for the journey to the Oil Fields, and making his own personal preparations for his future endeavors. Joyful moments with Caelin, one of the Griidlords, replayed through his mind as well. Griidlords were often seen as gods among men; they were the richest and most powerful, yet Caelin had an unusually humble and personable nature that Clive found both fascinating and comforting.

Despite the companionship and bonds he formed in this strange place, sobering thoughts crept in as he tried to sleep. He struggled to accept the reality of being trapped in this world, more than a thousand years into the future due to the Order Field. Melancholy and nostalgia for his old life plagued him, making the thought of adapting to his new life all the more troubling.

In the darkness, his mind drifted to the mysterious figure named Trident, a WildKnight whose power was was hard to fathom. This man seemed to know everything, with eyes and ears in every corner of the realm. Clive's anxiety had grown day by day, fearing that this menacing figure would somehow drag him into conflict and ruin everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Just when he felt like he was on the cusp of gaining worth in this new world and securing a life of safety and comfort, the threat of Trident seemed to loom ever closer.

With so many thoughts racing through his mind, Clive found it impossible to fall asleep. The harsh metallic room of the Denver Tower and the overbearing weight of his uncertain future coalesced into an unsettling night filled with restlessness and worry.

Clive felt a slow unease taking hold as he began to realize that something in the room had changed. The temperature was gradually dropping, and a shiver ran down his spine, not just from the cold, but from an inexplicable sense of dread. He drew the covers tighter around himself and tried to ignore the feeling, but his eyes darted around the room, frantically attempting to find the source of the change.

As he observed the room, Clive was further unnerved by a subtle yet disturbing shift in the light. The already eerie silver-blue illumination seemed to both dim and brighten at the same time, as if it was being swallowed by darkness only to be rekindled by a new source. He squinted, focusing on the light’s subtle transformation, and, as he did so, he noticed that a faint red glow appeared to be creeping into the scene.

Now thoroughly unsettled, Clive continued to watch the room around him, questioning whether these shifts were real or merely the products of his restless imagination. The suspense grew with each passing minute, as the changes seemed to hang in an uncertain space between reality and perception. But as time went on, the alterations became impossible to deny: the room was no longer what it had once been.

Now held in the grip of a chilling black-red light, the walls of the room seemed to take on a life of their own, pulsating slowly as if to the rhythm of some ancient, malevolent heartbeat. The temperature had plummeted dramatically, and Clive could see his breath billowing before him in ghostly mist.

The fog that now filled the air sent icy tendrils snaking along the walls and crept across the floor like tendrils of a freezing, demonic beast. This mist coalesced into an eerie, glowing fog, lit only by an otherworldly red glow that seemed both ominous and alive. Clive's heart raced, and he knew for certain that he was no longer in the familiar boundaries of the Denver Tower, but rather, he had been inexplicably cast into an alien and dangerous place that threatened to swallow him whole.

Suddenly, a voice filled the room: child-like but distorted, its tone reverberating through the thickening fog and pulsating eerie light.

"Clive," it whispered, "I've waited so long to come to see you. I wasn't sure what kind of man you were, but now I want to get to know you."

As Clive trembled, he wondered if he was going insane. He didn't respond, his eyes filling with tears. Was this a haunting? No, that couldn't be – there was no such thing. He was losing his mind to the pressure of this new world.

"Don't worry, Clive," the voice soothed, "I won't hurt you. You're very special. I just needed to see you, speak to you. I want you to know me."

Swallowing hard, Clive barely managed to whisper, "Wh- wh- who are you? Where are you?"

The voice emitted a laugh that somehow managed to sound like both a small child and a demon at the same time. "I am Sin," it replied, "and I'm everywhere."

Shaken, Clive looked around the room. "You're playing a trick on me," he accused. "Someone is playing a trick on me."

The voice laughed again – that strange, unsettling laugh – and the sensation of a gentle touch or breath of air caressed Clive's cheek as the fog churned around him.

"Clive," the voice said, "I'm real. I am ancient, just like you, and I yearn for friends, for companions."

