Dark bags hung under my eyes. I could feel them dragging my face down. A bruise on my ankle throbbed and my hands felt dry enough that they could crack. Our section had just returned from “nightmare week” where even the sparse comfort of the barracks was temporarily replaced with an outdoor campaign complete with tents, wildlife, and holes in the ground. Somehow it was entirely aggravating and completely boring. The days had dragged and a majority of our time was spent kneeling in dirt with mosquitoes chewing through every piece of us.

Minister Epswitch sat across from me and could not look any more at peace. His crooked and clawed fingers delicately held a piece of paper, his lips were plump and red, and there was a rose coloring to his cheeks. Even the blue in his eyes held a twinkle of renewed vigor and excitement. “All the preparations have been made. I’ll be leaving for the next two weeks to move on some previously laid groundwork. The dagger will be in your possession the day of the graduation. You should smile, your ‘life’s work’ is nearly complete.”

I found myself shivering. The memory of the cold ground still lingered in my bones even in this warm room. That hadn’t been what kept me up though. “Why are you doing this?”

The question had been worming its way through my head the entire week. The forced shift in location had given me a new perspective on everything. When Epswitch had first pushed this idea, I had thought about my own vengeance, of the suffering I’d witnessed first hand and the horrors I had to live with. I had only given a moment’s pause to Epswitch’s motivation, but it was outshined by my sunburst of retribution. The week had cooled every part of me and now I had to know why my mysterious benefactor was as ready as I was to burn it all down.

“I know you’re a bit self centered, but I’m surprised it took you this long to ask that,” his words curled like smoke. I was too tired to truly register the insult, “It would be easy enough to go at length on the bad decisions I’ve seen over the years, or about potential gain for the mythics outside the sovereign’s command, or even the genocide of my people. Maybe, the summary is just that my plan to put a human on a throne has gotten out of hand and this is the only way to stop it.”

I blinked. He used too many words. My head hurt from sleep deprivation, but a piece stuck out, “Easier for the mythics?”

“Of course, the empire keeps a tight leash on how much we can feed. The rules, the regulations, you’ve spent the last months learning about all them. Blood taxes, feeding schedules, I know you’re not top of your class, but your grades seemed to point that you paid at least a little bit of attention.”

Black and white morality took on a painful shade of gray… and red. The weariness in my muscles felt heavier. The question I asked earlier, what happens next? The question that I was so ready to push out of my head with the simple answer of ‘I didn’t know enough to answer that,’ now rang in my head since I knew with every ounce of being that Epswitch knew, “What happens after I assassinate the dark sovereign?”

“It’s as the paper you wrote said. Without a strong central figure, the empire breaks apart, governors become warlords, and self-rule takes over.”

“You called it simplistic,” I said accusatively. There was a wrongness that made me want to vomit.

“Did I?” the minister’s voice kept its characteristic indifference, “Your version probably was. Mine has a bit more details included than a school paper.”

The details started to crystalize in my mind, “People will die.”

“People will always die, the formula always has subtraction. It’s about optimizing, not avoiding. You’re just giving people a choice in how they will subtract and you will have your freedom.”

I felt disposed of. That this conversation was Epswitch washing his hands of me. His entire demeanor hostile to my presence, “You make it sound very selfish.”

“Did it sound that way? Then let me state it more plainly, it is selfish. Just as the only reason you got involved in the town's werewolf problem was selfish grievance or the reason you agreed to work for the empire before I revealed the plan was selfish survival. You are selfish, Victoria Vidal, but I have never cared about your motivation as long as it worked for my plans.”

The minister pulled a small bell from behind some papers and gave it a soft ring.. Sergeant Talbot came in and collected me. The walk back to the barracks was silent and I tried to read the sergeant’s face. He gave no indication of any interest. I wondered if Sergeant Hughes’s indifference had infected him.

I couldn’t find the energy to care. I made it through their nightmare week, took their written exam which was laughable, if they decided to recommend me to Eternal Affairs or not was out of my hands. I thought of Epswitch for a moment, it was probably always out of my hands.

