Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 8 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Dwarves and the Beastfolk

The thirteenth day of the sixth month of Imperial Year 1026

Lichtein’s sky was as bright as a midsummer day. The column of cavalry made its way across the prairie, their ranks neat and orderly despite the heat. A well-ventilated carriage trundled along at its head, carrying a boy with black hair and a strange mask.

“We shouldn’t be far from the border.”

Hiro yawned as he looked around. Prairie stretched away in all directions, the ground marred with cracks and colored brown with dried vegetation. No rain had fallen for many days. It would have been a wasteland if not for the scattering of human figures in the distance.

“Last year, this place was lush with greenery, I hear,” Luka said. “You wouldn’t think it now. A lesson to Lichtein that they live and die at nature’s pleasure.” She turned to the figures on the horizon. “Yet still they try to grow their crops. Even without water, they cling to hope.”

The people had been born on this land, raised by crops grown on its soil. They would not easily give it up for lost. No doubt they came here every day, praying that something would change. Fearing for their lives, enduring sleepless nights, they hoped against hope for a miracle.

“That is why we show them mercy. When a man terrified for his life realizes that he will live to see tomorrow, he is stricken to his soul with gratitude.” Hiro touched a hand to his mask, his smile broadening.

Luka watched in distaste. “So you are simply taking advantage of people in need.”

“It’s a time-honored tradition. That’s how rulers earn the loyalty of their people.”

“So that is why you seek to free this river?”

Hiro shrugged. “It’s one reason. But it’s only a step along the way to what I really want.”

“Is that so.” Luka shot him a sidelong glance, but as ever, any attempt to read his mind was thwarted by the mask. Unable to glean any hints, she lowered her gaze to the ground, seemingly losing interest.

“I’ll let you think about it. You’ve got plenty of time.”

Hiro returned his gaze to the fore. An enormous wall of packed earth stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. He could make out the figures of slaves walking along its length, carrying sacks of earth—reinforcing it in anticipation of an attack, perhaps, although it was equally possible that it was still under construction.

“It’s strange to see a wall in such different colors. You can see exactly where it’s been attacked.”

Watchtowers had been erected to guard the locations in question, and a large number of sentries were visible on the battlements.

Their cheeks look thin. They don’t seem to be well-fed.

As he mused, a gate of wood and iron came into view. It had clearly weathered a great many assaults; it was chipped and dented in countless places and stained with more blood and fat than water could wash away.

A ducal soldier rode up to the carriage. “I fear we cannot accompany you any farther, my lord,” he said.

Here, Hiro would bid farewell to the ten thousand men he had received from Rankeel. He would also leave behind all but five hundred of the three thousand Crow Legion soldiers he had brought from Baum.

“You’ve done fine work. Now you can sit back and wait for the good news.”

“Of course, my lord. We pray for your success.”

As Hiro raised a hand in answer, the gate opened with a shuddering groan. He and his men rode inside.

Garda approached the carriage. “We’ll keep two hundred on the vanguard and three hundred behind. No objections, I trust?”

“None. Although I don’t expect them to attack us anyway.”

Hiro had already informed Steissen—or the Nidavellirites, at any rate—of his intention to visit. They had responded that they would welcome his arrival, but on condition that he brought only five hundred men, which he had done. Luka and Garda were with him as well.

“How are Huginn and Muninn doing?” he asked.

“Word came not long ago. They said they’ve arrived undetected. Their preparations are underway.”

“Good. Now all that’s left is to see who this Utgard really is.”

Sunlight glinted off the armor of the riders in front strongly enough to make him squint. Seeking somewhere else to rest his eyes, he looked around. The remnants of battle littered the ground. As an opening in the border between Lichtein and Steissen, this place must have seen its fair share of fighting over the years. Rusted blades lay abandoned alongside half-buried cuirasses and unrecovered corpses, their flesh rotted clean away. A starved monster glared up at the party as it gnawed on a human bone. Despite the blue sky above, the lingering death and resentment in the air lent their surroundings a gloomy feel.

“Little left of the river,” Luka remarked under her breath, looking at what appeared to be a deep trench. That was likely the River Saale. A large volume of bones lay on its banks, as if they had crawled there in search of water.

“That explains why only monsters can survive around here,” Hiro said. “Although even that’s a matter of time.”

