The soldiers had poured through the city like locusts scouring the land. Noone fought them. Noone dared. How could they, knowing that those charged with defending them had opened the gates to the people’s army? At least, what they proclaimed at the gates of the Imperial District.

A man boomed, “Open the gates and surrender! You are now part of the United Republic!”

The siege lasted a few moments, prolonged by men still loyal to the Dynasty shouting back their refusal. Those men were silenced by their former comrades, those standing with them. Bodies fell from the walls, dull thumps on the ground. In the end, the gates opened.

Yvir wondered about her mother. The city had been taken quickly, quietly. All she could do was hope the soldiers had marched past Lowtown, shunning them like those before in power.

Armor rustled, steel boots clanked on stone, cutting through the sullen silence. Lines became columns, then formations as they stamped into place in the courtyard.

Yvir and the other Cadrian guards stood behind the fence of the embassy, watching the army form three legions of each colored heraldry: purple, turquoise, orange, representing the latter three provinces of Qeita.

A small group from the rear of each legion walked to the forefront, their armor not made of leather, or steel, but Stone. Yvir had heard the stories. Magical minerals that lay deep in the earth of the continent, polished so bright they glowed with a mysterious power, sturdier than any known metal, a secret crafted by the alchemists. Their polearms or blades were also hewn from Stone, intricately carved like sculptures of amethyst, turquoise or jasper.

They were men and women. Beneath crystalline helmets, irises shone with the same bright color as their armor and weapons – they were immortals.

Moving with a callous casualness, they stood over the tiered steps of the imperial square, a few dozen before several thousand mortals.

One man shouted, Yvir recognizing his voice from beyond the gates, "Sons of the Republic. This is the birth of a new age! An age of change and cooperation. You are all instruments of such change. It will take all your efforts to bring the united prosperity of our Republic to Qei. The capital has been infested with corruption and weakness for far too long. We will cleanse this city, and reforge it into our unified vision. And remember—just actions will receive just rewards. A plot of land to those who serve the people. Long may the Republic live!”

“Long may you live!” the soldiers yelled, raising their weapons.

“What a heaping pile of shit,” the Inquisitor murmured behind Yvir. “Stuck in the middle of it, it seems. Yvir, come with me.”

She turned to follow the woman into the embassy. Yvir was partly curious, mostly wary. She’d never entered the embassy until now. Grey stone walls supported by wooden beams enclosed a spacious room, glass windows filtering in the sunlight. A long table stood in its center, covered by an unfurled map held down by daggers stuck into each corner. Yvir eyed the parchment, ornately illustrated between the three continents of Cadria, Ombra, and Qeita, barely a glance before keeping up with the Inquisitor’s brisk pace.

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The woman walked up to a banner of Cadria, black cloth stitched with a scarlet rose. She tore off the banner, revealing a door. Opening it led to a descending staircase.

“Ah,” she said. “I forget you don’t possess Darksight.”

The familiar snik of scratching sparkstones burned a lamplight held by the Inquisitor, casting out the darkness. They reached a small room. A man barely stood, supported by a taller man’s broad shoulders, wearing a Cadrian guard’s armor.

“Yvir,” the Inquisitor said, resting her lamp on the floor. “Meet the Prince of Qeita, and his brave protector. The Prince requires your armor.”

“They’ll kill us for this,” Yvir said.

“Not if they find them,” the woman snapped. “Now take off your armor and help him put it on.”

The man supporting the prince laid him gently down to slump against a wall. He helped Yvir take off her cuirass. She was the same height as the prince, and was glad her chest, though flatter than most, was finally free of the constrictive armor. After a few moments, the prince looked like another Cadrian guard.

“Can you stand?” the man asked his charge.

“Maybe.”

“Here.” His protector took out a corked vial of milky-white liquid from his pocket. “Drink this. It will help counteract the brew’s effects.”

The prince gulped down the vial’s contents and gasped. “How long will it last?”

“A few hours. But that’s the last of the purity.”

Both men, now armored as Cadrian guards, stood.

The Inquisitor said, “Now that the introductions have been said, go upstairs. They won’t notice you, so long as you stand with my guard. Yvir, stay here.”

The two men left. The man with the deep voice turned. “If you betray us, the Shadai Order will know. And the Order doesn’t forgive.”

He didn’t wait for her reply.

After they were gone, the woman faced Yvir. “Take them to your home when the wagon comes. Keep them there until I come for you.”

“Why would I harbor a prince who is no longer a prince?”

The Inquisitor held Yvir’s face between one pincer-like hand, pushing her to the wall. Her other hand pressed a dagger to her throat, cold steel on her skin.

“I like you, Yvir. You have spirit. But the people you work for—the people who promise to clear whatever debt you owe them, they aren’t going to keep that promise. They have further ends for you and me, until we’re no longer of use to them. I’m your best hope to get out of this alive.”

“My mother lives in Lowtown.”

The woman released her, withdrawing her blade back within the cover of her cloak.

“Good. That means the People’s Army won’t patrol there, not while you’re within Taorin territory.”

“Why would immortals deal with jinnto?”

The Cadrian paused. “If you want your mother to live, I wouldn’t ask questions to answers they don’t want you to know. When I come for you, it will either be tonight—or I’ll be dead. If I don’t come tonight, bring them to the Taorin. They might give you and your mother a quick death in return.”

“You cursed bitch,” Yvir swore. “You knew this would happen.”

The Inquisitor said, grim, “Like I said, I’m your best chance to get out of this alive. It’s your choice. I know your mother won’t have one either way. So choose.”