By the time we arrived back, everyone was already showered. Loitering around the barracks as nervous energy overtook them. Tomorrow was graduation day. Even the shared exhaustion couldn’t dampen their spirits. I limped into the shower. Alone, I turned on the water and rested my head against the ceramic tiles of the wall.

The water still held a little warmth. I stayed longer than normal. If getting yelled at for a long shower dismantled Epswitch’s years of planning, so be it. This might be my last shower. The thought hit like a hammer. The escape route might not exist or Epswitch might hunt me down later, a loose end to be burned away.

I took some solace that I’d at least prove him wrong. I was ready for tomorrow and whatever it held. He could call me selfish, but I would trade my life for the opportunity to do this lasting good.

Turning the water off I dried myself. Everyone was preparing for bed. I laid down and closed my eyes. The simple act of resting threatened to overwhelm me with grateful tears.

I begged my body to sleep. Every muscle screamed a chorus of agreement. The bed was not comfy, nor the pillow particularly cushioned, but for my body a large rock with a smaller rock on it should’ve been enough. It was my mind that wouldn’t stop racing.

Was I really doing good? Was I throwing my life away as a self-righteous pawn unaware of the greater picture? In my heart I knew of the Dark Sovereign’s evil. I had grown up with her escalating violence and witnessed what her monsters had done repeatedly. Her orders could be measured in gallons of blood, but there was something reassuring about the evil I knew though. The world kept on turning even after all those atrocities. The ramifications of the minister’s plan were a large question mark. It was in that chaos that my mind refused to quiet down.

Stopping evil felt like the right thing, but what if I was simply opening the door for something worse, someone more cruel. I thought of Epswitch taking over, but it felt instantly wrong. He was cunning and he was vicious, but I doubted he had the charisma to bring together so many creatures. He was a deadly spider, but he could never build a web as large as this Empire.

The only solace I could hold onto was scale. The world would always hold evil, but under the Sovereign there was a consolidated darkness. A nexus for every wicked decision and calculated calamity. My mind wrapped around that solace. I may never be able to stop the world’s evil, but if I could destroy its largest propagator and profiteer, was that not the most good I could achieve?

In a blink it was a bright day. This was unique for two reasons. First, the exhaustion took me before sleep did. I felt no more rested. My body had recharged enough energy to drag me out of bed, but it did so heavy with complaints. Secondly, it was the first time in four months I had been allowed to sleep through a sunrise.

A couple of the trainees, soon to be full fledged soldiers, milled around aimlessly. They did their best to be silent and let others sleep. They were respectful of this rare opportunity even if their own bodies wouldn’t take advantage of it, whether through routine or nerves.

I sat on the bed and looked over the figure supine before me. Rhys was awake with his eyes closed. I could tell because his breathing was steady and intentional. He held each breath a second too long and exhaled it the same way.

I found myself inadvertently matching his breath. The rhythm was both easy to fall into and reassuring. In, one-two-three, out, one-two,three. My thoughts cooled from their hellfire of sleep deprivation and manic anxiety into a more manageable just tired and just stress.

There would be no breathing technique that would make today easy, but I wanted to thank Rhys for the semblance of peace.

“Thank me for what?” Rhys’s voice made my eyes snap back open. I had fallen asleep sitting up and apparently had taken it upon myself to start sleep talking.

“Just a dream, I’m dead on my feet or on my ass in this case,” I said nervous about what my subconscious might choose to reveal if it happened again.

“You know I only have my heart set on one, but I hope dream-me was up to snuff,” he said, playful and casual. It was a day of celebration for him as it should be for me. In a way, I guess, it was.

“I’m sorry, but not even top ten,” I saw Rhys already preparing to rise to the defense of his illusionary prowess, but I cut him off, “I will miss you.”

