Empress Adirn 15: To Imperial Ends

               The sound of birdsong, lilting from the boughs of pristinely manicured trees, echoed around Shimmerdale’s main square. Overlooked by a collection of modest civic buildings and centred on the town well, the square itself was a patch of immaculately maintained grass, replete with wildflower, and formed the centre of the town. The faint, comforting aroma of pollen and warm earth rose up and suffused the whole town with an indomitable wholesomeness; it had no rival throughout the whole of the White Alliance.
                That same aroma drifted in through the open windows of the Shimmerdale town hall, where the alderman was sitting behind a home-made wooden desk. A few parchments listing the results of the recent census sat to one side, as well as the summary of exchange-gold that was traditionally handed between Shimmerdale and the invading Onyxian army in the regular surprise attacks. When the riders and banners of the traditional Onyxian unit had been sighted in the distance, he’d made sure to fetch the summary right away. The treasurers had been dispatched to retrieve the gold from storage and the people instructed to come out and greet their visitors.
                “So, erm, I suppose that you are here to collect the gold as a sign of invasion? I must admit that I’m surprised this is happening again so soon; we are normally more prepared than this. Two years is more typical than a few months.”
                “I’m not here to collect any gold, Alderman Accommodati.” The woman said as she sat down on a plain wooden chair. She leaned back and rested her feet on the edge of the alderman’s desk. “Nor am I here to launch our traditional sneak attack upon you. As you have said, we’re not on the schedule for that.”
                “Oh, I see.” Replied the alderman, in fact seeing far less than he usually did. “This is most unusual then; we do not receive visits from the Onyx Empire, or… or from anyone really, unless it’s about the gold. Why, erm, is it, er, that is to say… how can I help?”
                The woman smiled and looked him in the eye.
                “You need only let me wait here. I’m representing the new rule of the Onyx Empire and visiting to await a message. It will be sent here and addressed to you, but concerns me as a representative of Count Rott, general of the Onyxian army, so I must wait patiently for it.”
                The alderman tipped his head in confusion, but dared not question his guest.
                “Wonderful, I can very easily do that. You are, of course, most welcome to wait here as our honoured guest.”
                “Thank you.” She smirked.
                “Erm… is this message bringing news from events in the capitol?”
                “It very much is.”
                “Good news? Bad news?”
                “I won’t know that until it arrives, alderman. But I can assure you that once I know it, you too will be made fully aware.” She winked. The alderman swallowed.
                “When are you expecting this message to arrive? Have you need of our guest houses or local entertainments? I don’t know if there will be room at the inn for all of your riders but we can certainly arrange for the locals to lend their spare rooms to you. Would you care to take a tour of our farms and local mills while you wait?”
                “Oh, I don’t think we’ll be here for the night. A mere few hours at the most is all it’ll take, and one way or another we’ll see everything that the town has to offer. But getting to know the lay of the land and all the secret little hiding places would be no shame. Please lead the way.”
                The Rott representative’s walking tour of Shimmerdale showed her a great many of its attractions. There was the long, broad and straight road towards the Onyxian border that traditionally gave passage to the armies, the great vault-house that stored the exchange gold, and wishing well of well-wishes, into which a single coin of the exchange gold would be tossed on every retrieval to wish the defeated armies a safe time until their next visit. With great interest the representative noted the many balconies overlooking the main road, and Alderman Accommodati informed her that the people could hold joyful conversation with the Onyxians from there, without getting in the way of the wagon-train of gold.
                Around the town and out into the outskirts they wandered, and the visitor saw the fields of flax and grains. A small river ran along one edge of the town, separating it from the bulk of the fields but providing a means to turn the water-mill. Great piles of straw cut from the wheat-stalks sat nearby too, and would make for wonderful kindling, she observed to the alderman. He set all fears to rest that they had never once suffered a conflagration of the straw, and the proximity of the river would make an early dousing easy. She had simply smiled.
                When they were heading back towards the town hall for a light lunch, as the alderman put it, a messenger from the town hall came rushing towards them.
                “Alderman, sir. We have a message for you. Urgent, from Serenitas.” Asked the uncertain young woman.
                “Ah, good! This is as expected. Your message, my lady.” The alderman said. Gently he lifted the tightly rolled paper from the messenger’s hand, unfurled it and read.
                “It says… ‘Negotiations went as expected. Do what you must’.” He read, not really understanding it.
                A smirk pulled up along one side of the visitor’s face.
                “Good news then?” Alderman Accommodati asked, brightly.
                “Oh yes. Very good news indeed.” Countess Lascera replied. She whistled hard and loud; a piercing, unmissable note that anyone lurking around the town would be able to hear, and slid one hand to a dagger.
 
                “So you see, your divinity, by placing these bundles of reactive powder into the water we can create an effervescent effect! The fizzing will delight any bather, and the bubbles will last for hours, perhaps even days with sufficiently clean water!” Bathmaster Purest proudly explained, sitting waist-deep in one of the Radian Citadels many hot baths. Divine Light Thomas Dove sat facing him with a regal smile on his face and a divine bathing suit upon his body.
                “Just so, Bathmaster. This is an innovation which shall surely improve the lives of all those who bathe within our great nation.” He replied, feeling the bubbles tickle at his back. With both hands he cupped curiously at the bubbles and tried to form soft, gentle towers with them. Bathmaster Purest’s grin became ever wider as the prospect of a successful deal grew in his mind.
                From behind them the door swung softly open, and Governor Springtime hurried in.
                “Your Diivinity, Elucidator Heartswarmth, Bathmaster Purest. I apologise for the interruption but we have troubling news.” He said gravely, handing a parchment over to the elucidator with shaking hands.
                “Oh?” He took the paper and read quickly. “Oh no.”
                “What is it Hearty?” Thomas Dove called from the water, hands thick with bubbles.
                “It’s Shimmerdale, your divinity. An attack.”
                “Goodness. Empress Deepgrave wasn’t wrong about this Sinistere character failing to hold back the armies. They’re twenty months ahead of the routine at least!” He assessed, still piling suds. They were spreading at the bottom and making his tower into more of a mountain.
                “No, your divinity. It’s worse than that. She may not have been wrong about being the empire’s last hope.” Mumbled the Elucidator.
                “What do you mean by that, Hearty?”
                “It’s a massacre. They didn’t just take the gold this time; they slaughtered them all.”
                The mountain of suds collapsed and hot, bubbly water flooded the room as Thomas Dove launched himself from the bath. He strode from the room urgently.
                “Summon the generals, Elucidator. We march.”
 
                Sunlit skies had long ago given way to a roiling mass of thick black clouds. They swept overhead like an avalanche that had lost track of the ground, and carried with them the promise of a thorough soaking to come. As was often the case within the borders of the Onyx Empire, such a dousing would only arrive when it was too late to be useful to either field or flame, and then it would flood those at risk whilst failing to relieve any drought. Great works had gone into many of the drier villages to make sure that over-adequate drainage would prevent any accessible water, even in the greatest monsoons. Katherine had told Adirn all about Empress Saline Thirstbringer’s campaign to parch the land, which combined novel irrigation techniques with deep boreholes and vast amounts of shingle to draw any water immediately away from the surface. It was a masterpiece of engineering, and produced the only patch of desert for several hundred miles in any direction.
                Under the watchful gaze of the clouds, which would presumably be waiting for the worst possible moment to loose their watery ordnance, Oathbreaker Adirn sat among sacks and crates on the back of Bertha Humble’s cart. Safely nestled between two hessian bags of flour and leaning on another, she faced backward and watched the road to Serenitas grow ever further away. To either side was a woodland, or what had been a woodland until very recently. Now it was a sea of blackened pillars which had previously been trees. Checkerboard patterns of cracks ran all the way across the various conflagrated trunks, with almost sarcastically small branches that still held but a single leaf surviving the blaze. Charred earth, fallen limbs and a thick blanket of ash covered the ground as far as the empress could see in any direction, revealing a heart-breaking tale of how far and wide the blaze had been able to spread. She recognised this point in the road all too well and cursed the storm clouds above her. A day earlier, just one day, and maybe the woodland could have been spared.
                “We’ll need to leave the road soon. The clearing is a few minutes ride to the East of here.” She heard Cassandra Spite instruct. The bulk of Cassandra’s armour and uniform were rattling in a crate beyond the Oathbreaker’s imperial feet, hidden under a collection of dense, long-lasting breads, leaving her to sit up front with little more than a farmer’s garb and a chainmail shirt for protection.
                “Not a problem! The going isn’t wonderful, what with all the… you know…” Bertha Humble replied, indicating the scorched carnage which had, until recently, been a copse of trees. “… but Pixie and Petal here can see us safely across it.”
                As if on cue, Pixie let out a loud, equine sneeze. Petal ‘s ears pricked and swivelled backwards to hear what was being said about her, just in case there was some allusion to extra hay or a bag of carrots of which she needed be aware. In a few seconds it became apparent that she was not in luck this time, and the ears returned to their lazy flitting around.
                “It might get a little bumpy for the cargo, though. I hope it’s well-packed and braced back there. Especially if, somehow, one of the bags of flour has an injured foot.”
                Picking up on the devious and almost imperceptible code-language employed by Bertha Humble, Oathbreaker Adirn pressed herself harder into the flour bags around her and held herself ready for a glorious rattling. Captain Toxis, separated from her by a row of a herb sacks, was apparently doing the same.
                A few moments later, just as forewarned, there was a sharp turn to the left and the cart bounced hard up a raised bank to the side of the road. The cargo around the empress, which had otherwise been relatively calm despite the condition of the roads, decided that it could take no more of this rocky journey without protest, and erupted into violent motion. Cacophonous wood-on-wood bouncing surrounded the empress, complete with the metallic rattling of stashed armour inside the crates and flour bags slamming heavily against the sides of the cart. Those same bags against which Adirn had sought to brace herself were now using her for the same purpose, in a feat of mutual utilitarianism that she couldn’t bring herself to resent. On the other hand, she could have done without several kilos of flour crashing into her upper back every couple of seconds, especially when it folded her involuntarily into her own organs. To her left, a pair of stacked crates were making a grand performance of the newfound cargo-liberation shuffle; no longer were they perfectly aligned or neatly arranged.
                “Those bloody idiots, burning this all.”
                “I’m sure it was a mistake, Cassandra. No-one would destroy a beautiful woodland deliberately.” Bertha said, continuing her eternal hunt for silver linings.
                A dance of crates continued, bouncing, crashing and vibrating their way apart. The top one, no longer contented with its lot, was setting out on a bold journey of its own towards the edge of the lower crate and, thereafter, Adirn’s legs.
                “They definitely would and they definitely did. I watched them start the fire yesterday.” Cassandra replied. “But I don’t care about that; it’s just annoying that it’s harder to navigate now. There was a massive elm that I’d recognise anywhere to point the way but it’s… maybe that one over there? Although I don’t remember that rise. It might have been under some brambles though.”
                “We’ll find a way, or Pixie and Daisy will; I sometimes wonder if I steer them or they just take me where I need to go!” Bertha insisted with a jovial chuckle. Adirn could hear the indomitable smile on her face and willed it to turn around, so that it might see the plight of the cargo. No longer was the shaking of the cart producing a random motion in the crate stack; it had made its mind up on a course of action and moved interminably towards its imperial oppressor. The empress started to push herself up from the floor of the cart, such that a crate interception might be rendered possible, but with a bag of flour crashing into her like waves into a cliff, balance and stability eluded her.
                “It’s certainly rugged through here! What an adventure.”
                “Head further to the right around here. It’ll avoid getting stuck in the channel of an old stream.” Cassandra advised.
                Swinging round with impressive agility, the cart changed course and so did much of the wobbling cargo. The periodic impact of bag on spine ceased for a moment, but was replaced by the heavy sliding of another crate from the left, which pitched Adirn over onto her side.
                “Oh, it’s deeper here than I remember.”
                “Not to worry, the cart can manage a dip like that, no problem. We can run straight over.”
                “No.” Adirn said weakly from the back, but it was lost among the chatter of cargo. A bone-jarring slam of the cart into what was apparently a small stream bed, but felt like a bottomless chasm, finally completed the top crate’s odyssey of emancipation. Thrown into the air by the anti-social path taken through the burned woods, it managed to soar beyond the surface of its lower counterpart and, with triumph, topple over towards Adirn.
                Wood crunched. Contents rattled. Hessian tore and flour spilled freely into the cart. Adirn looked towards her legs and saw the crate wedged between its old friend and a row of sacks, one corner pointed lethally down towards her shins but held at bay by the other cargo. Perhaps they wanted to show loyalty to their empress, or maybe it was simply holding their compatriot back from doing something regrettable, but the attack on the imperial tibias was halted. The empress tried to pull her legs up and out of the way, but there was little room among the disarray in the cart. Instead she was forced to look fearfully on and hope that the shifting of goods was over.
                A terrifying few minutes later, during which Adirn could do nothing but stare at the crate’s threat to her future ambulation, the cart rolled to a stop at the edge of a clearing. It felt like her body continued to vibrate for old time’s sake.
                “I’ll just check on the carg- oh my goodness!” Bertha  exclaimed, seeing the carnage that had been wrought behind her back. “Your eminence! Captain Toxis! Are you alright?”
                “I’ve been better.” Adirn grumbled, not daring to move lest she disturb the cargo’s delicate equilibrium. “Would you please remove this box that’s about to cut my legs off?”
                “Why of course! And how polite you still are despite the fraught circumstances, eminence.” Bertha said while mantling the cart with surprising agility. “That’s the mark of someone who’s really kind, you know; remembering their manners and saying please even in times of great distress.”
                The empress declined to make any reply, lest she betray the thoughts that had lingered behind her politeness.
                “Ah I see the offending item. Let me just…” Bertha placed a hand on either side of the crate and, lifting correctly with her knees despite the awkward space, raised it upwards with ease. This would have been surprising, given how heavy the crate had been when loaded onto the cart earlier that day, if not for the sound of a lid cracking open; a dozen clay jars of lantern oil tumble dout and crashed onto the imperial legs, rather giving the easy-lifting game away.
                Not managing to maintain her regal countenance whilst prone between sacks of flour and crates of smuggled armour, the empress yelped. Clay on shin, although not as devastating as a sharp, heavy wooden corner crashing into her leg, wasn’t a welcome sensation; nor was the slow soaking of oil and grease that followed.
                “Oh… oh I do apologise your eminence, but worry not. That kind of oil comes out very easily if you wash with baking powder right away. I’ll fetch your day-bag and get you changed.” Bertha bustled, not quite guiltily.
                “Please don’t. There’s no time to worry about clothing.” Adirn replied, greasily. “Are you OK Keto?”
                “Yes, fine, eminence. Nothing more than a light tapping from this burlap sack of cushions.”
                Adirn closed her eyes and breathed out hard through her nose as she grabbed Bertha’s outstretched arm. Easily, the farmer hauled the empress to her feet and assisted her in stepping down from the cart.
                “Is there any sign of Countess Lascera?” she asked, desperately trying to think of anything but the cart journey and looking around the scorched clearing. She thereby answered her own question; aside from their own cart, and one of their riders who’d travelled ahead, it was deserted. Only the ashes of ash and elm, charcoal stumps, and blackened earth were in attendance to greet her.
                “Nothing from what we’ve seen so far.” Cassandra replied from the driver’s seat.
                “It’s a fair ride from Shimmerdale to here, eminence. It’s reasonable to expect that the countess’ force might not have made it here yet.”
                “And all we can do is wait.” Adirn muttered bitterly.  She paced along the side of the cart and grimaced at the slick sensation of lantern oil against her skin. It still left her feeling cleaner than she ever had in Viscount Sinistere’s presence, but the persistent reminder was something she could have done without. The additional requirement to stay safe around sources of naked flame, especially when she was planning a counter-usurpation of the throne, was another negative characteristic of the oiled-leg situation. Given the choice, she thought, she would have declined.
                A few minutes passed, during which Bertha and Captain Toxis made several attempts to convince Adirn to return to her hiding place, and the empress told them over again that she wasn’t going to lie down and wait in a puddle of oil. A few more passed with the empress attempting to rub charcoal on her oiled clothing to soak up the excess, until she caught sight of a glowing ember in one of the trees and elected not to inadvertently conflagrate herself. Baron Infernus would surely take care of that later on if things went badly, and there was no need to do his job for him. Further time ticked by as the oil wicked its way upwards, the sun snuck along behind the storm clouds, and they in turn roiled onward until the sky was a marbled sea of dark greys.
                Finally there came a cracking sound from the tree-line. Several of them in fact, which grew steadily in volume. Cassandra, Keto, Elizabeth, and the other palace guard who had caught them up, readied their weapons and pushed Adirn back onto the cart, largely against her wishes. Neatly avoiding the oilier patches, the empress took up her reluctant position behind a few crates of armour and prepared to step out, perfectly safely, when Countess Lascera appeared as expected. True to her excellent prediction, and contrary to the paranoia of all those around her, the noises revealed themselves to have been caused by Evi and the expeditionary force, with whom she had slaughtered the traitor-hunters, delivered the empress to safety, acted as an envoy to Shimmerdale, and, most impressively, survived a breakfast from Bertha Humble without a single ruptured stomach. There was, it seemed, nothing that these people couldn’t do. In between the ashen trees they rode, dodging burned stumps and leaping over fallen trunks. It was all very grand and impressive, but not as subtle as the empress would have liked.
                Once the non-hostile nature of the approaching sounds had been confirmed, the circle of loyal Onyxian guards allowed themselves to relax and the empress to disembark. Taking care not to topple another crate onto herself as she hopped back onto the ash-choked ground, Adirn took up her place beside Captain Toxis and nodded as Countess Lascera rode to meet them.
                “Eminence! You wanted a war, I believe? Well, I can happily report that you have one.” Evi bellowed proudly.
                “Not quite so loud, if you please.” Adirn snapped. “Everyone is expecting me to become a war-monger and I’d rather not prove them right. This is a war in appearance alone.”
                “Of course, eminence.” She said, giving the empress a quizzical look while bringing her horse to a halt. It snorted and sneezed sweaty mucus onto the ground, soon getting lost among the ash.
                “Did you see the message leave for Serenitas? You’re certain that Thomas Dove will have word that the war has been started in the traditional manner?”
                “I… yes… have you been rolling around in the embers, eminence?” Countess Lascera asked, looking down incredulously at the dishevelled empress. Her jacket was crumpled and faintly dusted with white power, her hair appeared to have been assaulted by a frenzied tarpaulin, and the imperial leggings had apparently been used in an ill-guided attempted to wipe clean every burned surface in the woodland.
                “For argument’s sake let’s just say yes and move on.” The empress said, dismissively. “You saw the message leave?”
                “Yes, eminence. I saw it leave Shimmerdale for Serenitas as per your orders.” Evi answered, rolling her eyes before setting them straight back on the task of appraising the empress’ filthy clothing.
                “Good. Good...”
                “Thomas Dove’s army will be marching as we speak in that case, eminence.” Keto reminded. “We should make haste towards the City of Torment.”
                “But what if he sees through it? The subterfuge to start a war?” Uttered the empress’ spiking anxiety, taking complete control of her mouth for the occasion.
                “There’s no way that this will go unanswered; if Count Rott’s ‘surprise’ attacks have done anything, it’s to confirm that Thomas Dove marches when Shimmerdale is robbed.”
                 Keto’s words hit like a bucket of cold, incredibly rational water and snapped Adirn out of her worrying. Thomas Dove had done this almost a dozen times and it was, obviously, the most certain part of her plan.
                “Yes. That’s plainly true, you’re right. We need to push forwards with the plan. Evi, you are to ride with us toward The City of Torment. It’s vital that you’re seen in my company so that we can claim you were never anywhere near Shimmerdale.”
                “The all-important denial phase of the plan, yes?” Smirked the countess.
                “Frustratingly, yes.” The empress admitted with a scowl. “If the White Alliance catches up to us then they’ll naturally have some concerns about the timing of the attack, and we need to deny any involvement.”
                “That… that does sound a little bit like lying, eminence. Surely Thomas Dove would understand that you have only the best intentions if you explain the situation to him?” Bertha suggested, with a tone that said that she wasn’t angry, just a little disappointed.
                “Sadly not, Bertha. Thomas Dove has been given the opportunity to understand and failed to do so on at least two occasions. I promise that what we’re doing here is for the greater good of a lot of people, but it does, this one time, involve deceiving the head of state into a sudden war.” Oathbreaker Adirn listened to her own words. “We are doing a good thing here.” She reinforced, for her own benefit as much as anyone else’s.
                “It feels strange to deliberately be doing good.” Countess Lascera observed. She’d rolled and chewed the final word in her mouth, as if trying to get used to how it felt and struggling to reconcile herself with it. “It’s not as painful for me as I thought it would be, but it was much more painful for the residents of Shimmerdale, so I suppose there’s some kind of recompense there.”
                “Kindness isn’t all stealing gold from a small village and fleeing the scene, Evi. In fact it’s very rarely that at all. This might be the one time in history in which that counts as kindness so please don’t get used to it.”
                “Be grateful that you were able to feel joy from it, so that not everyone involved needed suffer.” Bertha suggested. Countess Lascera smirked in reply but said nothing.
                “Right, well, have your people load the gold up onto the cart. There’s no time to delay. We want to be as far into the empire as possible so that if the Dove does find us, it’s clear that we’ve been travelling onward this whole time.”
                “Certainly, eminence…” the countess agreed, staring down at the empress “…are your legs oily?”
                “Don’t worry about my legs, just get the gold onto the cart.” Adirn said waving the countess away. “But, er, be careful about the puddles of oil.”
 