With its prey dying out, the starved monster they had just passed would soon meet the same fate. The lack of water was killing off this land’s fauna as surely as its flora.

“And beyond the deadlands...is Steissen.”

A great wall loomed before them. It was far higher than its equivalent on the Lichtein side and sturdy enough to match its formidable reputation. Forts stood guard against attack at strategic points. Any poorly planned assault would end in a bloodbath.

“Now I see why they thought the empire would be an easier target,” Hiro said. “You’d need to commit a lot of men to break through something like this. All the more so if most of your soldiers were slaves.”

As they approached the wall, a soldier appeared on the watchtower. “Halt!” he cried.

All at once, the battlements were bristling with archers, all of their arrows trained on the force below. The Crow Legion raised their shields and gathered around Hiro’s carriage, readying bows and settling into battle positions. The dry prairie fell silent as a millpond. Even the slightest noise could trigger a raging storm of violence.

Despite the tension, Hiro’s smile never dropped. He raised a hand. “I am Surtr, the Black-Winged Lord and second king of Baum. I was told I have been granted permission to pass. Tell me, has Steissen broken its word, or has it simply never heard of the concept of messengers?”

Before leaving the duchy, he had sent a missive to Utgard in the Nidavellirites’ stronghold of Galza. The reply had come with a writ of passage.

“Here. See for yourself.”

Hiro raised the document, complete with Utgard’s seal, but the soldiers did not lower their bows, and nobody rode out to confirm its authenticity. He tossed it to the ground in disgust.

“Steissen has been skirmishing with Lichtein frequently of late,” Luka said. “It seems the dwarves are suspicious of all humans now.”

“That would explain the inhospitable welcome.” Hiro laid back on the carriage couch with a sigh. “We’ll wait, then. No point in getting worked up. That’s what they want.”

“When steel might be drawn at any moment?” Luka cast another glance around. The soldiers were staring one another down beneath the burning sun, the air so tense that they didn’t even wipe away their sweat.

Fortunately, they were not kept waiting long. The gate swung open, breaking the silence. A single figure emerged from the shadows behind. His torso was barrel-shaped and he stood significantly shorter than Hiro, although he looked nothing like a child; his face was aged, and he wore a neatly tied beard on his chin. The flashes of musculature through his armor revealed him to be a seasoned warrior. Judging by his distinctive appearance, he was clearly a dwarf and perhaps an officer to boot; his armor was of finer make than that of the men on the wall.

“Apologies for our poor manners, my lord. Lord Utgard told me of your coming. Please, this way.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thorkil, my lord. Commander of the borderwatch.”

“Well, Thorkil, I have some advice for you.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Think carefully before you do this again. It could easily have turned into an international incident, and that’s the last thing Steissen can afford right now. It’s in no position to be making enemies.”

Thorkil looked back with naked animosity.

Looks like he has quite some hatred for humans after all...

As Hiro looked back coldly, Thorkil seemed to become conscious of the anger he was exuding and bowed his head to hide it. “Thank you for your advice, my lord. I shall bear your words in mind.” With that, he turned around and began to lead the way.

Hiro glanced up at the battlements. The archers were gone. He signaled the standard bearer to march. It had not been quite as simple as he had hoped, but he had managed to enter Steissen.

Hiro and his troops emerged on the far side of the formidable wall to find themselves surrounded by three thousand Steissen soldiers. Some were mounted on ponies—dwarves, he assumed. They wore far sturdier armor than the rest and carried jewel-encrusted swords at their belts. On their chests was the livery of Nidavellir. They regarded Hiro and his company with evident disdain, daring them to put a foot out of line and give them an excuse to draw steel.

“The dwarves in the middle seem to be staring at us.”

“They’re the elites of Nidavellir. A repulsive lot, to be certain.” Luka began to bite her thumbnail and stamp compulsively on the ground, seemingly unable to restrain her irritation. “The dwarves have the hands of gods, they say. Nobody crafts better blades, and it often goes to their heads. Sometimes they go to serve in palaces, but their arrogance soon gets them thrown out.”

“Do you have something personal against them?”

“Not at all. It just sits ill with me that when the best of them win renown in foreign lands, the rest brag about their feats as if they were their own, supping fame like fine wine when they’re worth less than a cup of vinegar.”

“And those are the elites, you say? Do you think they have anything to do with the recent disturbance?”