Rhys was struck dumb for a moment. His cocky joke of a response stilled in his throat. I even caught a momentary flash of annoyance in his morning grin as I must have cut off a particularly witty retort. His sleepy smile was caught frozen as his brain seemed to run through various responses. I could already hear his optimistic take on how they’d make time for each other or how everything would work out in unique and wonderful ways, but then all he said was, “I will miss you too.”

There was nothing more to say. We would see each other for the rest of the morning so goodbye was premature. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and put on my uniform. Fully dressed I held the tabard in my hands. We were to remove the trim for today’s ceremony. Carefully I peeled it off. The sergeant’s instructions played back in my mind.

Lyle was in rare form as he stretched fully dressed. I could tell he hadn’t slept at all either, but his bounce made the excitement obvious. He had scored reasonably well on the academic portion. It wasn’t the highest, but high enough that he had hope that purple trim would be in his future.

I wondered if he’d make it back home in the chaos or if the soldiers here would be pressed into service by whatever loud voice first spoke up. His family might never learn of the progress he had made. The human collateral damage of my decision left my heart hurting. This was a sacrifice I was ready to make, but it felt cruel to be making that decision for so many.

How many had this opportunity though? I was given this chance and I had to hold onto the hope of a better tomorrow.

Even if I didn’t get to see it.

I kept telling myself I was ready to die for this cause. I hoped I was going to start believing it myself at some point.

Sergeant Hughes floated into the room. His booming voice couldn’t cut through my mental fog, but I followed everyone as we lined up. He marched us outside and just like we practiced we got in formation and made the slow march to the parade grounds. We knew our places, our instructors refused to leave it to chance and multiple times we had marched out there and told exactly what to expect.

Every cluster would regroup. It would be the first time we’d see the training horde all together since the first day in the auditorium. I couldn’t remember any of their faces. As we got close I was staggered for half a step by the noise. There were stands filled with people. We were told to expect family and friends, but their volume even at a distance was astonishing.

I took a little half step to get me back into pace with the formation. We were behind two other clusters and we took a loud final stamp in our place. We stood at formal rest as we had been trained and waited for the last training clusters to take their place.

The sun was aggressively in my eyes. Still, I remained unmoving. Sound to my right as another cluster marched in. I didn’t even glance in their direction. There was nothing for me over there. To be fair there was nothing for me here at all. Once they had passed out the trims, we were to wait until a friend or family member tapped us out. If we had no one, the sergeants would do it and we were free for the day.

There would be no one here for me. I wondered which of the sergeants would tap me out at the end. Even with everything done, I hoped it was Sergeant Hughes. He never seemed to forgive me after my outburst at Mulegan and I never had a moment to discuss it with him.

That token of notice felt like a small ask for the universe given what was coming next, but I tried to temper my expectations. Sergeant Hughes and Talbot stood at the front of our line.

“Present as ordered!” Sergeant Talbot boomed. He was echoed by sergeants for every other cluster. The sound of almost 300 pairs of feet shifting and stamping as we turned to the right momentarily overpowered the shouting.

Our two sergeants started walking down our line, overly stiff and formal. I watched as they passed out tabard trim in different colors and a small medallion. After the trainee-no-longer accepted them they’d shake hands with the sergeant. None of the presentations interested me. Mulegan was red, Deck made green, it didn’t really matter nor surprise me. I saw them reach Lyle and I tried to look over without breaking my presentation.

I saw a flash of purple and tried to keep a smile to myself. His handshake was aggressive and I saw him quickly return to presenting, tabard trim in hand.

It may not matter, but I hoped he relished his victory. His extra instruction was a lot of work for me already tired from training, but I know it was even harder on him. He deserved this win.

The sergeants made it to Rhys and unmoving I couldn’t get a good view of their exchange. I focused on shuffling my toes inside my boot. It wasn’t a discomfort thing, but gave me something to focus on other than the loud noise or bright sun. The sergeants finished with Rhys and I saw his hand fall down empty, no colorful trim dangling from it.