                Back when they’d been leaving Humble Farm earlier that day, weary from the inevitability of what had come to pass with Thomas Dove and uneasy about Countess Lascera’s mission, Adirn and Keto had thought that hiding on Bertha’s cart would make them inconspicuous. It was humble in every sense of the word, and thereby was the very antithesis of the imperial carriage they’d left parked up at the farm. Large wheels with simple, functional spokes turned on either side of plain-coloured cart, which had been painted not for aesthetics but to protect the wood from the ravages of rain and time. Nowhere to be seen were embellished designs or inset skulls. Not a single jewel had been pressed into the driver’s bench and nor had the bolts and rivets been gilded. No-one in the Onyx Empire would suspect that the cart would carry anything of value, let alone the fugitive empress for whom the usurper’s best hunters had been searching. It was with a heavy heart, then, that the empress listened to sack upon sack of gold coins jingling around while the wheels bounced between chunks of rough-hewn ground.
                “I feel that this may have been an oversight in our plan, Keto.” She confided to the captain of the guard. At Bertha’s insistence, and her oily legs’ agreement, Oathbreaker Adirn and Captain Toxis were now seated on a crate of armour, surrounded by securely constructed stacks of sacks. The mass of gold acted as sufficient ballast to pin everything in place, but the price they paid was turning their whole cart into a giant rattling coin-purse.
                “We have Countess Lascera’s whole brigade riding with us now, eminence, as well as Cassandra and Elizabeth among their ranks; any bandits who try to attack will find themselves filled with regret. And arrows. Probably a few swords too by the time we give the order to cease combat.” He observed.
                “A fair point, but it’s not the common banditry I’m worried about. If any of Sinistere’s patrols are in the area then they’ll surely try to take the gold for themselves as ‘tax’.”
                “I see no reason to believe that Lascera’s soldiers will treat bandits in the livery of Sinistere any differently to those in rags. They didn’t show deference to the traitor-hunters.”
                Oathbreaker Adirn couldn’t argue with that. In fact, it wouldn’t even hurt Evi’s cover given her track record for dealing with those who’d displeased her.
                “You know, I’d say that sleeping in a cart surrounded by a whole town’s worth of gold was a new level of decadence, but I think that even this can’t hold a candle to my bedchambers in the Imperial Palace.”
                “There are probably fewer assassins this far out though. They know where to find you if you’re sleeping in your own chamber, but out here on the road? None of them will think of that, eminence. It makes my job easier, especially while I can’t run as fast.”
                “Everything’s working out for the best then.” The empress said, sarcasm slipping out unchallenged.
                Whether it was by virtue of the fully armed escort, the driving rainstorm, or some hitherto unknown disaster, the roads through the Onyx Empire proved to be quiet for the Oathbreaker’s return journey. They were rarely busy, what with the peasantry being too busy either toiling or hanging to indulge in leisure travel, but there should have at least been evidence of armed patrols looking for deserters, or bandits hiding behind thin bushes and hoping not to be noticed. Overnight the watches saw nothing other than distant plumes of smoke; simultaneously comforting and worrying to the empress, the smoke told of fires, and the fires could only have been from an advancing military force from the White Alliance. Every day the plumes were closer than the day before; the City of Torment would soon be under siege.
                “Eminence, I’ve been thinking.” Keto said on the final morning of their travels. He wrinkled his nose at the pervading stench in which they’d been forced to sleep.
                “Yes?” She said quickly, sitting bolt upright with eager surprise. Any wisdom from the captain of the guard was gratefully received.
                “We are not far from Decaydale.”
                “I am perfectly aware of that. It’s upwind from us.”
                “Quite so, eminence.” He replied, looking at the side panels of the cart. The paint was starting to curl and peel under the acridly corrosive odour.
                “What is it you were thinking, Keto? Another aspect to our plan?”
                “Yes. Do you recall what the Mistress of Records told you of Baron Putra? About how he would poison the healers who came to help his victims?”
                “… yes…” Oathbreaker Adirn said, uneasily. She was all too curious to hear Keto’s thoughts, especially when they were freely offered, but had a sinking feeling that he was about to suggest something unpleasant.
                “And you recall who she said had prepared the draughts for him?”
                “Er…” she wracked her mind. It hadn’t been one of the rulers, nor one of the serving Dark Council, she knew that much. An almost painfully irritating itch at the back of her mind told her that she knew the answer somewhere, deep within the recesses of her memory, but it refused to come out and meet her.
                “My brother.” Keto reminded. In an almost Pavlovian response, the imperial eyes widened with recollection. “He lives nearby to Decaydale. Years of mixing foul concoctions have left his sense of smell dull enough that the stench doesn’t bother him.”
                “Yes! It was your brother!” She said, as if it proved she remembered deep down. “Your brother… there’s a lot I don’t know about you still, Keto.”
                “I fear that this isn’t the time for my personal history, eminence. But if we make a detour to see my brother then I feel that he may be able to help us. Provide us something that might be of use, somehow.”
                There it was. It was wholly inevitable from Keto bringing up the topic of a fraternal poisoner that he was going to suggest acquiring poison, but the Oathbreaker still didn’t like to hear it.
                “We can’t poison people, Keto. It’s the sort of thing I’m trying to stamp out.”
                “Understood, eminence, but he made a sleeping draught, not a poison.”
                “If the victims never woke up then I feel that the distinction is somewhat academic.”
                “But if they do wake up?”
                The empress narrowed her eyes and looked at Keto, scanning for any sign that he was trying to allay her fears while getting her to agree to a mass-poisoning. Then, hearing her own thoughts, she stopped. Toxis had proven time and again that he was loyal.
                “If they do wake up then I suppose that would be… tolerable behaviour. Not ideal but tolerable.”
                “Better than declaring a war, eminence. Much less likely to cause bloodshed.”
                “Yes, thank you for reminding me.” She snapped. “You think your brother can prepare us something to send people to sleep temporarily? As opposed to permanently, which would otherwise be known as murder?”
                “I do, eminence. We need simply seek him out. We’ve not seen eye-to-eye since I left the Church of Virum but…”
                “But you believe he remains loyal to family?”
                Keto half-choked as he burst out laughing. It was dry and heaving, as if his body was struggling to remember how it was done. Peal after peal of parched laughter shook his shoulders until he folded in the middle, hugging himself across the midriff as his face travelled down to meet his knees. At first it had been humiliating for the Oathbreaker to have such a reaction to her honest questioning, but eventually any sense of insult was exchanged for sheer intrigue.
                Lost among the various percussive sounds of the cart in motion, neither Bertha Humble nor any of the riders could hear Captain Toxis’ peculiar mirth. Oathbreaker Adirn alone was left to watch events play out, worrying increasingly for his ability to breathe. Eventually, the convulsions overtook Keto’s body completely and he stamped his feet in raucous amusement. Quickly the sharp reminder of an arrow through his foot came shooting up through is body, and with a gasp snapped him from the grips of cackling.
                “Oh, oh ow…. Oh…” He panted, half-chuckling and half sucking air through his teeth. “I apologise eminence. Truly.”
                “Quite alright, Keto. Glad to know that even you can lose control sometimes.”
                For a few moments Captain Toxis sat and composed himself, taking ever deeper breaths until he was once again the master of his respiration.
                “Better?” The empress asked, looking quizzically at him.
                “Yes, eminence. Thank you. No, it is not out of any familial loyalty “he chuckled again “that Imbibis will help us. The last thing he would feel is loyalty to anyone or anything except brewing his foul mixtures. He will help because it will aid us in delivering a blow against Viscount Sinistere. There’s nothing Imbibis would like more than to bring his liege low after a career of over-taxation and having his creations used wrongly.” Keto explained. The empress studied his face intently as he spoke, but if the captain felt anything at all towards his brother - revulsion, pride, remorse, or something else - he didn’t come close to showing it.
                “I suppose that makes more sense than my guess, given where we are.” Oathbreaker Adirn reluctantly admitted. “But every second wasted puts us closer to Thomas Dove’s military overtaking us. I struggle to see how some sleeping draughts will make deposing a usurper any easier.”
                The cart hit a particularly deep pothole in the road and threw both of them up into the air. Adirn caught herself expertly using her ribcage against a solid bag of gold, while Keto braced himself absentmindedly with his injured foot. There was a degree more wincing and sucking air from both of them.
                “It becomes an extra weapon in our armoury, eminence.” Keto explained, once the white-hot sensation from his foot had abated. “I have no intention of cutting my way through Sinistere’s entire household guard, nor do I wish for any of my own palace guards to be killed in the confusion. If we can find a way of administering Imbibis’ concoctions then we will save lives rather than taking them. You wished to avoid bloodshed; this gives us at least the means to do that should the opportunity present itself.”
                The empress nodded as pride swelled within her. Not only was Captain Toxis not planning to commit all the murder he could, but he was actually looking for ways to avoid it in future. It was a long way from the man who’d thrown an assassin from the window of her living quarters, or decapitated a priest holding a candlestick with menaces. She looked at her living proof that minds and attitudes could be changed, and decided that he was right to try to poison his former colleagues.
                “Alright, Keto. I think you’re right; we’ll meet with your brother. Do you know where he lives?”
                “Besides the fact that it’s in Decaydale, no. But there’s someone we can ask; someone with eyes everywhere in the empire.”
 
                Cold, stale air rushed out as Keto pulled the enormous, rotting doors open. As with everything in Decaydale, it seemed like they had been left at the bottom of a swamp for many years; damp, slimy swathes of the ostensibly wooden panels threatened to be smeared away under any touch, and tiny wet flecks seemed to hit the empress across her face as the air breezed past them.
                “Ugh. At least it doesn’t smell as bad inside.” She muttered, grimacing against the stench. Keto held out a hand for her to enter ahead, and pulled the doors closed behind them to shut out the worst smells that the town had to offer.
                Grime, it seemed, had been adopted as an art form in Decaydale. Only the merest dappling of sickly grey light was able to pierce through the thickly caked windows, leaving the imagination to fill in the shadowed gaps between long pews inside the church. What lingered atop grotesquely curved stone altars found no illumination from the extinguished candlesticks, as was typical of anything next to an extinguished light source, but still they made the promise that something sinister awaited.
                “Welcome, sinners, to the house of punishment and retribution. Welcome to his chambers of most unforgiving spite, where his judgement will always find you wanting, and where you will never escape the cruellest gazes or plans of Almighty Virum!” Cried a voice from the darkness, deeper into the church. It was thin and sharp, like a rusted nail being driven between flagstones, but echoed from the vaulted ceiling and filled every inch of the chapel. Oathbreaker Adirn’s eyes struggled to adjust, but she could convince herself that a part of the shadow was darker than the rest in an approximately human shape. “For what reason do you drag yourself willingly into his terrible vision?”
                “For the sake of suffering.” Keto replied. Adirn frowned up at him, but he gave her a placating look. “Virum’s weak and pathetic servants can assist him in lashing out today.”
                There was a shuffling from the silence, and the darker patch of shadow started to become more clearly human. Or at least, more clearly the shape of a human hidden by a robe that was far too large for them. The hood hung down almost to the chest, the sleeves flapped as the figure moved, and its hem dragged along the ground like a thick, black wedding-dress train. In the dim church the empress tried to picture a human of sufficient size and appropriate proportions to wear such a robe correctly, but arms were never that long in comparison to the torso, and nor could a head be so gargantuan.
                Towards them the robed figure slithered, like an unholy fusion of slug and theologian. Oathbreaker Adirn focused all of her concentration on not looking behind it for a trail of mucus, and Keto stood, favouring his good foot, stoically in wait for something or other to happen.
                “We all serve to help him lash out; some of us by providing a target for his most irrational malevolence, and others by becoming that target. Which are you?”
                “The former, by agreement of the Grand Priestess.” Keto said, with his simple authority.
                Slow and measured movements brought the serpentine sleeves up to the hood, which hung like a deflated church bell, and pushed it backwards for the better part of a mile. Eventually it unveiled a heavily lined face that did its best to display every horror it had ever seen.
                “Brother, er, Captain Toxis. This is an unexpected visit. And this must be our Empress Adirn Deepgrave.” He added with a perfunctorily reverential bow.
                “Brother Stale.” Keto introduced. Adirn muttered a greeting back, without much feeling.
                “I suppose you seek shelter for the empress? Virum’s eyes have seen events unfolding in the Imperial Palace.”
                “You suppose wrongly. We seek no shelter, and Virum does not provide it, as well we both know.” Captain Toxis corrected, directly. Brother Stale nodded with a smirk. “We are here because the church has a part to play in ending the reign of the usurper.”
                “Does it now?”
                “Yes. Send for Imbibis. He is to meet us here and provide us with his draught.”
                “A family reunion?” Asked Brother Stale spitefully. Keto’s expression was unchanged. “Is this draught to be administered via goblet, as normal?”
                “A vial, or vials, would be preferable. We’ll not be consuming it ourselves. Now go and get him.”
                Adirn cleared her throat and gave Keto a look. He tried to argue back with his eyes alone, but it proved ineffective.
                “Please.” He added flatly.
                The heavily weathered face of Brother Stale raised an eyebrow, but dutifully he shrugged and slithered towards the door.
                “You’d best wait in the Judgemental Booth.” He said as the door scraped wetly across the damp earth outside. “I will return shortly.”
                “This way, your eminence.” Keto said, limping his way towards a rear corner of the church.
                “Brother Toxis and Brother Stale, is it? Is this where you served the Church of Virum in times past?” Oathbreaker Adirn asked as she walked behind him.
                “It fell within my purview, but I didn’t spread his most interminable suffering here exclusively.” Captain Toxis replied. He leaned on the jagged, uncomfortable back rests of the pews as he moved. “Very few of those who labour under Virum’s most spiteful burden are limited to a single town or village; the fear that familiarity might breed leniency is the Cathedral of the Deep’s official line, but it has just as much to do with causing additional mental anguish by the bureaucratic process.”
                As Keto spoke the empress looked around the murky church. Although they had the appearance of seating, it seemed that the pews would have been the single least comfortable place to rest oneself during one of Virum’s Accusations. Much like the edges and backrests, the seat of each pew was an angular mass of irregular shapes that offered no space sufficiently large for a human buttock to rest easily. Wherever one placed their derriere it would be the victim of manifold high-pressure intrusions, and sitting on even the most luxurious armchair afterwards would remind them of their newfound wounds.
                “Virum really likes to see people in pain, it seems.”
                “I don’t know that Virum likes anything, eminence. It is his will that everyone should be made to suffer, including himself, according to the scriptures. Although maybe ‘scripture’ is too grand a term for the delusions of those who have taken the title ‘Grand Priestess’; you’ve met our own incumbent after all.”
                “I have, and I think I can see what you mean.” Answered the empress, as she stepped carefully around a preciously balanced display-axe.  It seemed to have been made ready to dole out accidental decapitations at the merest provocation. “You seem to know your stuff about him though. I presume that you laboured for Virum for a significant time.”
                “Longer than I wished.” He said simply, arriving at a wooden enclosure. A single narrow door led inside, while two uneven staircases led up either side of it. Much to Adirn’s disappointment, Keto held the door open for her. “This is the Judgemental Booth, eminence. After you, please.”
                Grateful that she was at least not using the booth for its ecumenical purposes, Oathbreaker Adirn stepped past her captain of the guard and refused to sit on the small stool inside; it had clearly been made by the same imaginative carpenter as the pews. Standing in the booth, it became obvious that it had no ceiling. What passed for light inside the church was able to ooze in from above, and the empress could just about make out a circle of seats that ran around the top.
                “The priests and a council of the easily offended sit around the one who is to be judged. They may look down upon them physically as well as figuratively, and may even rain stones or shrapnel on their head while they confess their shames.” Explained Keto, allowing the door to close behind himself. He limped his way inside just far enough to lean on the wall, next to the hinges, and rest his perforated foot.
                “Of course. I don’t know what else I expected from it.” The empress sighed. Taking a closer look at the floor in the poor light she could just about make out the tiny dents and scratches of debris, and a series of unpleasant, dark splashes. “I’d ask why you left the church’s service but I don’t think that requires justification. Or even explanation.”
                “I’m glad you agree, eminence.”
                There was a moment’s silence.
                “That being said…”
                “I would rather not get into details, eminence. But suffice it to say that a previous ruler saw my talents within the Rector’s Guard and I was all too happy to leave Virum’s service.”
                Oathbreaker Adirn nodded quietly. Nothing like a parish service to prove one’s military acumen.
                “The church just… allowed you to be taken then?”
                “Choices were thin on the ground for them. Although they would have preferred for me to be executed than leave Virum’s spiteful gaze they couldn’t match Empress Disappropriata’s acquisitional might. Numbers very much make the difference when it comes to disarming and kidnapping priests.”
                “Sage advice indeed, although I hope not to need it myself.” Adirn decided. Silence fell again. There was something about being within the Judgemental Booth that made her feel small, worthless and weak. Much like when she’d stood at the base of the Cathedral of the Deep, it seemed that her speech was dulled and robbed of its resonance by subtle geometries surrounding her. No doubt the words spoken above would boom and echo, dominating those to be judged and rendering their self-defensive cries all but inaudible.
                Keto and Adirn waited within the Judgemental Booth for nearly half an hour until the doors of the church opened up once more. Although the sounds were muffled by their enclosure, the wave of putrescent odours that swept in from outside couldn’t be held at bay by anything in the church’s power, and the empress was left with no doubt that Brother Stale had returned. When footsteps echoed like beats on a drum through the booth, she knew that he and another were ascending the external steps and preparing to lean over them in judgement.
                “Brother.” Came a hoarse and cracked voice from overhead. It sounded a lot like that of Keto himself, if he were to have drunk a flagon of coarse rock salt immediately before speaking, but no face had become visible.
                “Greeting, Imbibis. Did Brother Stale pass on our orders?” Keto called up.
                “Cutting straight to what you need are you? He repeated the words you told to him, but you know better than to think that you can order me to do anything. I obey only the laws of physiology, specifically those that determine how such physiology can be shut down one piece at a time. But how have you fared in these long years, Keto? It troubles me to hear how many rulers have been lost under your watch.”
                Captain Toxis bristled and scowled.
                “Better to stand and fight and lose than it is to poison someone while they sleep. Your successes have landed you in a pile of rot in Decaydale, so question your own before you question mine.” He snarled back.
                “Wouldn’t want to disobey the empress’ lapdog now would I? Otherwise I might feel the wrath of you standing by and letting her die.”
                “This doesn’t seem productive.” Adirn tried to interject, but her words fell flat in the booth.
                “Many have fallen by my blade, Imbibis. You are no different to any other common assassin so I advise that you watch how you speak to me.”
                A head popped suddenly into view at the edge of the booth’s aperture. Long, limp and grey hair hung away from a gaunt face that carried an upsetting similarity to Keto. Its forehead was taller and jaw narrower, but there could be no denying that those eyes and that nose came from the same stock as her captain of the guard. The ravages of time and, perhaps, a life spend hunched over noxious tinctures and potions had taken a devastating toll on Imbibis, it seemed.
                “Assassins are paid to do nothing but end lives, as well you should know. I am an artisan, a creator, a revolutionary. A mere assassin would give their tongue, eyes and spine to be me!” He drily growled back. Adirn wanted to drink a whole river dry out of sympathy for his throat, but shuddered to think about any water source in Decaydale.
                “Toxis’!” She shouted. “Stop it. We have need of your sleeping draught, Imbibis. Would you please hand it over to us?”
                “And you must be the false empress I have heard so much about from Emperor Sinistere’s agents? Awfully kind of you to lock yourself in a booth for me. I can hand you over much more easily now.” He sneered at the empress, but his eyes did not move from Keto, goading and baiting a response. To his credit, it got one. The uncomfortable stool was airborne before Adirn even knew what was happening, and narrowly missed Imbibis’ head.
                “That’s how you ask for my help, is it?”
                “I do not ask, I order. You will assist the true empress Adirn Deepgrave in ascending back to her throne and quashing this coup.”
                “And why will I do that? So that I may be hanged or locked up as a poisoner? So that my craft may be outlawed?”
                “You will not be hanged or punished if you help me, Imbibis.”
                “Is that a threat?”
                “Not even close, and you know it perfectly well.” Adirn said sternly. “We will deal with the issue of your questionable practices at a later date, but you have my word as empress that harm will not befall you by my order, whether or not you help me.”
                Imbibis smirked and then shrugged.
                “It sounds like I have nothing to fear and no reason to help, then. Goodbye brother.” Imbibis’ head disappeared from sight. As Adirn made to stand up and rush out of the booth to intercept him, there came a rushing of footsteps, a gasp, and then a crash. Half a second later, Imbibis reappeared, dangling into the booth from above by his feet.
                “Unhand me! Bring me out of here!”
                “Almighty Virum has an accord with the empress, Imbibis. He looks particularly spitefully on those who deny her assistance when that is his will.” Said Brother Stale, incredibly calmly for one dangling a grown man by the ankles.
                “You’ve blackmailed the Cathedral of the Deep?” He cried. “That’s… unheard of.”
                “I’ve blackmailed a lot more than that, sadly.” Admitted the empress. “Can we let him down? This isn’t how I wish to conduct business.”
                “Brother, we are offering you the chance to strike at Viscount Sinistere the usurper.” Keto said, ignoring the empress’ protests. “Would you not like to see him crushed and removed from power? Would you not prefer to free yourself from the shackles of servitude to that greasy wretch? The choice is yours, of course, but the Church of Virum will have their own choices to make about you in turn.”
                Imbibis looked stonily at his brother, weighing up who he despised most. Everyone, he decided. But one battle at a time.
                “Here.” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a corked glass vial. “This will be enough to put Sinistere to sleep permanently.”
                “And if we don’t use enough?”
                “Then he’ll go to sleep temporarily and wake up with a very sore head. That choice, I believe, would be yours, but be warned that he has called for war. So if you’re going to do something, make it last.”
                “Good enough.”
                “Wait, he’s called for war?” Asked Oathbreaker Adirn, feeling a pit forming in her chest.
                “Oh yes. Did you not notice how empty the streets were? How few bandits are patrolling the roads?”
                “They’re always empty here.” Keto said.
                “Not as empty as this.” Imbibis snapped back. “The palace has called for all bodies, able or otherwise, to prepare for battle with the White Alliance. And when I say called, I mean conscripted. I will have no-one left to purchase my poisons and no-one to whom to administer them if this kicks off. So kill him and put a stop to it, and then watch what you drink brother. I may leave a surprise in it for you.”
                “I thank you for the warning, brother.” Keto said with a forced smile, before turning to the door.
                “You have my thanks too, Imbibis. The crown will be indebted to you for your assistance. Now, please pull him back up, Brother Stale.” The empress requested.
                “May we never meet again.” Imbibis called. Keto raised a hand and kept limping on.
 
