“Son?” Kirine’s face was pale. The fins that ran ridges down the back of his arms and his head were blushing bright red. “You dare call me son?”

“Naioch,” Vorpei said, almost softly. “If this is about that commoner-”

“My wife was no commoner. And you are no mother.”

“How many times do I have to tell you; I didn’t kill her.”

“No? Then who did? I think you know.”

“You think a lot of things,” she shot back. “But what do you know? How many years have you blamed me for her death — on what evidence?”

The upper echelons of Vorpei’s army shifted and fidgeted in their chairs. None of them dared to leave. Their eyes bounced back and forth between Kirine and Vorpei. Beneath this unfolding drama, none of them paid any attention to Poire or Laykis.

Even Vorpei barely took note of the hooded figure and the an-droid standing by the doors. She had eyes only for Kirine.

“You hated her. You always did. What more evidence do I need?”

“Stop!” she said, a knowing sadness tugging at the corners of her lips. Dark circles ran under her eyes, turning the violet skin to deep azure. “This isn’t why you came here.”

Kirine looked like he was biting his tongue.

“Come on,” Vorpei taunted him. “Out with it. What do you have to say, little messenger boy?”

The thin slits of Kirine’s nose flared, almost like a human’s. When he opened his mouth, he kept his voice even, emotionless. He raised his voice, so that it was clear and loud and rang out through the room, lifting to the ceiling. And pouring out of the hall.

“Consul Blossian Numenus Vorpei, under the jurisdiction of Veneration of the Grand Cyran Empire, bestowed by divine right of the Emperor you have been found in violation of the law. I, Tribune Naioch Kirine, bear witness to your acts, and to all the acts for which you are accused. Extermination. Enslavement. Mass persecution and the ordered extinction of alien species under the protection of the Conqueror’s Agreement. I demand your arrest.”

All the colonels, the majors, and all their aides were staring at Kirine. His voice had been clear and loud, projected over the whole room. When he finished, the room was eerily quiet. Poire could hear the creaking of wood, as the top brass shifted in their chairs, shifted to see how Vorpei would react.

She was almost smiling. She eased back into her throne, the wood creaking under her weight.

“What did I tell you, Prefect?” she said. “I told you the Emperor would make the first move.”

“Your vision is as clear as you are wise, General,” One of the top brass responded to her.

“My own son,” she said, shaking her head. “All these years, I wondered where you got those mad ideas. I let you talk at the Veneratian because I thought - I hoped - the laughter of the others would show you what a fool you were being. But that damned Emperor had you caught on his hook, even before you were born,” she threw her hand out in a show of disgust, “Xenos. Really. I can understand the provincials. At least they look like true cyrans. But the Xenos, Naioch. It’s disgusting.”

Kirine spoke, as if she had not said anything at all. “Vorpei of the Veneratian, will you submit?”

“Will I-” she furrowed her brow in disbelief, “Will I submit? You always were a willful idiot, weren’t you?” She threw her hand up, almost carelessly, though her face was flushed with emotion, “Someone, rid me of this nuisance.”

Chairs scraped against the stone as all the leaders stood, and the ones closest to the door rushed to apprehend Kirine.

He threw his arms out, shouting, “I am a tribune of the Veneratian! You will not touch me!”

Nobody listened to him. When they surrounded him, and put their hands on his shoulders, Kirine threw the first fist. It connected with a face, making a wet smack of bone on flesh. Someone ran in behind him and grabbed his arm.

“You are in violation!” Kirine screamed, “Of His Holy Law!”

The liquid armor, as if sensing the flurry of movement, began to crawl over Poire’s skin. A welcome feeling, that cold metal sliding up his arms, up his throat.

Poire turned to Laykis, “Block the doors. Don’t let them through.”

She nodded.

There was a melee in the middle of the room now, as the cyrans tore at each other, as Kirine kicked and elbowed and shouted, “Traitors! You are all enemies of the Emperor! She is not-”

Another punch silenced Kirine, bringing him to his knees. They had him easily now, his arms pulled behind his back. Binding his mouth with a torn piece of fabric from his own robes.

“General,” one of the cyrans asked, “What should we do with him?”

She sank deep into her heavy, wooden throne. Carved of some cyran oak, with a back that went too tall. She did not look pleased with the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“He was my son once,” her eyes slid down Kirine’s robes, her mouth was hard with grief, “Make it look like an accident. A clean accident.”

