Page 38 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“Go on,” our emperor grated, his voice rumbling like coarse stones.

As we advanced on the location given by our scouts, we’d seen the glow of campfires illuminating the small valley during the night—too many to be a local hunting party or roving band of traders. By the time we’d reached their location, they’d departed, leaving behind hoof prints and other remnants of recent human presence. Something had tipped them off. Or someone.

“They could be independent wanderers.”Weak, Lucien. Too weak.

“Spies from the west,” Orson said, nearing our emperor’s desk on its raised platform of stone. “Or Marsali. Those cunts are as jumpy as their horses.”

“Maybe those nasty Northmen,” Kasida supplied. “Filthy mongrels.”

The Northmen lived in the mountains north of Ourelas. Family units resided together in small villages, not submitting to any one leader. Each stuck mainly to themselves, rarely leaving the cool, rugged terrain they called home. We’d left them alone thus far, as they had us. There would be no reason for them to venture southward and court trouble.

“Unlikely,” I said before the idea could sprout. “The remains of the campsites didn’t resemble the Northmen.” The last thing we needed was a pointless war against a non-threat. This was too organized for the Northmen, too out of character. They shunned our way of life as much as we avoided theirs.

Kasida’s lips wrinkled. The dark makeup she painted over her eyes accented her grimace. She batted her lashes at our emperor, the hint of a pout transforming her features. My stomach turned. I could still see her painted lips pressed against our emperor’s, her legs around his waist, as clearly as if she embraced him now.

Emperor Ryszard ignored her and focused on Orson. “Marsali...” He drummed his fingers.

Brishon coughed and stepped forward. “We saw a few horse tracks at the campsite, but they were too small to be from the kind bred and prized in Marsali.”

“A diversion,” Emperor Ryszard replied. “Of course, they wouldn’t bring their own here.”

“We’ve had no word from our scouts along the Marsalian border,” I said. “They’d have seen something if it were spies from Marsali—or any of the western kingdoms, for that matter.”

He pinned me with his sharp gaze, therap, rap, rapof his fingers continuing against the wood. The drumming halted. “My first is wise.” He relaxed into his seat with a small sigh and rubbed at his forehead. Another headache? “If not our neighbors to the west or north, then it must be the city-states.”

Fuck all. I’d tried to dissuade him of that, but shifting the blame to Marsali or the Northmen would only earn more battles we couldn’t afford. And the western kingdoms? By The Four, if we offended them, we’d all be dead. Surely our emperor knew that. The size and scale of their cities dwarfed ours. Even as a combined empire of city-states, their armies would crush us.

“Now that we’ve settled that. Their punishment—”

“You don’t want to do that,” Warren said, just loud enough to be heard.

The comment silenced the room. He raised his head a notch as our emperor rose to his feet. The oppressive quiet that settled around him held more barely leashed anger than any words he could shout. Warren rarely spoke in these meetings, preferring to listen and keep the peace. Even so, he seemed unfazed by the heavy tension his comment had unleashed.

“What he means, my emperor, is that acknowledging these would-be rebels could give the city-states ideas or encourage others to join them.” I didn’t know where the words came from—a blessing from one of The Four? Erabus must have been watching over me. I squared my shoulders and stepped into the center of the half-circle surrounding his imposing desk. “If we acknowledge them, we admit they are a concern. But if we ignore them and take them out quietly, we can snuff out this nuisance before it has the chance to spread.”

Emperor Ryszard sat and waved his ring-laden hand, an order to continue.

“We’ll squash this annoyance before others learn of it and think to join in or mimic them. Once we have them, we can determine where they’re from and punish the responsible party accordingly.”

Oppressive silence reigned. I refused to move or blink as he considered my words.

“Let it be done.”

Praise The Four.

A few of my fellow captains visibly relaxed. Only Orson frowned.Bastard.Did his bloodlust know no end?

I gave a salute and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

One word halted all movement in the room. Our emperor’s commands carried as much authority as if he wielded magic, forcing us to obey. That wasn’t his blessing though. He could sense magic, a gift from my God, Erabus. That ability had allowed him to find us all, to take us in when the world would have otherwise left us to die.

“I don’t want this information to leave this room. Relay that to any of the men you took with you as well. No whispers in the halls, no discussions over dinner, and certainly say nothing to our honored guests. Let them…stew over it for a while. A guilty party may yet reveal themselves.” He waved his hand again. “That will be all.”

Reveal themselves? Unlikely. We read all the letters that went in or out of the castle. Our guests would have no way to know what transpired in our territory or their former homelands, not truly.

Whoever these people were, hopefully they took this near miss as a lesson and went home. Dissuading our emperor again may not be possible, and another war so soon would only result in unnecessary loss of life. Our new troops needed more training. Some of our injured still advanced toward recovery. Acting now could lead to failure—or worse, hinder our ability to maintain the empire. The thought weighed me down, making my legs sluggish.

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