I was perplexed, but couldn’t take much time thinking about it before a figure stood and saluted in front of me. I returned the salute. Sergeant Talbot shook my hand, but didn’t offer me a trim, “Eternal Affairs, good job soldier.”

I looked over to Sergeant Hughes. I expected the dismissive glance I had been receiving for a while. Instead he wore a big smile, “Irritating isn’t it, the feeling of almost failure.” I smiled back, “Don’t break presenting, soldier,” he said, giving me a wink.

I returned to the rest position and felt a wave of relief momentarily overwhelm my exhaustion. I couldn’t imagine that Epswitch would’ve allowed his plans to be derailed here, but there was the thought in the back of my mind if I had been handed a red trim. Do I just live my life as a simple soldier? Forget plans of massive betrayal and just go through my day? There was an appeal in the idea of a provincial life. Long and far away from the capital, no real obligations but to stand at a gate.

I knew it was the urge to rest that captured the attraction though. That if Sergeant Talbot had offered me a red trim or eternal affairs, I would have chosen things to go exactly the same way. I was committed.

“Present Front!” We all turned like clockwork, “You are now free to relieve your soldiers. Celebrate with them!”

Bitterness cascaded through me as I stood stock still. I was expected to hold presentation until the very end. I watched as families, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and children hunted down and tapped out their missing members. The storm of people streamed through us, but were careful to not unintentionally bump into anyone. Like pylons we stood and I could see the tops of some recognizable heads. I tried to be happy when I saw them suddenly start moving, but fatigue left me resentful.

I felt a nudge on my arm. I didn’t turn to look, there were plenty of people left and it must’ve been a mistake. The nudge repeated itself with a more determined little push that caught me completely off guard.

I finally looked over just as Mason wrapped his arms around me. Rebalancing myself, I awkwardly returned the hug. I was amazingly grateful to see a friendly face, but after months of no physical contact, the sudden tangible experience felt odd, doubly so in uniform.

"I’m happy I got to you first," Mason stated. It was an oddly perplexing sentence. Mason waved to someone caught behind a couple newly minted soldiers.

Mr. Thill sauntered over and I stood stunned. "No witty remark? The military really did change you," Mr. Thill said with a grin. He offered me his hand, "Congratulations."

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"Thank you," I shook my head, still trying to catch my bearings, "I have so many questions."

"I would gamble that we all have a few stories to share," Mr. Thill responded, "There's a small tavern nearby that could hold our merry band."

The walk was a daze. I felt ill prepared to be social. I laughed politely and nodded to various remarks, but my mind had spent the day preparing for death. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and suddenly I was pushed to entertain.

As we walked into the city, I tried to realign myself. If this was my last day free or alive, I could not be luckier for the people who chose to spend it with me.

The tavern was bustling with people, something I enjoyed in a previous life, but now made me feel claustrophobic.

"How did you two get here?" I asked, taking a seat at the table, "How did you all find each other?"

Mason began with a smile, "The meet up is due to you and whatever 'special circumstances' you've managed to get yourself into. To get into the ceremony you have to state who you're there to see. When I said your name they had me wait to the side as they cleared it. Mr. Thill was already there waiting for the same thing."

Mason took a sip and Mr. Thill took it as an opportunity to speak, "I received your letter and did some asking around. Based on your entry date, I could figure out your graduation date. Since I am still under your charge, it seemed the best way to meet back up with you. The house will survive my temporary absence."

I looked expectantly at Mason, "I sold the Cloven Kettle. With a bit of time to travel on my hands, the capital seemed like an excellent idea. I admit I angled the timing to get to see you as I was taking in the sights. Oh, I sold your tub. We’ll say it officially covers the last of your account."

I was stunned, but then chuckled as my mind started to piece things together. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and then overwhelmed by the added complexity. After tonight the city could possibly be a war zone, who knows what Epswitch had planned. There was no way I could warn them, there was no lie I could devise that would explain the situation without giving away too much.

Were my friends destined to be casualties for my cause?

"We lose you, Victoria?" I heard Mason's voice cut through my deliberations.