                “Count Rott has made his move faster than I thought.” Adirn said. She sat on her throne of crates with Keto to one side of her. Countess Lascera rode abreast of them. “Sinistere would have been too weak or stupid to stop him.
                “Auros was likely something to do with it.” Evi opined. “Few have a thirst for blood like hers.”
                “It’s vital that we get to the City of Torment before Thomas Dove does. If the peasantry have been forced into service then Sinistere is simply offering them up for slaughter; they’ll be eviscerated by the White Alliance’s military.”
                “That’s what they’re for, isn’t it?” Countess Lascera asked, puzzled. The empress gave her a warning scowl. “No, of course not your eminence. That was an outdated thought.” She corrected, quickly.
                “The White Alliance has been catching us up for days, eminence.” Elizabeth observed. “I don’t think you’ll have long. In fact, I’d be surprised if they don’t overtake us on the way there. This stop in Decaydale might have made us lose the race.”
                Keto’s brow furrowed and he knitted his fingers together.
                “Are you sure, Elizabeth?”
                “Their fires were practically on top of us last night, captain. I would have put them a few hours behind at best and they’re moving faster than us.”
                “Daisy and Pixie aren’t the quickest movers but they’re honest and they work hard. I can’t ask more of them than that.” Bertha added happily.
                “Then they’ll definitely overtake us. Thomas Dove’s army will kill everyone I’m trying to save.” Lamented the empress.
                “Have you tried asking him not to? It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d enjoy doing, so maybe you could explain to him that you need to take care of some business with this usurper chap first.” Bertha suggested. Adirn rolled her eyes.
                “As I said before, every other time I’ve tried to win him over he’s refused to help me, Bertha. I’m sorry but he just doesn’t trust a word I say.”
                “He’d trust me I bet! I can vouch for you.”
                “That’s very kind, Bertha, but it feels like a waste of time.”
                “Oh rubbish! No it isn’t! Trying your best and asking someone for help is never a waste of time. Besides which, I said I would help you and that’s what I’ll do in any way I can. And besides those besides, if he’s going to overtake us then what difference does it make whether you try to talk to him or not?”
                The empress opened her mouth for a rebuttal but, as seemed to happen too many times in her life, nothing came out. She appealed to Evi and Keto for help, but they were also at a loss.
                “You might just be on to something there, Bertha.” She reluctantly conceded. “If you can convince him to wait for a day, or even a few hours, then we might be able to… to do something. I still don’t know what, but something.”
                “That’s the spirit! And there’s no sense in wasting time by continuing to run away; we should stop, rest the horses, and wait for his divinity to catch us up.”
                Adirn sniffed at the air.
                “Can we wait until we’re a little further out of Decaydale please?”
                Bertha beamed an enormous smile and nodded.
                “Of course, eminence! A bit of fresher air would be best before meeting with his divinity. Smells this interesting are likely to distract any kind of conversation, after all.”
                “I’m more worried that it might start to dissolve my sinuses.”
                “I think Imibibis has a tincture that’ll do that, you know?” Countess Lascera smirked. “Are you sure he didn’t give you the wrong bottle?”
                The empress looked at her, worriedly.
                “Well now I’m not, no.”
                “It’s fine, your eminence. I’d recognise this anywhere. We saw enough of it as children when father would dose the local well to assist in his redistribution of resources around the town.” Keto said softly. “As Imbibis said, anyone who has a little will wake up in considerable discomfort, but they will recover, and their sinuses will remain intact.”
                Taking comfort in the knowledge that she wasn’t planning to deconstruct anyone’s head from the inside, Oathbreaker Adirn and her retinue travelled onward until the road lost its sludgy, rotted covering. Mercifully upwind from the foulness of Decaydale, Bertha pulled Daisy and Pixie to a halt on a broad patch of poor, scrubby grass and released them from their harnesses. All Adirn and her cohorts could do was wait.
 
                True to Elizabeth’s assessment, it did not take long for the White Alliance’s scouts to catch up to the stationary cart. From what the empress knew of scouting in warfare, it generally served well to be clandestine and camouflaged; remaining unseen was part and parcel of gaining some advantage from the reconnaissance. This wisdom, it seemed was not shared by the White Alliance, as Oathbreaker Adirn watched their approach with curiosity.
                They rode quietly enough up the road. Each of them wore strips of bandage over their mouths and noses in a vain attempt to ward against the silent but obvious assault on their respiratory systems, and this aided in some level of identity obsufcation. The problem arose, however, in the decision to bedeck them in bright robes with reflective silvered emblems on the chest. Their helmets were tall and polished to a mirror sheen, with exotic plumage rising higher still above their peaks. Everything on their body that could have been white was white, and those elements which needed to be forged from metal were buffed up to perfect reflectivity. Riding along the road on pure white stallions that practically glimmered in the daylight, it was impossible for them to slip beneath the attention of any observer; if anything they actively encouraged and drew in the gaze of anyone in eyeshot. Even the thick layer of Decaydale slime that coated the hooves and lower legs of their mounts couldn’t detract from the image of pristine perfection that they portrayed to the world.
                “Good day Bertha Humble!” Called the lead scout, from an unreasonable distance. Her voice carried impressively and would surely have been heard for miles around.
                “My goodness me! Is that little Kelly Kindness? How wonderful to see you!” Bertha boomed back, throwing her arms out wide to prepare for the hugging of a lifetime. “I didn’t know that you were in the military now!”
                Sitting almost directly behind the thunderous Bertha Humble, the empress covered her ears reflexively at the sonic assault. Her voice shook the crates and rattled the gold as it projected.
                “Oh yes! For a few years now! I have been meaning to stop in and visit you, but the job keeps me awfully busy!” The apparent Kelly shouted back. “You know how it is with preparing to defend against the Onyx Empire every other year!”
                In any other land, flocks of birds would have panicked and fled from the trees at such loud, sudden noises. The Onyx Empire, however, was suspiciously bereft of songbirds, or any other kind of quaint forest wildlife for that matter. The only creatures who could hear the deafening conversation were worms, and their ability to burrow left them rather unconcerned.
                “You needn’t justify yourself to me, Kelly! Just know that my door is always open to you and the family.” Bertha affably bellowed in reply.
                Oathbreaker Adirn kept her hands defensively over her ears to weather the thunderstorm of conversation going on between Bertha Humble and her distant acquaintance. Keto was bravely enduring by her side, and the rest of the riders had moved away to an aurally safe distance.
                “So what brings you into the Onyx Empire yourself, Bertha? There’s a war on, you know? You should be very careful that you don’t get caught up in any military action.”
                “Well I don’t want to blow my own trumpet, but I’m actually privileged enough to be here with the Empress Deepgrave! She’s in my cart here. There was a bit of a misunderstanding which looks a lot like a coup, so I thought it best to help her out.” Announced Ms Humble, throwing any notion of secrecy very much to the wind.
                “Oh my! That’s very kind Bertha, although perfectly expected of you, of course.” Laughed Kelly. Despite having come much closer, both Berth and Kelly were still shaking the ground itself with the sound of their voices. If they kept this up when face-to-face then Adirn feared there might be some kind of calamitous explosion.
                “It’s what any of us would do for a stranger in need. Not that she’s a stranger any longer, are you my love?”
                Oathbreaker Adirn was shocked not only at being brought into the conversation so suddenly, but also at being referred to as anyone’s love. She’d become so used to being insulted, referred to as an Oathbreaker or Denier, introduced as diabolical, accused of being a liar and torturer and so forth that a positive epithet was impressively jarring.
                “Er… um… no I suppose not.” She managed to stammer out, at barely a quarter of the volume that the others had employed.
                “You see! We’re friends, and the empress has my full support. She is just lovely, and might I add her pastry selection intuition might be the best I’ve ever seen.” Bertha praised. Kelly’s face was now sufficiently close to see her smile. It was simultaneously comforting and unsettling, especially with the Onyxian retinue taking increasingly defensive positions.
                “Stand down everyone. The White Alliance are here with the same goals as us.” Adirn announced theatrically, feeling a bit silly afterwards given that they’d all been part of the planning and conversations earlier. “I am Empress Adirn Deepgrave. I presume I have the honour of addressing representatives of Divine Light Thomas Dove’s vanguard.”
                “Ha! You were right at how lovely the empress is, Bertha.” Kelly called back. She could easily have spoken at a normal level by now, but seemed to be enjoying shouting too much. “You are quite correct, eminence. It pleases me to see that you have found the company of Bertha Humble, who may be the most wonderful human to ever grace the White Alliance. Have you tried one of her extreme-weather pastries? They’re a real delight.”
                “I have, in fact.” Replied the empress. This wasn’t quite the direction in which she’d expected the parlay to go. “They are a true delight, and Bertha is a wonderful pastry chef. But leaving aside the wondrous creations of Bertha’s kitchen-“
                “And they really are wondrous.”
                “Oh stop it, both of you!”
                “-I fear that we have urgent business to discuss. We are on our way to try to resolve the terrible situation in the City of Torment, and remove the usurper Emperor from the throne. When we noticed that there was an army from the White Alliance marching behind us we feared that the worst may have happened, and knew that it would be best to speak to his divinity in person that we might understand how best to proceed.”
                “That, your eminence, is possibly the most thoughtful, rational and insightful response to a set of tragic events that I have ever heard, especially from a ruler of the Onyx Empire!” Kelly said emphatically. Her companion nodded with great enthusiasm, such that his plumed helmet looked a lot like a displaying peacock. “We would be all too happy to bring you back to the main force with us, that unified plans may be made. We’d hate for you to be caught up in the unpleasantness when we put any aggressive legions to the sword.” She smiled broadly.
                “Yes… I would also hate that.”
                “And they will be put to the sword, eminence. The White Alliance is very efficient in that regard, for all their talk of loveliness and mercy.” Keto murmured in her ear. Adirn nodded.
                “Then please, let us be off. We would not like to waste any more time, such that my people’s lives may be saved.” She instructed.
                “Would you do the honour of riding with me, eminence? I should love to introduce you personally to his divinity.” Kelly asked. “My saddle has ample room for two. And Bertha, I should love for you to accompany us by riding with Trevor here.”
                “Trevor Rejoiceman, Ms Humble.” He said with as much of a bow as could be managed whilst armoured and in the saddle.
                “Evi, please attend us.” Oathbreaker Adirn requested. “Keto, are you able to ride with her?”
                Countess Lascera pulled a face like she’d just smelt Decaydale again, but Keto simply nodded and limped his way towards her horse.
                “Is that really necessary, eminence?”
                “Yes. It is.”
                Evi sighed unhappily.
                “Fine. But I refuse to remove my rear-facing daggers so try not to impale yourself.”
                “My chainmail kept them at bay last time, Countess. I shall be fine.” Keto replied, and much to Adirn’s surprise Evi blushed a little.
                “Ah. Yes. Well then.”
                Leaving Cassandra and Elizabeth under strict instructions to look after Bertha’s cart, Daisy, and Pixie as if they were the empress herself, the party of dual-riders made their way back towards Decaydale and the White Alliance’s marching force.
                The ride was but a short one, and filled with idle chatter between Bertha and Kelly about the local goings on around Humble Farm, the quality of their latest batch of pumpkin pastries, and various socio-political matters from Serenitas. The mixed bag of topics showed no sign of abating as the broad, marching ranks of soldiers from the White Alliance came into view. Had it been a sunny day, reckoned the empress, she might well have been blinded by the bright white and silver uniforms that made their way across the dank, grey land. Even with the persistently threatening clouds overhead they practically illuminated the landscape. More people than she’d ever seen gathered in a single place, including even her own coronation, were advancing on the City of Torment with the clear intention of cutting down anyone who’d been pressed unwillingly into the service of the real aggressors. The impending injustice that their march signified made the empress feel a little less guilty about all the lying.
                A few ranks back, but still surprisingly advanced among the totality of the army, was a small cluster of particularly decadent riders. Their livery took ostentation to an extreme beyond that of the common soldiery, with a small empire’s worth of jewellery studded into various places around their armour and tack. There could be no doubt that Thomas Dove was riding within that entourage, at the dead centre of the group. In an attempt at symbolism which made even his penchant for chaises-longue appear subtle, two enormous silver wings extended from the back of his breastplate, rising a clear three feet above his head and displaying an array of iridescent, pearled-silver feathers to those marching behind. If his opinion of himself got any higher, thought the empress, he would be at a very real risk of suffocating in the vacuum above the clouds. At least he was more visible to Almighty Virum than anyone else, she consoled herself, so perhaps the clouds would yield lightning after all.
                Right on cue, there was thunder. But not from the clouds.
                It began as a low rumble, starting almost imperceptibly from the edges of hearing and growing practically without notice until it managed to creep into the imperial consciousness. Like the first breeze that heralds a hurricane, Adirn just about managed to pick out a voice in the deep, guttural cacophony.
                “Hello Bertha!” It said. The empress covered her ears just in time for the thunder to fully clap.
                Although the sound of marching feet had been muted by the soft, rotten clay on which they walked, the army had found another way to shake the ground with its advance. Several thousand voices rang out in excited unison to greet Bertha Humble who, it seemed, was the most popular and well-loved individual in the entirety of the White Alliance. Keto was next to follow with covering his ears, shortly before Countess Lascera threw down her reins and followed suit. Her horse, suddenly finding himself without guidance, took the opportunity to dash forwards, then stop and try to eat. The grass in Decaydale naturally left a lot to be desired, and so the horse trotted its way off the path to search for anything that looked remotely edible. Adirn watched with mild, futile concern as her bodyguard and only loyal noble were carried away by a disobedient equine, but knew that trying to call to them, Trevor, Bertha or even Kelly would be pointless over the tsunami of greetings and enquiries about parental health.
                It took a few minutes, but eventually the air stopped vibrating around the empress. Oathbreaker Adirn tentatively lowered her arms and allowed the general swell of conversation to wash around her. In the middle distance she could see the shape of Countess Lascera’s horse, having given into negotiations with his bridle, cutting a line through the marching infantry. Thankfully he still had both Evi and Keto in tow. In a display of surprising grace, Divine Light Thomas Dove at least allowed them to reconvene before calling out.
                “Empress Deepgrave! Yet another meeting between us. How fortuitous. And is that… Bertha Humble! I should have known that only you could bring my marching army such happiness in this place of… adventurous smells.”
                Adirn pinched at the bridge of her nose.
                “It is an honour to make your acquaintance again, your divinity.” Bertha called back, conducting yet another shouted conversation with someone she was actively approaching. It was a wonder her throat hadn’t blown out.
                “We shall hurry over.” He declared, as if reading the empress’ own thoughts, and trotted to meet the scouts, along with his entourage. Predictably he was joined by the four illuminators, but Elucidator Heartswarmth appeared to be conspicuously absent.
                “Here we go then, eminence. You can make your case.” Berth said encouragingly. She gave a small smile, and Adirn couldn’t bring herself to stay frustrated about all the shouting.
                “Yes. Once again I shall try.”
                Kelly and Trevor pulled their horses to a stop, while Countess Lascera negotiated with hers to forget the notion of freedom it had so fleetingly tasted, and before Oathbreaker Adirn knew it she was riding side-by-side with Divine Light Thomas Dove.
                “Hello, your divinity. It is good to see you again. I see that your armies are marching.” She said, voice trembling. She’d never been a good liar, nor was she well-practiced at hiding the truth. It had been hard enough in his Elucidation chamber, but now that war had been sparked, fears of her actions being discovered extended their tendrils all the way around her mind.
                “Yes, they are. Your prophecy of war came true very shortly after you left my citadel, your eminence. Shimmerdale has suffered its worst attack in the history of our empires.”
                Adirn frowned and shot a look at Countess Lascera, but she was too busy trying to stop her horse from mugging a soldier for the rations in his pack.
                “That is a great tragedy, and I offer my apologies for what they are worth.”
                “Accepted, of course.” Thomas Dove said, waving them away. He seemed more weary than the empress had expected. “It brings me comfort to know that you won’t be caught in the melee when our armies clash with the treacherous forces who raided our borders. “
                “Then you plan to do battle?” Adirn asked, feigning shock for reasons that even she couldn’t work out.
                “That is traditionally the purpose of an army, yes.” Illuiminator Verity replied.
                “She’s right, you know.” Bertha agreed.
                “We didn’t march for the pleasant aromas of your towns and meadows.” Illuminator Summers added.
                “Certainly not!” Thomas Dove said, earnestly. “These are some of the worst odours I have ever experienced. But pray tell me how it is that you have been able to return so easily this time? I believed you to be hunted like a wild animal by the usurper’s forces?” His tone changed effortlessly from the friend to the accuser.
                “I have Countess Lascera and her forces to thank for that. It was her intervention that saved me last time, and they have safeguarded me through the empire since. But it has been suspiciously empty and quiet.”
                “I observed the same! This Emperor Sinistere is clearly mustering the largest army that the Onyx Empire has ever fielded, and means to carry on as he started with the atrocities at Shimmerdale. But fear not, any who draws a sword for that tyrant will be slain by the weapons of righteousness.”
                “No, your divinity. You mustn’t!” Adirn declared. All heads turned to face her, even Kelly’s in a remarkable feat of neck flexibility. “They are simple, oppressed farm folk and peasants. It would be tantamount to genocide if you meet them in battle.”
                “You wish for us not to do battle?” Illuminator Honourborn chuckled in disbelief.
                “We should just lay down our arms and allow their injustices to continue?” Questioned Illuminator Luminance.
                “They have been forced into this; conscripted by the usurper into laying their lives down for him. They do not wish to fight you, nor are they capable of defending themselves.” The empress pleaded.
                “She wishes for us to allow their invasion to occur unimpeded.” Accused Illuminator Verity. “It was her plan all along to trick us into funding their army, and then sending ours out of Serenitas under false pretences, before finally ordering us to refuse to take up arms against the simple folk. Surely you must see, your divinity, that this traitor empress, this Onyxian, has been playing us for our kind and honourable behaviours all along.” Rachael prosecuted, drawing her sword and pointing it towards Adirn.
                Thomas Dove’s expression darkened as he considered Rachael’s words. Suddenly the empress found herself sweating, and intensely aware of every last blade around her. She’d willingly been carried into the viper’s nest and now its fangs were bared. After surviving the assassins, nobles and clergy of the Onyx Empire for two months, whilst being the most reviled ruler in their history, was she really to fall to the White Alliance by handing herself over? She’d long ago foregone the notion of justice for her deeds, but if she was to be executed by Thomas Dove’s forces then it should at least have been for the deception she’d planned, rather than the one they’d fabricated.
                “This empress must have known of the attack on Shimmerdale when she visited us last, and then hoped to goad us into declaring war first to make it look like a counter-attack!” Illuminator Verity continued, pouring her venom into Thomas Dove’s ear.
                “There is a remarkable feasibility to this, empress.” The Divine Light said. “What say you?”
                “I did not start this war!” Oathbreaker Adirn Deepgrave the Denier cried.
                “You dare to lie and deny even as the facts are laid in front of us all!” Rachael barked, swinging her horse around and swiping out to deliver a backhanded blow to Adirn’s cheek. The empress shrieked and raised her arms over her head.
                From beneath her muddied and charcoal-stained sleeves Adirn saw Keto Toxis steer Countess Lascera like a rein proxy to control her horse. In a flash his sword was unsheathed and soaring through the air. Steel clashed briefly against steel, and then there was a duller, wetter sound. Rachael Verity’s sword spun away into the air. As did her forearm. With a scream she watched it land with a squelch in the grey clay below, before following it down.
                Every weapon around the empress was drawn and directed at Keto, who wheeled Lascera around to position himself between the other Illuminators and the empress. Dozens of infantry formed a ring around them with pikes drawn and faced inwards.
                “You attack my illuminators!” Bellowed Thomas Dove. “Seize them!”
                “None will harm my empress.” Keto defied, as Countess Lascera drew her own blades.
                “My arm!” Complained Illuminator Verity, sinking gradually into the foul earth, while her three compatriots drew their weapons and moved to encircle the Onyxian’s. Kelly and Trevor were left feeling rather at a loss of what to do for the best.
                “This is the end for your reign, Empress Deepgrave. Your deceit would have my people slaughtered!” Thomas Dove shouted, blade in hand. It was a broadsword of shining silver, with golden filigree on the handle and rubies set into the cross-guard, and it too was directed straight towards her face.
                “Whoa! Whoa! That is enough!” Boomed Bertha Humble. The ranks fell silent and many of them reflexively drew their weapons back to their sides. Even Thomas Dove looked her way.
                “Please, Ms Humble! This is a matter of war.”
                “No it is not! It is a matter of good manners and understanding!” She shouted back. “Empress Deepgrave here has been nothing but a delight to me and mine when visiting. She has done her best by her own empire, she has come to you in good faith three times for help and what has she received in return? Accusations, distrust, insults, and now attack by our Illuminators! They’re supposed to be the best of us!”
                Adirn sat agape behind Kelly, who wore the expression of a five year old watching a friend’s parent lose their temper.
                “The empress’ guard just cut my illuminator’s arm off!”
                “Because she made to strike the empress. I won’t say it was the kindest response” She said, giving Keto a look “but nor was it unexpected. He is a loyal man, and loyalty is what he has shown. Nothing more.”
                “You… yes, these actions are regrettable but it doesn’t change the fact that she is deceiving us into-“ Thomas Dove stammered, but Bertha shut him down again.
                “Empress Deepgrave, not ‘she’, is doing nothing of the sort! I give you my word, on my reputation, that I can personally vouch for Adirn Deepgrave and her testimony. If she says that she speaks the truth then the truth is what has been spoken! You are the head of the most glorious and righteous empire in the world and you will act like it! Now apologise!”
                Thomas Dove flapped his jaw uselessly, then turned to Adirn. He was as shocked and confused as Rachael had been when her arm became half its previous length.
                “I’m sorry, your eminence. I have not given you the respect I should have done.” He said, nervously.
                “I… thank you Bertha.” Adirn replied. “And I accept your apology, your divinity. I too am sorry for the injury done to Illuminator Verity.”
                A swarm of triage doctors had gathered around Rachael and her severed limb.
                “She will be seen to by the best we have.” Replied his divinity. “But please, these are urgent times. What did you wish to ask of me?”
                “I would have you stay your armies, but just for a day. Draw the Onyxian army from the City of Torment but do not engage them in battle, I beg you. Give me a day to deal with matters in the Imperial Palace and depose the usurper without my people’s blood being spilled in a war they did not choose.” Adirn said, as succinctly as she could. A rising, sick feeling was trying to pervade her, and it could equally have been anxiety at Thomas Dove’s response, the sight of Rachael’s arm, the smell of Decaydale, or a newfound fear of Bertha Humble.
                “We would lose much of our advantage by giving the Onyxian military a day to prepare.”
                “They are peasants. Even prepared peasants pose no threat to you.”
                “A peasant with a weapon is a soldier, and they will try to do harm to my people! I have already lost a whole village, slaughtered by this usurper’s invasion and I do not wish to lose more.” He growled.
                The blood left Adirn’s face and pooled in her stomach. Lascera must have sent the news herself, with rather extreme embellishments, in order to provoke a reaction from the Divine Light. Apparently it had worked tremendously well.
                “I… I didn’t realise. I am sorry, your divinity. But these forces are made from the people of villages like Shimmerdale. Perhaps you would not so easily write them off as soldiers if they were your own? You know now what it feels like to lose so many from within your borders.”
                Thomas Dove breathed heavily.
                “It is a tragedy. And one that the White Alliance has played a part in inflicting, if unwittingly. But you cannot ask me to trade the lives of mine for yours.”
                “It is just one day, your divinity. If the empress’ plan works then there might be no bloodshed at all. Is one day not worth the chance of saving thousands of lives?” Bertha asked, making it fully clear that it wasn’t really a question.
                The divine nostril’s flared. He seethed at Adirn’s impertinence and Bertha’s dominance, their failure to defer to his ultimate authority. Tut then something softened inside him and he deflated slightly.
                “Fine. If you have won Ms Humble to your side then you must know something of the truth and respect. She is a force to be trusted and her judgement is to be respected. You have you day. What is your plan?
                Adirn’s mind fell blank. She’d been totally unprepared for Thomas Dove to actually listen to reason, but she had to say something.
                “We… we will infiltrate the Imperial Palace under the guise of Countess Lascera returning to court. With the army drawn out there will be only a scant guard left, and we will be able to strike directly at the usurper; capture him and bring him to justice. We will then send orders to our armies and to stand down.” She said, trying to omit the messier details.
                “I see.” He replied. “It will have to do. Have you need of any of my forces to aid you?”
                “I… wow.” Replied the shocked empress. The change in Thomas Dove was severe; almost as severe as Bertha Humble’s long, imposing shadow. “No, I don’t think so. My own may blend in, and they know the lay of the palace. Your people would only be at risk.”
                “Understood. You will have your day, Oathkeeper Empress Deepgrave the Honest.” Thomas Dove said, with a shallow bow and a look towards Bertha. She smiled at him.
                “Thank you.” The empress replied simply. “You have saved many lives with its act of clemency. Kelly, please return me to Bertha’s cart.”
                “I shall look forward to seeing Daisy and Pixie again.” Bertha said, excitedly. It was as if the righteous thunderstorm had never been there.
 