“The system should be burned to the ground.”

Luka was growing less and less restrained. It seemed prudent to leave her alone for now. It would only cause trouble if she lost control here. She was beautiful, despite her burns, but her sheer prickliness made it difficult for anybody to approach her, man or woman. She supposedly had a soft spot for children, but it went unfulfilled—naturally, they did not want to come near her.

“The elites, hm...” he mused. He had heard the rumors. There was a privileged class in Nidavellir; an institution one was only eligible to enter if they, their fathers, or their grandfathers had contributed in some exceptional way to the nation. The dwarven senators who made up half of the senate were all members of the elites. Known as the Nidavellirite faction, they had helped to rule Steissen for many years.

Ostensibly, the elite system was a meritocracy that cared nothing for background, but the reality was less rosy. Contributions to the nation had to be assessed by somebody, and in this case, that somebody was the existing elites. As much as they professed that talent could come from anywhere, in practice, they were all dwarves. The result was that, in Steissen—or at least, in the territory of Nidavellir—the established upper class had the power to render accomplishments worthless, and anybody not lucky enough to be born a dwarf had no hope of advancement. Anybody who wanted to establish themselves had no choice but to leave for another nation and make their mark there.

“Now I remember. I read about this. Humans are kept as slaves in Steissen, beastfolk are considered livestock, and álfar are kept as trophies. Even the poorer dwarves are spat on and abused.”

A society could not support a privileged class like the elites without cracks appearing in its foundations. That was the cause of the strife that currently gripped Steissen.

“Some nerve their leader has, calling himself a descendant of the first emperor.”

“The powerful always did care for themselves first and foremost,” Luka remarked. “If their position becomes unstable, they will shore it up by whatever means they can.”

“The simplest answer there is. Let’s just hope it’s true.” With a wry smile, Hiro turned his thoughts to the future. “Now, what to make of all this...”

His hand of cards was limited but versatile. The question now was how to play it most efficiently to reap the greatest rewards.

“The empire has also moved to intervene, I believe.” Luka interrupted his musings.

“So I hear. I remember the report.”

“Apparently, a certain girl with crimson hair has taken charge.”

“I heard that too. Liz will be providing support to the Jötunheimites in person. Does that bother you?”

“Not in particular.” Luka fell silent again, retreating back into her own little world.

Hiro cocked his head—it was unusual for her to bring up something like that—but there was no point pondering it now. He quickly banished the matter to the periphery of his mind.

＊＊＊＊＊

The walls of Sunspear’s golden palace caught the evening sun, showering the city in rainbow light. Inside, Beto and his right hand, Ludurr, were having a discussion over a bottle of wine.

“Now,” Beto said, his chair creaking beneath him as he leaned back, “how do you think Lady Celia Estrella will overcome this trial?”

Opposite, Ludurr took a composed sip from his goblet and smiled. “An interesting question. I believe I have a reasonable grasp of her character.”

Beto leaned forward. “What do you think?”

Ludurr cast his gaze to the window, narrowing his eyes against the picturesque sunset. “Honest, if not given to subtlety, perhaps.” He shook his head. “No, she is wise in her own ways, sharp of instinct and quick of wit. She read all of me that I let her, and she seeks to grow further yet. If she is this impressive now, I fear to think what she may become in time.”

“She has grown beautiful, hasn’t she? One might mistake her for an álf. A shame—had she been raised a princess, she might have bought a nation or two.”

Ludurr snorted. “That is not quite what I meant.”

“I know. A jest, nothing more. But if nothing else, her appearance proves the purity of her heritage.”

“The royal family’s bloodline has mingled with many others in the past thousand years, so it is not unheard of for it to bear forth remarkable beauties.” A smile spread across Ludurr’s face as he savored the aroma of his wine. “Still, who would have imagined that she would be born with red hair?”

“Only the late Emperor Greiheit and the other great houses knew, I suspect.”

“No,” Ludurr replied. “They were not the only ones.”

Beto laid his silver goblet on the table, frowning. “The first empress consort?”

“Close, but incorrect. She was an unfortunate puppet, nothing more. And now the empire no longer has empress consorts.”

Silence fell for a short time, and then Beto drew a breath of realization. “Orcus.”

Ludurr smiled. “Correct. And that is also the reason behind Emperor Greiheit’s expansionism. Where the imperial family goes, Orcus follows. A problem we must address sooner or later.”