Clive, unable to control his shaking, asked, "What are you?"

"I told you, silly. I'm Sin. But what I am might be beyond what your brain can understand. For now, can't I just be your friend?"

Intimidated and terrified, Clive barely managed to nod his head.

The voice grew more confident. "Good," it said, "I'm so happy you want to be my friend. It's so hard to make friends."

Sin continued, "People don't understand how hard it must be, losing your reality, entering a new one, just like that, in a blink, with no warning, no preparation. I understand what it must be like. I want to comfort you. That's all you want, isn't it? Comfort and safety. I have the power to give it."

Clive, weeping and desperate, replied, "Jarway, he'll give me safety..."

"Of course he will," Sin agreed, "At least, I hope he will. But this world is a web of betrayal and unpredictability; Jarway might not be able to fulfill his promise. If he can't, or won't, maybe it would be good to have someone like me to look out for you, to look after you."

Trembling, Clive admitted, "I guess..."

Sin sympathized, "I can see I've upset you. This is difficult for you. Being in a presence such as mine is difficult for mortals. Perhaps I should go..."

Clive gave an instinctive, tiny nod.

Sin laughed again in that unsettling, demonic, and child-like manner. "Oh, I do apologize. You have a hard enough time getting to sleep at night, but I wanted to meet you, Clive. I wanted to introduce myself. But I'll go, Clive. I won't disturb you further... only, one thing, Clive?"

Stunned and silent, Clive grasped for sanity.

Sin repeated, "Clive?"

Finally, Clive found the strength to answer, "Yes?"

"Will you promise to greet me if I come back?" Sin asked. "To let me speak to you? You might be more prepared then, more used to the idea."

Weeping, Clive reluctantly agreed, knowing it was the last thing he wanted. "Sure, that'd be... That'd be okay."

Sin's voice thrilled with excitement. "Oh, wonderful! You've made me so happy, Clive! I'll see you soon, another night, and we can talk more then. I promise you have nothing to fear from me, and maybe everything to gain."

Then, just as quickly as it arrived, everything vanished. The lights returned to normal, the air rapidly warmed, and the fog rolled and twisted away until it was gone. He was alone again.

Clive muttered to himself, "Well, fuck. How the hell am I supposed to get to sleep now?"

Chapter 25

In a meadow at the edge of a forest stood a strange futuristic factory structure, its gleaming metal and sharp angles seemingly out of place amongst the verdant nature surrounding it. Approaching this anomalous structure, an army marched forward: the Empire , their banners fluttering rapidly in the wind. Soldiers clad in heavy armor raised their shields and held their spears aloft, running in tight formation.

From behind them, a rain of arrows filled the sky and shot towards the factory structure. Defenders wearing orange and black uniforms were few in numbers but held their positions, auto rifles rattling as they mowed down rows of the advancing Empire soldiers. Despite inflicting terrible casualties, the defenders were no match for the sheer numbers of the attacking force.

Brightforge watched the battle from the treeline, his powersuit humming with battle readiness, frustration, and worry evident in his posture. The sounds of Empire men dying and the smell of blood and gore reached him, through the suit's enhanced senses.

The plastic foundry had been in Cincy territory for the longest time, a precious resource providing materials for building, trading, wealth, and prosperity. Brightforge knew the Empire would eventually move to take it , but he hadn't expected such a swift assault, especially after turning back Galeheart's expedition not too long ago.

As Brightforge watched the spearmen closing the distance, the screams of his own defenders filled his ears, the occasional rain of arrows finding their mark. The factory generated an Order Field that allowed for the defenders' rifles to function, providing them with a significant range advantage. However, once the attacking soldiers closed the distance, their hope would grow dim. Only a few hundred of Brightforge's own spear-wielding reinforcements stood between the factory and the Empire's wall of spears, and he couldn't shake the feeling that their time was running out.

Arcstone's massive suit moved alongside Brightforge's as he spoke, "It's not like you to hesitate. We need to make a decision – to contest or not?"

