Chapter 34 – New Allegiances
Sangue crawled down the hallway, every breath she took a painful wheeze she forced through cracked, bleeding lips. Her strength was dwindling by the minute, so she desperately tried to conserve what she had left by dragging her way along, rather than walking. It wasn’t proving enough, and now she doubted that she even had the energy left to get back to her feet once more. Her fingers, now twisted and bent beyond recognition by her agonizing transformation, scraped at the stone floor below her like the claws of a vulture. Her hair had almost entirely fallen out, and there were several open sores on her head, arms, and neck, further adding to her ghoulish appearance. As she wormed her way along, she whispered in a hoarse voice, “…Master.”
As soon as Tyer Melanc had freed her two days previously, Sangue had stolen the first horse she had seen, then ridden as fast as she could towards Melkis. Eventually, the pace she had pushed her mount led to it dying from exhaustion, at which point she simply dismounted and continued the rest of the way on foot.
Upon arrival in Melkis, she had begun hurriedly trying to contact the Master by any means she could. Many of his agents were in hiding, as the Empress’ men had been systematically purging them in preparation for the jubilee. But, Sangue’s horrific appearance and strange behavior had drawn a great deal of attention to her, and she had been approached by one of the Master’s spies, a low-ranking bureaucrat who was more than willing to pass information to whoever would pay him the most. After being threatened by her, the spy had promised to take her directly to the Master as she had requested. When she had arrived at the expected rendezvous point, however, Sangue had been ambushed by several members of the Royal Guard.
Though she would have ordinarily been a match for all of them, her failing health allowed the guards to easily overpower her, then blindfold her and lead her through the city. When they had eventually released her and allowed Sangue to see once more, she had found herself in a damp, underground tunnel lit by sputtering torches ensconced in either wall. When she demanded to know where she was, she had been told by the guards to simply walk down the tunnel, and she would find what she was looking for.
Now, as she scraped her way along, she wondered if she had been misled, if this whole thing was an elaborate plan to leave her to die and rot in this tunnel, never to be seen or heard from again. Her worries were shortly put to rest, however, when she saw a door emerging from the gloom, marking the end of the hallway. She reached a trembling hand upwards and, grasping the door’s handle, swung it open, then feebly crawled inwards. Beyond the door, she found herself in a small chamber, occupied only by a tall wooden chair and an open door which mirrored the one she had just come through at the opposite end of the hall. The chair was turned to face her as she entered, and she saw that in it sat a figure wrapped in a black cloak to hide their body. A small, wrinkled man with a nasty grin on his face and a look in his eyes as if he were already calculating how best to dissect Sangue once she had finally died stood besides the throne. In his hands he held a small lantern, the only source of light in the room.
“Do you know where we are, Sangue?” the figure sitting upon the throne asked, and she recognized from his voice that it was truly the Master, though she had only heard him speak once before. “We are directly beneath the Winter Palace in an abandoned chamber once used to store foods and spices during the winter. A fitting metaphor, I think, for how I have acted from the shadows, beneath the surface of the court, without the Empress ever once piercing through the veil to myself.”
“Master,” Sangue said, her voice catching as if she was trying to resist a fit of hiccups. “Help me.”
“Sangue,” the Master said chidingly. “I sent you and your father, among others, to eliminate the Tyrill twins for me. Yet, now you return, alone, ailing, and begging for my aid. Why should I help you?”
“My Lord-” Sangue began, before leaning forward, gagging. She clutched a hand over her mouth, then retched, vomiting a stream of black, oily fluids across the floor before her. It stank of boiled meat mixed with sewage, the stench strong enough to make anyone who smelled it feel ill. The Master’s reaction was hidden by the cloak he wore, though the man standing besides him did grimace at the sight and smell. Once she had finished, Sangue began again, saying, “My Lord, the twins had more allies than we had anticipated, who came to their rescue. We tried to do battle with them, but they overpowered us, knocked me senseless, then killed my father. They kept me as a prisoner for several days before I managed to escape and make my way here.”