This was it, then.

This was Poire’s last chance.

The human took a step forward, and - as if sensing what he was about to do - the metal armor slid over his mouth. When he spoke, it amplified his voice, making his words sound metallic and unnaturally loud.

“Stop!” he commanded.

All the brass and all their subordinates turned to look at him. Vorpei’s great head turned in his direction, her crest fins briefly flaring up.

“Who is this?” she said.

Poire looked back at the door, where Laykis was still standing. Blocking the exit. She nodded at him.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He pulled back his hood. Vorpei’s eyes went wide, but her mouth stayed the same. There was a collective gasp from the brass. A still muttering.

“By the Divine.”

“It’s- He’s human.”

“It cannot be!”

They looked to their general, and back to Poire. Some of them wanted to kneel, but they were waiting for a sign from Vorpei first.

Vorpei stood up, rising to her full height. Even if she wasn’t standing up on that stage, she would have towered over Poire. Her body was huge, a layer of fat covering the old, ox-like muscle.

But he knew he had nothing to fear. Not for himself, at least…

Vorpei bowed slightly, without taking her eyes off Poire.

“Divine One,” she said. “I have heard of your awakening. And I cannot begin to express my, ah, awe at meeting one such as yourself. But I do not understand. Why have you come to my world?”

“My name is Poire. The Emperor asked me to come here.”

“The Emperor sent you to save my son?”

Kirine shouted something, but he was too muffled by that gag to get any words out.

“No,” He was trying to sound confident, as confident as Kirine. “But I would ask that you spare his life, all the same.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Why?”

Because he’s your son. Because it’s wrong. Somehow, Poire could feel that all the obvious answers would not work for this cyran conqueror. How easily she had commanded the death of her own flesh and blood.

Emotions would do nothing to help his case. Perhaps a more strategic tact… Something he had learned in the simulation games with the rest of his cohort.

“Can he hurt you?” Poire asked.

Vorpei blinked.

“Is there any way he could hurt you, now?” Poire said, leaning into the logic, “If he can’t, why not let him live? A hostage must be worth more than a grave.”

Vorpei’s eyes flicked over to Kirine, who was still kneeling. Her commanders’ hands were heavy on Kirine’s shoulders, holding him down on his knees. His chest was still heaving from the fight, and his robes were torn. A few of the less-decorated officers were standing back, nursing wounds and cupping their bleeding noses.

Vorpei’s eyes wandered back to Poire. Eyeying his armored skin.

“If I let him live, if I do as you wish, godling, what will you give to me?”

“What do you want?”

Vorpei’s fins warmed with color. Despite the great girth of her body, she moved with a controlled grace as she stepped down from the stage, and walked across the polished floor towards Poire.

It was clear that she had spent many years in the military, and not in some back office, pushing a pen. But now, all that muscle was bound together by bulk and the sagging of aged flesh. Golden tassels hung from her shoulders, shaking gently with every step, and the double line of buttons on her uniform shined with polish.

“You have come at a dark time, Divine One,” she said, her deep voice carrying an almost watery tone. Not unpleasant. A strong, guiding voice, so much like Kirines. “Do you know why he sent you to Thrass?”

“I’m here by my own choice,” Poire said.

“Yes, by choice. We would all like to believe that, wouldn’t we. The Emperor didn’t ask you. He made you come here, whether you know it or not. I would guess the Emperor told you something important sits in the middle of this gods-forsaken jungle. Is that what he told you?”

Poire did not like where this was headed. He swallowed, hard, trying to keep his face from giving anything away. If Eolh was here, he would tell him this was a trap. But Poire couldn’t see how, and that’s what frustrated him. Everyone always seemed to be so many steps ahead of him - even when he thought the path was clear.

I wish he was here.

But he’s not.

You did this to yourself. Why?

“The grid,” Poire said, finally settling on telling the truth. “The Emperor said I would find the heart of the old grid on Thrass et Yunum.”

“The grid,” she echoed. “I’m sure that means something to you, Divine One. Unfortunately, the Emperor lied to you.”

Another muffled shout from Kirine. One of the officers with a bleeding nose threw a punch into his gut, doubling the tribune over. Silencing him.