Brightforge's tension was palpable. "I'm playing a long game. There are many battles ahead. If we want to really break free from the Empire, we need to hold out long enough for other cities to join the revolt. The factory is worth so much to us, but committing more men – and losing them – could be much more costly."

The trees around them were filled with Cincy soldiers, awaiting the order to engage. Brightforge was unsure if the Empire was aware of their presence, but after the ambush against Galeheart, they might well expect it.

"I don't think we have enough to beat them," Brightforge said, concern lacing his voice. "Losing an army and the factory would be much worse than just the factory. What's their Griidlord count?"

Arcstone replied, "Flameheart says there are six, nobody special. Underbough seems to be leading."

Brightforge chewed his lip. "We can take Underbough, but six of them, and such a large army... If we engage, we'll get banged up, and our suits might be out of action. That would really leave the Empire open to make roads into our turf."

Arcstone agreed, "We were lucky to take so little damage against Galeheart's gang."

Brightforge's melancholy was evident. "That went damn well, so perfectly. We're not so ready this time."

The clash between the Empire spearmen and the wall of Cincy spears holding their ground near the factory shook the air. The remaining auto-rifle soldiers had a dense field to fire into, wreaking terrible carnage. Screams of the dead and dying, cries of panic, filled the air, yet the weight of numbers was too great for the small force.

Arcstone glanced toward the factory. "The men there will be doomed. They'll exact a heavy price, do damage, but they'll be slain to a man if we don't intervene."

Brightforge resolved himself. "We can't beat them, not here. They're too many, and we're too few. We need to fall back, gather more forces, arrange a better defense, and then remove this army from the field. This is not the place."

Arcstone simply agreed with a nod, "Yup, guess so."

Brightforge hesitated, observing the battle. Even if they didn't contest it, the Empire's formation had vulnerable flanks and it was tempting to charge, exacting a further toll, chipping at their numbers. He could send the cavalry, or he and other Griidlords could just sweep in and out, culling some, and then escape, bloodying the enemy further.

His eyes measured the formations. Underbough was taking few chances; trying to break the flanks of the engaged spearmen would leave little room for maneuver, and they would likely get bogged down, giving way to further fighting.

"Dammit, those poor bastards," Brightforge muttered in anguish, "I should have pulled them out."

Arcstone placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, saying, "We can't see the future. We set them up to hold off a reasonable attack or buy time for us to act if the force was larger than expected. But the scale of this is beyond our thinking. There must be 50,000 men out there."

Brightforge's eyes scanned the ranks of Empire soldiers, "Maybe not quite 50,000, but definitely a lot more than Galeheart brought. Flameheart will probably have a better count."

Arcstone suggested, "If we're going, best do it now while they're preoccupied. Get out to the road, form up, and Footfield out of here."

Brightforge continued to watch the battle, noting, "Their Griidlords are bunched up at the rear, keeping themselves safe after what we did to Kara Bladeborn. They don't want to expose themselves again."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Arcstone asked, "So...?"

Brightforge had a plan. "Tell Nicholas to get the men out to the road, form for Footfield travel, and tell Flameheart to dish out some hurt on them, but only for as long as he can do so safely. He's to disengage as soon as their Griidlords start moving in response."

Excited, Arcstone said, "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. What are you going to do?"

Brightforge replied, "Hunter and I are going to hit their flank, fast and hard. We'll try to break them, give the defenders a chance to flee. I don't think Underbough and company will rush too fast – they'll be afraid of trickery."

Arcstone nodded and moved off quickly, understanding the urgency.

Brightforge called out, "Hunter, to me!"

Hunter, his arms fully morphed into huge scythe blades, joined Brightforge and asked, "We gonna do some dirty work?"

Brightforge nodded, "As soon as Flameheart starts, we get in there, tell the defenders to fall back, hit the bastards hard, and get back. And listen to me, Hunter – this isn't about glory. When I disengage, you come right with me. We can't afford to lose a suit."

Hunter nodded nonchalantly, "You can trust me."

Brightforge snorted playfully, "Like you've never gotten carried away before."