"I am exhausted," I admitted. At least I could blame my distracted state on something believable and true.

"Did you want to grab a room and a nap? We can always meet up later or tomorrow. I heard you get your orders tonight, but they probably won't whisk you away instantly," the opportunity for freedom was on the table, for sleep in a real bed, but I couldn't take it. I wanted to be selfish and carefree for a couple hours, even if it was a lie.

"No," I said firmly, "I would love to spend the day with you guys."

"Always the social butterfly," Mason remarked, but there was a look of concern.

Mr. Thill started to regale us with tales of his long professional life to my family. He seemed more than ready to pick up the slack I was providing conversationally. I appreciated it as I leaned back absentmindedly agreeing when he would ask for confirmation on some odder experience we had shared.

Mason was in rapt attention. Even through his stories, Mr Thill stole looks at me. He had an odd expression, but I couldn’t seem to place it.

Mason picked up the next lull talking about getting the better of some land developers. They purchased off of future infrastructure expansions, but he had read of a conflict in the west and knew the first thing to be cut from the imperial coffers would be infrastructure plans. The petty kingdom of Vitrum had their regency end as the Duchess Rosario came of age. She was saber rattling against the empire.

It was surprisingly boisterous of Mason, but I could tell it was for my benefit. Of any of the stories he could tell, knowing he had secured his future through his aggressive knowledge gathering, meant the world to me.

Mr. Thill started to compare his political insight with Mason’s bookish insights. It was much more discussional than the combative late night debates I often had with him. Mr. Thill was pressing, but flexible on Mason’s takes that he didn’t agree with. He seemed comfortable to move on at any resistance.

I left them to their meandering discussion. The politics of a border dispute felt both small and overwhelming at the same time. I walked over to the bar and leaned against the counter. The owner asked what I’d like to drink. I responded with water. He didn’t give me a second look, but I felt awkward with the request.

A tavern experience with just water felt uncomfortable. I was sure the bartender had experienced it a million times, but I found my mind unable to unwrap itself from possible social faux pas. I was just a burden to this hardworking guy trying to get through the day, unaware that his life was going to come crashing down in less than twenty four hours.

As he dropped off the water. I wanted to reach out and tell him to go be with his family, friends, a lover, that none of this mattered. I mumbled a thanks into the water instead. He seemed indifferent to my response.

“I keep waiting for the punchline.”

Mr. Thill’s voice cut through my buzzing thoughts. I tried to parse it with the last thing I heard at the table. Something about glass exports?

I gave up, “The punchline for what?”

“Seeing you in an imperial uniform,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass. He looked younger than the last time I had seen him. That my arrival months ago had dusted him off and he had restarted with newfound zeal.

“It is wild,” I said looking down at my clothes. They felt normal on me. Wearing them everyday had ingrained the feel of the fabric like a loose second skin.

“So, you kill another noble, they catch you, force you to work for them,” he summarized my letter to him.

“Seems that way,” I felt cagey. This wasn’t a casual conversation. Mr. Thill was working towards something.

“Feels like there’s more to the story than that,” There it was. I wondered if Mason suspected, but allowed social convention to delay asking.

Irritation prickled around the back of my neck. Obviously there was more to it. Obviously if I could talk about it I would. What was the point of this line of questioning other than to irritate me? Did he want me to scream my assassination plans a couple streets away from the castle? “Everyone does seem to have an agenda,” I dismissively dodged.

“Make sure you keep yourself safe,” his words sounded like the end of a conversation, but he remained standing looking at me.

“You know me, I’ll always do the right thing,” I said, trying to force a smile I didn’t feel.

“That’s what scares me.”

Another conversation ender, but he didn’t move back to the table. He ordered another glass of wine and looked over our table where Mason actively seemed to be studying part of the table as if he was actively ignoring our conversation.

“You made an excellent friend in the past couple of years.”

“You mean my landlord?” I joked back. His sentence made me feel painfully alone. I was talking to an old butler who I had only known professionally for most of my life and only recently as an actual person.

