Zephen smiled. At the very end of the day, the heat at its laziest and most intense, he was wilting in his seat in the stuffy office. But, just as despair threatened to take over, her lovely letter had appeared on the top of his work pile.

Not having noticed it before, he reached now and gently took the carefully folded, painted piece of paper and worked to undo the delicate bends and twists that kept it neatly held in the design of a bird. Once undone, the feminine script swirled across the page:

“Love, I await you in the crystal lagoon. Wear something… simple.”

Zephen laughed but instantly covered it. Joy wasn’t something widely shared in his brother’s kingdom. He travelled outside of the city to share happy moments with his mistress.

Anxious to be off, he pocketed his lover’s creation and moved to organize the enormous piles of dossiers before leaving.

“Royal Advisor!” a page called from his doorway, clearly out of breath. “The emperor summons you.”

Frowning, he took a long, steadying breath. He nodded and the page ran away.

Climbing the stairs to the upper level, Zephen considered the weeks since last he’d met with Coltair, hoping to find some reason not to be surprised by a sudden call to attend him. Since Dascus’s reappearance, Coltair had become even more intense and unbearable than before. Zephen had badgered him for weeks after Izik had dragged his step-nephew away, finally gaining a vague confession from the emperor to have interrogated the young man, but he’d sworn he’d let him go. Having no way to prove it, however, and though he’d looked everywhere, employed dozens of spies, he’d had no choice but to accept his brother’s ambiguous responses regarding his own son and heir.

Cresting the final step with a slow, building dread, he spotted the emperor’s pet, Izik. Chief commander now for only a year, he was widely feared and for good reason. The man was an animal of violence and intimidation and the current leader of the infamous and secretive Black Tower. Quick-witted, yes, he had intelligence, but compassion or empathy? None whatsoever. His brother had first taken him under his employ as his errand boy since he was discovered as an orphaned child, but Zephen had never found him pleasant to be around. Now an official in the emperor’s staff, he had rank to legitimize his intimidating activities and that afforded an ego that Zephen despised.

“Majesty,” Izik said when he saw him approaching.

Zephen plastered a respectable grin to his face and nodded in return. “The emperor required my attention, Chief Commander. Shall I go in?” he asked politely.

Izik sneered but chucked his chin over his shoulder. He laughed but pushed open the enormous double doors to the emperor’s office.

A suite of immense size compared to Zephen’s, it boasted two whole rooms, one of opulent reception with sofas and sitting chairs, a bar and washroom, and the second, a full office with desk and conference table, another washroom, dressing rooms and a sleeping suite. His brother mostly lived here and never used the ten-bedroom suite of the emperor’s royal apartments two levels down. His third wife and two children lived there in quiet peace without him.

“Zephen, come here.”

Turning toward the office, he saw Coltair leaning over his conference table on his elbows, his nose nearly touching the table surface.

“You summoned me, my Emperor,” he said, working to control his exasperation. He moved to stand at the opposite side of the table. He noticed the map Coltair was examining and the reason he was looking so closely; it was not for lack of excellent eyesight. Aside from being nearly sixty-four years old, his eyes—and the rest of his body—seemed in perfect condition. His hair was grey but full, his body strong.

“These islands, are they mapped? Are they ours?” Coltair asked and stuck an index finger over the very tiny sketch of a dotted archipelago somewhere out in the Green Sea, easily three thousand or so miles from Rogun.

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Zephen leaned in and studied them for a moment. “Ah, those are unconfirmed islands, my Emperor,” he told him. “We have sent expeditions, yes, a few times, but nothing was ever found or the scouts never returned. We presume something is there; someone marked the maps, but the story goes that it is pirate territory. They don’t want to be found.”

Coltair’s eyes narrowed at last. “If these are usable lands, this would be a colony for resupply between us and Elutia,” he said.

Zephen nodded to agree, but no emperor before had ever secured them. In his opinion, it was costly and wasteful to keep trying. He said nothing.