Flameheart's energy beam leaped from the treeline, cutting into the ranks of soldiers behind the engaged Empire spearmen. It was a devastating attack – some Empire soldiers fled in terror as their comrades melted, burning and screaming in agony. The stench of death filled the air.

A Scepter was a delicate tool, making its wielder the most vulnerable of the Griidlords, with slower and weaker armor. However, its devastating range attack was invaluable. It was rare to take a Scepter from the tower except when assaulting fortifications, but against the Empire, Brightforge was rolling all the dice. He knew that Flameheart wouldn't have long to fire, as Underbough would be quick to move against such an exposed target.

"Now, move," Brightforge commanded, and he and Hunter leaped into action, briefly flicking on their Footfields to daringly cross the meadow. They winked back to normal time just a few hundred yards from the bloody fight, but still moved with superhuman speed as they crashed into the unprepared spearmen. Hunter's scythe-like arms cleaved through enemy soldiers, sending blood, limbs, and heads scattering into the air.

Brightforge's sword swept in colossal arcs, killing and maiming multiple enemies with each swing. Through his suit's speakers, he boomed towards the defenders, "Retreat! Get back to Cincinnati by any means! Retreat!"

The Cincy spearmen and riflemen needed no telling twice. They broke away from the chaotic scene and the murderous devastation of the Griidlords, who carved through the enemy ranks as though they were little more than bloody pulp.

Hunter and Brightforge continued to wreak havoc among the enemy ranks, slaying Empire soldiers left and right. Their senses were overloaded with the metallic smell of blood and the foul stench of viscera. As they killed relentlessly, Brightforge noted the ominous approach of the Empire's second wave of spears, even under the constant barrage of Scepter fire. Suddenly, his attention snapped to the treeline as a lance of energy shot towards Flameheart's position, the forest exploding into flames and smoke. It was the Empire's Scepter, counterattacking.

Gasping, Brightforge landed a final deadly swing of his sword, which shattered torsos into fragments.

"Hunter, now! That's enough, let's go!" he shouted urgently.

However, Hunter, as Brightforge had anticipated, couldn't resist making another carnage-laden sweep through the spearmen trying to reform.

Angry, Brightforge bellowed, "Hunter! Now, I said! We don't have much time! Underbough will be here any second, and there are only two of us!"

Eventually, Hunter relented. After one more brutal hack, he pulled away from the fray and streaked towards Brightforge, falling into step as they raced away, their feet tearing at the ground.

Brightforge glanced back to see the remaining defenders making their way to the treeline. His heart ached for the boys and young men who were dead because of his decisions. They had exacted a heavy toll on the Empire, but the pain and cost had been considerable. As he looked back at the battlefield, despair gnawed at him, and he couldn't help but worry about how to stop this rampaging army’s assault on the Cincy outlands – let alone the larger forces that were yet to come.

With one last look at the scene of carnage, Brightforge’s heart sank as he saw Empire soldiers raising their banner over the precious factory – a symbol of their victory. He had managed to snatch something from the jaws of defeat, but it was still a defeat.

His heart ached at the thought of greater defeats to come.

Chapter 26

Silver walls loomed high, their sleek and gleaming surface providing a contrast to the rich and abundant furs, bear and tiger skins draped over chairs, tables, and even the underfoot. The hall was aglow with the warm light of mellow electric light, making the shadows of the metalwork dance over the burnished metal floor.

Trophies of war – weapons and armor, some downright alien and others familiar – adorned the walls like relics in a museum. Interspersed among them were the heads of formidable beasts, deranged fiends, conquered in bloody hunts by the mighty warriors of this land. Their glass eyes stared down at the boisterous revelry below, serving as a reminder of the victors' prowess.

Lorin Jadeslash reclined on a wide couch upholstered in luxurious fabric, the blood-red hue matching the wine in hand. A soft cushion cradled his helmet, which was placed to the side, a rare sight for all those who knew him. Meanwhile, the rest of his power suit remained on. Perhaps even in times of celebration, a warrior was always prepared, never fully shedding his armor. The compound metals and futuristic gear on his suit seemed like misplaced artwork fringed with fur and heavy golden trinkets.

