“Oh Dearheart, what have they done to you?”

Brightheart turned his head to see Dierdra striding into the room, quickly arriving at his bedside. He’d only just arrived in Terrace earlier that morning. Someone must have alerted her even before he returned.

“My dear Deirdra, so good to see you. I’d rise but I’m afraid the healers have me bound to the bed. All to assure I don’t cause myself further injury, of course.”

Dierdra nodded, then threw aside his covers, revealing the blackened ruin of his right arm. Her hands glided above the broken limb and he could feel her magic flowing into him. He watched as her face took on the thoughtful look she got when studying one of her subjects. It was interesting to be on the receiving end of that look.

When she pressed her finger into his burnt flesh he flinched, although he couldn’t feel it. The touch of her magic he could feel, following her finger as she trailed it up his arm. As she moved he kept expecting pain, yet there was nothing.

Eventually she stopped just below his elbow and he could feel the pressure of her finger on his skin. Dierdra nodded to herself. “Good. I was worried there would be too much damage and we would have to replace the entire arm.” She leaned back and smiled down at him.

“I learned a lot working on your one-eyed guardsman.”

Brightheart smiled back at her. She really did love her work. Not that he ever expected to be one of her subjects. “Did you now? And you can fix my arm?”

Dierdra shook her head, though she continued to smile. “Not fix. Replace. I'll graft a new arm here.” She tapped his elbow. “It will feel like your own, though the skin tone may not match.” She pursed her lips. “That may interfere with your work. Gloves perhaps?”

“And where will we get this new arm, my dear Deirdra?”

She waved away the question. “One of my subjects, of course. We’ll need a live one for the best results.” Reaching up to tap her lips, she added, “I’ll need to cut away the dead flesh of your arm as well. That should be easy enough. We’ll do it right before the attachment.”

“Sounds exciting. I leave myself in your capable hands.”

Dierdra leaned down and cupped the burn scars on his face. “Don’t worry, Dearheart. There will be no new scars for you this time.”

***

Brightheart lifted his right arm before him, wiggling the fingers. He thought he’d been pale before, but the arm was nearly the shade of his robes. Turning to regard himself in the mirror, he clasped his hands together, then frowned at the contrast between his town hands. That would certainly distract the people he talked to. Perhaps Dierdra was right.

Walking to the table, he picked up the pair of white gloves she had left for him. A small golden sunburst was emblazoned on the back of each glove, though these weren’t possessed of the same subtle powers as those of his robe and mask. Picked them up, he worked them on. They were longer than normal gloves, disappearing into the sleeves of his robes.

“You’re looking better than the last time you came home.”

Brightheart turned to see Xius standing in his doorway. “You really must stop coming to me. People will talk about anyone you call upon. It wouldn’t do for them to realize how close we truly are.”

Xius tsked and waved. “The people think what I want. That’s what the Speakers are for, after all.” He grinned. “Besides, even my councilors know by now that we grew up together and that you are my best friend. Only friend, given how busy I usually am.”

“It is precisely because of how busy you are that you should be summoning me to you.”

Chuckling, Xius made his way into the room. “And I’ve told you before that if I can’t visit my friend, what is the point of being Emperor?” He reached into his robes and withdrew a scroll, which he handed over. “Besides, I wanted to bring this list to you personally. It’s the candidates for Empress, as suggested by my councilors.”

Brightheart took the scroll with his right hand, marveling again at how real the hand felt, like it was truly his and not some replacement. He unrolled it and started reading while Xius continued.

“I want you to take a couple days to go over the list and write down your own recommendations. Then I’m putting you back to work.”

Brightheart looked up from the scroll. “The half-elves? I mean, the half-humans?”

“Exactly. They’re the last piece of the puzzle and then our Empire will be complete. We’ll be able to put our full focus on the parts of Ryode that remain. The Majestix and the swamp lizards.”

“The swamp lizards? I thought we’d decided there was no value in their lands? They don’t even leave their swamps so they are no threat either.”

Xius shrugged. “The mage council was convinced by both Feron and Crighton that we might as well consolidate our resources. They want more of the lizards for study and as stock for the miner class of slavards.”

Brightheart nodded. “I see. Then, my dear Emperor, I had best get to studying this list if I’m to be of use. I’ll see to it that the half-humans join us. I trust our soldiers have been replaced?”

“Oh yes.” Xius grinned, a feral light in his eyes. “We’ve been preparing for when we attack the Majestix. Compared to them, some isolationist half-breeds should be no problem.”

***

“Welcome to the Becosea Estate.”

Marcus smiled at the greeting, letting go of Hanna’s hand long enough to clasp forearms with the young man with the crossbow. There was a definite tingle of magic within him, though not any type he was familiar with.

“Thank you. We’re glad to be here. It’ll be good to finally do something about the atrocities the Empire is committing.” Marcus waved to indicate the handful of scarlet robed mages with him, including his fiancée, Hanna.

“From what we’ve heard, Feron only has a few mages with him so we should be more than enough to handle them while you all deal with the guards.”

Becosea grinned and nodded. “That’s the plan as far as I know. Let’s get you all inside and talking to the old man. He’s got the other leaders in there, including some furry guests who just arrived.”

Marcus nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” He quickly gave some instructions to the other mages, then he and Hanna followed the crossbowman deeper into the estate, passing through various groups of armed men working on gear or training. Eventually they arrived at a building that appeared to be the manor house.

The building seemed full to bursting. Servants and warriors moved in every direction, like bees in a hive. However, the further they got into the building, the more calm and organized everything appeared.