“But first comes the question of whether Lady Celia Estrella can overcome this hurdle.”

“As I said, her growth is remarkable. And she is not content to rest on her laurels—she seeks greater heights. Soon, we shall see whether she can make these events in Steissen another stepping stone, or whether they will prove a fatal fall.” Ludurr drained his goblet with evident relish. He would enjoy seeing which.

Beto pulled a face, pushing his cup away as if its contents no longer interested him. “Do you expect her to fall foul of the traps you have laid?”

“I wonder. We shall have to wait and see.”

“That von Kelheit witch can no longer be allowed to do as she likes. If we do not oust her somehow, House Muzuk will find itself finishing this race in second place.” Beto picked up the bottle and refilled Ludurr’s cup.

“We have plenty of opportunities for that. It is not yet time to panic. We could better use this chance to test Lady Celia Estrella.”

“Test?” Beto offered Ludurr the goblet now brimming with wine.

“To determine whether she has the wherewithal to solve her own problems. She has always had capable advisors to assist her in the past. That makes it difficult to gauge her true worth.”

Ludurr rested an elbow on the table and reached for one of the pieces of fruit piled in the bowl. The drink seemed to be getting to him. Something manic glinted in his eyes as he bit into an apple.

“And if she falls short, we may oust Countess von Kelheit from the chancellor’s seat as you wish. But no matter which of the Jötunheimites and the Nidavellirites prevails, we stand to gain. We need only watch from afar and reap the rewards of our success.”

He struck the apple against the table as though his interest had waned. His brow creased as he regarded Beto afresh.

“But I would hear more of what happened two years ago. I understand the von Bunadala girl snatched the seat of campaign strategist from your grasp. May I ask how you and the rest of your advisors let that happen?”

This was clearly a topic Beto had hoped to avoid. His expression changed and he looked away awkwardly, unwilling to meet Ludurr’s gaze.

Ludurr was undeterred. “And that was not all, was it? If you were feuding with Countess von Kelheit for the chancellorship, why did you not send for me?”

Ludurr had spent the past three years in Steissen, spinning various schemes. He had hastened the death of the high consul, arranged the assassination of both factions’ electoral candidates, and worked to split Steissen in two, all while collaborating with the Nidavellirites to dam the River Saale and exacerbate the drought in Lichtein. Satisfied that his plans had succeeded, he had returned to Sunspear, only to find himself confronted with a slew of Beto’s mistakes.

“I regret to say I underestimated her.”

“So you made an error of judgment.”

Beto lifted his chin, although his voice shook with shame. “Indeed. I thought too much of our capabilities. I believed House Kelheit posed no threat to us, even without you here.”

“And it took the loss of the western and central territories for you to learn your error.”

“I can make no excuses. It was my mistake, and I apologize for it.” Beto lowered his head, making no effort to argue.

Placated by the show of contrition, Ludurr’s anger lessened by a shade. “Well, what’s done is done. If you acknowledge your mistakes, I will not press you further. You at least managed to make yourself a ministerial secretary. To fight our way back from this position will be amusing in and of itself.” The seeds for that had already been sown. Ludurr chuckled, in a better mood. “I look forward to seeing how the first emperor’s necklace avails us.”

Beto raised his head again. “Indeed. Besides, we are used to having the odds against us.”

“I did not say you were forgiven. You will keep your arrogance on a tighter leash in the future. Besides, that was not your only failing. Why did you appoint your wife acting secretary? If she was to be a hostage in the palace, that would be one thing, but she travels constantly between Sunspear and the capital. What purpose does that serve?”

Beto’s face paled as though he had abruptly run out of air. “She told me she wanted the position. I could not refuse her.” Where he was usually confident, now his voice was weak and his tone was awkward. He always grew evasive when it came to this subject.

“So love is to blame?” Ludurr scowled.

Beto’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh. “Would that it were so.”

He cast a wistful gaze out of the window, as though reminiscing about the distant past. The sun had long set now, and darkness lay over the world like a curtain.

＊＊＊＊＊

Distant howls shook the night. The land felt different now that the sun had gone down. Every noise became more unsettling, and terror thrived in the absence of light. Even the scent in the air had changed.

Today, the night contained an especially hostile presence. Five thousand heavily armed soldiers made their way down the road. Liz led from the front, with Tris by her side. Her white wolf gamboled nearby.