                It took a great deal of negotiation, but Bertha was finally convinced that travelling to the Imperial Palace with the empress would be too dangerous for her. As lovely as he was quite literally forced to concede the Onyxians really were, Keto did at least succeed in pointing out that Bertha was not a veteran of active combat, and would present a target for the Dark Council. Instead, Ms Humble was presented with Daisy and Pixie, relieved of her cart for the sake of the Onyx Empire, and released back to Thomas Dove’s army, such that she might raise their morale in the event that it came to battle. With the eternal sunshine that she had represented finally gone, the Onyxian retinue buried Adirn and Keto in the rear of the cart, smeared it with clay and charcoal, and set off for the gates of the City of Torment.
                In the dying light of day the cart of grain, gold, guards and empresses rattled along the main road to the capitol. Either side of them were Lady Vipus’ largest hanging fields, partially deconstructed under Adirn’s reign and then partially reconstructed under Emperor Sinistere’s. Night had fallen fully by the time they made into the city proper, which would have been troubling in any other empire. With the entirely monochromatic blackness of the city, however, light or dark were rather academic states; it was practically impossible to see either way.
                “It’s good to be back.” Cassandra said, squinting at what she hoped was the road ahead, rather than a building into which she was about to collide. “Being pelted with shoes like that was… well, not awful but definitely strange. Not the kind of clear and obvious hatred you get around here.”
                “Quiet.” Evi ordered, curtly. “We were never in the White Alliance. We’ve been hunting the Onyx Empire for the false empress, and you are a part of my team of flayers.”
                “Yes ma’am.”
                “Countess.” She corrected. “Or your eviscerance.”
                “Erm, yes Countess.” Cassandra repeated.
                “What’s in the cart, soldier?”
                “Looted gold, grain, and stolen goods, your eviscerance. Nothing more.”
                “Good.”
                The cart hit a kerb, sending a jarring impact through the load of goods on its back. For the second, and hopefully final, time in her life, Oathbreaker Adirn Deepgrave the Denier was blindly transported through the City of Torment in the back of a strange wagon. It was at least a consensual journey this time, which was an improvement, but she was lying as cargo rather than sitting as a passenger, so it all balanced out in the end. Entombed by ill-earned goods, she could feel every bounce and bump in the road. Even though the stacking had been more careful this time, effectively guaranteeing that she wouldn’t become the victim of a calamitous cargo avalanche, Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier nonetheless willed the journey to be over as swiftly as possible. Even though it would hasten the moment of final confrontation, and despite the horrors that might await her in the Imperial Palace, she wanted nothing more than resolution. If she failed then there would be suffering and she would perish, but at least the White Alliance would storm the palace on a tsunami of innocent blood and avenge her. Small consolation for the perpetuation of the Onyx Empire’s cycle of suffering it might have been, but it was more than nothing.
                Through the imperial mind ran all manner of scenarios that might unfold in the palace; immediate arrest as they entered the grounds, the execution of her whole retinue before they even make it through the gates, even an ambush from subterranean forces buried by Count Rott in another of his unique military strategies. Those anxieties about the future which made it into the palace saw pitched battles through the halls, blades and arrows flying down spiral staircases, golden idols being dropped from unseen balconies, terrifying showdowns with Baron Infernus, or a personalised gallows in the audience hall courtesy of Lady Vipus. With so few of her brain’s hypotheticals ending in success for her and Keto, her plight began to feel increasingly hopeless. Even with Countess Lascera’s forces they would likely be outnumbered. The notion that perhaps she was ordering her only loyal allies into their own death started to creep back into consciousness.
                “Keto.” Adirn murmured quietly, in the general direction of the equally stowed Captain Toxis. “Can you hear me?”
                “Sorry, eminence?”
                “Can you hear me?” She hissed, louder.
                “Just about, yes. There’s a lot of-“ The cart slammed up another kerb and jarred both of them, with a crashing of treasure and wood.- “noise from the cart.” He winced.
                “Do you think we stand a chance? I mean, am I just ordering everyone to an early grave?” She asked, despite the background of painful collisions.
                “I fear that it’s a bit late to be experiencing doubts, eminence. We can’t exactly turn around now.” He said. A stronger pang of guilt stabbed at the empress from his surprising brutality.
                “No. I’m sorry.”
                “You misunderstand empress. This is exactly my duty and I would die proudly for you; I think I have mentioned this several times before. All I mean is that worrying about this decision is a waste of your time now, so you would do better to remain focused on your next moves.” Came his voice through the crates, once again exercising his peculiarly paternal brand of wisdom.
                “A fair point and well made. I suppose we shall need to assess more of the situation in the palace when we get there as regards how many of Sinistere’s forces are in occupation, which of the Dark Council are present, how many would stand with him and so on. But the main thrust remains the same; we find the wretched, greasy Viscount and take him into our custody. We force the rest of the Dark Council into obeisance by whatever means necessary, preferably without their murder, and we call off the Onyxian army.” Adirn said, although they’d already spoken of it at length more times than she could count. When heading back to one’s own palace to depose a usurper it was hard to think of anything but the plan of execution, it transpired.
                “Some more detail at this stage would be beneficial.” Keto understated. “But you are right that much of it will depend on the traitor forces and their deployment. Either way we depend on Auros remaining in the palace to keep control over Sinistere, and we should plan the order of proceedings. We will need to secure the bed chambers, the audience hall, the dungeons, the Skull Chamber; anywhere that the traitors may go to ground or plan their deeds.”
                “Will Count Rott march with his armies?”
                Someone cried out from somewhere to the left of the cart, having ridden directly into a wall that they couldn’t see. The familiar navigational shouts from other riders rang out in response.
                “Most certainly not, eminence. He would have been killed long ago if he made a habit of leading from the front. Even he knows that his attacks are suicide.”
                There was almost no anger left in the empress for the count’s tactical buffoonery, but his cowardice and callousness still managed to find a nugget of rage inside her.
                “Good. We can punish him ourselves then. I think a spell on the floor without a privy will be a good start.”
                “And when he apologises.” Asked Captain Toxis.
                Adirn thought hard for a while.
                “No change.”
 
                Shouting and lying, muffled by layers of smuggled cargo, made their way to the imperial ears. Guards posted by the usurper barked questions at the retinue of the deposed empress, disguised as Countess Lascera’s own, and in turn they bellowed back their deceits. It was hard for the empress to characterise any of the behaviour outside her cart as explicitly good, but she’d come to accept that sometimes doing good in the long term meant some indiscretions in the short term. At least, that’s how she was justifying a war.
                Heavy cast iron screeched against blackened cobblestones. It had done so for decades, the gate to the Imperial Palace having never been hung correctly. Rather than try to fix the mistake in the first place, Empress Kegyetlen had insisted that everything was as intended, and that the intolerable screaming of gate against road was to notify everyone whenever there was business in the Imperial Palace. Although successful in acting as a herald for the opening and closing of the passage into the palace’s grounds, the main achievement of the gate was to cut a rut into the cobbles that was always, no matter how deep it became, just slightly too shallow to avoid friction. Such were the wages of sin. Regardless of the enduring tragedy of the poorly constructed gateway, however, it was music to Adirn’s ears. The lies had been accepted, and they were on their way into the Imperial Palace’s grounds once more.
                Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier tried to picture the trajectory of the cart in her mind. Having been, in effect, a prisoner in the Imperial Palace for over two months she’d built up what she felt to be a clear and extensive mental map of the grounds. The cart rattled its way through the gates, and she heard their shrill song of closure from behind. Up the inconveniently sloped courtyard they rolled, sending the empress sliding downwards. A sack of grain gave chase and crumped into the back of her head, before they took a hard left turn into what must have been the stables. Right where the back wall should have been, however, the cart continued to move without the sound or sensations of collapsing masonry. The empress frowned as she scanned her mind’s map, remaining convinced that the cart should now be in the kitchens surrounded by a pile of rubble and ruined masonry.
                It swung a right, alarmingly sharply, and she was gently squeezed between two crates of gold coins. By the imperial reckoning they must have been driving directly through the larder.
                “Keto. Where are we?” she whispered.
                “On the cart, eminence. But we should be silent.”
                Adirn frowned, not that Keto could get the benefit of it. He was right, of course, but as far as she knew they were burrowing through the space beneath the audience hall, and that was the kind of tactical information that needed immediate consideration.
                Another left. They would still be subterranean but at least heading towards the stone garden. While trying to keep track of their location, Adirn ran back through their movements to see where she could possibly have gone wrong. Yet another left, they must have been going back on themselves in some way, leading towards the main entrance. Or would it be the space beneath the living quarters? Perhaps the courtyard was longer than she remembered, or they were moving more slowly than it felt when encased as freight.
                The cart slowed down and negotiated a tight chicane. There was absolutely nowhere in the grounds that she could picture such a trajectory being necessary. Unless they really were indoors…
                Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier braced herself for a drop; the only corridor that wound in such a way led to the steep, near-endless stairs down to the Cathedral of the Deep and she could safely say that rolling down there in her cart prison would lead to serious injury. Or death. Or both, and in either order. No such drop came, however. She sighed heavily and accepted that her navigation might have been flawed. It seemed that waiting would be the only way to determine her true location.
                Against all of the empress’ intuition and memory of the Imperial Palace, the cart kept moving for another few minutes until, finally, it came to a rest. The sound of riders dismounting and boot steps approaching rang from either side.
                “Countess Lascera! Do you have the false empress?” Asked a voice she didn’t recognise. A young man, the empress speculated.
                “No.” Came Evi’s response. So far so good for not being betrayed. “She has eluded us. The traitor hunters must have left the roads somewhere and got themselves lost because they weren’t in the ambush location either. Her eminence is still lingering with her new masters in the White Alliance, selling our empire for pathetic mercy and friendship.”
                There was a mixture of nervous laughter and dissatisfied huffing.
                “I shall inform his vitriolic eminence when he awakes.” The young man announced.
                “You will do no such thing! I shall deliver this news myself, for I also bring a gift for the Dark Council. Neither you nor anyone else is to disturb the cargo in my cart, or you will find yourself becoming extremely intimate with The Agoniser here.” The imperial eyes were rolled, picturing a shaking, petrified boy staring at Evi’s cruelly curved blade. “The cargo is mine and my soldiers will see to its safe unloading. You need only make yourself scarce, lest you get in the way.”
                “Uh, yes your eviscerance. Certaintly.”
                “Where are they then? The Dark Council?” She demanded.
                “They… they are in their own chambers, your eviscerance. It’s the middle of the night.” Came the stammered reply.  The empress could hear him gulping. “I can have them notified as soon as they wake.”
                “As soon as they wake? So they find out about the danger when it’s too late?”
                “Danger? From whom? The White Alliance?”
                “Who else, you goon?”
                “I can have the Dark Council roused immediately.” Said the panicked young man.
                “You can and yet you haven’t done so already? Curious that you seek to delay me even further. Curious that you wish so much for your skin to be added to my collection.” Evi hissed. “You’re still standing in front of me!”
                Sprinting boots grew rapidly fainter as the countess laughed to herself.
                “Oh I forgot how much fun this is… anyway, start unloading the gold, everyone.” Her voice grew closer. “Eminence, I’m going to report to the usurper. The gold ought to keep him sweet, and news of the invasion will keep him scared. I’ll do what I can to make them despatch the army, although I doubt it will require much encouragement. Between Auros and Count Rott it’s a shock they aren’t gone already.”
                “Then there are forces here still?” Keto asked.
                “Many. It appears that they are mustering within the City of Torment. There are also some wooden contraptions half-constructed in the workshop; weapons of war for certain, but their purpose eludes me for now.”
                “Disregard them. It’ll be some product of Rott’s insanity.”
                “I’ll disregard anything of the Count’s.” Evi replied. “But in any case you should remain in the cart for now. My soldiers will guard you until you can be unloaded, and you can remain hidden until the army marches.”
                “Alright. What time is it?”
                “Night.”
                “Can you be more specific?  I need to know how much time we have.”
                “No. I’m going now before we raise any suspicions. I’ll be back when I can.”
                “Fine. Thank you. And be careful.” Adirn said, but Evi was already leaving.
                Adirn and Keto tried to lie still as Countess Lascera’s soldiers mounted and dismounted the cart, rocking around as the enormous weight of gold was unloaded and only occasionally being stepped on. Events were out of their hands for the time being.
                 
