Eternine the Third wore the purple garments of his lineage’s rule. The man strode toward the Prophets with an eager smile and his arms spread wide.

“Must an emperor dishonor himself by greeting his guests in such a manner?” Murel asked.

“Eternine the Third doesn’t care about palace etiquette. He was born into his empire’s downfall. He cares little for anything but preventing it from falling further,” Sono noted in a hushed whisper to the Gold.

“Prophets! Friends! Welcome!” Emperor Eternine the Third shouted in greeting as he bowed low to the three Prophets. “You have no way of feeling the joy your presence has brought to this city.” Nege could. “I myself am overwhelmed.” Eternine laughed with joy, his squared features and weary eyes revealing every emotion the man had.

“Greetings Emperor Eternine, Guardian of the Waters, Lord of the Legions, Truscan—” Sono began before Eternine put a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, yes, titles and pleasantries are well and good but don’t waste your breath on mine.” Eternine was a pragmatic ruler, lacking the subtleties of usual nobles, and it showed in every movement he made. Sternness and a weary life had burned away any lack of legitimacy in this man’s actions, something Nege respected and pitied in equal measure.

Eternine led the Prophet like an old friend, walking back toward the palace, saying, “I have drinks and food prepared. And we can discuss all that you need to help me defend my city. Please, let me know your names as we walk.”

Nege, Murel, and Sono walked beside the emperor as he escorted them, along with a few palace aides in purple-lined finery, toward an open-aired courtyard where wine and bread had been laid out in what Nege thought were unimpressive quantities.

“I am Sono of the White Prophets. This is Murel of the Gold and Nege of the Red,” Sono said.

Murel and Nege both nodded slightly at the mention of their names.

“Pleased to meet you all,” the emperor said. He smiled as he walked and exchanged handshakes with his guests. Nege noted the strength of the emperor’s grip, popping Nege’s middle and fourth fingers before releasing. “Your weapons have always fascinated me. That headband, your gauntlet. They’re marvelously crafted.”

“Thank you, Emperor,” Sono replied.

“But your Red friend here, Nege. Your Red weapon is… interesting. I’ve met few Prophets, but all the Reds I’ve known had bladed weapons, ones that kill.”

“There’s a saying where I’m from, Emperor,” Nege stated. “A closed mouth doesn’t mean the beast lacks teeth.”

Eternine laughed as they entered the courtyard. “Words of wisdom I’m glad to once again hear from the Sevens Prophets. Please, sit.” The emperor gestured toward cushioned chairs as the attendants poured wine for all four of those present, and a fifth glass that sat on the ornate table in front of an empty chair. Eternine sat down and held his hands together, sitting straight and relaxed as he held his ceramic glass.

“I appreciate your hospitality in such troubling times, Emperor,” Sono said as she sat, primly situating herself at the edge of the seat closest to the emperor. Murel sat with his gauntleted hand rested on his lap, leaning slightly forward at all times. Nege leaned back against the cushioned chair, holding his staff upright as if he were still standing.

“Please, think nothing of it. If there is one thing we Truscans will never go without it is good bread and good wine. Even with the grain ports to Landria in barbarian hands, we have still been able to maintain our bread distribution for every citizen.” The emperor raised his goblet to his guests. “To the Prophets.”

“To the Prophets.” Sono raised her glass to her lips but didn’t drink, while the emperor took a long, satisfying gulp and set the glass on the table. Nege imitated this gesture and smacked his lips together after gulping the satisfyingly dry red wine.

“To the Prophets indeed, and to It who sent them,” a man with his hands clasped together, palm against palm, said as he approached the Prophets and the emperor. He wore a long, white cloak with black lining, a black globe emblazoned on his back and cuffs.

“Please, welcome my Patriarch,” the Emperor said, motioning toward the man who led the faithful followers of Infinity in their worship to sit at the empty chair beside him.

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“Has Infinity blessed us with powerful Prophets, as your previous representatives promised?”

“Yes, Patriarch,” Sono said. “We are three of the strongest Prophets from our colors.”

“Excellent. I will pray for your continued blessings.” The Patriarch’s smile betrayed his eagerness to please the guests.

Nege couldn’t help noticing how the emperor kept glancing at his and his companions’ weapons, the man’s eyes darting back and forth. While the Patriarch continued to praise the three Prophets, Nege felt the emperor’s unease as the man’s emotions betrayed his worry over the fact that all three of his guests bore apparently non-lethal tools.

“I assume you were able to see the walls close hand,” the emperor said after hastily ending the Patriarch’s praises. “They’re even stronger than when we held off the Babian sieges six hundred years ago.”