“It seems we’ve made it, Your Highness,” the old soldier said.

Shadows danced across Liz’s shapely features in the torchlight. “It’s gotten cold now that the sun’s gone down. Once we’re across the border, we’ll send a messenger to the Jötunheimites and ask if we can use the fortress for the night.” Liz glanced up the road. Lights shone in the darkness ahead, evenly spaced, wavering in the wind. “We might not be able to see it right now, but if those torches are any indication, it’s large enough.”

The fortress lay where the empire met Steissen. This was the first time Liz had ever seen it.

“It’s unbreakable, they say,” Tris said. “All sorts of peoples make their home in Steissen, and no one builds sturdier foundations than the dwarves.”

“So that’s why other nations would rather send support than try to invade.”

“Aye, that’s the right of it. Steissen might be in turmoil, but it’s no easy pickings. Its towns have high walls, and its forts are strong. You’d need a large force to lay it low. The wall along the Lichtein border is particularly formidable, I’ve heard.”

“Have you ever been to Steissen before?”

“Only once, with Dios.” Tris’s face grew sorrowful in the torchlight as he looked up at the fortress, recalling the past. Dios had passed away during Lichtein’s invasion. “I’ve little to tell from that time, Your Highness. We returned to the empire almost as quickly as we arrived.”

“I see.” Liz didn’t probe any further. The old man suddenly seemed terribly fragile.

Silence descended between them as the conversation petered out. Only the drumming of horseshoes and the crunch of armor disturbed the quiet. They rode by the sounds of the night. Gradually, the lights before them grew larger and larger, until a fortress emerged from the darkness, given shape by the moonlight.

Liz called the column to a halt.

“Welcome to Jötunheim province! You all look dead on your feet, but would you mind showing me to your commander? It’s only right I give a proper greeting.”

A figure appeared before them—a formidable woman dressed in revealing traditional garb. She carried a bow and a well-sharpened axe at her waist, and a dead rabbit dangled from her belt. Behind her stood a host of burly warriors clad in animal hides. They looked so uncouth that they could easily have been mistaken for bandits.

Liz dismounted and approached the woman. “I am Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz of the Grantzian Empire.”

The woman’s eyes widened with surprise in the torchlight. She looked Liz over from tip to toe. “Well, ain’t you a fine thing. You the princess?”

Liz cocked her head, taken aback by the woman’s forward manner. “And you are?”

“Me? Call me Skadi. Skadi Bestla Mikhail, ruler of Jötunheim province by order of the senate.” Her nostrils flared as though taking in Liz’s scent.

“I take it you’re here to represent the Jötunheimites?”

Skadi took a step back. “That’s right.”

She closed the distance again, still sniffing. There was something oddly animalistic about her motions. Sensing Liz’s wary gaze, she turned to look her in the eye. Only then did Liz realize what seemed so off about her—her sclera were black instead of white. Upon closer inspection, two curved, goatlike horns protruded from her forehead.

“You’re one of the beastfolk, aren’t you?” Liz asked.

Skadi nodded, a broad grin spreading across her face. “Sure as sunshine.”

Before the creation of the republic, Steissen had been divided into nine different nations. Some had belonged to the beastfolk, some to the humans, and some to the dwarves. Jötunheim had been the foremost beastfolk nation, Lichtein the foremost human one, and Nidavellir the foremost dwarven one. The Republic of Steissen had been born when they joined hands in alliance to resist the empire’s influence. As time passed, the nation’s peoples had intermingled, but many still chose to dwell in regions where their fellows were most common, and so each province’s population was still dominated by its original inhabitants.

“Thanks for lending your aid,” Skadi said. “The Nidavellirites are a tenacious bunch. They’ve been starting to give us some trouble in recent months.” She extended her hand for Liz to shake.

“Not at all. We’ll be glad to help in any way we—” Liz reached out to grasp Skadi’s hand, only to find it no longer there. The beastwoman had abruptly squatted down and was now gazing at her waist.

“So this is the famous Lævateinn, eh? I’d heard the whispers, but this is the first time I’ve seen it for myself.”

“You aren’t a very good listener, are you?”

“It’s my beastfolk blood at work. Makes it hard to sit still.”

There was little Liz could say to that.

“Well,” Skadi continued, “we can’t loiter around here forever. Care to come in?”