“Ahhh,” the Master said, drawing the sound out like a knife being scraped along a piece of metal. “I think I begin to see your misfortune. As another of your father’s experiments, you were tied to him, and when he died, the blood bindings which gave you your strength began to fail. Have you come, then, to beg for me to repair those bindings?”
“This is agony, Master,” Sangue whined, bowing to him until her face was pressed against the floor. “The pain wracks my body constantly, and I feel as if I am being slowly torn apart from within. The illness which affects my body is beyond compare…”
“Silence!” the Master barked, slamming a clenched fist into the armrest of his chair. “Do not speak to me of your or anyone else’s malady!” As if on cue, he was abruptly wracked by a vicious bout of coughing. Once finished, he took a deep breath to steady himself, then, in a calmer tone, continued, “You failed me, Sangue, as did your father. What you are suffering now is only the consequences of that failure. The best that I could do for you would be to give you a quick, merciful death before the blood bindings shatter completely. Anything more would be worthless.”
“No! Please,” Sangue said, practically weeping by this point as she prostrated herself before the Master and his minion. “I can still serve you. I can still be of use to you. Please, let me serve you. Let me live.”
The Master bent his cloaked head forward. He thought for a moment, then said, “In what ways could you be of use to me, Sangue? You’re a shattered wreck lying on the verge of death.”
“If you heal me, I will be stronger, faster, and more durable than anyone else in the empire,” Sangue said. The desperate tears running down her face mixed with the black goo still trickling from her mouth, covering the lower half of her face in a sludge-like mixture of the two. “Please, I know that you are a powerful and skilled hemomancer. Repair my blood bindings, and I will be your personal weapon. I swear that I will serve you for the rest of my days.”
“Really now?” the Master said. A note of amusement had crept into his husky, dry voice. He craned his neck to look at the man standing beside him. “Reinhand, you are perhaps the world’s foremost expert on blood bindings. I would hear your thoughts on the matter.”
Vasil Reinhand pursed his lips as his gaze seemed to cut through Sangue, studying her from every angle. “It could be done, Master but we will need to act quickly, else the damage to her organs and tissues may become irreversible.”
“Good, good,” the Master murmured. “And, if additional changes were to be made to her?”
Vasil turned sharply to look at the Master, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
Despite his face being hidden, both Vasil and Sangue could sense that, beneath his cowl, the Master was smiling broadly. “The tales I have heard about this Sir Kyr, this so called ‘beast knight’ have inspired me. My reign will begin with the spilling of a great deal of blood, and I will need instruments of terror if I am to turn that blood into a foundation for a long rule. Sangue here will be one of those instruments. She shall be my champion, a thing of claws and fangs; her name will strike terror throughout all Waed.”
“Lofty goals, Master,” Vasil Reinhand said admiringly.
“Can you do it?” the Master demanded.
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Vasil considered. “Aye, I could. Give me some time to prepare the blood bindings, and, if we worked together, we can make Sangue the sword of your regime.”
“Excellent,” the Master hissed. “Sangue, I have decided to let you live after all. You should thank me for my generosity, and for the changes you are about to undergo.”
“No more changes, no more cutting,” Sangue whispered, clutching her hands to the side of her head. “I don’t want any more changes. I just want to live. I am…was perfect.”
“Nothing is perfect,” Vasil said as he walked over to where she lay, huddled and shivering. “And soon you will be more perfect, more powerful than you were before.”
“No,” she said again, trying to ward him off, but the last of her strength had abandoned her, and all she was able to do was flail about helplessly like an infant. Vasil grabbed her by the neck and, picking her up with his own inhuman strength, tossed her casually over his shoulder.
“Take her and prepare her, Vasil,” the Master commanded. “I have some other matters to attend to, then I shall join you for the conducting of the rituals.”
