“There are more ways to encourage a pet than by beating it,” Rega said, her half-lidded gaze shifting slightly to take Asta in. “Have you perhaps tried offering rewards for his capture?”

“Rewards? To menials?” Asta said, aghast. “Do you have any idea what sort of precedent that would set? Even if it worked, what would they expect of us next? Payment to work our farms and tend our villas? It was a mistake to ever let them touch coin in the first place much less encourage it further now.”

“I don't care how or how many of your menials you kill. What matters more is learning how this First Disciple spreading word of these Martyrs you're creating. Every one you kill inside Silk raises ten more outside.” Rega's head tilted slightly, her version of a head shake. “How can he travel so far so quickly and to so many different verses? Could the Mother of Exiles provided him with a Valeer somehow? And are you not controlling your Thorns?”

"The damned Wretch Plague has my Versal troops spending most of their time taking care of the sick or hauling corpses to the Crowmen. Besides, it's an old verse; dozens of Thorns grown into it that we know of, who knows how many others we haven't found yet."

“Doesn't matter. We'll have everything in hand soon enough,” Baka said, dropping heavily back down into his seat. “Despite the significance of our losses to the Wretch Plague, I've put most of the Legions to work building fortifications and kill zones around every Thorn in every Ancient verse to prevent mishaps like from happening further. Give me a couple months as the Clock-priests measure it and anyone trying to use a Thorn in one of our Verses will need their own Vale Legion. Fraction, Isolate, Mother, Last Disciple, First Disciple, whoever.”

“Please,” Jaxe said, “the Fractions and Isolates are one faction now. Call them by their self-proclaimed new name: 'Resistance Against the Grievous Ancient Coup'.”

“Name like that, no wonder they keep fracturing,” Tyrs said, making a throwing-away motion. "Doubt we need to even fight them: just fortify our holdings, sit back, and let the malcontents grate against each other until they wipe themselves out for us."

“We've started calling them 'Rags' whenever possible before their name changes to something more inspiring,” Jaxe said. "Fits their general wealth profiles besides."

“Whatever you call them, even if they have their own Vale Legions training Thorn assault day in and out like we do, they'll get massacred around any Thorn they stir if they wait much longer to make their move.” Baka smashed his fist into his hand with a meaty clap. "Blind Priests are angry, of course, since I had all that stone and timber stockpiled to 'build a new temple to the Ascen in every Ancient verse'. We've now unfortunately had to divert all that material we never got around to using to fortify. I'm sure they'll eventually agree it's better to keep the rabble out of the verses than give them fine new temples to loot when they inevitably show up."

“Yes, Baka. But what about the Mon?” Rega whispered. All fell silent. A stink of fear saturated the air about Ghulen at the mention and, by the hints of urine in the air, some of the menials actually pissed themselves at the mention. He rolled his eyes.

Jaxe laughed. “Please, you don't really believe that do you? A couple scared menials from a couple remote verses cry 'monster' and suddenly it's the Mon themselves? Believe that rubbish and you're playing straight into your brother's hands.”

“I don't think so,” Rega said. “It's too elaborate for one of his ruses. Too thorough, too finessed. The only thing Inro hated more than Aj was politics. He may be a strategist, but his ways are a spear from the right when you expect an arrow from the left, not a snake in your bed before the battle's started or poison in your wine after it's over. He'd never resort to such indirect tactics and even they are a step less refined than wars of words.”

“Should I dispatch the Mon Legion to confirm?” Baka said, glancing at their watching retinue in a way he probably figured was sly. "If the Mon are somehow breaking through in numbers, we can't be too careful."

Jaxe stood, leaning on the table as he stared at Rega in disbelief. “Come to your senses, Rega. Inro just took the Sunset Legions rogue after centuries of playing warden to the mythical Aj. He pulls that off then vanishes without a trace and you still believe he's above massacring the menials in a few scattered, new-bound, half-populated Rag verses to strike the fear of Mon into The Book? Is your legendary ability to penetrate scheme and ruse just a deception on scale with your brother's?”

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Seconds stretched in silence before Rega tilted her head in a barely-perceptible nod. “As you say, Jaxe. I likely give Inro too little credit. He is my brother after all. If he can make even me believe the Mon capable of butchering entire verses - or even killing gods as they now proclaim - then we may as well surrender to him now.”

She turned to Baka. “Keep the Mon Legion in reserve. Or better, perhaps, have them hunt down the Rogue Legion before it can reach the Rags or throw in with the 'Mother of Shitholes', as Jaxe so elegantly proclaimed her.”

