image [https://i.imgur.com/7ZQbE80.png]

Reality came for me at midnight. I woke to a squire pounding my bedroom door so hard that my sleep drunk mind confused it for an earthquake. When I drew it open his wide eyes shone as bright disks by his lamp's light.

"Fate Weaver — His Holiness summons you."

"What in the blazes happened?"

"This one knows not. He calls the entire council, a war meeting they say — an invasion —"

He froze as Aiera stirred in bed behind me.

"Forgiveness, lady—"

"You did the right thing," I waved my hand. "Just give me a moment to get something on."

He left and despite my protests Aiera was already up, shadowing me as I fumbled about at my armoire in the near darkness.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," I said, "but they need me at the war council. Please, can you check on the cults and clan mothers to make sure everyone is safe?"

She agreed and we both wordlessly dressed, comforting words eluded me — felt frivolous in the face of what I knew awaited. I slid into a robe Aiera had once measured me for; it had a few dark freckled wine stains by then but was perfectly presentable with crimson wool flinched with an elaborate pattern of golden weaving spinning wheels.

We met at the bedroom door by some unspoken understanding and paused to share a kiss before the dark expanse of the living room.

"I love you Aiera."

"Just be safe," she said.

Down, down, down the dark staircase by flickering lamplight. I hustled through dark palace halls that thrummed with the frantic energy of running servants and clinking of sword hilts on lamellar covered thighs as high nobles and their entourages stamped down the halls. They joined us on the way to the small council chamber.

They were brave faces all, great courage from those who knew nothing — while I, who knew what came, could barely keep my lips from curling with dread.

Servants were left at the door as we filed into the chamber, past two Lion Head Priests, their golden masked faces lingering over me. The air rang with conversation, wet with breath, and dark as we brushed shoulders to reach our appointed places. By the windows came only the useless wink of starlight (both Masser and Secunda being new) and above an overlarge chandler of fading magelights caught only the room's periphery; the amber light lit the harsh planes of faces as if we were grim celestial bodies caught about the pitch-black whirlpool of the unlit table.

Seated around the table were the most powerful disciples of His Holiness’ new order. Moon Bishops nursing pipes even at that hour, high nobles bristling in armor, Do'Qanar and his tribal chiefs, and many besides including Prince Findulain and Baron Hoot-hoot together with Sorvild whose scalp was still dewed with sweat from his hasty arrival.

Low Nobles and priests stood behind, as did His Holiness, who prowled through the crowd without any clear purpose. He wore no mantle and hunched like a true predator, the crowd for their part struggled to shuffle out of his path, sloshing between wall and table like an evening tide.

My brother gave me a grim smile as I slid into the seat beside him. He said something that I don't recall, likely something desperate to ease the tension.

At a nod from His Holiness, Rokash waved to the Lion Head Priest guards to seal the doors. The thud silenced the council as if the air had been sucked from the room, and all eyes fell on our Mane as he turned to face us, leaning over his empty seat now — his great golden lion eyes silently taking us in.

"Ladies and gentlemen-uh, I've called you all here because you are my most trusted council, my dearest disciples. I have seen in each of you a spirit, tempered by your own will and my teachings into a more perfect form-uh — one worthy of our ancient traditions, and of our noble people… you will each need this will for what is to come."

Those lion eyes assessed us cooly and when not a single voice rose with protest or question he continued.

"A loyal acolyte of mine has arrived this night from the northern border — near death after she ran across the wastes to deliver this news. She sighted an Imperial army mustering to cross into our nation. Based on her description we believe there to be two legions at full strength."

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

My brother had to yell over the outcry. "Holiness, was there no herald? No writ? Ambassador Lucca made no mention of this in our communications."

"None-uh."

It was Do'Qanar who made himself heard over the furor now. "Holiness, this can only be one thing — total war. The milk-sipping emperor must have turned against us in favor of your bootlicking foe. They would make us slaves!"

There were growls and howls of agreement. My brother had to stand to make himself heard. "But it makes no sense they would cross into the wastelands if they oppose us. Riverhold is a holdout for the pretender still, and has a direct road into Cyrodiil. Logically, they would have joined forces and resupplied there if they were allied."

The room quieted. Rokash steepled his fingers. "Unless they plan to invade directly. Or in cooperation from multiple directions"

My brother said, "or they could be regarrisoning Fort Firegate, imperial forces have been down to a mere skeleton crew in Elsweyr since they were withdrawn to deal with unrest in the capital."

Rokash hissed, "such trust for our imperial friends. You'd have us wait to be slaughtered?"