She clasped her hands behind her head and walked off without waiting for an answer. After a couple of paces, she stopped.

“Oh, that’s right. There was one thing I wanted to ask you.” She turned around. “Tell me—why did my brother Dios die?”

A cold wind blew. The torches’ light fell away as they guttered. Unable to make out Skadi’s expression in the darkness, Liz could do nothing but stand dumbly. Behind her, a shudder of shock ran through Tris.

＊＊＊＊＊

The fifteenth day of the sixth month of Imperial Year 1026

Galza, in Nidavellir Province

Dawn had not long broken, but an uproar more suited to a battlefield rang out where there should have been stillness. The earth shook as 3,500 soldiers tore along its length, shaking drops of dew from the leaves to soak into the earth. Birds rose from the treetops as their horses thundered past, and animals burst from the underbrush to scatter in all directions.

Hiro sat up, idly watching the scenery go by. His blanket slipped to the ground, still warm with his body heat. He rubbed his eyes and cast his gaze around the carriage. Luka was still asleep, curled up in her blanket like a cat. Huginn lay next to her, expression tormented as though she was having nightmares—caused by Luka’s arms around her neck, no doubt.

“What’s Huginn doing here?” Hiro mused. She was supposed to be undercover in Galza. If his memory served, she had not been present when he went to sleep, back when they had changed to this larger carriage.

Garda peered in through the driver’s window. It seemed he had heard Hiro talking to himself. “She came during the night. I thought she could use a rest, so I let her in. I have her report, if you’d care to hear it.”

“That’s all right. I’ll ask her once she’s awake. Do you know where Muninn is?”

“Holding the reins. I offered him the same as his sister, but he said he couldn’t sleep safe with his mortal enemy in the carriage. So here he is instead, trying to keep his eyes open.”

“Every time I go near Luka, the fists come flying...” An exhausted voice issued from beside Garda. “Put one foot wrong and I’ll be a goner.”

Hiro nodded. Luka seemed to have a low opinion of Muninn’s position as Huginn’s brother. He wasn’t quite certain how serious she was about their feud, but she certainly lashed out viciously enough every time he approached.

“I don’t think she’d hurt you in front of Huginn,” he said, stifling a yawn.

Muninn groaned. Beside him, Garda chuckled.

“The boy has suffered enough, One-Eyed Dragon. Besides, you awoke at a good time. Galza’s on the horizon.”

“Finally, the end of our journey. I was just starting to miss my bed back in Baum.” Hiro raised both arms above his head and stretched. “Oh, that’s an idea. Muninn, once we make it to the city, you have permission to take it easy for a while.”

“Eh? You mean it, chief?”

“We shouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry. Get your strength back while we wait for things to develop.”

“You got it! And wouldn’t you know it, I got just the tavern. It has the sweetest mead, the prettiest dancing girls, and bards with the richest voices you ever heard. Paradise, long as you don’t mind a brawl or two!”

“All right. Just keep it in moderation.”

Muninn was typically laid-back, and it was unusual to see him quite so enthusiastic. The lack of sleep seemed to have made him a little giddy.

Hiro turned back to Garda. “How are the men holding up?”

“This is nothing for the Crow Legion. They’ve marched for three days straight more than once.”

Hiro and his forces hadn’t stopped to rest in the day and a half since the border, marching through the night. The Nidavellir elites flanking them seemed determined to deny them any sleep. It was a petty kind of mischief, and one that the dwarves also had to suffer, which was turning their march into something of an endurance contest.

“I’m not sure what we’ve done to annoy them.” Hiro cocked his head.

“I reckon I know,” Muninn piped up. “It’s Thorkil, their commander. I heard about it at the tavern. He tried to lead a force into Lichtein five years back, but the Rising Hawk—that’s Marquis Rankeel—sent him packing back to Steissen. Word is he lost his lands for it, and he’s had a chip on his shoulder about humans ever since. They say he’s the one who signed off on damming the River Saale.”

Hiro snorted dismissively. “So he’s just taking his anger out on us. If he’d lost his family or something, I might have sympathized.”

“The dwarves are a prideful lot, and that goes double for the elites. Scratch their honor and they’ll hold it against you ’til they die, no matter if they were the ones at fault, or even if you’re a dwarf too. There was this bunch I ran into at the tavern, let me tell you about ’em...”