“The Babians didn’t have cannon,” Murel noted. “And Eternon had five legions then. You have less than one.”

“The Babians also had half again as many soldiers Hemend has,” the emperor said with a confident grin, cringing slightly with the name of his Teljuk adversary. “And one less layer of walls. But if you’re thinking numbers are the only thing that will matter in this coming battle, my Golden compatriot, you’ll see the thick Teljuk blood staining our three walls that will prove you wrong.” Eternine the Third laughed as if he were taking a sporting wager with the Gold. His confidence spawned the slightest smile on Murel’s usually stoic face.

“Still, you are right,” the emperor went on, and sipped at his wine. “Our defense is not a sure thing.”

“With the strength of Infinity guarding us, there is no doubt of victory, Emperor,” the Patriarch said. “It’s will has saved us in the past. It will not let It’s city fall.”

“It has said this to you?” Sono asked.

The Patriarch hid a hiss behind a faked sigh of wariness. “Infinity does not voice It’s will in words. Though I am sure a Prophet of Infinity would know this, as you also do Infinity’s will.”

“We’re not here to discuss theology, Patriarch, we are here to discuss the defense of Eternon,” Eternine said.

“I see the two as indistinguishable. If we do not—”

The emperor set his goblet down with enough force to scratch the wooden table, silencing the Patriarch.

“Tell me, Sono,” he then said. The emperor’s friendly smile returned without a hint of his sudden scolding. “How many Prophets does your Sept intend to send to our defense? Hemend will be here soon.”

“The Sept has set aside as many Prophets as it deems necessary,” Sono replied.

“And that means?”

“This isn’t the first siege we’ve worked under, Emperor,” Murel said.

Licking his lips at the thought, Eternine the Third leaned back in his chair, rubbing his fingers through his thick goatee. “You’re thinking about something,” he said, and looked straight into Nege’s eyes, the Mother-dweller’s sense of empathy telling Nege the emperor was hiding his anger well. “You’re judging me.”

“Excuse me?” Sono said.

“Don’t play. I’ve been judged by Patriarchs and priests, phony kings of Trusc and barbarous lords of Gloria’s patchwork of lands. I know when I’m being treated like a fish at market.”

“We were not sent here to evaluate you, Emperor Eternine. We were sent here with a purpose.”

“And that is to help us,” the Patriarch insisted. “As tools of Infinity, you are here to protect the jewel of It’s presence on Triumph. Please, ease the faith of my emperor and tell him this is your task. Prophets, please.” The Patriarch smiled, pausing as he waited for such words.

After a long time of glaring at each other, Nege felt the emperor’s patience waning, and Nege’s pity for him growing.

“How many Prophets will the Sept send?” the emperor asked again.

“I can’t—” Sono began before the clanging of bells interrupted her. A shrill cry echoed from the walls lining the palace, perking the emperor’s ears.

“Warning signals,” Murel said as he stood, clenching his gauntleted fist.

“Hemend is here,” Eternine said, rushing to the columned walkway at the edge of the courtyard. It overlooked the high palace hill, and the eastern half of the city. Clouds of dust, thick and blossoming like a thundercloud on the ground, coated the eastern horizon from one side of the Tolian Bridge to the other.

Nege was the only one who ran to the window beside the emperor, while Sono and Murel casually stared at the approaching army. The Patriarch stayed seated, praying aloud in a declaration that soon the Tolian Bridge would be lined with Teljuk bodies all across its narrow plain.

Across the Tolian Bridge’s narrow plain, the very much living men of Hemend’s army marched in ranks and pushed their war machines to the city’s edge. Nege could already hear the screams as outsiders fled inside Eternon’s walls.

As he watched the approaching danger, the emperor noticed the white glow emanating from Sono’s headband. “What are you doing?” the emperor asked.

“Counting,” Sono said, her eyes closed in concentration.

With her eyes and mouth still closed, Sono said into Murel and Nege’s minds, There are too many to fight. The city is doomed. When she gave an exact, staggering count, Murel nodded with agreement. Over one hundred thousand invaders, and less than ten thousand defenders.

“The decision is final then,” Murel said aloud.

“What decision?” Eternine asked.

“I will pass this on,” Sono said to Murel.

“What decision, what are you talking about?”

“Hold on,” Nege said. “We aren’t going to—”

“No. Our mission is to help people. And that we shall do,” Sono said.

“What is going on!” Emperor Eternine the Third shouted over the clanging bells and distant marching.

“Eternon will fall,” Sono said with no more emotion than if she were telling Eternine goodbye.