The hall came to life with the constant hum of a party atmosphere, filled with men and women in various states of revelry. Some wore partial power suits, others were dressed like knights or warriors, their laughter ringing through the air as they raised goblets and chalices of gold and silver in festive toasts. Griidlords of various ranks and city-states, easily recognized by their own distinctive suits and sigils, mingled and networked, forging bonds and maybe tenuous alliances. Each table groaned under the weight of roasted meats and delicacies, piled high on ornate serving platters as if announcing the bounty and opulence of their hosts.

Beautiful women, clad in revealing dresses of silks and gossamer fabrics, wandered the hall gracefully. They carried drinks or served dishes to the warriors around them, treated by most as nothing more than pleasant distractions in between bouts of bragging and boasting. It was a decadent and dangerous gathering, a high-stakes arena of power in the guise of a festive celebration.

Jadeslash looked coolly over his goblet, barely interested in what Ironveil was saying. But, finally deciding to interrupt the noble from the Boston Empire, he asked, "Wait, why should Baltimore care? Once Order is flowing, the people are happy, the wine flows, the women dance—what the fuck should we care who sits on the Empire's throne?"

Ironveil, intimidated and frustrated, responded, "There won't be an Empire soon. The Flows are waning, Griidlords of vassal cities are minuscule compared to the power outside. The cities with powerful Griidlords are straining to be released. The talents in Buffalo and Detroit may break free—all under the wasting hand of the Emperor."

Jadeslash's smile turned cruel and cunning, as he responded, "You didn't mention Baltimore."

Flustered, Ironveil continued, "It goes without saying that Baltimore is the exception, the one bastion of power left in the Empire. But you and I know, truly, Baltimore is a vassal in name only."

Feigning hurt, Jadeslash retorted, "I've pledged my heart and sword to the Emperor. How could you say such a thing? I live to serve the Emperor."

Ironveil smirked and replied, "Of course, but did you swear to the Emperor or the Empire? There are those who feel what's good for the Emperor is no longer what's best for the Empire."

Jadeslash paused, his smile turning more interested, and said, "You've been blathering, and I haven't been listening. Isn't this something that's meant to be sorted out by your well-publicized Senate?"

Ironveil frowned as he answered, "More pressures than one are required to make the changes we seek. Political power is meaningless when the Emperor has the Boston Griidlords trained like puppies to adore and obey him and him alone."

Jadeslash's gaze shifted sideways to the Boston Griidlord sitting uncomfortably on an armchair, listening to the conversation. He addressed the man, asking, "And you? Are you not one of the Emperor's puppies? You brought old Ironveil here with your Footfield. Are you part of the revolt as well?"

Jameson Slatehand squirmed in his seat, feeling out of his element amongst the renowned Baltimore Griidlords. He was used to being a god in any room, but here, he felt like a child. Taking a deep breath, he gathered the courage to express his thoughts and frustrations.

"Being the Arrow of Boston often feels like a wasted opportunity," Jameson confessed. "The talents that the Griidlords possess are immense, but our potential is stifled by a crumbling Empire. It's disheartening to see the Empire decline, knowing that we could have achieved so much more."

He looked around the room, glancing at each of the famed Griidlords present as they reveled, before continuing, "I yearn to be a part of something bigger, something that can truly change the world for the better and allow us to reach our full potential. I feel confined in Boston, constrained by the Emperor and his lack of vision."

Jameson's voice grew firmer, his frustration and determination apparent in his tone as he said, "My loyalty has always been for the Empire, but when it comes to choose between sustaining a dying dream and seeking to forge something greater, I cannot sit idly by and watch us all suffer from stagnation. It's time to take a stand and create the change we know can reshape the world."

Jadeslash leaned back on the couch, swirling the wine in his goblet and smirking in amusement. "Your passion and sudden inspiration have truly touched me, Jameson. Perhaps I should grab my sword and ride to Boston by your side, joining the heroic march towards a greater future," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smiled slyly, "Or, perhaps, we can sit here and discuss the predicaments of the world for hours on end without actually ever doing anything about them. I mean, after all, who would want to upset the delicate balance the Emperor has created for us, even as it comes apart at the seams?"