Muninn was unusually talkative today, and it didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. Hiro found his attention drifting outside the window toward Galza. The first thing that struck him was the height of its walls. They stretched so far skyward that he had to lower his head to the carriage floor to see the top. The walls of the imperial capital were imposing in their own right, but nothing like this.

“That’s dwarven architecture for you. Not an easy place to lay siege to.”

Any would-be conqueror’s determination would falter after one look at the walls. They were too high for a siege tower to breach the battlements and well beyond the reach of ladders. One might try to go through instead of over, but the stonework was thick, layered, and as hard as the earth itself; catapults, trebuchets, and ballistae would be lucky to leave a scratch, and the watchtowers above the gate were poised to rain fire arrows down on a battering ram.

“You’d have to hire other dwarves to develop new siege weaponry,” Hiro mused, “or else surround the place and try to starve them out.”

Any serious attempt to take the city would require committing a huge number of soldiers for a long period of time. A half-hearted effort would simply bounce off its walls.

“The River Saale is close, I suppose. Flooding the place might work.”

Coin to hire local laborers, borrowed slaves from Lichtein, and some skillful earthworks would be all it took to turn the city into an island.

“Then again, I’d want to keep the city intact. That would make it easier to rule once the fighting was done. In that case...we could buy the loyalty of someone on the inside and destroy it from within.” Hiro sank deeper and deeper into a sea of schemes. “Time, that’s the problem. Everything would all take time...”

“Why are you acting as though you will have to take the place?” Luka had woken up and was looking at him askance.

“It’s not like that. Those walls just looked like a challenge, that’s all. Besides, isn’t that every boy’s dream? Climbing over a castle wall to lay waste to their enemies?”

“Your dream, perhaps.” Luka’s eyes pierced into him as she drew her arms around the still-sleeping Huginn.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Hiro looked closer. Huginn was very much awake, and her eyes silently pleaded for his help. Feigning sleep seemed to be her response to finding herself in Luka’s grasp. He smiled at her ruefully.

Garda appeared at the driver’s window again. “The elites say they’ll lead the way. They want us to leave the Crow Legion here, although they’ll permit a ten-man escort. What say you?”

“I accept their terms. You can pick our escort. Tell the rest of the men to make camp and wait for further orders.”

“I’ll see it done.” Garda pulled away from the window again.

It was hard to blame the dwarves for feeling uneasy about letting a foreign army inside their city, even one only five hundred strong. Any nation would have done the same. That said, with walls this sturdy, surely they could have afforded a more generous offer than a ten-man escort.

“Well, not that it matters. It’s enough that we’ve gotten in this easily.”

Hiro’s lips pulled into an ominous smile beneath his mask. Luka snorted and looked out of the window. They passed through the gateway bored into the forbidding walls to find themselves in a city of stone. Almost all of the buildings were built with piled-up rocks, rugged to look at and visibly solid.

“I take back what I said,” Hiro murmured as he looked around. “This place would be easy to conquer.”

Luka didn’t respond. The curious sight didn’t seem to arouse her interest. “I see a lot of dwarves,” she remarked.

“It used to be a dwarven nation. They still make up around half of the population.”

Yet there were no other races visible, only dwarves. The streets seemed strangely quiet for a city that was supposed to be the Nidavellirites’ stronghold.

“All these smithies reek of oil,” Luka sniffed.

“Dwarven craftsmanship is first-rate. A blade forged with care by the best of their smiths can be as good as a spirit weapon, or so I hear.” Hiro gestured to the stalls lining the road. “And their glasswork isn’t bad either. A little polishing and they can make it shine as pretty as any jewel.”

“Hm. Impressive.”

The merchants’ wares glistened like a kaleidoscope as they caught the sun’s light, but the darkness of Luka’s eyes registered none of their color. Even dwarven artisanry seemed to make no impression on her.

“Many of these houses look unoccupied. And these shops are all manned by dwarves.”

“It does seem like the other peoples have been driven out, doesn’t it? I’d hazard a guess that the shopkeepers are all relatives of elites.”

As the townscape rolled by, Hiro noticed that several shops seemed to have been torn down. Bloodstains were visible on the stone. Whether they had been pillaged by soldiers or torched in pogroms, it was clear that nothing good had happened there.

“War can breed both suspicion and solidarity. But in a diverse nation like Steissen, the former comes more naturally than the latter.”