Baka wheeled and punched his chair apart, sending flinders of dark wood hurtling into his startled Ferals, attendants, and Legionnaires. “That bitch, Eodora. I'll pay her weight in gold jars to anyone who drags her corpse to me! If Jaxe can have his rotter toy, then I claim her as mine. I'll tear her into pieces too small for even a Master gonist to find use for.”

Tyrs grinned and leaned forward. "Bring her to Foundry Row on Forge. I've come up with any number of creatively-slow deaths by tongs, hammers, and heat."

"Fantasize about murdering menials some other time," Rega said. Her gaze shifted to Jaxe. "If you want the Mother and her special Sliver Feral dead so much, you can take your Versal troops and hunt her down. I'll even provide a Valeer who has her Verse's location slavanted in to aid you."

"The Imminent Prophecy calls her 'Ender of Verses'," Jaxe said, half-rising from his chair. "You want to wait for her to find a way to make that true?"

Baka snorted. "It also calls her the 'Savior of Dynasties', though what exactly she's supposed to save us from is questionable. Even more so is how she flips from her current rebellious attitude and finds some sanity. Since we're the legitimate fragment of the short-lived fracturing the Book is enduring, it sounds to me like she'll end up helping us. Maybe it's only Rag verses she burns."

"What's left of the Imminent pursue their own inscrutable ends, so let us not get too caught up in their vague prophesies and prognostications," Rega said, eyes flicking to where 'her own' Imminent, Das, stood watching from the front of her retinue. "Our history says they helped create the Dynasty, but the survivors of the wars against the Pale that forged it were written under their direct scrutiny and subject to century after century of their editorials. My long experience proclaims they serve to protect it, yet if I am correct and that is their true goal, why did they let this schism come to pass at all? Or, as some claim, set their hands into ensuring it happened."

All eyes turned to Das. He straightened slightly. "When this period of strife ends, the Ancients shall have sole possession of the Book. When this comes to pass, no one - Dynast or otherwise - shall challenge their rule until the end of time. This is known by the Imminent."

Murmurs ran through the crowd. Had an Imminent ever made such a public proclamation before in the history of the Dynasty? Ghulen smelled the relief flooding the plaza, washing away the sweet stench of fear.

"Ahah, I knew it," Baka said, grinning ferociously. "Let the Dynasty break into pieces and then the strongest shall devour the weakest in remaking it. Only the strong shall remain when all is done. There's your answer, Rega."

Tyrs nodded and ran a finger up his rings. "If a tool or weapon becomes too broken, its bronze needs to be melted down, reforged, and repurposed. So too with the Book it would seem."

"And war is the forge-heat," Baka said, leaning on the table. "Let the bronze of our civilization be broken down, remade, and placed in our rightful hands!"

"Then we are resolved," Rega said. She glanced at the various Ancients she mentioned in turn as she spoke. "Baka shall disperse the Main Legions to finish the Thorn fortifications while the Mon Legions hunt the rogue Legions. The Vale Legions shall gather strength for our eventual attack on Rag verses. The First Disciple shall be put down by any means necessary - including a bounty for delivery of his head - for he would appear to be a far greater threat than the rebellious, rabble-rousing Dynast he endlessly spews on about. Not discussed here, but I think a worthy task: our Versal troops shall hunt the Wretches to extinction if needs be to end their Plague. Tyrs shall double production of weapons in Forge to allow us to expand the Legions for the war the Rags' plots started. And the Mother of Exiles shall be Jaxe's personal problem to deal with. Anything missed?"

Though Jaxe looked unhappy, everyone else seemed satisfied. All the Dynasts except Rega stood and, with no formal ending to the meeting, joined their retinues in heading off towards various Thorns. In a surprisingly-short time, the massive forum stood empty aside from himself, Rega, a couple of Rega's ostentatiously steel-clad Ferals, and black-haired, no-nonsense Taesal, one of Rega's other Inviolates.

Ghulen waited until Rega finished giving the woman orders, then nodded to her in passing as she departed and he walked to get his orders from Rega.

"Messenger girl," he said, bowing slightly.

"Rat catcher," she growled out of the side of mouth as she passed. The other side of her mouth didn't work due to the scar that by all rights should have killed her.

"May you catch the next axe swung your way with your forehead, not your face."

"May you catch the next escaped slave you're sent to retrieve onboard a sinking ship in Stacks."

After walking slowly and deliberately up the stairs, he chose Asta's silver chair out of curiosity. Surprisingly sturdy, he found as he plunked down into it. Pleasant mulberry hints of her personal aroma still clung to the metal. Where most human's unique scents tasted something akin like variously-flavored watered-down beer, each Dynast's boquet carried the distinctiveness of wine taken from different verses, vineyards, and vintages.

"Ghulen. Tell me your thoughts."