Coltair frowned at his silence and turned from him. “I am in negotiations with King Vikan,” he said. “Soon, we will have our stronghold in the Green Sea. A highly efficient waypoint between east and west, servicing our fleet, which will travel around the globe for our endeavours. Nothing will stop them. Soon we won’t need to rely on Orak’Thune or her allies' ports at exorbitant rates.”

Zephen considered this. He’d heard correspondence had begun with the Elutian sovereign but not that he had replied. It was one of the frustrating truths of their relationship, Coltair still kept things from him. Even as his senior advisor, after forty years, his brother chose to work in solitude and wariness until he needed administrative, tedious tasks accomplished in their conclusion. He rarely asked for advice anymore.

“What will you negotiate? Elutia is far from here. Produce would spoil and any of our finer exports aren’t really coveted by a country so far lost in a world-away ocean; why would they care?”

Coltair looked up at him, a pained expression on his face.

“I want that alliance. I want my soldiers Elutia will pledge to me; I want my armour stored in their warehouses and ready when I need them a world away to defend my interests in a foreign sea. Antaria or Jeska will bow to MY treaties, brother,” he seethed at him. “Vikan also tells me his warships will one day be the biggest in the world, but he needs my lumber to build them. Bawes is not currently playing ball and Orak’Thune’s too lazy to travel that far. So Rogun will answer his need and he promises three man of wars to our navy, here by next years’ end. Orak’Thune will awaken to our superiority, Zephen. The seas, very soon, will be mine to control.”

“What lumber?” Zephen retorted but immediately checked himself and added, “my Emperor.”

Rogun didn’t have sustainable forestry. Neither did Kitska, their closest trading partner. Only Antaria boasted old enough deciduous and coniferous forests that Orak’Thune could trade for marine construction and Zephen was sure the trade talks with them had not advanced that much.

“Bawes is getting greedy,” Coltair informed him. “I’ll pay him what he wants in Kitskan jewels and gold for the first shipment.”

“Grayson will discount you,” Zephen supposed and Coltair nodded. “And the next shipment? He may be a child, but he’s as greedy as his father ever was. His advisors won’t allow him to discount you for long. Kitska is not that generous.”

“We renegotiate.” A sly, unfriendly smile crept up Coltair’s mouth.

“And Elutia? Lumber is all they need? What if Antaria bails on that arrangement and we don’t find out for a half-year or more. Will they be so forgiving?”

“They are joining the empire, my brother,” Coltair said and left the map to walk to his desk.

Zephen, surprised by the news, followed but was confused to know what his emperor could offer that was so valuable as to be worthy of the pledge of allegiance.

“I am marrying Polara to Vikan,” Coltair announced with a smug grin. “He’s going to be family.”

Zephen froze.

“I am sending Izik to speak to Grayson and you, I want to meet Vikan. I need to establish a very tight line of loyalty across this shipping lane, Zephen. I want it in the empire—ironclad.”

“You want me to go to Elutia?” he said, incredulity ruining his ability to remember etiquette.

Coltair lifted his chin in disapproval.

“My Emperor,” Zephen rushed on, “that is a year—at least—away from you. I am not sure that is wise, as your senior advi-”

Coltair’s eyes flashed, his expression instantly turning to rage.

Zephen shut up and took a step back.

“I don’t need a senior advisor sitting around pushing paper for the bare minimum of hours during the day and screwing every court whore that is not his wife, in the lagoons outside and away from my supervision all night, populating my court with even more bastards. I need an advisor that is out working to strengthen the alliances that I form and who reinforce this empire! As this is the farthest alliance I have yet to secure, I need a senior representative on this voyage. At minimum, to keep up the appearance that the princess is valuable to me and I care for her safety. You will escort your niece, see her married, see her planted and see that my treaties are signed in Vikan’s own hand. Then, and only then, may you return to me. Is that understood? Brother?”

Zephen, frozen in fear at his brother’s outburst and words, swallowed hard and nodded weakly.

“On your way, you will investigate those islands,” Coltair added flippantly and threw a hand back toward the table across the room. When Zephen looked to the map and back at his brother, Coltair leaned over his desk on his fists. “Now get out."