Mr. Thill had a smirk, “You’re trying to diminish the relationship between you and the guy who came weeks out of his way to see you?”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t have any snarky response. I was still sort of in shock that these people were here. Despite the letters, I had mentally written off everyone. Would I have taken any risks to see them? It always felt like the opposite, I was the risk to be avoided.

“I’m heading back to the table. Take your time and we’ll be there when you’re ready.”

He left me with my head swimming. I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the throb in my head. There was a scream roiling in my mind against myself. Mr. Thill was right, of course, they were all my friends. I cared and respected them, but admitting that the day I might get them killed for being close to me felt sickening.

The plan was solid though, Epswitch had laid the bread crumbs. If things went right, my part would be overshadowed by its own results. Who would care to investigate when the world was fracturing? Well, probably many people, but who would have the time or ability.

Maybe someday it would be put together what happened, but I hoped to be far from here once it was all figured out. I thought of the Duchess Mason had just mentioned. She would be exceedingly pleased with tonight’s plans. Maybe that’s where I should run off to? Some independent duchy which had so far kept itself from imperial control.

It was as good a plan as any. I knew I didn’t have anything concrete set up. I didn’t trust Epswitch for anything and hoped that the random whims of fate had one more win as I scuttled out of the city, tagging along any caravan to anywhere.

The uniform was a risk. It could open many doors, but it could also paint a target of attention. I could use it to get out of the city and ditch it as soon as possible depending on the group I fell in with.

Or I could just die. The plan was flimsy after the fateful stabbing. Part of me, a majority of me expected that to be my last move.

My own death was feeling more and more certain, but rather than distressing me, the finality gave me a sense of peace. Everything else was a bonus. Today with my friends was a blessing.

It was hours of chatting ranging from topics of grave importance to frivolous ephemerality. I relished pestering Mason and dodging Mr. Thill’s fugitive glances. I could tell his doubts and fears wouldn’t be quelled, but they had stopped mirroring my own the second I accepted my future.

That acceptance unwound itself the second the blade was in my hand. I sat in the restroom fighting aggressively with overhydration. I had excused myself when I returned to the castle. This stage was carefully choreographed by Epswitch. On my way up to the Dark Sovereign, I would make the perfectly normal request to utilize the restroom. Another applicant without trim passed me on my way in.

Epswitch had said that it was pretty universal to relieve oneself as if applicants were worried their first move upon meeting their new master was pissing themselves uncontrollably. Considering I had taken the time to do the same as I gathered my tool for tonight, I couldn’t blame them.

The dagger was secreted away exactly where it was supposed to be. Its ruby pommeled handle was offensively ornate. If it could speak, it would probably protest being part of such treachery, or possibly revel in the infamy. No matter its feelings, it would be a dagger drawn up in books, written in stories, it would probably even get a name. It did look like the pretentious type that would want a name, something that commanded attention like “Tyrant Slayer.” A name so intentionally full of itself, except that in an hour’s time, that name would become deed.

My dress uniform did not leave much room for the blade. The patterned tunic covered in a tabard. Three little gold buttons with unique little designs were pinned to my lapel. I hadn’t started my first day and I was already “decorated.” I would’ve considered them impressive if I didn’t know their meanings: “Made it through training,” “Enlisted in the defense of the Empire,” and “Honor graduate: sparring.” I had to admit a little pride in the last one. Only two other members of my cluster had that design.

I toyed around with my belt under the tabard. By loosening it, I could secret away the knife and it should remain secure as long as I didn’t summersault into the Sovereign’s room. My hands shook as I tightened the belt. Though the belt was more decorative than functional. I could still hear Sergeant Hughes’s voice warning all of us that if we decided to get fat after training, the dress pants would be the first to let us know.

“More honest than any lover you’ll ever have,” his voice a booming echo in my head, “and will probably spend more time on your body than anyone you trick into bed.”

