Page 52 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Marcus sat to my right, his face impassive as he listened to Kalen address the gathered resistance members. Livia was on my left, her arm occasionally brushing mine, sending jolts of awareness through me even through the haze of discomfort. Across from us, Antonius loomed like a mountain, his massive frame dwarfing the rickety chair beneath him. His eyes, keen despite the half-empty tankard before him, hadn't left Livia's face all evening.
I couldn't blame him. There was something magnetic about her, especially when she was like this—focused, intense, her mind working through strategies and possibilities. The firelight caught the gold flecks in her eyes, making them gleam like a predator's in the darkness. Beautiful and dangerous.
"The smaller protests have served their purpose," Kalen was saying, his weathered hands spread on the rough table before him. "We've tested their response times, identified sympathetic districts, and most importantly, made ourselves visible to those who thought they were alone in their opposition."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. I nodded along, though the movement sent another spike of pain through my leg. The smaller demonstrations had indeed been effective—merchants "accidentally" dropping crates that blocked Imperial guard movements, street performers whose comedic routines contained thinly veiled criticisms of the Emperor, groups of citizens gathering to read aloud from banned texts. None large enough to warrant a full military response, but all contributing to a growing sense of restlessness in the capital.
"We've received word from Eastmarch," Mira continued, unrolling a map marked with small red pins. "The garrison there was overwhelmed three days ago. Local Talfen and human allies have established a provisional council."
A surge of excitement passed through the room. Eastmarch was small, a mining town near the eastern border, but it was the first time a full Imperial garrison had been defeated in decades.
"Will it hold?" someone called out.
Mira's expression sobered. "Unlikely, once reinforcements arrive from Karth. But that's not the point. The point is that it happened at all."
"And it's not the only one," Kalen added. "Similar uprisings have occurred in Westbridge and three villages along the Northern Road. Small successes, quickly suppressed, but part of a pattern. The Empire is stretched thin, responding to brush fires on multiple fronts."
My heart quickened despite my discomfort. This was what we'd been working toward—not just isolated incidents but a coordinated wave of resistance across the Empire. The pieces were falling into place.
"Which brings us to the Storm Festival," Kalen continued, his voice dropping slightly, forcing everyone to lean in. "Our largest and most important action to date."
I felt Livia tense beside me. We'd discussed the festival plans extensively over the past weeks—the coordinated demonstrations, the disruption of the Imperial procession, the distribution of pamphlets detailing Imperial atrocities. It was bold, perhaps reckless, but the symbolism was undeniable. The Emperor, exposed before his people, forced to confront their dissatisfaction directly.
"The latest intelligence confirms that the Emperor will attend personally," Mira said, pointing to a spot on the map representing the central plaza. "With a smaller guard detail than usual—he wants to project confidence, to show that these 'minor disturbances' don't concern him."
"Arrogant bastard," Antonius muttered, just loud enough for our table to hear. His massive hands tightened around his tankard.
I nodded in agreement, though something about Mira's words niggled at me. It seemed almost too perfect—the Emperor, exposed and vulnerable, exactly when we planned our largest demonstration. But the wound in my leg throbbed, distracting me from the thought before I could fully form it.
"Our preparations are nearly complete," Kalen continued. "Cell leaders have their assignments. Distribution networks are established. Safe houses are secured for those who may need to disappear afterward."
Marcus leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. "What about the dragons?" he asked, his voice carrying in the sudden quiet. "The Emperor rarely appears in public without at least a ceremonial guard of dragon riders."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Dragons were the Empire's most fearsome weapons—capable of incinerating entire city blocks, their scales impervious to most conventional weapons. Even a small contingent could wreak havoc if ordered to attack.
Kalen nodded, acknowledging the concern. "A valid point, and one we've considered carefully. The Emperor will indeed have his dragon guard, but their presence will be largely ceremonial. Using dragons against citizens in the capital would be unprecedented—too destructive, too indiscriminate. It would undermine the very image of benevolent strength he's trying to project."
"And if he does use them?" Antonius pressed, his deep voice rumbling through the cellar. "What then? We'll have led our people into a slaughter."
"We have contingencies," Mira assured him, though she didn't elaborate. "But the risk is minimal. The Emperor wants to crushour spirit, not our bodies. He needs workers, taxpayers, soldiers. Dead citizens serve no purpose."
Antonius didn't look convinced, and neither did Marcus. I could see the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows that appeared when he was troubled.
"This feels too easy," he said quietly, for our table alone. "The Emperor, with minimal guard, on the exact day we've planned our largest action? When has anything involving the Imperial family ever been that convenient?"
"You think it's a trap?" Livia asked, her voice equally low.
Marcus shrugged, his gaze fixed on Kalen as the man continued outlining the festival plans. "I think we'd be fools not to consider the possibility."
"But what would be the point?" I countered. "If they know what we're planning, why not just arrest us now? Why wait?"
"To make an example," Antonius rumbled, his massive shoulders hunched forward. "Round up not just the planners but all the participants. A public display of Imperial justice."
A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with my wound. The thought made a terrible kind of sense. The Empire thrived on spectacle—public executions, triumph parades, gladiatorial games. What better way to crush a resistance movement than to let it gather in one place, then close the trap?
"We should voice these concerns," Livia said, starting to rise.
I placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Not here," I murmured. "Too many ears, too many we don't know. We'll speak to Kalen and Mira privately, after."