Taking a leisurely sip of wine, he continued, "While I do admire your bravery in coming here and pouring your heart out to a stranger, let's not forget that we are all just a part of this great chessboard they call an Empire. But what can mere pawns do to change the game?"

Jadeslash paused, looking thoughtfully at the group before finishing, "Well, suppose we do choose to take a stand and make a difference. I'd be curious to know exactly how you would use all these talents and resources for the greater good. And more importantly, for the greater good of Baltimore."

Ironveil leaned in, desperation edging into his voice. "You must understand, Jadeslash, with Baltimore's help, we could unseat the Emperor and create something truly spectacular. You would no longer be merely a vassal in name, but a partner in a coalition for a brighter, stronger future."

But Jadeslash merely raised an eyebrow, still quite unmoved. "Order flows here in Baltimore just fine. Our factories are running, people have work, we have wine, and women. What would really change? Why should we care?"

Undeterred, Ironveil leaned closer, offering an incentive. "If you were to lend us your support, Baltimore could have even more of the Flows. A special agreement would be drafted to ensure your city's prosperity and a higher position within the new order."

Jadeslash paused, his interest piqued by the wealth on offer, as a beautiful, scantily clad female servant leaned over the back of the couch to whisper something in his ear. A sly grin spread across his face as he addressed Ironveil once again, his eyes gleaming with a newfound curiosity and cunning.

"What you propose is intriguing, to say the least. If we were to consider your offer, I would want to know more. But first, we have some... festivities to enjoy." He raised his goblet in a toast, smirking at Ironveil and looking around at the ongoing revelry. "We don't want to let all this go to waste now, do we?"

The whispering beauty leaning over the couch caught Jadeslash's attention. He listened a moment and a truly amused smile crossed Jadeslash's face as he took in the information. Turning to Ironveil, he shared the news, "You won't believe this, my anxious friend, but a party from the Empire has just arrived. They expect Baltimore's support against a revolt brewing in Cincinnati. And the best part? The Emperor himself is with them."

Ironveil paled almost instantly, his confident demeanor turning into panicked urgency. "I—I can't be seen here. This is—this is not good."

His words stuttered, his mind raced to process the astonishing revelation. "I've come all this way, talking about the need for change, opposing the Emperor. If I am caught… my life, the lives of my companions could be in grave danger."

Jadeslash looked at Ironveil with a mix of amusement and concern, knowing well the consequences of treachery against the throne. This was, after all, a game of power where those who dared too greatly risked everything.

Jadeslash chuckled, saying, "So, you don't want to greet your Emperor with open arms? A noble and his faithful Griidlord, running for the hills at the mere mention of his presence."

He waved a hand dismissively then gestured to Ironveil and Slatehand. "Very well, if you don't want to face the Emperor, follow me." The amused Jadeslash led the pair towards a hidden doorway. "You can use the servant's entrance to slip away without anyone the wiser."

Ironveil, relieved and grateful, replied, "Thank you, Jadeslash. I appreciate your assistance—and I hope that we can speak further in the future. Please, consider my proposal."

With barely a word more, Ironveil and Slatehand quickly left, guided by the beautiful servant who had whispered the message earlier.

Jadeslash returned to his luxurious seat, reclining as if what had just transpired was only a minor distraction. His attention now turned to the hall, where he awaited the entrance of the Emperor and his cohort. He hoped that whatever this meeting brought, it would be at least worth a few moments' amusement.

A moment later, a richly-dressed noble strode through the great bronze doors, commanding the attention of the hall with a booming voice. "Hear me, ladies and gentlemen of Baltimore! It is with great honor that I present His Majesty, the Emperor of the American City States!" The list of honorifics and grand titles followed, painting a lavish image of power and prestige befitting the ruler who would soon grace their presence.

The hall fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Dozens of retinue members filed in, their steps perfectly synchronized: knights bearing precious rare power weapons, finely dressed Boston nobles, elegant courtesans, and industrious servants. The spectacle of power and influence was palpable.