My brother began to pound the table and make a show of his offense until His Holiness raised a hand. "Gentlemen-uh, gentlemen… harness your passions — we will need them. I did not call you here to battle each other, but rather for your wisdom. What comes next? I am a humble leader of souls, but even to me it is apparent that the time for games is over, we have assembled our forces as best we can but now a comet comes hurtling towards us — so let me ask you, my kittens, what comes next-uh?"

Blank stares, even familiar faces were made alien, mask-like, and impossible to read by the poor light. A few whispered amongst their own factions, but it was Prince Findulain who broke the silence. "Your Holiness, may I suggest a full-frontal assault?"

“On who?” I asked.

"The empire, I suppose…"

"Hear, hear," called Do'Qanar, "but let us bleed them out in the desert and restore our people to glory."

Rokash shook his head. "We should not antagonize the Empire unless we truly have to, not yet, we should assault Senechal and depose the pretender immediately. They will have to accept our legitimacy then. We are strong enough."

Do'Qanar guffawed. "That far from our supply lines? A priest should not play at war."

"Rokash knows war better than any upstart raider, and this will be decided by legalism as much as bloodletting."

As so they began a debate on whether to attack the legion or the southern mane. At some point a map was unfurled onto the table and a dozen candles lit about it to dispel the darkness. Key supply routes were discussed as well as the hardiness of our defensive points. Rokash began calling around the room to take a final stock of levies raised and the strength of Sorvild's mercenaries.

Ultimately the preferred method was divided along cultural lines, with the tribes wanting to oust the legion and the landed bishops and nobles urging an immediate siege of Senechal. It was only my brother who pleaded long and loudly that we should remain defensive until the situation became more clear.

We talked and talked, and throughout our Mane paced around the table, padded footsteps hidden under a droning, almost academic in tone, conversation. Nightmarish best-case statistics of civilian deaths from an assault on Corinth, risks of soldiers starving to death defending some remote hillforts, projections of the first wave being crushed in frontal assault against the legion although we had numerical superiority. Somehow the numbers always favored us though.

Lies. They were all lies, and as a liar I knew it best. Mere men dressed as prophets, they gave their estimates with utter conviction on their own self inflated conjectures. I wanted to scream but found myself trapped silently in my seat, cheeks burning and my tongue numb.

Deja vu.

I wanted to speak, stand and deliver with the calm confidence of a king that what we were about was an insane folly. I — who was privy to all sides of the equation, and knew that our holy mane fought only a variation of himself, that the empire's legion had no alliance with his foe and was merely being propped up by the corrupt elements of the Elder Council who would never have the courage to turn against a united Maneship.

But my courage failed me. How could I say these things without harming those I loved? My new brother, who had raised me from beggar to prince out of naught but the kindness of his heart: my sweet Aiera, on whom all my actions reflected; and Benezia, curse her cold heart, but she had been a fair friend in her way and steadfast servant to our noble empire. All of them would be at risk if I revealed my hand. And so I sat in silence as methods of mass murder were bandied about as carelessly as mincemeat pie recipes.

But it was not only my love of others in truth. I had not forgotten my recent impoverished existence in the capital, and the many indignities that naturally arose from a lack of prestige — nor had my body forgotten the hardships of my harsh journey to Dune, the journey of a desperate no-one, which still marked my body, lean and dark compared to my deviator brother.

After an hour of circular debate His Holiness brought silence to the dark room with a raised hand once more. "Enough-uh. I hear a million ideas but not one plan. We shall reconvene at dusk, at which point," he pointed his finger across the table, "Rokash and Do'Qanar, I expect you each to present a single clear option — a drive south or an assault on the legion — then, and only then, shall I make my decision, and my decision shall be the one to bring us to our final and inevitable victory."

Later, I walked back to my apartment alone, my palm pointed ahead to cast a warm pall over the steps. Stars still passed me through the arched windows, promising I could get at least some sleep before dawn. Would I wish to sleep though?

Up the stairs I went, not nearly so winded by it as when I had been first tripped up them behind the gate sergeant months prior. I arrived and saw Benezia before my door. Perhaps I should have been surprised to see her there, but I felt only a dull recognition. She looked so small, childlike, in front of my door, but closed the distance between us as fast as a blackguard's knife.

She came uncomfortably close, so that I could taste her breath as she looked into my eyes — not the fruity perfume of a charming night, but the sourness of a sleepless night. Her hand grappled for mine, depositing a cool vial against my palm. Poison.

"We're out of time," she said.