“Of course, Master,” Vasil said, bowing slightly before leaving the room. Sangue thrashed, trying to escape from his grasp, but it was no use. As her vision blurred, the last thing she saw was the Master throwing back his hood. For the first time, she saw the Master’s true face and knew his identity. He met her gaze, saw that she recognized him. Then, he threw back his head and laughed, the sound following Sangue as she fell into the release of oblivion.
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General Steroth saluted the Empress primly as she entered the hallway. As she walked by, she gave him a curt nod, at which point he dropped the salute and fell into step behind her as she continued on her way. They were, along with Captain Erevex and two other members of the Empress’ personal guard, making their way through the Summer Palace, making sure that everything was in accordance with the Empress’ demanding specifications before the day of the jubilee, which was now just two days away. The hallway they currently stood in connected the Summer Palace’s ballroom to the Empress’ personal chambers, to give her maximum access. The wall on the Empress’ right was composed entirely of windows which stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing her to stare out over the perfectly manicured gardens and hedge maze beyond the palace at her leisure. The wall to her left was adorned with suits of armor, priceless paintings, and other relics collected from across the Empire, another display of the nigh unimaginable levels of opulence at her command. The Empress raised a hand to her mouth, as if to stifle a yawn, then said to General Steroth, “And how goes your tutoring with Prince Grevel, General?”
General Steroth cleared his throat loudly, then said, “It is going well, Empress. Prince Grevel had a…breakthrough, shall we say, about two days previously. He and I reached something of an understanding, and his learning is now progressing at a much more acceptable pace. However, it will still be some time before he is ready to rule the Empire.”
“Of course,” the Empress said. “But what matters is that, for the moment, he is progressing. Now, what about this troublesome business with the Master? I have been so busy of late with the Jubilee that the issue of this ruffian has often slipped my mind.”
“We are still searching for him, Empress,” General Steroth admitted. “But we are getting closer.”
“Oh, yes, much closer,” Captain Erevex assured her.
“We had to clean out our own spy networks first, as he had bought off many of our agents. We are still working on that, so for the moment, we are relying on the army to assist us in the hunt for this man,” General Steroth informed her. “We have run much of his organization to the ground, but the Master himself remains frustratingly elusive.”
“Surely one man cannot hide when all of Waed is pursuing him,” the Empress said. “Do you not know who he is?”
General Steroth hesitated, looking to Captain Erevex. When the captain nodded, he said, “We think he is someone within the palace itself, Empress, but whenever our men get too close, they meet rather…unfortunate ends. We are convinced by this point that the Master is a hemomancer, and a very powerful one at that.”
The Empress stopped in her tracks, spinning to stare sharply at the two men. “A hemomancer? Within my own palace?” she said, her voice implying that she was outraged the Master would have the audacity to try such a thing. “Is he a servant or something of the like?”
“We believe he is someone with more political power or influence than that,” General Steroth said evasively, “But we aren’t certain.”
The Empress sniffed, then said, “It shall wait until after the Jubilee. Then, I shall deal with this matter myself.”
“Of course,” General Steroth said, bowing slightly to the Empress as he did so. Captain Erevex did the same. She resumed walking, with them both struggling to keep up with her.
“Now, tell me of the plans for the day of Jubilee itself,” she commanded them. “I want the day to be a mirror of my entire reign.”
“Your reign has been a long and successful one, Your Majesty, and the day shall be the same” General Steroth said soothingly. “The day will begin with a celebration in the Winter Palace, where dignitaries from across the Empire will deliver appropriate gifts from the various provinces and noble estates. After that, there will be a grand parade, starting in the Winter Palace and ending here, in the Summer Palace. You will be well guarded along the entire route, of course, and my men will sweep every inch of the city in advance, to ensure that neither the Master nor any foolishly ambitious noble has sent an assassin to hide in advance. Upon reaching the Summer Palace there will be a grand ball in this very ballroom, where the empire’s elite will celebrate your reign.”
“Sounds well and good,” the Empress said. She stopped once more, staring out the wall of windows at the gardens below. Her face wore an expression that someone less familiar with the Empress might have interpreted as peace, or perhaps confusion. General Steroth knew it for what it was: exhaustion.
