Tana watched on as her associates squeezed the last bit of health from the mercenary. The orc—Lev, his name had been—had given up all he’d known about Jacob, confirming Tana’s belief that the pyroknight had been seeking to betray them. It had taken hours—the orc deserved credit—but in the end there had been no secrets left to uncover. Only at that point had Tana told her interrogators to let the orc die.

The head of the Council stared on at the dead orc, now drooping from the bindings on the rack, taking in the sight of what she had done. She took no relish in the deaths she’d caused. In fact, if they’d been able to seize their victories without hurting a single soul, Tana would have jumped at the opportunity. But the reality was that some people had to die in order for the Council to succeed. With every death, Tana felt herself grow more and more numb to the guilt, and she wasn’t sure she liked how this was changing her.

Finally Tana tore her eyes away from the body, turning away and heading up the stairs, out of the dungeons of Castle Ryse. As she travelled through the twisting corridors of the fortress, a young woman suddenly appeared at her side.

‘My Lady, the Council await—’

Tana rid herself of the assistant with the flick of her hand, not wasting so much as a breath on someone who was little more than a peasant, risen above her station. If Tana were to interrogate why those sorts irritated her so, she might have realised that it was because she had begun her journey at that station—that it was a memory of her distant past. But she shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts before they could plague her once more.

When she burst into the Council’s meeting chamber, she found that all but two of the seats were already occupied. Of the members, some wore enchanted hoods that obscured their features, while other wore their faces with pride. It was the latter with whom Tana felt more affinity; those who weren’t too cowardly to own their actions. But she couldn’t speak this aloud, for she needed the lot of them.

‘Council is in session,’ she said as she entered the chamber, taking one of the two unoccupied seats—the one at the centre of the round table, rather than the one near the end of a wing. Silence fell across the room, punctured only by the screech of chair leg against stone floor as Tana sat, and all eyes were upon her.

Tana paused for a moment before speaking. Not because she needed to think, but because she needed to reiterate that she lead this secret contingent; she would speak when she was ready, and not before.

‘You will notice that the rumours are indeed true; we are down to eleven.’

A gentle murmur passed over the table.

‘But I don’t wish any of you to worry about Jacob’s departure. He was the weakest of us, of course, but there is another reason we should not be concerned.’

She waited for questions at this point, but none came; she had trained her Council well.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

‘I have just finished speaking with one of Jacob’s associates, who reinforced that which Niamh—’ Tana spared a nod for the woman sitting two places to her right ‘—suspected all along. He was indeed seeking to betray us.’

The murmuring was louder this time, punctuated by a man at the end of the table—a hood obscuring their identity—asking, ‘And is this what we can expect from the Council? Backstabbing and betrayal?’

Tana met the man’s eyes, or where the man’s eyes would have been. ‘I assure you, Jacob was the exception, not the rule. The weakest of us in more ways than one, perhaps. He did not believe in the grand plan, that which we have all put great pains into pushing forwards. He wished to take our life forces as his own.’

‘How?’ the mysterious man asked.

‘The Sisyphus Artifact,’ Niamh replied. Her spies had been busy.

Tana allowed Niamh another nod. The woman didn’t smile externally, but Tana knew that she had the woman well under her thumb—she would feel great pride at such recognition from her. ‘Indeed. That which we thought a myth is indeed reality. Our ancestor—the original Architects themselves—were not flawless. There were oversights. We, of anyone, know that to be true. But the problem is resolved. The man is dead.’

The leader of the Council intentionally left out the part that the man hadn’t died at her hand; it would not do for the rest of the Council to know that the locals were fighting back.

‘In Jacob’s place, I am putting Niamh in charge of our efforts in the Gentle Tundras. Though Jacob did indeed set the ground work for our plan in this region, his focus lately has… drifted. Niamh will see to it that our schemes catch up with the planned timeline.’

Niamh stood up from her seat, nodding to the Council as though she had heard this news already; it suited her for the rest of the Council to believe that she was held in Tana’s private confidence. ‘We are behind schedule,’ the woman said. ‘Of that, there is no doubt. But I believe with a little coin in the right hands, and a little more pressure from our hired bandits, we can resolve this in no time.’

‘And the Golden Canal?’ another member of the Council asked—one wearing a golden amulet bearing the sigil of a sun split in two.

‘It will be completed in due course, I assure you,’ Tana said. ‘We have people soothing the diplomatic relations with the elves. After all, Amira needs us to succeed just as much as we do, does she not? She has suitable motivation.’

‘Power and fortune represents the carrot,’ the leader of the Cult continued. ‘Perhaps we might also try the stick.’

A murmuring passed over the Council, and Tana held out a hand to beg their silence. The noise ceased instantly. ‘In due time, perhaps. For now, our efforts are working. Let’s not risk changing that.’

Once the Council dissolved, Tana grabbed Niamh by the arm, leading her away into one of the back rooms. From the look in the young woman’s eyes, she was wondering what Tana might need from her—but just which of the rumours about Tana did she believe?

‘There is another matter,’ Tana told the young woman. ‘Once which I am trusting to you, and you alone—the others must not learn the truth.’

Niamh remained quiet, waiting for Tana to continue. She was loyal, this one.

‘Jacob’s death was not our doing. While you are in the Tundras, if you hear anything that might identify the culprit…’

‘I will bring it to you,’ the woman responded with a nod.

‘No need,’ Tana replied. ‘I already have so much to oversee. Just handle it yourself, will you?’

Niamh smiled. ‘It would be my pleasure.’