Finally, the robed, hooded figure of the Emperor himself emerged, regal and superior, the very picture of untouchable authority. The air in the hall seemed to tighten with the anticipation of his presence.

Jadeslash took his time, leisurely finishing up the sip of wine from his goblet as his eyes appraised the emperor and his entourage. At last, he rose from his seat, making his way towards the Emperor with deliberate nonchalance. One by one, his esteemed Baltimore Griidlords - masters of their own domains - joined Jadeslash as they approached the royal figure.

Together, the Baltimore Griidlords made elaborate yet clearly feigned bows before the Emperor. It was a grand gesture, one that toed the line between respecting authority and subtly expressing their own power. The tension hung in the air, a heady cocktail of ego and high-stakes ambition poised to unfold within the opulent hall.

As the noble who had announced the Emperor's entrance stepped forward, Jadeslash caught a glimpse of recognition in his eyes. It was Ashford, the sniveling Chicago envoy. Quietly approaching Jadeslash, Ashford respectfully whispered, "There are private matters to be discussed with you and your fellow Griidlords."

Jadeslash rolled his eyes and addressed the partygoers. "You've heard the man. It seems we have matters of importance to discuss. Let's clear the hall," he announced, his voice a mix of irritation and arrogance.

With varying degrees of reluctance, the beauties, warriors, and servants filed out of the hall, the nobles and courtiers among them hardly sparing a glance or a respectful nod to the Emperor and his retinue.

As the hall emptied, Ashford began his rehearsed speech, attempting to sound as authoritative as possible. "The Empire seeks the assistance of the vassal city-state of Baltimore. Your unmatched prowess is needed to help assert dominance over the treacherous Cincinnati and its rebellious leader, Brightforge."

Jadeslash interrupted without hesitation, his impatience evident. He looked past Ashford and addressed the Emperor directly. "Why don't you cut the formalities and tell me yourself what you want? More importantly, what do you offer Baltimore in return?"

The challenge boldly laid at the Emperor's feet, the atmosphere grew heavy with tension, every eye in the hall focused on the enigmatic ruler. It was unheard of for such a direct and audacious demand to be made of the Emperor. All waited with bated breath for his response, unsure whether Jadeslash's words would spark a tempest of retribution or stir up an entirely new chapter in the Empire's tale.

The Emperor stepped forward, his noble, graceful robed form towering above all others. Though draped in layers of majestic velvet and silk, his aura of power and authority was unmistakable. He addressed Jadeslash, his voice smooth and commanding, yet with an unnerving charm.

"The Baltimore Griidlords are indeed the greatest in the Empire, a true pillar that holds us all up, and you are deeply appreciated," he began, offering a shadow of praise. "But let us not forget that you are sworn servants. Now is the time to serve, the time to help quash the rebellion in Cincinnati, and yes—the opportunity to cross blades in a meaningful way with Brightforge himself."

Jadeslash could not help but be intrigued by the chance to match against Brightforge, another of the greatest Swords in the land. It was rare for two such renowned fighters to face each other, and the prospect was undeniably exciting. Yet, he remained insolent, unwilling to allow the Emperor to sway him so easily.

"What do we gain from this? Take notice of all the knights you've brought with you, laden with those precious power weapons," Jadeslash remarked, dismissive and taunting. "Think for a moment—what chance would you have if my fellow Griidlords and I decided to slay you all? Not that we would, of course, perish the thought. But these knights, they are the antivenom to a Griidlord, yet for the all the power you've brought into my Tower, what worth do you really think they have?"

Continuing with a mocking grin, he added, "Most cities wouldn't even consider offering a force like this to challenge us. I don't think any of the five of us would bear so much as a scratch after dispatching your proud knights."

Pausing for effect, his eyes narrowed at the Emperor. "So, if you want our attention, and more importantly, our blades, you need to give us something truly appealing for Baltimore."

The Emperor paused, waiting as the doors to the hall were closed. As silence engulfed the room, he spoke, his voice carrying a mix of solemnity and gravity. "I have been the Emperor for more than 240 years. Though my reign seems eternal, I am aware that I cannot continue forever. I must name an heir."