Marcus felt Hanna’s excitement grow with each passing minute. Giving her hand a squeeze, he caught her attention and gave her a smile. She beamed back at him, eyes sparkling. It was fortunate that Akara was outside the estate. Who knew what the elemental would do with all the energy bubbling within Hanna.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Becosea guided them through a final door into a room dominated by a massive wooden table featuring a mockup of a mountain inlet festooned with buildings. There were tiny flags at various points on the display.

The people in the room were just as fascinating. In the middle of everyone was a man who was clearly the older Becosea, guiding what conversation that didn’t cut off as they entered. Beside him was a young man with mismatched eyes. That must be the guardsman he’d heard of, Palcon.

Standing off to the side were the most recognizable ones of the group, Ethaniel and Vincent. They stood next to the least familiar people, two cloak clad Panthras. All four seemed to blend into the shadows, even in the well lit room.

Rounding out the group were an assortment of warriors that Marcus assumed were the leaders of the various teams outside. When invited to, he introduced himself and Hana to everyone, then had his suspicions confirmed as they were all made known to him in return.

Duke Becosea got everyone’s attention. “Alright, we got the latest reports added to the table. From what we know, they have a rotating guard of thirty active at all times patrolling the compound. There are an additional fifteen to twenty houses in the barracks, so we’re looking at up to fifty armed men.

“We are devoting almost three times that many to this mission.”

The Duke looked around the group. “While we wouldn’t normally worry about this much of a numerical superiority, we want to crush the guards before they have a chance to turn on the captive population.

“We estimate there are more than two thousand people being held in the compound.”

Marcus felt his eyes go wide. Glancing around, he could tell who else was getting this information for the first time by their similar reactions. He felt Hanna give his hand a reassuring squeeze and tried to calm down and focus on the briefing. The thought of two thousand people possibly being subjected to Feron’s experiments was hard to ignore though.

Marcus shoved the thought to the back of his mind. It could be dealt with later. He focused on the Duke.

“There are a trio of mages who are always in the compound, with one or two others who stop by from time to time.” The Duke looked right at Marcus. “We’re counting on you to deal with those mages. There is no telling the devastation they could wreck upon the men.”

Turning to the Shadow Dancers, the Duke continued, “There are three berserkers in the compound, always near what appears to be Feron’s personal tower. You’ll need to kill them when everything starts to give us the best chance of success. None of us are going to move until you signal that they’re dead.”

All four cloaked figures nodded together, their faces grim. That was the first time that the true nature of the mission sank in for Marcus. Intellectually he understood that lives would be lost in the conflict but he’d never really dwelt on the possibility that all of the opposition were to be slain. This really would be an irreversible change of things in the Empire.

Duke Becosea gave everyone a level look. “This is the beginning of our changing things in the Empire. Feron and his ways are one of the examples of the worst side of things. With him dead and all those people freed, the rebellion will be official and they’ll have to acknowledge how far they’ve come from the principles the Emperor originally announced.

“Things will not get easier from here on out. It will likely take more bloodshed, as there are many who have gained from the way things have become. So no, they won’t get easier. But one day, they will get better. For everyone.”

***

“I assure you, your family is safe.”

Palcon glared at the figure in the crystal sphere. With his new eye he could clearly make out the nervous fretting in the mage.

“Mage Typhonus. I find your assurances less than assuring.”

The mage sighed and shrugged. “If everything goes right with your mission, there will be no one left to say who was involved. Additionally, you are only one of nearly one hundred and fifty warriors. Even were a witness to escape, the odds of them recognizing you and making the connection to your family is infinitesimal.”

Palcon frowned. “I do not like leaving things to chance. Planning and preparation are critical.”

Another sigh escaped the mage. “Your parents assure me that they have taken every precaution.”

Narrowing his eyes, Palcon considered the image. There was no sign of nervousness, only resignation. Slowly, he nodded. “Very well. Pass on my greeting to Father and Mother. I will let the next group in to talk to you. Farewell.”

Turning away, he headed from the room, nodding to the leader of the mage contingent, then continued onwards, heading for the area set aside for him and his men.

Most of the men were making checks of their equipment. Taking a moment to survey the site, Palcon allowed himself a smile. The men had really come together over their time at the Estate. They’d experienced no major casualties in their battles against the plant monsters, and no fatalities. They were as ready as he could make them.

“That’s some heavy thinking you’ve got on your face, Palcon.”

Palcon turned to face the man, one of the veterans who had followed him after his discharge. Jensen had been with the city guard since he was a teenager, but didn’t like the way things had changed under the Empire. He had originally been a spearman until the Empire made the sword mandatory. Now that he was back to the spear he was once again excelling.

“Just thinking about how far we’ve come, Jensen. We are an efficient team when it comes to fighting monsters. I do wonder how that will translate to killing our fellow humans.” Palcon glanced down at his hands. “I’ve never had to kill another man.”

“None of us have, lad. Up until recently, the Empire has been a peaceful place. All we did was escort that Spear around. Other than random monster encounters or the city drunks, there wasn’t much excitement.” Jensen sighed. “Even at the end we weren’t forced to kill anyone, just round them up.”

The veteran leaned on his spear. “I figure if men have to die to get us back to those peaceful times, let’s at least make sure they’re the right men.”

Palcon nodded and reached over to clasp the older man’s upper arm. “You are wise, Jensen. Perhaps that’s the best way to look at things. By killing the right men now, we prevent thousands more from dying.”

Jensen grinned. “For now, though, I think it’s best we get some sleep. We move out tomorrow and who knows what camping conditions will be like out there.”

Palcon returned the grin. “Once again, you are a wise old man. I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Gee, thanks.”