I didn’t have a mirror to recheck my work, but from the top of my freshly trimmed head to my overly shined shoes, I was confident everything was in order. For months, I had been forced to fixate on presenting correctly. I believe we had spent more time training to look good than anything else.

Leaving the small room, I continued towards my final destination. An open door put me in the middle of an office looking at another door. On one side sat Rhys and another trainee that wasn’t in my cluster. On the other side was a sergeant formalist in full dress shifting papers around. He looked half guard, half secretary. His uniform was decorated with numerous designs that could mean anything from honor in battle to “good conduct.” Sergeant Hughes said that good conduct simply meant four years without legal issue or as he called it “four years of undetected crime.” He said it jokingly, but then ranted about the simple awards for doing basic things like that and the tragic number of soldiers who couldn’t manage it.

I took a seat next to the unknown graduate. Rhys sat in the chair on his other side. There were three chairs total. I didn’t know if that was planned or coincidental. None of us spoke to each other. I didn’t know if there was a command before I got in or simply none of us were brave enough to interrupt the sound of loose papers.

“You know these are just leave requests for some new soldiers to go celebrate a birthday. They’re not important enough to require anyone to be quiet,” the sergeant offered, “Also you’re all just creeping me out sitting in complete silence.”

The guy next to me gave a nervous laugh. Rhys and I gave a pained smile. No one spoke up so the sergeant just shook his head and continued organizing papers, making notes, and signatures on seemingly random ones.

The door opened and we all froze. Even the sergeant in all his nonchalance stopped tapping the documents on the desk.

“Rhys,” a voice came from inside the room. It was soft and yet unyielding. It made the name sound like a request that couldn’t be refused. I could barely believe that the Sovereign could put that much meaning into a name. It felt like a parent’s ability to twist a tone into a hundred complex nuances.

I watched Rhys look back and give a little smile before he disappeared into the room and the door closed behind him. The sergeant returned to his papers obviously given up on getting anything other than awkward silence from us remaining applicants.

We sat in various poses held uncomfortably still while papers would move from one side of the desk to the other. This continued for an amount of time I couldn’t comprehend. Every second painfully inched by. I felt the flat pressure of the blade pressed on my back from where the chair pressed against it.

When the door opened, another name was called and my statuesque compatriot stood up without comment. Rhys passed by standing a little taller with a sigh and a grin. He was gone in a flash. I envied his escape from this liminal space. I looked at the other occupant. The sergeant seemed completely at ease with the most powerful person in existence being a single wall away. I couldn’t imagine a reality where the pit in my stomach ever went away being so close to the Sovereign, even if there wasn’t a blade to my back.

“Victoria Vidal.”

The nominal bell toll that was my name. I swallowed hard as I passed by the other applicant. He had a slight smirk, but beads of sweat dripped from his brow. I paused, long enough that I saw the sergeant get ready to say something, but my feet started carrying me forward. My heel strikes clicked louder against the stone floor than I intended as I marched into the room.

As I passed the door, decades of hate so long bottled in drink and distraction exploded in me. The illusion of justice and altruistic heroism shattered. I could barely see as throbbing erupted behind my eyes. Adrenaline tore through me like a storm.

Despite this chemical cascade, the second I saw Dark Sovereign, my training took over. My right hand made a fist and slammed into my chest, a perfect salute. Muscle memory made manifest, I was routine and ready.

The room was viciously bright and many surfaces held art adorned with gold. The room seemed imperious and impractical. As theatrical as any performance I had attended, just as intentional and just as fake.

The Dark Sovereign stood a couple inches taller than me. Her black dress seemed to drip off of her, the heavy fabric moved with fluidity as she returned the salute. Her features contorted for a second before falling on a smile, a polite one, no teeth and no warmth. Her sandy hair fell behind in a single braid, but some strands had escaped and looked dangerously close to falling into the brown pools of her eyes.

Those eyes ran up and down me and I instantly felt like prey. As the Sovereign held her gaze though, I felt less hunted and more purchased. She looked over me like someone judging a recent acquisition. The evil specter of every one of my nightmares was measuring me. I couldn’t tell if it was against the other applicants or something else.