                Countess Lascera stood in the moonless darkness of the Skull Chamber. There were torches and candles available to light, and servants had followed her to attend to that task, but she ordered them to stand down. The room would be lit when she said so, and not a moment before.
                It took fifteen minutes for Emperor Sinistere to arrive, and behind him was a queue of the Dark Council. Evi could hear them all ascending, muttering irritable conversation to one another and complaining about how slowly he walked.
                “I’m the emperor! So my walking pace is correct and you are all too fast!” He snapped.
                “If you let us up ahead of you then it wouldn’t matter.”
                “I go first because I’m the emperor.” He said, with the frustration of one who has repeated themselves for times beyond counting.
                A smirk spread across Evi’s face. The grass was not as green as they had all hoped. The door creaked open and spilled torchlight into the Skull Chamber. A haggard and shadowed visage of the panting Viscount Sinistere came behind it, unflatteringly under-lit by the flames.
                “Greetings, your eminence.” Evi said with a smirk. He leapt a foot vertically, very nearly set his chin ablaze with the torch. Such were the perils of being persistently coated in a layer of natural oils.
                “Who goes there?!” He demanded. “How dare you be in the Skull Chamber before your emperor?” He added, for the benefit of those behind.
                “I’ve not been away so long that you could forget me eminence. I bring news.” Evi replied. “The lights, please.”
                As quickly as flint and tinder would allow in pitch darkness, the servants around the Skull Chamber lit all the wicks in their vicinity, and unveiled Countess Lascera leaning casually against the curved skull wall, enrobed but unmistakable.
                “Eviscerati. You have decided to come back, I see. I do not recall dismissing you.” The usurper said.
                “I do not recall agreeing to walk behind you, and yet here we are.” Tabius Lloyd sniped back. Holding his lengthy, slender stride back behind Viscount Sinistere’s stubby shuffle must have been agony, and it made Countess Lascera’s smirk all the wider. “But I too am interested in how it benefitted us for Evi to abandon the emperor at the start of his reign.”
                The remainder of the Dark Council piled in and started putting on their robes. The countess watched them for hidden weapons over and above the normal, but they seemed to be complacently bereft of armaments.
                "So this is the danger that Sergeant Bilious needed so urgently to warn us of, is it? Countess Lascera lurking the Skull Chamber while we all sleep? A devious sneak attack but useless since we were all in bed." Count Rott analysed acutely. "It doesn't seem like it was worth getting up for."
                "Far be it from me to decide what's worth you getting out of your bed for, especially when you're all apparently having a wonderful sleepover." She mocked back.
                “There are robes enough here for me to choke that smirk off your face, Lascera.” Threatened Duchess Asphyxia.
                “You’d have to get to me first.” Evi replied, locking eyes with her.
                "Enough. Why are we here?" Auros growled. Her voice came from somewhere deeper than her throat, or even her chest. It rose up from the bowels of the earth, echoing through unseen caves and chambers of magma before erupting to the surface in a low quake that shook the teeth and upset the ears.
                The other councillors fell silent and still when Auros spoke. Even the usurper emperor gave his power trip a respite and look deferentially up at her.
                "I have news and thought you'd all be interested. It's more interesting than lying around doing nothing."
                "There was talk of danger." Auros pushed.
                "There was, and there is. But first you must know that Deepgrave was nowhere to be found within the empire. I presume that your traitor-hunters have not made it back here with her? I saw no trace of them at the ambush location."
                "No. They did not return." Seethed Sinistere, now fully robed and moving towards the Skull Table to take a seat. "They have failed me for the last time."
                Countess Lascera couldn't argue with that, and thankfully nor could Mistress Bite's skin back in the wagon.
                "Then we must assume that she is still hiding away in the White Alliance. Perhaps she's being incubated by the Thomas the holy bird." She chuckled.
                "Just like that weakling to run away." Lady Vipus accused. "We should have known better than to let her leave on some bogus mission of ‘peace’.” She spat on the ground, and one of the servants sighed sadly. She’d have to clean that up later. “There'll be a marching army descending upon us before we know it." Vipus added, somewhat prophetically.
                "Well, Lady, that brings me nicely to our Emperor's consolation prize." The countess replied. Sinistere perked up immediately. "My soldiers are currently unloading all the gold that Shimmerdale had to offer in the loading bay."
                "You stole the gold?! That's where you were all this time?!" Demanded the overspilling frame of Count Rott.
                "I stole the gold and sent the White Alliance a clear message; the weakness of Deepgrave is gone, as are her promises of parlay. A real ruler is back on the throne." She announced as grandly as she could manage, her daggers rattling in their sheaths.
                Underneath Viscount Sinistere's robe a greedy smile spread wide.
                "I like the sound of that."
                "Well I don't! That's my right! I spent the false empress' reign single-handedly and doggedly pushing for an invasion and now you've stolen it out under me! I am the general of our armies and I was preparing my forces as we speak; there are such grand works ongoing and now you've robbed me of my invasion."
                "What are you going to do about it, Rott? You were slow. My surprise attack got everyone off guard."
                "You... well yes, your surprise attack did surprise even us, the aggressors. That's a damn near hundred percent surprise rate..." He pondered. "I should have been informed about it, but I have to admit that it's the most surprising attack in our history."
                "Exactly. And if I had informed you then it wouldn’t have been a surprise anymore, would it you moron?"
                “She’s got you there, Rott.”  Duchess Asphyxia laughed, breathlessly. “And you are a moron.”
                "There's no need for name-calling." He pouted at them.
                "Exactly, and there's no time. The White Alliance's army marches against us. I think I got their attention with my... unique take on the Shimmerdale invasion. Their armies are a day behind me."
                "A day?! We go to war tomorrow and you introduce us to this notion so late!" Cried Emperor Sinistere, standing up shocked.
                "One must build up to the real excitement of the story, your eminence." Tabius Lloyd pointed out.
                "When it concerns my empire being invaded and my decapitation then I beg to bloody differ!" He shouted in a panic.
                "You forget, eminence, that this invasion will be different. We have my secret weapon." Count Rott said excitedly. "The works to which my entire existence has been dedicated for over two days."
                "The works that took away half my new gallows lumber, you mean?" Sniped Lady Vipus.
                "It will be worth the sacrifice of both lumber and the many souls who will perish putting my weapon into action." Persisted the count. "If my carpenters work through the rest of the night then we'll be ready for deployment tomorrow. We can meet the White Alliance's army on the field of battle the next dawn and they'll be routed for certain. And them marching to us brings the benefit that the soldiery won’t have to carry the new weapons as far."
                "Your weapon is heavy then? Are you unleashing your distended gut upon on them?" Cried Baron Infernus. "My forces will strike the decisive blow by torching the wreckage of your failure."
                "Shut up both of you." Auros ordered. They obeyed. "The White Alliance is weak as well we know. The previous defeats were under the command of buffoons like Tyrannick who couldn't defend a city if his life depended on it."
                "Which it did." Tabius Lloyd reminded everyone, with a wink at Emperor Sinistere. There was an imperial gulp.
                "Regardless, this time will be different. Are you such cowards that you fear the bird and his bleached brigades? I won't hear a word of it, and nor will any who display weakness live to see how wrong they are." She threatened, cracking her knuckles.
                "Quite so, Auros. They were expecting this surprise attack even less than the last one, and they've not had time to prepare themselves. This is the perfect opportunity to finally gut them like the hogs they are. I could do with some new hides for my collection." Evi encouraged.
                "Oh you won't be leading the charge, Evi. You'll be here with us this time. Your gallivanting might have brought us the war we needed but you're not sneaking out of sight when the end comes. If the bird's army somehow finds its way inside the palace-"
                "Again" Interjected Tabius.
                "-then we will bring them down ourselves. God Gouger Tower will show that it can gouge at more than Almighty Virum."
                "Speaking of which, where is the Grand Priestess?" Demanded Sinistere. "She should be here with the rest of us."
                "Probably keeled over trying to climb up from the Cathedral of the Deep." Smirked Lady Vipus. "If not then God Gouger Tower would finish the old hag off for sure."
                "Trying to say your final prayers, eminence?" Asked Auros. Everything she said was an accusation, but her use of Sinistere's title was doubly so.
                "I... I just think that Virum would be one to enjoy such death and suffering on the battlefield. Surely the Rector's Guard could be deployed?"
                "A handful of the clergy are hardly going to turn the tide of a war."
                "If they're all like Keto Toxis then they might." Evi laughed.
                The room fell silent.
                "That traitor is also at the empress' side. He is clearly weak and not a threat." Auros said severely.
                "All those assassins he's despatched may disagree." Evi goaded.
                "Accidents and luck the lot of them. Right?" The Crippler said, limbering up her ear-pushing hands.
                "Right. My mistake." Countess Lascera backed down, raising both hands in supplication.
                "Right. We make preparations today, and the army marches tonight." Auros commanded.
                "My thoughts exactly, Auros." Emperor Sinistere said quickly. "Such is my imperial will! We will formulate a plan of attack and bring the White Alliance to its knees tomorrow."
                Evi studied his face. As much as it normally turned her stomach, he was currently utterly petrified, and that made the gruesome visage worth it.
                "They'd better not burn down my new gallows." Lady Vipus snarled. "They're ripe for a neck, and one from the White Alliance would be all the sweeter."
                "If there's anything to put to the torch then I'll be the one to do it." Declared Baron Infernus. "Your gallows, Decaydale, the advancing army; any of it. No-one is to start a conflagration other than me and mine, is that clear?"
                "Yes, Baron Infernus has burning rights, and Auros, of course, has ear-pushing rights. Countess Lascera, your monopoly on flaying is safe, and none are to be hanged without Lady Vipus' say so." The emperor reeled off. Sucking up to everyone in a room simultaneously was difficult, but he'd been born for that particular challenge. “No-one needs to fear the propriety of their chosen industry under my rule, and you should clearly all strive to prolong it.
                The room was filled with nefarious hand-rubbing and scheming. Insults were exchanged and torture rights were argued over, but the Dark Council was comparatively unified in their purpose; more so than Countess Lascera had ever seen them. Auros' fear was a powerful weapon, and it was a significant part of why she'd been sent on her pilgrimage to the disciples of the Ever-Listening Ear. But it was time to remove her on a more permanent basis, and Evi looked forward to The Agoniser doing the work.
 
                A cold storeroom floor hadn't made for the most comfortable bedding, and nor had the fear of discovery provided much scope for relaxation, even with guards posted either side of the door. Compared to Bertha Humble's genre-defining hospitality, in fact, it was frankly a disappointment. Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier sat perfectly still on her bedding of old sacks and tried to stay calm and patient about her plight.
                All around them, stashed away in crates, stacked on shelves or pushed into whatever niche they could fill, was contraband, stolen goods, and shameful artefacts. Gallows forged from precious metals were now being used as platforms for other boxes, weaponry crafted for various ceremonial cruelties were scattered casually around the floor, imperilling any bare foot that might come exploring, and an enormous plaque which read “Imperial Malignancy Chambers’ suspended from the ceiling by a pair of garrottes. There was even the effigy of a sheep being tortured on a rack, commemorating or threatening an event so perplexing that Adirn could barely speculate upon it. It was just one more in a long line of secret shames to destroy when she got back into power. If she got back into power.
                Light had been piercing through the shuttered windows high above her head and the sounds of many people performing urgent work had filtered through the walls for a few hours before the door finally opened up again. Adirn shuffled her way back against the crates to stay out of sight, and Keto stirred somewhere to her side. Although he'd eventually given in to the notion of getting some sleep, after heartfelt and frustrated pleas from everyone, he nonetheless managed to maintain his otherworldly omniscience when it came to the empress' motions. Conscious or not, he would not let her safety escape his attention.
                "Just performing a check of my stolen goods from Shimmerdale." Came Countess Lascera's voice. Adirn deflated with relief and stood up to meet her.
                "You've been a long while, Evi."
                "I had to go to bed, eminence. Anything else would have seemed suspicious from one who had ridden through the night with news of war and gold." She said, but there was a glint of victory in her eye that Adirn didn't like.
                "And I suppose you couldn’t help oversleeping afterwards?"
                Countess Lascera shrugged.
                "Not everyone has the Corvid Chorus to wake them, eminence. That's your privilege."
                "The Corvid Chorus? What do-" she stopped and her face dropped. "The blasted crowing! That's deliberate to wake me up!"
                "Well of course, eminence. Did you think it was an accidental assembly of ravens?" Laughed Cassandra from a nearby pile of gold.
                "I thought that's just when they crowed."
                "And that the noise comes through a brass speaking cone in your chambers? Did the birds install that too?" Evi goaded.
                "You could have asked for it to be stopped, eminence. Frankly I was surprised that you didn't but it isn't my business to dictate your morning schedule." Added Captain Toxis.
                "I could have asked?!"
                "Yes.
                "Who? I want it stopped when I'm back on the throne."
                "Chamberlain Greysoul will take care of it, eminence."
                "Yes, of course he will.” She said, rolling her eyes. “The mysterious household ghost will- alright, look, this isn't the time. What happened with the Dark Council, Evi? Give me the details."
                As instructed, Countess Lascera spent the next hour filling the empress in on every detail of the meeting in the Skull Chamber, from the usurper's haggard sleepiness to Auros' edicts. She lingered for longer than Adirn would have liked on the graphic description of how Auros would likely despatch any aggressors, but eventually managed to relay all the events that the empress and Keto required. For a short while afterwards they sat in quiet contemplation.
                "Then the armies will be gone tonight, just before dusk, yes?"
                "Yes exactly. Along with whatever weapons Count Rott is cooking up. The Dark Council will remain in God Gouger Tower because Auros has some notion that it's safest up there, and that they’ll need to spend the time planning their next moves in any case. Let us simply take a battering ram to its base and bring the whole thing crumbling down underneath them."
                Adirn nodded slowly and thought about the suggestion. It was definitely an appealing prospect.
                "Do we have a ram?" She asked.
                "We don't, eminence." Keto said, disappointingly. "And besides, the wreckage of God Gouger Tower will fall on the palace and the houses beyond the walls. Many more than the Dark Council will perish."
                She sighed.
                "You're right. And I don’t want to murder my way back onto the throne, no matter how much those traitors deserve it."
                "I almost had you though, empress." Evi said with a cackle. "We were this close to winning you over to the Onxyian method of diplomacy."
                "That... is probably the most worrying thing I've heard in my reign."
                "Thank you eminence." Evi said, proudly. Adirn simply shook her head.
                "How many will be left? The household guard? Are they still mine?" Keto asked.
                "The household guard will remain, as will a retinue of Sinistere's own. The plan is for the rear units to retreat back into the City of Torment and then further to Imperial Palace as the battle progresses, so that it looks like we have legions stretching back to the palace."
                Adirn and Keto looked at one another, puzzled.
                "That doesn't make any sense."
                "I know." Laughed Evi. "But I didn't see any reason to correct Count Rott on the matter."
                "So it'll be a light guard once the army has marched?”
                "Yes. My own forces have been requisitioned by the throne for the war effort, but I think it’s mostly because I disappeared after you with them last time. Auros and Sinistere are bitter about that." The countess said, rather pleased with herself.
                "A good thing we have my brother's sleeping draught then. We can poison the stew served to my household guard tonight; they'll be out cold and we can fight our way through without risking their lives. They are loyal people, and I won't fight them."
                "Can they not be convinced to join us? You said before that their loyalty is to you." Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier asked.
                "As long as I serve the throne, it is. But they will see the new emperor as legitimate."
                "It's true, eminence. They all swore oaths on pain of internalised ears, and those oaths are compelling." Evi added.
                "Damn it. Fine, so we knock everyone out with the draught."
                "There's not enough for that. Imbibis mixes this for a single person, not for a whole unit. It should be enough to keep my household guard out of the way but it wouldn't be enough to take everyone currently garrisoned here. The units are all fed separately to prevent them getting too friendly with one another; you never know who you'll need to demonise and fight in the next power struggle. That's our chance to save them."
                "And how exactly will we get it there?"
                "I have a plan, eminence. Leave it to me." Keto said, unnecessarily vaguely.
                "Fine. I trust you. What happens next?"
                "We leave here once the guards are asleep, take anyone in our way, and head straight for the top of God-Gouger Tower. Countess Lascera, myself and our team will force the Dark Council stand down, or they will be cut down, and then we send the orders for the armies to surrender."
                “That sounds very simple, Keto. Far simpler than the real world is.”
                “As you say, eminence.”
                She waited expectantly for him.
                “But?” She prompted.
                “But it is the only plan we have.” He finished under some duress. “Traitorous forces will still be in occupation, and they may discover us and try to intercept. We can only react as events unfold and stick to the mission as far as possible.”
                “It is often the way, eminence.” Elizabeth said. She was sitting on a box of Bertha Humble’s homemade jams, sharpening her sword. There was very little else with which to amuse herself. “You make a plan for who to attack and when, or where to ambush someone, and then somebody else gets involved and you need to improvise.”
                “Who could forget when we were trying to keep the White Alliance out of the Audience Hall to defend Emperor Extraneous Lashings? We had all that furniture piled up to barricade the doors, we were creating ladders to access the stained glass windows as an extraction route, we’d positioned ourselves tactically to ambush whoever eventually got through… we’d thought long and hard about it.” Reminisced Cassandra.
                “Exactly! And then we turned around and found that they’d walked in the back way. The Emperor’s head had already been lopped off and scooped up by the time we turned around from a job well done.”
                Captain Toxis looked awkwardly at the floor and wouldn’t meet the empress’ eye.
                “Forgive me, but that doesn’t sound like you improvised much. It’s more like you made a bad plan and then the enemy exploited a weakness in it.”
                “No, no we had to improvise when we decided to lay down arms instead of charging at the victors.” Defended Elizabeth, more earnestly than the empress would have liked.
                “I see. What you’re saying is I’m doomed, then?” Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier said, dropping her face into her hands. “I’m relying on the improvisational capabilities of the guards who personally allowed a previous charge to be executed while they were stacking chairs.”
                “Those were different, more unfortunate, and less important circumstances, eminence.” Keto muttered.
                “Less important?” She asked, dubiously.
                “Much. Emperor Lashings was a cruel, spiteful idiot who spent more time in flagellation of the staff than ruling the empire. He followed Empress Interra the Architect, whose primary focus was in building gaudy, heavily trapped tombs into which to inter those she had killed, such that any mourners would be forced to risk their own lives to pay respects. Before her was Emperor Slothus the Unstirring who spent literal weeks at a time in bed. It might not sound that bad, but he passed terrible reforms to the Onyx Empire’s agricultural policy from those rarely-changed sheets.” He explained with mounting frustration. “They were all beyond redemption as people and made the worst heads of state with which an nation could be afflicted. They made no motions to govern the empire, and instead allowed it to continue coasting into ruin as their forebears had. Even the most dedicated guard could scarcely maintain a sense of duty when they start wars and invite assassination upon themselves. At some stage we just… stopped caring. I wasn’t going to put myself in the way of the White Alliance for them, and nor would I ask my guards to.”
                “So that’s how you’ve lost so many? You just weren’t trying?”
                “They didn’t deserve the effort, eminence, as well you know. But you do, and we will do everything in our power for you.  I think that should be obvious by now.” He said, gesturing around themselves at the storeroom in which they hid, preparing for a coup.
                The empress looked at her captain of the guard and remained silent, struggling to believe that this apparent angel of protection could ever have indulged in such dereliction of duty.
                Adirn shrugged.
                “I believe you and I trust you.”
                “Thank you, eminence. In that case, we have to arrange a clandestine poisoning.” He paused, thinking hard. “It’s strange to be orchestrating this rather than trying to prevent it.”
                “At least you’ll know which steps to take to avoid detection.”
                Keto pondered her words, and then accepted them with a small nod.
                “I will poison the stew. It’s a coward’s tool that stops you looking someone in the eye while you skin them, but I respect your brother’s work Keto.” Offered Evi, hand outstretched.
                “You’ll be noticed.” He denied, shaking his head.
                “I am allowed to roam where I please in this palace.” She snapped defiantly. “No-one would dare to question me.”
                “But they might notice that it’s rather unusual for you to be helping with the catering, especially when everyone keels over. And then we’ll lose our ally on the inside. It’s too risky.” Adirn told her. “If we should need you to slip a blade in between Sinistere’s spinal vertebrae then you wouldn’t want to miss that opportunity, would you?”
                Evi narrowed her eyes at the empress, and then smirked.
                “I accept your terms, eminence. I will stay away from the poisoning plot, but if anyone gets to put the blade to Sinistere then it’s me.”
                “I… yes fine.” The empress agreed. “It’s a deal.”
                There was a silence.
                “Oh. I…” Countess Lascera stammered “No, I meant for it to be a mutual blackmail!” She tried to tell them, but Adirn held up a silencing hand.
                “I can sneak around and drop it into the stew pot, sir.” Offered Cassandra, eager to move on. The boredom at sitting around in a storeroom was worn evidently upon her face. “Anyone who gets in the way can feel some of this if they see me,” she grabbed her sword “and they can get a rag soaked in sleeping draught if they don’t! No witnesses, so mess, no fuss.”
                “A fine offer, but when it comes to sneaking unseen around the Imperial Palace there is one greater than any of us, and who doesn’t leave a trail of bodies behind them.” Keto softly declined. “We need for this draught to make its way into the household guard’s stew pot this evening.  He said loudly into the room at large. Adirn’s jaw dropped.
                “We are not putting this responsibility on an imaginary ghost who organises the changing of the bedsheets!” She shouted.
                “You literally just told me that you trust me, eminence.” Keto replied calmly. “This is the best chance we have of achieving success without compromising our presence here. Let me take care of this, please.”
                With a frown Adirn nodded, and Captain Toxis stood. He limped painfully into the corner of the storeroom, behind a set of shelves, and gently set the bottle down on the floor.
                “It’s in the corner for you.” He declared, before limping his way back in. “Countess, we will still need word from you when the evening meal has been served; that will be our cue to start making a move.”
                “Fine. I can do that. But unless you have a greater need of me now then I must be away again. We’re expected in the Skull Chamber to plan our next moves after the impending ‘victory’ over the White Alliance’s army.”
                “You may go, Evi. We will await your signal.”
                “Until later, eminence.” She bowed, and then slipped her way out of the storeroom, leaving the empress and her band of revolutionaries to sit and wait yet again.
 