“Your majesty,” Captain Erevex said. “I do not think you are taking the threat of the Master seriously enough. I have already commanded every man in your personal guard to defend both the Summer and Winter Palace in case of a coup, and Steroth’s soldiers are patrolling the streets, but surely there is more that we could do.”
“You, captain, are taking the power and threat of this pompous ‘Master’ fellow far too seriously. His flair for the dramatic, his insistence upon hiding his identity behind a veil and a ridiculous title, shows his need for attention,” the Empress said dismissively.
Captain Erevex’s eye twitched, too quickly for anyone to catch. “I see.”
“Before there was the Master, there was Argus Vyle, and before him there were the countless petty kingdoms that once made up the Empire,” the Empress continued. “After all of them have passed, I am still here, as is Waed. My real concerns are with the running of the Empire itself, in taxes, laws, and treaties. Those can kill an empire, not some ruffian hiding in my palace putting together plots to have me deposed.”
“As you say, Empress,” Captain Erevex said.
“Are there any finer details for the Jubilee I should be made aware of?” the Empress asked.
General Steroth pulled from out of his pocket a rolled-up scroll, unsealed, which he then handed to her. “Everything, from the route the parade shall take, down to the wine used for the ball, is detailed here, all for your inspection. It should be exactly as you requested it.”
“Excellent,” the Empress murmured as she unrolled the scroll and hastily looked it over. Satisfied, she rolled it back up and walked once more, stopping before the enormous oaken doors which stood open, revealing the cavernous ballroom beyond. “I have no further need for either of you,” the Empress told them. “Attend to your other duties. I shall see to the rest of the preparations myself.”
General Steroth and Captain Erevex both bowed, then the Empress turned and left them to their own devices. Once she was out of earshot, General Steroth asked the captain. “Any progress on that special assignment?”
“You mean, keeping an eye on any hemomancers who attempt to enter Melkis?” Captain Erevex said idly.
“What else could I have meant?” General Steroth snapped impatiently. “Well?”
Captain Erevex gave a half-hearted shrug in response. “Nothing. I haven’t seen or heard any sign of new hemomancers. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, in truth. My guess is everyone is trying to stay out of sight and wait for the Jubilee.”
General Steroth growled something incomprehensible.
Captain Erevex grinned smugly. “Perhaps you should ask Prince Grevel, seeing as he is quite the talented hemomancer himself, and you and him have ‘reached an accord’ of late, I’ve been told. Surely the prince has heard something that both of our spy networks have missed.”
“You listen to me, Erevex,” General Steroth said quietly. “Do not attempt to antagonize me. You do not want me for an enemy, especially not following the Empress’ Jubilee.”
“Why?” Captain Erevex said, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing’s going to happen during the Jubilee. You said as much yourself. The Master is in hiding, the threat is eliminated. The Empress decreed it, so it is so.”
“What are you playing at, Erevex?” General Steroth asked, his voice reduced to little more than the barest of whispers. “I’ve been watching you for some time. You display this confident, borderline arrogant attitude, especially when it comes to the Master. Information I tell you has an uncanny way of reaching the Master, and his plans hinge on this planned coup, which your men would be the greatest obstacle to.”
“Are you accusing me of treason?” Captain Erevex said in the softest of whispers.
General Steroth answered his question with one of his own, saying, “Why do you serve the Empire, Captain?”
“The same reason I have always served: wealth,” Captain Erevex told him plainly.
General Steroth, eyes narrowed, nodded slowly. He stepped away from Captain Erevex, who continued to watch him, his smug grin never dropping. “Even if you said something to the Empress, she would not believe you,” Captain Erevex said. “Assuming, that is, I were a traitor as you so basely accused.”
“I suppose we shall find our tomorrow, during the Jubilee,” General Steroth said.
“Yes,” Captain Erevex agreed. “I suppose we shall.”