“At ease,” the salute ended with the Sovereign’s words. I shifted at the command, my body stiff in “presenting rest.” The air grew still between us as I awaited her next words. She gave me one more narrow look before continuing, “Congratulations are in order.”

Her words were measured. A drop of sweat beaded on my forehead and traced its way down around my eyebrow before resting uncomfortably under my nose. I sniffled and discovered that it had been at least half a minute before I had taken a breath.

I tried to quietly and respectfully gulp for air. The scent of sandalwood and jasmine filled my nose. My wild and labored breathing now required every ounce of control I could muster. My discipline was split evenly between trying to breath and hiding my shock.

Epswitch had to have been in this room very recently with how strong the smell was. That would mean he had been recalled from his outing and hadn’t contacted me at all. The only reason he wouldn’t have contacted me was if he couldn’t contact me.

A million scenarios started playing out in my head as I mumbled, “Thank you, ma’am,” incredibly late to the Sovereign’s words. Each story had the same result, I was discovered.

I paused, no, he was discovered.

I still had the knife. I was still alone in the room with the Dark Sovereign. I could trade my life for hers, even without Epswitch.

It wouldn’t just be my life though, it’d be my friend’s lives, it’d be many innocent people’s lives in the chaos left over. As uneasy as I was with Epswitch’s web, it felt like a safety net. That when I took this damned life that the pieces would crumble into something better or at least into something intentional. Now I would be putting Mason, Mr. Thill, and Fresca into the center of a bloody riot with no ending in sight for an empty revenge that would end up killing more people.

Even if I didn’t make a desperate lunge the empire was changed forever. The Minister of Finance was very likely in a cell. No matter what I did, I may not leave this room alive, but there were people in this city I cared about. I didn’t want them going up in flames while Cardinal burned.

There had to be an exit strategy. There was only one person who knew of my plan and Epswitch would undoubtedly betray me the instant it held any value to him, but that gave me time for a gambit. A single play that would decide if I would leave this room alive.

I threw myself into a kneel. The sound of my knee hitting the stone was sickening, but luckily panic and shock already blunted the pain. It was the amount of sweat that launched itself from my forehead onto the ground that held my attention. It was a liability before, but now it might sell my desperate ruse.

In a swift motion, I pulled out the knife. My fingers were careful to hold the flat of the blade as I offered the pommel to the judge of my performance. “I was given this to kill you with. The man who planned the attack is high up in your court and I did not know who to trust. It was my hope to earn my place to speak with you and warn you of the treachery!” My voice shook and I hoped it added to my plea.

I remained staring at the floor, waiting for a blade or call for guards to come. The stones under me were pooling the deluge of sweat I unleashed upon them. I could feel the heat in my face and knew I was scarlet red. The blood rush was making me dizzy.

“Someone high in my court?” The Sovereign’s voice was chilling, “You speak of betrayal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You speak of Vincent Epswitch,” it felt like a dark cloud had enveloped the room. The candles that seemed too bright and too hot when I had walked in now felt dim and distant.

I looked up, the name was all I had to offer and the Sovereign just proved she already had it. I couldn’t guess if it weakened my position or gave validity to my story. The dice were cast though and there was no other direction for me, “Yes, ma’am.”

I felt the blade slide out of my hand, leaving so quickly that it would’ve cut me if the edge was against my skin. I remained kneeling as my leg throbbed in pain. I looked up at the devastating figure cut from horror stories made manifest as she took the blade and shoved it into her own chest.

The knife shattered and exploded into a million pieces, her clothes were unscathed from the vicious thrust, “I know, it was my plan.”

I didn’t know what to do as the Sovereign threw the empty hilt aside, dusted fragments off herself, and leaned down. Her hands slipped under my own as she lifted me up until I was standing.

“Now congratulations are actually in order,” the Sovereign beamed, “You passed the test Agent Victoria Vidal.”