                The rest of their day of lurking, hiding, and planning passed. It was slightly more comfortable to do so inside a storeroom than the back of a moving cart, but that storeroom being inside an occupied palace added a new level of stress. From outside there had been a constant racket of soldiers mobilising for war; the rattle of weapons and mail, the ringing of hooves against cobblestone yards, shouted orders, lamented problems and, occasionally, curious enquiries about when they would be allowed to break for lunch. Every time the distressing answer came back as ‘never’.
                Huddling among themselves, Keto and his loyal retinue had spent their time assessing where the most likely spots of resistance inside the palace might be. Poring over a crude map that Cassandra had scratched, rather unnecessarily Adirn thought, into the side of a sequestered golden guillotine blade, they pointed towards corners and junctions of corridors. Tactical debates over the best way to climb God-Gouger Tower spanned appropriate formations, shield walls at the fore, spears employed as an ascending poking solution and even how many steps should be taken at one time in order to work the gluteal muscles. It was determined to depend on the height of the soldier in question, but since mismatches would lead to breaks in formation, they would disregard the muscle-building focus of their ascent for this campaign.
                Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier, sitting on her crate of stolen gold, knew full well that she should have been paying proper attention to the discussions. They concerned not only her life, but those of every innocent person in the Onyx Empire, and that at least warranted a cursory involvement in the process. But days of relentless planning and travelling and worrying had blunted the cutting edge of her thoughts; the details wouldn’t go in, no matter how hard she tried, and her mind wouldn’t stop wandering away to daydreams and speculations of what might go wrong.
                The sound of enormous double-doors opening in the yard outside roused her from such ruminations. It came with a chorus of shouts and orders that blended into one another. But then a voice she recognised well cut through it all.
                “Yes! Behold the fruit of our labours and the tool which will bring down the White Alliance’s dogs once and for all!” Count Rott bellowed into the yard.
                The imperial curiosity was beyond piqued. Quickly she scrabbled to her feet and hopped up onto her crate. It served as a platform to allow her to climb up a set of coarse wooden shelves, until she could see through the small rectangular window that faced the yard. Peering out she could see the sun starting to set behind Horizon’s Bane; casting what would have been a golden light over any other city. Within the City of Torment and the Imperial Palace, however, it became more of a dirty, sickly, yellow colour that made the whole yard look infected with some incurable disease.
                Dozens of soldiers were in the yard, but had moved back against the walls that enclosed it. Their mail singularly failed to glint in the dying light of the sun, instead appearing matte and occasionally rusty. Count Rott himself was the only exception, standing in the dead centre of the yard in all of his obtuse glory, and clutching in his hand what looked in all good faith to be a bottle of wine. Adirn would have believed all too easily that he was a frequent visitor to the wine cellar, but the bottle was full. Everyone out there was facing towards the end of the yard that led into the palace’s workshops, and gasps of what might have equally been admiration or disbelief emanated from them all. Adirn craned her neck and pushed her face against the window in an effort to see what was emerging.
                A thick spur of wood appeared first. It was as thick as a tree trunk and carved into a soft point at the end; not as broad as a ram nor as sharp as a stake, but somewhere in between so that it would not do a good job in either task. Something nagged at the back of her mind, telling her that she’d seen it somewhere before. For around ten feet the spur extended until it was met by a broad, expanding dish-shape of wood, looking somewhat like the end of a long, upturned bowl. From beneath it were visible tens of pairs of legs and boots, marching in step to carry their wooden burden out into the yard. The further they walked the longer the dish seemed to be, until the spark of revelation fired off in the imperial mind.
                “Oh for goodness sake!”
                “I hereby launch the First Onyxian Navy! His Victriolic Eminance’s Ship Hope Crusher!” Count Rott roared, pitching the bottle of wine hard against the bough of the vessel. The corner of the bottle caught the rounded hull and ricocheted off impressively, slamming into the chest of one of the waiting guards and erupting in a spray of shattered glass and claret.
                “Why did he have to hit Benedict with a wine bottle?” She heard a guard close by to the window ask.
                “I don’t know. Why does he do anything?”
                “To hurt people… yeah, checks out.”
                “When the White Alliance see this marching across the plains towards them they will know true fear, and when the full broadside of ballistae are unleased they will know pain!” The Count continued to bellow. There were obedient, perfunctory cheers from the assembled guard as the HVES Hope Crusher was exhaustingly carried past them. Adirn could see that the legs beneath were shaking already, and they still had a half-day’s worth of marching ahead of them. She dropped down from the window, and saw that Keto was looking her way with concern.
                “Everything in order, eminence?”
                “Count Rott has launched the armada of one.” She said. There were only puzzled looks in response. “He’s built a ship. A galleon or something, I don’t know. And the army is carrying it into battle against the White Alliance.”
                Keto held her eyes and maintained his confused look. When it became clear that there was no more context or explanation to be offered he frowned, and then nodded.
                “It is increasingly clear that the Onyx Empire should have been conquered long ago by the White Alliance.” He assessed, before returning to his business of planning.
                It was another couple of hours before there Countess Lascera returned to the storeroom. Darkness had fallen on their subterranean dungeon and a handful of torches had been lit, sending long shadows of short blades across the floor.
                “The evening meal has been served. Did your poison make it?” She asked simply.
                Adirn looked at Keto questioningly, who limped his way into the corner.
                “The bottle is gone. Greysoul will have fulfilled his orders. That means the household guard will be passed out at any moment.” He announced. “We leave now.”
                “I didn’t hear anyone come or go…” The empress said, hurrying over to Keto in the corner of the room. Just as he had said, the bottle was gone. She looked around herself in confusion and fear for any tracks or doors, but there was nothing; no way that a person could have entered or left, with or without a bottle of sleeping draught. “But how?” She pleaded
                “Greysoul’s ghost does his work, as we have tried to tell you for months. Now isn’t the time for a crisis of housekeeping, eminence. Prepare yourself.” Keto instructed.
                Cassandra, Elizabeth and the rest of their retinue stood, buckled on their sheaths and donned their helmets.
                “I will return to the Dark Council. They are congratulating themselves for launching their first skirmish against the White Alliance and I will be expected there. I will eagerly await your arrival, as will The Agoniser.” Evi told them with a wink, before dashing back out of the room.
                “She’s a little too eager to kill.” Adirn said.
                “No change to normal and not the time to worry about it, eminence.” Keto replied absent-mindedly, tightening the boot on his injured foot with a wince. “We can deal with that over Sinister’s body if we need to.”
                The retinue fell into rank either side of the door, and Adirn took herself alongside Captain Toxis. He pressed a short ceremonial dagger from the boxes of contraband iconography into her hand.
                “Just don’t think about it.” He said before she could protest. “Their lives are not worth yours if they attack, and your reputation will not be tarnished by self-defence. Ribs, eyes and throat.”
                His biological advice didn’t help her not to think about it, but she looked into his eyes and nodded.
                “If all goes well it won’t come to that.” Cassandra offered by way of comfort “Because we’ll have cut them down long before you get in reach with that thing.”
                “Or we’ll have avoided an open conflict altogether.” Adirn reminded. A smirk was the only answer she received.
                “Alright. Is everybody ready? We move quietly to God Gouger Tower, take anyone in the way down without a fuss, and ambush the Dark Council. The traitor emperor is our primary target, but the others are fair game if they stand in the way.”
                “Yes sir.” Came the chorus of replies. Adirn clutched at her dagger and felt her heart trying to break free from her ribcage.
                Captain Toxis pushed the door open and, in a shallow crouch, limped his way forwards. The empress looked at him curiously and wondered whether being an inch or two lower down would really make him that much harder to notice, but chose not to question it openly. Ahead of her the whole group of soldiers moved copied him, so she felt obliged to follow suit. A burning in her thighs reminded her that she was neither as fit nor experienced as them, but such was the burden of rule.
                The corridors of the Imperial Palace cellarways were narrow and unlit. Only the torches carried by her honour guard provided any break from the darkness. Occasionally they would pass doorways to either side, presumably leading off to the dungeons or some other harrowing underground chamber, but mercifully the doors were all closed and held no ambush. Every now and then Keto would stop and raise a hand, whence his honour guard would try to melt into the shadows. Unfortunately the captain hadn’t been lying when he’d said his stealthiest soldiers were the ones who’d tailed the White Alliance’s delegation two months earlier. The empress watched as Cassandra tried to hide behind Elizabeth, who in turn was trying to hide behind Cassandra, as was another of the guards whose name she’d failed to learn. In the torch-lit silence they moved in tight circles with hushed hisses at one another to remain still. So it continued until Captain Toxis could finish assessing the situation, and then they moved on again as if nothing had happened. She could only hope that they were more skilled in combat than subtlety.
                Dark corridors of cracked tiles eventually gave way to a typically Onyxian staircase. The steps were broken and uneven, and if there had ever been a hand rail it was now conspicuously absent. One by one the retinue placed their lives at great risk by stepping onto the stairs, and performed a strange ballet of balance with their arms as they climbed to the top. Eventually, with only a few near-misses, they were bundled up tightly by a door at the top.
                “This will take us into the ground floor of the palace, eminence. The grand entrance hall. We will move up the main stairs to the first floor and progress towards the western wing for the base of God Gouger Tower.” Keto whispered. Adirn nodded, uselessly because he wasn’t looking at her.
                As was typical of any door when one is trying to pass quietly, the hinges creaked like a dying bird of prey as Keto pushed it slowly open. Many of the doors in the Imperial Palace had had their hinges deliberately worn down to increase irritating squeaking under Empress Audia Screech the Deafener, but then they had been oiled into silence again by Silent Empress Mutitia Hush so that she could move unnoticed through the halls. Inevitably some doors had been missed, leading to a grand roulette of which doors were silent and which were foghorns that might pierce through the night air.
                “Everyone through and move away from here!” The captain ordered urgently. Limping as fast as he could he moved across the entrance hall, while the stealth-impaired retinue and the empress hurried behind him. It was difficult for the empress to keep up with Keto; not because she couldn’t travel quickly enough, but because the other guards persisted in criss-crossing across her path between ‘hiding spots’. These variously included a waist-height pedestal, a slightly raised floor tile, and a patch of particularly bright moonlight reflecting from a suit of armour. During that crossing she was at more risk from tripping over her honour guard than being executed by Sinistere.
                Ahead of Keto was the broad staircase of the grand entrance hall, the same one he’d walked her down a few months before, for her coronation. It seemed appropriate that he should walk her back up it now to reclaim her throne. It was genuinely hard for her to say whether the threat of execution or the crowds of braying nobles was the preferable accompaniment, and that only reminded her how much work was left to do in fixing the empire; they could aggressively correct the Dark Council as much as they liked, but the corruption still ran much deeper.
                They were half way up the broad, shallow staircase at the end of the entrance hall when bells began to ring. They came from the ground floor, some way away, in the general direction of the soldier’s mess hall.
                “Oh.” Keto said, with rising dread as his mind worked. “I suppose we could have foreseen that a group of suddenly unconscious guards might cause an alarm to be raised.”
                “What do we do?” Cassandra hissed, from her devious bolthole between two spindles of the bannister.
                “We continue as we were. We must get up to God Gouger Tower. The alarm changes nothing.” He said, hobbling from stair to stair. Adirn closed the gap behind him, cutting across several of her retinue in the process, but they styled it out into stealthy-looking ducking and weaving across the steps.
                “They’ll be chasing us from downstairs, right? We can still get to the tower?”
                “The alarm bells will ring throughout the palace, eminence.” Keto told her, cresting the top of the staircase and heading towards one of the palace’s winding corridors. “Wherever the palace guard are stationed, they’ll be running for the mess hall.”
                “Then they’ll definitely find us!”
                “That’s why stealth and speed are so important.”
                Adirn looked behind herself and saw the strange, disjointed movements of her honour guard, each one rolling or dashing between places where concealment, in a much kinder world, might have been found. Around them, true to Keto’s word, more and more bells began to ring, spurring them on to avoid discovery
                “At least we have speed.”
                Moonlight streaked through un-shuttered windows, adding to the occasional pools of torchlight cast from wall sconces. It had always seemed peculiar to the empress that the corridors were kept lit for so long into the night; although they did technically grow on trees, it was still a waste to burn so many for the benefit of an empty hallway. Add to that the ever-present risk that they might fall from their rusting fixtures and set palace ablaze and it seemed a wholly foolhardy endeavour. Regardless of the lack of sense behind them, the torches aided Adirn and her group of loyal revolutionaries as they sped towards their destination. Unfortunately their help was fickle and unfaithful, also illuminating them for anyone else to see. Round the corner, into full view, came half a dozen of Sinistere’s troops, half-dressed and fully aggravated.
                “Who goes th- Toxis!” The first man shouted. “And the false empress! We are under attack!”
                “At them!” Keto roared in reply. Without hesitation the rest of Adirn’s retinue sprinted forward with swords raised, while the empress herself took the instruction rather less to heart; she threw herself to one side of the hallway, pressed into a closed doorway, and simply watched with wide eyes as sword met sword, shoulder met throat, boot met spine and blade tasted blood. Everything and everyone moved so fast and so deliberately that she couldn’t discern the detail, just the ringing impact of metal on metal, punctuated by the occasional scream of pain or flashing spray of crimson. With bond hands she gripped the handle of her dagger tightly, as if that might do some good, but couldn’t bring herself to dive into the melee. She’d only get in the way, she rationalised to herself, and there were quite enough limbs and weapons crammed into the corridor as it was.
                It was over as quickly as it had begun. Where previously there had been a group of Sinistere’s soldiers there was now a messy, tangled pile of bodies in a growing pool of red that seeped between the floorboards and ruined the carpet. Keto leaned against a window, one hand held against his ribs. Cassandra wiped blood from her blade on the legs of a fallen foe, while Elizabeth checked for a pulse on one of their own; it was an optimistic move, given the extreme angle of his clearly broken neck.
                “Oh gods…” Adirn muttered.
                “There’s no time to hang around.” Keto wheezed, sucking for air and clenching his eyes tight. “We need to keep moving before more of them find us.”
                “Are you alright Keto?”
                “It’s a mere bruise eminence.” He said, unconvincingly. “Maybe a fracture.” He added after seeing the look on her face. “But regardless we must move.”
                As advised, Adirn and what remained of her retinue stepped over their would-be apprehenders and made haste towards God Gouger Tower, while alarms continued to ring incessantly throughout the palace. Shouts and orders were becoming increasingly audible from all directions, echoing along the halls and obfuscating where any one of them had come from. It was as if the building itself was trying to raise awareness of the threat to Emperor Sinistere, and Adirn did not appreciate its rapid change of allegiance.
                Despite his perforated foot and fractured rib, Keto kept moving at an impressive pace as he navigated the warren of corridors comprising the Imperial Palace. Years of service and panics over assassinations at all hours had clearly left him with an impeccable sense of direction, and although the empress had long since lost her bearings she had faith that he knew where to lead them.
                Captain Toxis slid to a halt a few feet away from the junction with another corridor, raising one hand to stop the retinue behind him.
                “Boots marching this way.” He hissed. Turning around he pointed towards a closed door. “In there, now.”
                Obediently Cassandra pushed the door open and Elizabeth rushed through with weapon-drawn. Inside was a state room that the empress had never had cause to visit; there were dusty couches and lopsided armchairs arranged at the edges, with a short table in the centre and tall, murky windows overlooking one of her many courtyards. A huge, ornate, black steel fireplace that took the shape of a bear’s open mouth stood at one end of the room. Inside it there was no flame, but instead a cowering chef who yelped at their sudden appearance.
                “Please! Please it wasn’t me I swear!” He cried, pushing himself back against the bricks and scattering ashes across the carpet as he scrabbled. “I didn’t do anything!”
                “Quiet!” Cassandra ordered, checking the other end of the room. It seemed that he was alone, hiding in the charcoals. The chef was in no mind to argue, and grabbed his knees with both arms. Without surgical help there would be no way to make him any smaller.
                The rest of the empress’ retinue piled into the room and Keto pulled the door closed, pressing one ear immediately against it to listen out for approaching danger.
                “They’ll pass soon.” He whispered.
                “Wait… Captain Toxis? Empress Deepgrave?” The chef uttered, disbelieving. “You’re not gone?”
                “I said to be quiet!” Cassandra threatened again, waving her sword towards him. Another yelp gave away his feelings on the matter. Adirn wanted to give Cassandra a talking to about being so rude, but couldn’t argue with the urgency and intention. Silence fell over the room. Keto’s expression was their only window to the world beyond the door, and it gave very little away. For half a minute they stood there, tense and still, waiting for a fist to slam against the door or some signal from Keto. Then there came the muffled clopping of boots along the corridor, hurrying in step towards some unknown objective. The sound faded away gradually.
                “Are they gone?” Adirn whispered.
                Captain Toxis nodded.
                “Alright.” She spun on her hells. “Who are you and why are you hiding here?”  The empress asked the chef, fearing that she already had a good idea of what was going on.
                “B-… Barry, eminence. It’s me, Barry the Preserver.” Came the reply, on the verge of weeping. The imperial eyes squinted at the ashen mess in the fireplace.
                “Goodness, Barry!” She said once she recognised him in the darkness.
                “I don’t know what happened, eminence, I swear it! The guard at dinner they… they all passed out! I promise I didn’t poison them! I made the best stew I could! The supplies have been running low since you left so I had to use some boot leather instead of braising steak but it was good leather, high quality stuff.”
                “Oh… yes I see.”
                “The empe- erm, Sinistere’s guard saw ‘em all there, lying face down in their stew or collapsed on the ground and demanded to know what happened, so I legged it up here to hide. They’ll all think I’ve gone back to being Barry the Despoiler, but I promise I haven’t!” Cried the chef, shaking and sending up motes of soot. “They were talking about it being the house staff of the false empress. Of you, I mean. That we’re all sabotaging the place because we’re disloyal to Sinistere. There’s going to be a purge. We’ll all be killed!”
                “We might have made some errors of judgement, Keto.” Adirn said, numbly. “People are going to die for what I ordered.”
                “You’re an empress. That’s the case no matter what you order.” He replied with a dispassionate wince.
                “I respectfully disagree.” She decided, straightening up. “Barry, stay here. It seems safe enough for the time being. Cassandra, Elizabeth; take the rest of the retinue and move quickly for my living quarters; you are to keep Gwen and the others safe at all costs.”
                “Belay that order!” Barked Keto. “Eminence, we are here to safeguard and re-seat you on the throne. We are not capable of fighting off the whole of Sinistere’s household to keep your house servants safe.”
                “What’s the point of my reign if I sacrifice my people else to get it back?”
                “You won’t get it back at all if you send your only protection away.”
                “I’m not sending my only protection away, I’ll have you. You keep telling me to trust you and I do, Keto. I will be safe with you. But you need to trust me as well, or if you can’t then you need to respect my authority and judgement as empress. Cass and Liz are going with the squad. You and I can move more quietly on our own and do what needs to be done. Now you all get going!”
                There was silence and stasis. The guard looked between Keto and Adirn, terrified of defying either one. Barry cowered in the fireplace, trying to ignore the stoker that had become uncomfortably intimate with his back. The empress stared into Keto’s weary, pained face, and he looked back into her scared but defiant eyes.
                “I do respect your judgement, eminence. And your authority. And I told you that I would do what must be done to keep you safe, but…” He looked down. “… but I can’t do it alone. I’m injured and useless to you. None of Sinistere’s goons should have been able to lay a hand on me, but my foot slowed me down and now my ribs are broken. If I can let that happen to myself then I can’t keep you protected.”
                Adirn hated what she was hearing. She hated everything that was happening in her empire in general, of course, but this most of all. Weakness and vulnerability weren’t among the traits she’d ever expected from Keto, even with his surprisingly complex history as a human. He was her safety net, her chainmail, her weapon against a whole empire, and he’d never let her down. To see his stoic countenance crumble away and reveal a broken, guilty man was the most hated thing she had ever experienced. As with everything else she hated in the Onyx Empire, she chose not to accept it.
                “Yes you can Keto, because I order it. Do you think you would ever have been able to defeat a whole empire on your own?”
                He looked at her, puzzled.
                “No. But the reason you were able to keep the Dark Council in check against me, the reason that Countess Lascera was apprehended, the reason that the rest of the Rector’s Guard stood down, was because they believe that you can. As long as everyone else believes that you are a super-human force of imperial protection then I don’t care if you’ve got two broken feet and no arms. You are enough to keep me safe. Now shrug at me, say ‘As you say, eminence’ and order your people to keep my staff safe!” She demanded.
                Keto stared at the empress. His breathing was heavy but choppy from his ribs, and his stance crooked from his foot. With a wince and an effort of implacable will, he stood a little taller and shrugged, dutifully.
                “As you say, eminence. Do as her eminence commands; move to the Imperial Malignancy Chambers, barricade the doors, and keep the servants safe. We will be back for you once the usurper has been dethroned.”
                “Yes sir.” The guards said in disjointed chorus. With a nod to the empress they opened the door careful, found the way clear, and began their ‘stealthy’ mission.
                “Thank you, Keto. Now we should go as well.”
                “I don’t like this, eminence.”
                “You’re not supposed to.”
                Captain Toxis looked at her, and then shrugged.
                Silently, aside from the sobbing of Barry the Preserver in the fireplace, the empress and the captain of the guard crept their way from the dusty room and hurried up the corridor. As Adirn had speculated, it was easier to keep themselves together and out of sight without another seven people in tow. Three further times they heard significant forces moving through the halls and were forced to take cover in some disused room or another, which only reinforced the empress’ belief that she needed to explore more of her own home. The fourth time, however, they were out of luck. Ahead of them emerged the start of a squad of guards who, if Adirn’s internal compass was correct, had all been stationed in one of the palace’s rear-facing balconies for some reason.
                “Back, quickly!” Keto instructed. As they rushed towards a nearby doorway, to the sound of shouted discovery from Sinistere’s men, another group rounded the corner from which they’d come. Keen swords, curved sickles and brutal warhammers were already in their hands, and their recognition came with a thirst for blood.
                “Traitors!” Bellowed one of them, pointing directly at Adirn in a way that she felt to be terribly ill-mannered, and pretty rich for someone about to attack the empress.
                “Inside, eminence.” Keto barked, pushing her through the door hard and then slamming it behind himself. “Barricade!”
                Adirn scanned frantically around the room for something to push in front of the door while Keto leaned on it to keep it closed. She grabbed at an armoire and began to drag it noisily over the hardwood floor. It was heavy and smooth, resisting her attempts at getting a handhold, and digging itself into the floor so that it moved painfully slowly. She’d barely shifted it by a few feet when one leg caught on a rug and it pitched over towards Keto. With a loud crash it slammed to the floor and spilled an array of deeply objectionable clothing onto the floor.
                Keto was jostled forwards as something heavy smashed into the other side of the door. He used both legs to press himself back against it.
                “The latch, Keto!” Adirn snapped irritably at seeing a length of black steel nearby to the handle. With one hand he engaged it, but gave the empress a dark look.
                “I fear that half an inch of poor quality metal won’t hold back their hammers, eminence.”
                “It’ll do for a second! Help me push this!”
                Obediently he limped away from the door and, between them, they shoved the armoire into position where he had been leaning. Deep gouges had been carved into the floorboards, and the carpet would never sit flat again, but that was far from the empress’ most important concern; at least the door was barred for a moment.
                “What now?” She asked, desperately.
                Keto looked around.
                “We’re on the first floor. We could… we could climb out the window and shimmy along to the next room?”
                Adirn ran to the window and hauled it open as fists, hammers and boots slammed into the door.
                “There’s no ledge, Keto.”
                “Damn it, no. We had them removed to prevent assassins entering via the windows.”
                “Right. Well that’s a great precaution but I can’t climb along a sheer wall.”
                “Didn’t work anyway. They just started to bring ladders.” Lamented the captain of the guard. “I can try to fight my way out, eminence. Surprise them by opening the door and take them unaware while you run for it.” He offered, impassively. “It’s unlikely, but unlikely is all we have left.”
                “No. I won’t let you do that. There has to be a way out.” Adirn breathed. She hadn’t come this far on the back of a farmer’s cart to die like this; pointlessly in a spare bedroom while her staff were hunted for a poisoning that she herself had committed. She couldn’t give up and fail after winning over the Church of Virum, mutually blackmailing the whole Dark Council, and starting a war that she needed to end before it got underway. This couldn’t be her legacy; the bloodiest end in a dozen empresses and emperors just because she’d had the gall to try to make things better. Every thought made her angrier. Every injustice made her feel more wronged and more frustrated. It wasn’t fair. The whole empire was against her, not just as a collection of flawed and wretched humans but as a nation, as a concept. It all barrelled down on her in some cosmic force of spite. Even the palace was now gunning against her, with its smooth walls and dead-end bedrooms. It was more than she could bear.
                “Give us a way out!” She screamed into the room.
                There was a soft shifting sound. It sounded like a pebble being softly slid along a stone table. Behind them, a patch of the wall next to an ugly looking side table swung inwards slowly, and out stepped the oldest man that Adirn had ever seen. Head to toe he was covered in a layer of dust that made him look paler than even his anaemic skin could have hoped to.
                “As you wish, eminence.” He said, in a voice barely more than a whisper.
                “Greysoul’s ghost?!” Keto muttered, his mouth dropping open.
                “Not a ghost, sir. If you want to leave then you may wish to come with me.” He said softly, stepping back through his stony doorway.
                “Chamberlain Greysoul?”
                “Yes. Please hurry. I do not want to be seen by anyone else.” He encouraged from the passageway behind the wall. Sparing eachother a look, but offering no argument, Adirn and Keto followed quickly. “Step aside, please.” Greysoul requested once they were through. The empress and the captain of the guard did as asked, and the old chamberlain pulled on a cord of rope that looped through the ceiling and floor. The stone door swung gently shut, plunging them into perfect darkness.
                Back in the room the sound of weapons crashing into the door continued. It resonated like an impractically large drum and shook the blind passageway in which they found themselves.
                “We should wait here a moment, eminence.” Greysoul’s almost ethereal voice whispered. “We would not like them to hear us moving through the Narrows.”
                Keto and Adirn both nodded pointlessly. It took half a minute for the sound of splintering wood to meet them, followed by bodies forcing their way through the hole.
                “Where are you hiding?! Where did you go?” Demanded someone. Naturally, Adirn and Keto declined to reply. The armoire doors were thrown open, the rug was lifted and, by the sounds of it, all the drawers in the side table were opened, just in case the empress could make herself the size of a letter.
                “The window’s open you fool! They’ve gone out there.”
                “I’ll get them!” Shouted a new voice. The sound of racing footsteps sprinting through the room met the imperial ears, followed by an almighty cry of “Hyaah!” that tailed off as if someone had just hurled themselves bodily out of the window. She was surprised to hear that gasps were audible through the wall, followed by a faint, muffled, but unmistakable impact of body on flagstone.
                Many feet went in the direction of the window. Adirn waited anxiously.
                “I guess they didn’t jump out.”
                “Should we get him to triage?”
                “There’s a traitor in our midst! We’ll deal with triage once she’s been found. You lot go right and we’ll go left; check the next rooms along. They must be somewhere!” Ordered the extremely logical person who’d checked for the empress in a small drawer. Quickly the boots all left the room again, and there was silence.
                “I feel that we are safe to move on now.” Greysoul told them. There was a faint clicking sound of steel on flint, and then a bright burst of light filled the passage from a torch in Greysoul’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, eminence, although I must apologise for breaking my oath to remain unseen.”
                “You didn’t make the oath to me, I’m overjoyed to see you.” Adirn replied.
                “Wonderful. And you are the Oathbreaker, I suppose, so your pleasure at my failure to keep a promise would make sense either way.”
                The empress let that slide.
                “Thank you for saving us, but there’s little time. We need to get to God Gouger Tower immediately.”
                “I am aware of your plans, eminence. The Narrows lead to every room in the palace. I will lead you there forthwith.”
                In single file, for that was all that the appropriately named Narrows would allow, Adirn and Keto followed Chamberlain Greysoul. Apparently running through the palace like veins, the secret passages found a way of winding and weaving even more than the already disorienting main corridors of the palace.
                “How long have you been in here?” The empress asked as they walked. She tried not to breathe too heavily, lest she inhale a lungful of the dust on his encrusted, frayed clothing.
                “Years. However many years it has been since I was ordered to remain out of sight.” He replied gently. “I have been able to lead a more comfortable life without direct scrutiny, and my staff have been flexible in receiving instructions from ‘ghosts’ and notes. I hope that you have found my work to be satisfactory.”
                “Yes. Yes that’s certainly a word for it.” Adirn replied.
                “I must confess that I would not normally have intervened, eminence. My oath was heartfelt and breaking it does not come easily but…” he paused. Whether it was for effect, or whether his disused voice was simply running out of steam she couldn’t tell. “… but you sent away your guard to save my staff. That is a most unusual and unexpected move, so it called for an unusual reward, if you will forgive my presumption in rewarding an empress for anything. So if you wish to thank me then I must thank you; we have helped one another. My staff are important to me, for they are my hands in the world beyond the walls, and that is a world where I have long since been welcome.” He explained, in a manner that went sharply against any other Onyxian attitude she’d ever heard. It was comforting to know that others could lift themselves from the Onyx Empire’s moral destitution, but worrying that it required them to be hidden out of sight in a series of secret passages for many years.
                Corners were sharp and cramped in the Narrows, and the floor rose and fell to allow them to pass under or over externally facing windows, but Greysoul moved through them like water through a pipe. Adirn’s agility was not what it might have been, thanks to her impractically regal clothing, and Keto’s oak-tree shoulders didn’t allow easy manoeuvring, but by necessity they found a way of squeezing along behind the elderly chamberlain.
                “You are welcome to come out when I am back on the throne, chamberlain.” The empress told him. “You don’t need to be hidden away from my sight.”
                “A kind offer, eminence. But I feel that I have grown accustomed to this life. It is comfortable and… in a way it is liberating to move with such impunity.” Greysoul replied. “I heard what you said to Captain Toxis, about people believing he was dangerous and respecting it, and I think it is the same for me. They believe I am all-hearing and omnipotent when it comes to caretaking for the house, and that idea is powerful indeed; more powerful than I could be as anything other than a ghost in the palace. The Narrows allow me to watch and listen for any command you might offer, and they allow me to appear wherever I am needed without being witnessed. It is perfection for one in my role.”
                “What about retirement though? Leisure? Having a break?”
                “Ha!” Came what approximated to laugh from a throat that was dry and out of practice. “I desire nothing of retirement, eminence. And if I wish for leisure then I remind you that the whole palace is at my disposal. I need only wait until rooms are out of use, and I may appear there.”
                “I see.” The empress said, beginning to feel a little unnerved about the idea that he was always watching, wherever she was, like a manifestation of Almighty Virum with a focus on custodial duties. She also wasn’t much of a fan of the idea of him perishing in the walls, and then having to search around for the body one day. That could, however, be a problem for future-Adirn to solve. If there was such a person.
                Despite the lack of space to move, progress was much faster through the Narrows than the corridors; not having to double-back or hide at every corner allowed them to build up a level of momentum. Before long, Greysoul brought them to a halt at the foot of a curving staircase.
                “This is where I must leave you.” He said. “These stairs run through the outer wall of God Gouger Tower, and will deliver you to the top. The Dark Council await there. Please, if I may make a request of you, deal with them quickly. Call off their hunt of my staff. Only the true empress may persecute them.”
                “Of course, chamberlain.” She said, choosing to ignore the end of his sentence. “There is a war to halt as well, you know.”
                “As you say.” He replied, disinterested in such details. “I must keep an eye on my staff and deliver them from danger. It may be necessary to reveal myself to Ms Spite as well and deliver able swords to where they are needed. Good luck, both of you.”
                “Wait, chamberlain. A couple of things.” Adirn said. “First, could we please have your torch?”
                “Oh, oh yes. Of course.” He said, handing it over with a smile. “I don’t need it anyway, it was only for your benefit. I rather forgot I was holding it.”
                Adirn looped the ceremonial dagger through her belt and accepted the torch with a nod of thanks. She and Greysoul stood facing eachother.
                “Second , erm, how do we pass one another?”
                The chamberlain looked her dead in the eye, and shrugged. He and she were both as wide as the passage.
                “It’s never really come up before.”
                “Squat down, Greysoul. We will step over you.” Ordered Captain Toxis.
                “That seems undignified, Keto.” Complained the empress, but Greysoul cut her off.
                “There’s no time for dignity.” He declared, lowering himself to the floor. “Please step over.”
                With an unimpressed frown but no way of arguing, the empress carefully lifted a leg and stepped herself over the chamberlain’s bony back, seeing every detail of the spine which protruded into his threadbare and worn suit. It was awkward, and more than once she nearly overbalanced and burned the chamberlain with his own torch, but eventually she made it. Then came the turn of Keto and his one working foot, making for one of the most painful viewing experiences to which the empress had ever been subjected. It took longer than any of them would have liked, and probably longer than doubling back to a junction and passing there, but eventually Keto was on the correct side of Greysoul, and they were all able to progress
                “Good luck.” The chamberlain repeated, and then he disappeared into the dark.
                “Well. Time for a climb then.” Adirn said nervously. Keto nodded.
                “Would you like for me to carry the torch, eminence?” He offered.
                “No. No that’s fine. You need both hands to climb without hurting your foot. Or your ribs.”
                “As you say, eminence.” Agreed the captain. They started to ascend.
                Until a few minutes earlier, Adirn hadn’t had any idea that the Narrows existed. Who had ordered their construction, and whether they were a part of the original plans or a hugely ambitious renovation project, was a perfect mystery to her, as was the matter of what their original purpose had been. They served well as a chamberlain’s rat run, as she now knew, but presumably they would have been equally useful for a fleeing ruler or an assassin; that none of her predecessors, nor any of her would-be killers had tried to use them implied to her that they were a closely guarded secret indeed. Perhaps even Katherine didn’t know about them. The thought gave her pause for a moment. She hoped that Katherine would survive whatever purge Sinistere’s forces were now planning.
                Whatever the reason for the construction of the Narrows, it certainly wasn’t to make the ascent up God Gouger Tower any easier. In fact, the stairs in the walls were nearly twice as steep as those in the tower proper, running in a sharper helix up the outside of the main staircase. For sure, if one possessed the relative leg strength and proportion of a grasshopper it would be faster to ascend the Narrows staircase, since there would be half the steps to take in total. However, the new array of complaining muscles inside the imperial legs told her in no uncertain terms that this would not be the case for her.
                “This is torture.” She panted. Behind her Keto grunted in agreement. “Who were these stairs even made for? No-one in the empire is eight feet tall.”
                “It’s - ow - it’s the first time I’ve had to use my - ugh - ribs when climbing.” Captain Toxis told her.
                “I know what you mean. Maybe we should save our breath.”
                Keto didn’t respond, which Adirn took to be firm agreement.
                Upwards and upwards they continued to slog, with the empress feeling every step in her thighs and her chest; she burned everywhere, even more than she had done before. Every breath was ragged, and it felt like her lungs were grating against themselves every time they deflated. Greysoul must have been hiding the physique of a mountain goat beneath his tattered clothing to have been able to manage this every time there had been a Dark Council meeting. It was just one more reason not to return to the Skull Chamber once the throne was hers again. If the throne became hers again. There would be no more concessions to the council’s whims. No more agreeing to ludicrous blackmails and unreasonable terms. They would mend their ways and toe the line or the White Alliance would be brought in to give them something to think about that. Bertha Humble would be her ticket to getting Thomas Dove in pocket and then there’d be changes, she seethed to herself. The burning in her muscles transitioned to a burning in her mind that would punish the Dark Council for doing this to her. There would be no mercy for anyone who forced her to walk up such a spiteful staircase ever again.
                The empress found the top of the stairs quite by accident. In the mindless rhythm of a climb, putting one foot in front of and about two feet higher than the other, she had continued for the previous eon. Suddenly there was no new stair to meet the sole of her shoe, and she instead stamped down and toppled forwards, catching herself expertly on the wall using her cheek.
                “Ow.” She said, with the presence of mind to avoid crying out too loud. “We’re at the top.”
                “I can see.” Wheezed Keto. The empress was taken aback.
                “Have we finally found the required set of circumstances to get you out of breath?” She asked.
                “This isn’t really the time for that discussion.” He panted, clutching at his fractured ribs. “I need a moment.”
                “I think this is the best time; we might not get another.” She said. It sounded more morbid than it did in her head. “But not, you’re right. Perhaps I should look for a peephole and the door while you wait.”
                Captain Toxis nodded, and the empress carefully crept her way around the room. Being skull shaped, the walls of the chamber bowed outwards with the curvature of a human head. This curvature had been emulated by both walls of the narrows, so that the empress was forced to walk crookedly along, threading herself along the passage with a feat of unavoidable contortionism.
Voices were audible through the stonework as she moved, but without listening intently against the wall it wasn’t possible to discern the words properly. Through the darkness of the Narrows she could soon see a small spot of light ahead, shining a thin yellow glow against the back wall, coming from a small gap between the bricks. Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier approached it as softly as she could, and moved her head closer to peer through.
                The Skull Table was surrounded by robed figures who were, nonetheless, entirely identifiable. Count Rott sat with his boots up as if he’d achieved anything in his life. Lady Vipus sat next to him, ring-encrusted hands clattering against one another.
                “Do you think it’s the White Alliance though? That’s what I need to know!” Emperor Sinistere demanded. He was pacing up and down the edge of the table and wringing his hands together. He and he alone seemed upset about something.
                “I would doubt it, your vitriolic eminence.” Said the Count, staring at the ceiling. “They would have encountered the HVES Hope Crusher and had their hopes crushed. Also their bones. There would be no need to raise the alarm if a group of boneless soldiers were trying to storm the palace.”
                “That’s assuming any of it works, and doesn’t fall apart into kindling immediately.” Baron Infernus scoffed. “But even then, you would see the distant sky turn to orange with the flames.”
                “I thought I told you to order your arsonists not to burn my ship, no matter how damaged it gets!”
                “You did, but that doesn’t mean it happened. I don’t take instructions from you. My arsonists do great works and won’t be held at bay because you’re precious about some scrap lumber.”
                “Shut up both of you and focus.” Snapped Emperor Sinistere. “If the White Alliance makes it here then we need a solid plan to defend ourselves, and more importantly to defend me. Do you have the carpenters working on defences and counter-siege weaponry?”
                “Of course not, they’re busy with the second Onyxian Navy.” Replied the count. Lady Vipus laughed.
                “That’s what you think; they’re hard at work on my new gallows. We’ll hang each and every White Alliance soldier who steps foot in the City of Torment, your eminence.” She said smugly.
                “Good luck with that one. I don’t think they’ll stand by politely and let you slip the noose on.” Countess Lascera observed disinterestedly. She was picking at her nails with The Agoniser, leaning against the wall behind Emperor Sinistere.
                “We could try asking them. Spread word that it’s a new way of finding… what do they call it... empathy. We’ll say they’re being dreadfully rude to us by refusing to put on the traditional collar of the working folk of the Onyx Empire.” Laughed Tabius Lloyd from a seat in the corner. He was scanning the room slowly with his self-satisfied smirk and drinking in the details. Adirn only wished they’d saved some of the sleep draught for him to drink as well.
                “The only collars they’ll need are right here.” Duchess Asphyxia said, trying to point at both of her hands simultaneously. It didn’t really come off well.
                The empress pulled back from her peep hole. The Dark Council was functioning as well as ever, which wasn’t saying a whole lot. Further around she snuck, and not far at all from the peep hole she saw a rope that looped through the ceiling and floor, just as Greysoul had used before. Carefully the empress felt along the inside of the wall and found the false section that would swing open; their point of ingress and ambush.
                Completing the loop, Adirn eventually crept her way back to Keto, who’d manged to straighten back up and draw his sword.
                “I’ve found the door and a way to see into the room, Keto. This way.” She whispered as softly as she could, before leading him back round. Back at the small break in the stonework he peered through for a few moments.
                “I see six of them - Lloyd, Rott, Vipus, Infernus, Asphyxia and Sinistere. No sign of Auros.”
                “I don’t mind if we’re introduced later.” Adirn replied. “Once we’ve taken Sinistere down, the empire will be ours again.”
                “As you say, eminence.”
                Silence returned.
                “So what’s your plan? How do we make this work?”
                “I’ve faced worse odds than this.” Captain Toxis replied, his confidence either returned or faked well. “Confidently I am the better combatant than any of them. I go in swinging and cut them down.”
                “All together and in your condition?”
                “It’s as you said before, eminence. They won’t dare to fight me because each one of them is a coward. And frankly we have no other choice. You’ve chosen this battle so that the innocent people of this palace, this city, this country may be saved. I am your sworn protector and I will fight any battle for you. I can cut through them all in a handful of seconds.”
                The bottom dropped out of Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier’s stomach yet again, which was enough times to make her consider seeing a medical professional once the times calmed down. She looked up at the injured man she’d forced up an impossibly long climb with a pierced foot and broken rib. Somewhere along the line she’d ceased to be reasonable.
                “No. I’ll talk to them. I’ll demand that they stand down by my authority as the true empress. Their fear will stop them standing against you, and you need not fight. I won’t order you to your death, Keto.”
                “Eminence, with respect, that won’t work. We go in with sword drawn, or we wait for the White Alliance to get here.”
                “I don’t want my throne to be taken back on a wave of blood and waiting for the White Alliance will take too long; Gwen, Mary and the others will be dead. Cassandra and Elizabeth too; they can’t fight Sinistere’s forces forever Keto and Greysoul won’t be able to hide them all forever. We have to put a stop to it.” She sighed. “Sword drawn, but don’t kill anyone unless we have to. I can’t betray my principles now, just because it’s desperate.”
                “You are stubborn.”
                “Yes.”
                “But you are my empress. I will do as you say, and follow you to the end.”
                “I hope that’s more than a minute away.” She muttered back, blowing out the torch and placing a hand on the rope. “On three.”
                “On three.” Keto confirmed.
                “One, two, three.”
                With a surprisingly gentle pull the stone door slid softly open, and Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier marched into the Skull Chamber.
                “Traitors the lot of you!” She roared. Emperor Sinistere leapt high enough to crack his skull on the ceiling and Count Rott toppled backwards, off his chair. “We had a mutual blackmail and you didn’t even wait a day before breaking it!”
                Behind her Keto lunged into the room, sword in hand, trying to mask his limp.
                “What’s she doing here?! You told me she was gone Lascera!” Sinistere cried before an arm was clamped around his throat. The other pressed The Agoniser into his back.
                “I told you a lot of things, you oily failure.” She hissed into his ear.
                “Don’t kill me, please! Please! Someone stop her!” He wailed like a wounded pig.
                “You stole my throne!” Adirn bellowed at him, fists clenched as cries of disbelief came from the rest of the council.
                “You never wanted it in the first place!” He protested.
                “That doesn’t mean that you get to have it, you treacherous piece of filth!”
                “Finally the empress has something worthwhile to say.” Smirked Tabius Lloyd. “But I think we’re rather happier under the new regime. There’s no way I’m going back to your pathetic reign of wildflowers and rolling over for the White Alliance.” From his sleeve he drew a long, thin blade. It was an incredibly dangerous way of storing it, but certainly made for a dramatic reveal.
                “Nor me.” Lady Vipus barked, lunging forwards. Keto shuffled in front of the empress and caught Lady Vipus’ chin with a balled fist. She crashed onto the table in time for Count Rott to leap over her and barrel into Keto. Without a second foot for balance he crashed to the floor under the count’s bulk.
                “The mighty Captain Toxis can be felled after all!” Tabius cried with a cackle!
                “Leave him or the emperor tastes my blade in his spine!” Evi shrieked at them. She received only laughter in reply from Baron Infernus and Tabius Lloyd, and Keto’s elbow slammed into Count Rott’s nose. Blood sprayed over the floor and his face.
                Adirn gasped as the duchess, Tabius Lloyd and the Baron all advanced on her and Keto, ignoring Lascera and the emperor entirely.
                “I mean it! It’ll make me all too happy.” The countess screamed.
                “Us too, you stupid cow!” The Baron bellowed, rounding the Skull Table.
                “You will all stand down by my authority as the true empress!” Adirn screamed, but her authority was as useless as it had ever been.
                “That’ll do, everyone!” Boomed a voice behind Adirn that seemed to swell from the ground itself. Before she could turn, the sounds of the world were clamped out by two enormous hands that crashed into either side of her head. Even her own yelp of pain sounded muddy and distant. Searing, white hot pain surged through both ears, as if they were being pressed between two anvils.
                “This is why we were able to take the throne from you. You never thought to look behind you.” There was an extra squeeze. “It is such a disappointment to finally meet you, Deepgrave.” Adirn clawed at the hands on her head but it was like trying to lift the palace from its foundations. “Duchess, I believe I would like you to have the honour of Captain Toxis. Evi, I would recommend that you think carefully about how you can get yourself out of this compromising situation. Killing an emperor is one thing, but siding with this girl in my hands is something rather sicker.” Auros the Crippler laughed, lifting Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier off the ground by her head. It felt like her ears, if they weren’t inserted all the way into her skull, might be torn clean of her head.
                “He’s my kill!” Count Rott demanded, standing up and looking mightily aggrieved about his nose.
                “You are owed nothing by anyone until you deliver a military success, you dog.” Auros shouted. It provided the distraction Keto needed to swing his sword arm up and take the Count clean across the waist. He collapsed backward with a scream as Keto tried to get back to his knees, but the Baron and the Duchess were on him. The sword was torn from his grip, and two thick hands were closed around his throat.
                “Look at that, girl.” Auros shouted into the back of Adirn’s head, angling it down to face Keto. “This is what makes a ruler strong. Not giving in to the peons, not denying our heritage, and not removing all the skulls we worked so hard to liberate from the heads of weaklings.”
                Adirn could barely think, let alone see, through the pain in her head. Keto’s plight was a confusing slideshow of agony and guilt as she scraped her fingers uselessly across Auros’ hands. She’d been next to the door and they hadn’t even thought to look when they burst in. It was a stupid reason to die.
                “If you don’t want this for yourself then you might want to consider letting my puppet go, Lascera.” Auros ordered.
                The countess stared wide-eyed at the failure of the plan. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go; they were all meant to be cowards who wouldn’t dare fight back. Captain Toxis wasn’t meant to go down like a sack of old skin under a cretin like Count Rott. Her heart raced. Auros was offering some kind of leniency and-
                Evi’s thought process stopped there. Auros did not offer leniency.
                “He’s all yours.” Evi said with a sneer, slipping the blade into his back and then kicking him forwards. She threw her dagger hard at Auros’ bicep in a smooth motion and slid over the table whilst unsheathing another.
                Auros yelled in pain and dropped Adirn into a heap on the floor. The imperial ears were making their displeasure known, and she could hear very little over the beating of her own heart in them. Pressing up onto her feet she made a move to help Keto, but an iron fist from above slammed onto the top of her head, and she hit the ground limply.
                Countess Lascera managed to plant another dagger into the back of Lady Vipus’ neck before Tabius Lloyd pinned her to the table. Unlike the wrestling of Count Rott, however, he used his sword through Evi’s shoulder.
                To the countess’ agonised shrieks Auros stepped forward and stood over Adirn.
                “You are feistier than these weaklings would have had me believe. But you’re just as much of a failure as they said. Had you come out swinging them maybe you’d have had a chance.”
                The empress’ mind swam. She couldn’t focus on anything. Numbly she pushed up into a seat on the floor, and rested her back against the Skull Table. Duchess Asphyxia still had her grip around Keto’s throat as Baron Infernus held his arms back. A stream of Evi’s blood, or maybe it was Lady Vipus’, started to trickle off the table.
                “We all thought you were a feeble choice for an empress, but this is a level of failure that none could have predicted. You should have stayed lost and forgotten with the rest of your family, Deepgrave. You won’t be buried at all this time.” The Crippler smirked. She pulled the dagger from her arm and threw it down. “But that’s the last you’ll hear of anything.”
                Auros leaned down, both hands extended and placed them either side of Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier’s head one more time. Had she been able to hear anything anymore, there would have been a small gasp from the back of the room. Movement flashed from behind Auros.
                A decorously polished obsidian skull slammed into the side of Auros’ temple in a headbutt-by-proxy. It sent her neck snapping to one side, and once again the grip was broken. Sound rushed back into Adirn’s ears, she heard roaring battle cries concerning well-buffed floors and immaculately made beds fillig the skull chamber. Something on her belt dig painfully into her leg.
                Mary the Skullery maid unleashed another ornate skull which soared into Baron Infernus’ back, as Gwen lifted a golden gallows high above her head with both hands. Duchess Asphyxia barely had time to look up before it came plummeting down onto her skull, sending her spiralling away from the captain of the guard. He collapsed onto his face.
                Henry Servile and a legion of house staff continued to flood from the Narrows, wielding mops, stokers and prohibited iconography with menaces, unleashing a barrage of miniature gallows, sacrificial cleavers, and decadent punishing-stools that rained down on the Dark Council. Following shortly after were Cassandra Spite and Elizabeth Ichorborn, with more conventional weaponry and less conventional attitudes toward mercy.
                “What in Virum’s name is this!” Auros bellowed. “You’ve even broken the worms!”
                Mary lunged for another crashing proxy headbutt against the Crippler, but she caught the maid’s arm in one hand, and slammed a fist into her gut with the other. With seemingly no effort she threw the girl bodily across the room before rounding on the empress yet again.
                “Nothing will let you escape this fate, Deepgrave.”
                The kind of panic that only take hold when hope is snatched away surged through the imperial mind. In a flash the nagging pain in her leg resolved itself into handle of the dagger on her waist. ‘Don’t think’, Keto’s had told her. Ignoring the pain, ignoring the carnage, ignoring that Auros was twice her size and many more times the murderer that she herself would ever be, Adirn stood up and grabbed the dagger at her waist while she remembered Keto’s other piece of advice.
                Ribs. Eyes. Throat.
 