His gaze fixed on Jadeslash, he said, "I want to choose the new Boston Sword from the city-state itself. Not some wandering knight, but a Griidlord with the talent and potential to be the next Emperor. But the one who succeeds me, who would sit on the Imperial throne, that could be you, Jadeslash. You have been like a son to me, and I would be so proud to name you first citizen of the Empire."

The entire room was stunned. The Emperor's retinue, the Baltimore Griidlords, all were speechless as the words echoed through the hall. The silence was so thick one could almost touch it. Jadeslash's own thoughts spun, caught between disbelief and a sudden, burning ambition.

The notion of becoming the Emperor, with Baltimore as the seat of power, was nearly unfathomable. The roster of talent within Baltimore was already strong, but with the Empire at his command, the potential was limitless. In such a position, he could fulfill the prophecy he had so long carried within his heart.

For once, Jadeslash appeared at a loss for words, his usual careless smirk wiped away. The solemn gravity of the Emperor's offer weighed heavily on his shoulders as he pondered the path that now lay before him.

Jadeslash, for a change, appeared sincere and deeply interested in the gains that might come with being the Emperor—personal glory, wealth for Baltimore, and the chance to elevate the city to unparalleled heights.

"I didn't expect that," he admitted, his voice reflecting genuine surprise. "That really catches my ear. Things must be going terribly wrong with Cincinnati for you to suggest so much."

Ashford, boisterous and indignant, cut in, "Cincinnati is but a mere flea on the hide of the Empire! A pest waiting to be crushed! The Emperor has offered you a great honor, Jadeslash. The very notion of considering you as his heir…it defies all possibilities."

But Jadeslash barely paid any attention to Ashford's outburst. His gaze and focus remained on the Emperor as he asked the crucial question: "If I were to accept, you would make it official? Declare it, put it in writing? The world would know that the heir to the throne is the Sword of Baltimore, that Baltimore would be the next power of the Empire, the next seat and the next throne?"

His words hung in the air, a testament to the magnitude of what was at stake. All eyes in the room turned towards the Emperor, awaiting his response to Jadeslash's inquiry and watching history unfold before them.

The Emperor responded to Jadeslash's inquiry with calculated confidence. "To immortals like ourselves, my boy, decades mean nothing. I do not intend to step down from the throne for quite some time. However, you could have decades, perhaps even centuries ahead of you as my designated heir. If you agree to my proposal, I will announce it and make it official."

Jadeslash considered the poisoned chalice before him. The Empire was fading and crumbling while other powers arose with each passing century, such as the Red King in Kansas, the resurgence of Pittsburgh, and the dominant western power of San Francisco. He weighed the pros and cons of this offer, aware that much could change in the years to come.

"What good would such a title hold for me if it may never come to pass?" Jadeslash mused thoughtfully. "I have the Flows, I have happy citizens, a place among respected warriors, wine, and beautiful women. What would change for me now, today, if I agree to help you with Cincinnati?"

The Emperor, slow to respond, contemplated his answer. Finally, he said, "Have you ever thought of the potential you could unlock by gaining a second city, a second Tower? It has been centuries since a city was actually taken by another, since a Tower was seized and subsumed rather than made a mere vassal. What if I made you an offer never seen before in our time? What if Baltimore, my loyal servant and ally, were given Cincinnati completely—not as a vassal, but as a true second city, a chance to control two Towers?"

The Emperor paused, letting the weight of his offer hang in the air. "Can you imagine the unparalleled power and legacy you would wield, Jadeslash, by achieving such a prosperous and unique status within the Empire?"

Jadeslash stood, stunned by the offer. Even in his wildest dreams, he had not imagined such a thing—a true lord of two Towers. Better yet, two adjacent towers that would have the ability to make their Order Fields overlap, further amplifying their power.

Of course, he considered that the Emperor might never actually give such power away to one city or one leader. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity too tempting to pass up without exploring further.

With an air of calculation, Jadeslash responded slowly, "Now that is a truly tempting proposal."

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