“There is no grid. There is nothing at the center of this place. Tens of thousands of cyrans have died to teach us this lesson. What ancient artifact? There is only death here.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To drain us, of course. To drain me. Gods, what a blind fool I was, when I first came here. I truly believed I would earn his favor, fighting this impossible war. Against what? The blackmouths? Those animals can barely hold a weapon. I’ve never seen a single piece of old tech on their cold, dry corpses. No, the Emperor started a war here to drain us of our funds. Of our soldiers. To hold us back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No. Most don’t. You have to think like him. Remember that he sleeps, Divine One. His plans cross the centuries. This time, he wanted to wake up, to find us weak and pliant. Just like the good little slaves were supposed to be. But I’m going to tell you something, godling. Something you’ll find out soon enough. We are finished. Even now, I’ve sent my forces north to break open the last bastions of those filthy blackmouths. To take over the northern gate, that no cyran has ever seen. Though I will be surprised if that gate even exists.”

“There are more gates on this world?” Poire said. And then, to himself he thought, why didn’t the Emperor tell me?

“Yes,” Vorpei nodded, reading his face. “You should be worried. According to him, there are three other gates on this world. One of them leads directly into the heart of Sen’s world, or so the Emperor says. ‘Our mortal enemies, since time imemorial’ if the old propaganda is to be believed,” she spat, “More of his lies. I’ve never even seen a sennite xeno. Well, nevermind. I was going to conquer this world, and when I returned to Cyre, I would have my triumph in front of all my people, to throw down my scepter and demand an end to this senseless bloodshed. But no more. The Emperor has made his plans known to me. Fortunately, your arrival changes everything.”

Her eyes were glittering now, almost as brightly as the scales of her neck. “I think the Emperor fears you, godling. No, I’m certain of it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I can’t tell you how many soldiers I’ve sent to the middle of the Thrass. I can’t tell you how many I’ve lost to those damned temples. All to find this artifact of his. This grid. Do you know how many have returned? None. None who go deep into the templelands returns. Isn’t that why he sent you here, godling? To make you disappear. But you came to me. And I want to help you.”

She turned to one of her commanders, and whispered a question. Poire could only just hear what she said.

“That bloodthirsty one. Is she still alive?”

“Yes, sir,” the commander answered. “But she’s… out of commission.”

“Pity. What about my Slow Corps?”

“They returned last night.”

“And?”

“At your beck and call, sir.”

“Good,” Vorpei said. She turned back to Poire.

“I wish to make an agreement with you, godling. My son is confused. He has been poisoned for too long by the will of the Emperor. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. So, I will do everything in my power to help you reach the center of the jungle. To keep you safe, until you realize that, out there, lives only death. And, I will promise to let my son live - in my captivity. A hostage, as you said. When you realize that the Emperor was only trying to get rid of you, come back to me. Then, we can talk.”

“What do you get out of this?”

“All I ask, Divine One, is that you remain neutral.”

Poire cocked his head, trying to understand her meaning.

Vorpei clasped her hands together. She looked around the room, at her commanders and officers. All of them looking back at her, expectantly. “I didn’t want to bring this to light. Not so soon. But he has forced my hand. Do you know why the Emperor sent my son to deliver this message?”

“Kirine said it was because of the Magistrate, back on Gaiam.”

“Oh, did he?” she smiled. “I’m sure Kirine said that I was the one pulling the Magistrate’s strings, too. The Emperor’s seeks to sow chaos in our great cyran nation.”

“Why?”

“War. That’s what he wants. He wants to start the bloodiest war this Empire has ever seen. The Emperor would see us fight amongst ourselves, so that he may keep us weak, and enslaved by his will.” Now, Vorpei was not speaking to Poire, but to the whole assembled audience of commanders. Her voice rose to the high stone ceiling, quaking with passion.

The commanders whooped and shouted and hammered on the tables. Kirine was lost in the fray, squirming and trying to get loose.

“If the Emperor demands a war,” Vorpei was shouting over the shouts and cheers, “Then we will give him one! We are the true Cyran Empire, and it is our time to rise up! No more will we die for his name - but ours, and ours alone! The Emperor has forgotten who we are! He has forgotten the true face of Cyre! I am Vorpei, High General of this Empire. I live for war!”

Cheers shook the walls. Too loud for Vorpei to say anything else.

She turned back to Poire, her mouth a grim line. She waited a long time for the noise to settle.

And then, she said, “When he does come, we will be ready for him. I just need you, godling, to promise me something. If you really are the Savior, then you won’t interfere.”