It took Gwen, Cassandra and Henry all working together to pull the empress free. Auros was an imposing mass of humanity, and she’d fallen completely on top of Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier. She was only faintly aware that her lungs could now push the weight required to inflate her chest, and even their choking was barely perceptible to her mind. To one side Keto had been propped up against a wall. Countess Lascera’s legs dangled off the table to the other side. There was still no time to think.
                “The usurper is gone and the rightful Empress has returned.” She boomed into the room, as best she could with ravaged lungs and barely able to hear her own words. “Get word to the armies to stand down before they all get killed. Spread word through the palace that Auros and Sinistere are dead. Use the Narrows. Go.” She commanded.
                All the way down the main staircase of God Gouger Tower Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier, drenched from head to foot in the blood of Auros the Crippler, dragged the body of Emperor Sinistere the Usurper, flanked by Cassandra and Elizabeth. They’d pleaded with the empress to leave the body behind, and then to let them help her, and then to at least not pull him face-down across so many stairs. That much she agreed to.
                The empress’ palace-wide tour with Emperor Sinistere the Usurper’s body provided evidence enough for the remaining forces to stand down, morphing from bloodthirsty warriors to terrified children when they realised they now stood against a reigning empress. Cassandra and Elizabeth encouraged that sort of thing, and Adirn lacked the energy to correct them. Dawn was breaking when a messenger raven reached the palace. The Onyx Empire had surrendered. The White Alliance was on its way.
 
 “There was an interesting discovery in Shimmerdale, eminence.” Said Elucidator Heartswarmth. He sat opposite the empress in her office, his back to the newly fitted door. Thomas Dove was touring the Skull Chamber to convince himself that justice had been served, and Adirn had decided that she remembered it well enough not to need a reminder. The elucidator had insisted that he be accompanied by all three active illuminators, and offered kindly to sit with the empress while they performed their inspections. “Hoof prints from the apparent attackers were seen leading back into the Onyx Empire, and not quite along the usual route.”
                The empress swallowed and looked into his calm but astute face.
                “I see.” She said. She’d just about managed to get the blood washed off herself by the time their forces had arrived at the palace, but her hair was still wet. It clung to the sides of her face like seaweed left exposed by the tide.
                “Those hoof prints were followed to a clearing in a burned forest. It was quite a strange place, because it doesn’t seem to have been the kind of woodland that would experience a natural forest fire, and yet quite a fierce blaze must have taken it. There are no settlements nearby, nor was there evidence of camp; it’s quite a mystery.”
                “That is strange, but tragedies do seem to strike the Onyx Empire with some considerable frequency.” The empress tried to explain.
                 “Nor is it the type of woodland to normally be expected to hold a poorly concealed mass grave.” Heartswarmth said bluntly. “And yet…”
                “You know the work I’m having to do to repair this empire, Elucidator. You can’t be surprised at such discoveries in the Onyx Empire, but you can take heart that I’m trying to prevent more of them.”
                “Of course, eminence. As you say. What was most interesting about the hoof prints leading to this clearing is that they joined up with the tracks of a cart.” He said, his gaze intensifying. “Cart traffic is especially uncommon in that area, since the Onyx Empire trades with no-one. It is also curious that you were travelling, or more accurately being smuggled, in a cart that matches those tracks to absolute perfection; a cart that would be recognisable anywhere, since it belongs to Bertha Humble. The same Bertha Humble who so kindly aided you in your mission of dutiful return to the empire, and who lent you that cart to return into this very palace.”
                Oathbreaker Adirn Deepgrave the Denier looked into the shrewd, passive eyes of Elucidator Heartswarmth.
                “The gold is on the cart, as I’m sure you’re already aware, Elucidator. You are, of course, free to take it back to Shimmerdale. Our intent was never to profit from them, but we had no other option to bring Thomas Dove’s armies to the empire. I really am trying to make things better; a war was for the greater good, and no battles were fought.”
                “And yet the attack was the bloodiest and worst in the White Alliance’s history. The people of Shimmerdale are always left alive, eminence. But this time?” He looked away from her, out of the window that offered a view of The City of Torment’s blackened buildings. “This time was carnage.”
                “The same carnage that would have been wrought in my own villages for years to come if the White Alliance hadn’t intervened. As I said to his divinity on the road, it’s not so easy to turn a blind eye to ‘just one more village’ when they’re your own, is it?”
                Heartswarmth frowned back at her.
                “I didn’t order her to kill them, Elucidator.” The empress continued, palms open and up. “She was to attack and make a scene, steal the gold, and set the war going. Everything else was… her worse nature getting the better of her.”
                The elucidator sighed and drummed his fingers against the desk.
                “I suppose that his divinity may not have taken such extreme steps if the provocation had not been so severe. I am not naïve to the ramifications of the White Alliance’s practices over the years, as you so clearly explained yourself. We must all hold our hands up to what has been done.” He stood and reached into his robes, producing a scroll that was far less decadent than Thomas Dove’s invitation to visit Serenitas. “The truth brings me great sadness, Empress Deepgrave, but I believe what you say, that you didn’t intend for such loss of life. I can also accept, without my illuminators or his divinity present, that war was your only option.” He tore the scroll up in front of her and threw it down on the desk. “You can burn this report. Your secret will be safe with me.”
                Relief was not a feeling to which Adirn was overly accustomed, especially in dealings with the White Alliance, so it took her rather by surprise. It must have been clear to see, based on Elucidator Heartswarmth’s expression.
                “Are you alright, eminence? You understand what I’m saying? Is it your ears?”
                “Hm? Oh, I’m fine, and I gratefully, very gratefully, understand. Thank you for your… pragmatism and kindness in this matter, elucidator.” She said, somewhat cumbersomely. Her ability to hear had largely recovered after Auros’ attack, but her ears were now far flatter to her head than they used to be.
                “You’re welcome. It is pleasing to finally have something like diplomacy between our empires.” Heartswarmth said, sitting down again and looking around the room casually. “There really are a lot of skulls and fangs around the palace.”
                “It’s weird, right? I’m working on getting it all taken down but you would hardly believe how much everyone is resisting it!”
                “You should try asking his Divinity to remove the chaises-longue, even the ones that are blocking doorways.” Lamented the elucidator. “I think I understand your plight perfectly well.”
                “I must admit, some of them are growing on me. The tasteful ones I mean.” Admitted the empress. “Perhaps we can bear to keep one or two as a testament, or a warning maybe, of our past. But there really isn’t any need for the servants’ chambers to littered with shackles and stretching racks.”
                “You have my trust that such internal matters will be dealt with ably, eminence.” Heartswarmth replied. “But if you would indulge me one last time, I would hear the truth of what happened in the palace today. There will be a version of the truth to hand to the Divine Light Thomas Dove and we may work that out from the details.”
                The empress smiled. It seemed she finally had someone she could work with.
 
All told, the White Alliance remained in the Imperial Palace for two full days. Although a part of this time was spent in finally negotiating away the war reparations, beginning talks to kick off some form of trade, and apologising for leaving the First Onyxian Navy behind in the mud, they would have left a day earlier if not for Bertha Humble. The empress insisted that she be allowed to show Bertha some of the same hospitality that she so frequently offered, and Ms Humble would not hear of leaving without a chance to take decorative inspiration from every room in the palace. Baking some thank you gifts in the kitchen was also non-negotiable.
                Her tour became the stuff of legend, simultaneously showering the household staff in more praise than they could comprehend and finding a silver lining to every iconoclastic tool of suffering that remained on display. None of the librarians could shush her booming voice for long in the Archive of Sin, and even in the Cathedral of the Deep she was overawed by ‘the dedication to a calling higher than oneself’ and the move to ‘place it underground, so that even the highest pinnacle of Virum’s worship could be accessible to those who were stuck on the surface’. The Grand Priestess didn’t take so kindly to Bertha’s interpretation, but somehow couldn’t muster the spite to set the Rector’s Guard on her.
                When they finally rolled out of the Imperial Palace, amid promises that each of them would visit the other with great regularity, Adirn stood and watched their carts, carriages and horses grow ever smaller among the imposingly dark structures of the City of Torment. Her arguments had fallen short of convincing Thomas Dove that Shimmerdale’s gold, no longer useful to the people of Shimmerdale, should be left in the Onyx Empire, and the empress was grateful not to build her new legacy on blood-gold. They were long gone before she breathed a final sigh.
                “That was… something.” She said.
                “I’m going to miss Bertha.” Replied Cassandra. Elizabeth snapped a shocked look in her direction. “I mean, I’ll miss her baking. Fine food is hard to come by.” She covered expertly. Her companion nodded.
                “We’ll be seeing them soon enough, I hope. And not under the banners of war now that Rott’s, well…”
                “Rotting, eminence?”
                “A bit macabre, but yes.” The empress Denier accepted.
                Cassandra shrugged.
                “We should visit Keto and Evi. Come along, please.”
                Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier strode through the halls of the Imperial Palace, navigating the needlessly complicated series of corridors it comprised, until they arrived at her living quarters. For all the assassination attempts, bloodshed and hostility it saw on a daily basis, no-one had ever thought to set up any kind of medical centre within the palace itself. The best she could do was allocate a guest bedroom as the triage, and requisition some of the White Alliance’s healers to treat the wounded for the duration of their delegation’s stay. Thereafter the care was left in Gwen’s capable, if squeamish, hands.
                “Good evening.” Adirn said, poking her head around the door. Propped up in bed this time, rather than against a wall, was Keto Toxis. He tried to straighten up at the empress’ presence, but a screaming pain in his ribcage stopped him half way.
                “Your eminence.” He wheezed respectfully. Dark purple bruising ran around his throat in two perfect hand-prints, and it seemed his scuffles with Sinistere’s forces and the Dark Council had left him rather more abused than he’d let on. “The White Alliance’s delegation has departed, I presume?”
                “Yes, they’re on their way back with Shimmerdale’s gold and my apologies. For once that seems to be enough. How are you feeling?”
                “I’m ready for service again, eminence. Cass, Liz; you’re free to release the empress back into my care.”
                “Is that a lie, Keto?”
                Captain Toxis shrugged. Then he winced at the pains in his ribs and neck.
                “You need to rest up some more, then. These two are perfectly capable of looking after me, and with half the Dark Council dead there are far fewer assassins to keep at bay.”
                “We only killed one the whole time the White Alliance was here.” Elizabeth added. “Tried to sneak up on us with a candlestick.”
                “When was this?!” The empress demanded.
                “This morning. When we were climbing back up from the Cathedral of the Deep and Bertha was talking about how Emperor Pious Cutpurse probably meant well.” Said Cassandra. “We didn’t want to bother you with it, so we disarmed him-“
                “Which is to say, we broke his arms” Interjected Elizabeth.
                “-and then we threw him back down the staircase.”
                “Think of it as a tribute to the story of Emperor Pious.”
                They beamed proudly, and Keto nodded his approval.
                “I’ll not think of it at all, if it’s all the same to you.” The empress frowned. Old habits died hard, and assassins, it seemed, still died harder.
                “I need to discuss something in private with the empress. You may wait outside; she’ll be safe here with me.” Keto said, seemingly from nowhere. Cass and Liz looked tentatively at one another, but shrugged and did as they were told while Adirn regarded Keto with significant confusion.
                “I saw Auros’ body on the way out, eminence.” He said, once they were alone. She stiffened.
                “I did what you told me, Keto. Didn’t think about it. There was no choice though; she would have killed me if I didn’t kill her.” She defended quickly, feeling as if she were on trial in front of Thomas Dove yet again.
                “You did well, eminence, and as I said, self-defence won’t tarnish your reputation. But for the sake of clarity, when I said ‘ribs, eyes and throat’ that was more… guidance for places to strike that will hurt someone.” He explained, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t mean that you needed to be so thorough about all three.”
                Oathbreaker Adirn the Denier looked into Captain Toxis’ earnest face. Excuses could be made that it was all reflex, or that she wasn’t thinking, or that special dispensation could be made during such life or death struggles, or even that Auros deserved it for what she’d orchestrated. It all felt evasive though, and for once she felt no remorse at what she’d done.
                Adirn shrugged. Keto smiled.
                “I should check on Evi. We may need to have a frank conversation about stabbing unconscious nobles where they lie, but I fear that the countess will take it all as a grand compliment.”
                “We wouldn’t be here without her, eminence.” Keto reminded her.
                “I understand that, and she will not be punished too severely. But I rather feel that she took advantage of the situation and some re-education in Bertha Humble’s boarding centre will do her good.” Smirked the empress, thinking about the potential of an ally like Ms Humble.
                “What about the rest of the Dark Council?”
                “What about them? They’re no more or less traitorous than we always knew them to be.” She said. “They’ll remain in the dungeons while we organise the stripping of their titles and lands, and then they can be released back into the world they helped create.”
                “Even if they say they’re sorry?” He asked with a smirk.
                “Yes, even then. I fear that they would be lying.”
                Captain Toxis gave a gentle chuckle, then grimaced at the pain in his throat. His expression relaxed again.
                “I’m sorry that your return was stained with such bloodshed, eminence. I hope that you can recover your legacy.”
                “There’s nothing more any of us could have done, Keto. I’ll have to live with what I’ve done but, critically, it means I will live. It’ll become common knowledge that many lives were lost in yet another invasion, but as for the details? Well, they’re like Sinistere, Rott, Vipus, and Auros aren’t they?”
                Captain Toxis looked at her, confused.
                “They’ll be buried in deep graves.”