The stalls were lined with shiny objects as though to attract tourists, but nobody was coming to buy. As Hiro’s party made its way along the road, the wares on display began to change, becoming more utilitarian and diverse: arms and armor, tea sets and cutlery, accessories and household goods. Yet with no customers, they were worth as much as pebbles by the roadside.

“I see more wooden buildings around here,” Luka remarked. “And these streets feel sullen.”

The carriage left the road and proceeded along a slightly uneven track. Rows of wooden longhouses stood nearby. Perhaps they had once housed non-dwarven races; now they were in the process of being demolished. The party was reaching the city center now, and still they had seen nobody but dwarves on the streets.

“The city’s built for wartime,” Hiro said. “The buildings near the walls are made of stone so a stray fire arrow can’t set them alight.”

“I have yet to see a human who could clear those walls with an arrow.”

“A human couldn’t, but another one of the five peoples could.”

“Ah, yes. The uncivilized beasts. I suppose they would be strong enough.”

Steissen’s west was the domain of the beastfolk, and the Jötunheimites, who hailed from there, naturally counted many beastfolk among their ranks. Their extraordinary strength could propel an arrow over the walls with ease.

“I’m surprised the Nidavellirites have managed a comeback if they allow this kind of oppression. The first emperor’s necklace only has value to the other peoples.”

If the Nidavellirites regarded anybody who wasn’t a dwarf with contempt, Utgard’s claim to the first emperor’s bloodline wouldn’t command much sway. It might attract hatred, but not loyalty. If anything, it might convince more people to side against him.

“Word is some other nation got involved to smooth things over.” Huginn abandoned her pretense of sleep to join the conversation. “The Nidavellirites have been getting a lot of coin from somewhere. Utgard’s been bribing senators to keep his side together.”

Many outside of Steissen venerated the first emperor. Attracting their attention would be an easy way to gain support, and once Utgard had their coin, he could use it to buy the loyalty of the greedy and powerful.

“You probably saw when we came through, but he’s filled out his ranks by conscripting other races, as well as any dwarves who don’t like his leadership. He came down on any who spoke out with an iron fist, and if they still ran their mouths after, he let the elites take them and their families to the gallows.”

Those executions had been limited to the early days, Huginn explained. Now the preferred method was to take any dissenters’ families hostage and force them to obey. Several Nidavellirite senators had decried Utgard’s methods as inhumane, and some had attempted to defect to the Jötunheimites, but through this method, they had ultimately been pressed into service.

“No mercy, even to his own,” Hiro mused. “It sounds like he’s gone the worst kind of power-mad.”

He was getting the picture now. The rot in Nidavellir did not stem from the dwarves themselves, but from the privileged class known as the elites. Indeed, the root of it all seemed to be Utgard himself.

“There’s nothing more troublesome than a clever tyrant.”

Utgard had used the first emperor’s name to attract the support of Steissen’s neighbors and force his detractors to obey, dragging the Nidavellirites back from the brink of defeat.

But ruling by fear never works for long. Things will start to come undone sooner or later. All these purges will destroy Steissen’s culture, send it spiraling into decline, and eventually tear it apart.

The one ray of hope was the Jötunheimites, who were still holding out. If they managed to defeat the Nidavellirites, Steissen could be saved from ruin and rebuilt.

“I reckon Utgard only let you in so easily because he thinks there’s coin in it, Your Lordship,” Huginn said. “Like as not, he figures if he welcomes you as a guest, he can wrangle more support out of his neighbors. The man’s a piece of work and no mistake.”

That was probably on the mark. Hiro could think of no other reason the Nidavellirites would have been so welcoming.

“You’re not...thinking of joining them, are you, Your Lordship?” Huginn looked at him, her eyes full of uncertainty. Surely she could guess what his answer would be, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting to confirm; after all, she knew how protective he was of the first emperor’s memory.

He shifted his attention behind her to Luka. The woman regarded him with silent intensity, her arms still around Huginn’s shoulders. He cast a wry smile in her direction and replied as casually as he could.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to side with the Nidavellirites. Not even if this Utgard really is who he claims to be.”

“I-I’m glad to hear it, Your Lordship!” A broad smile spread across Huginn’s face. Behind her, Luka’s anger dissipated.

“On that point, I’d like you to find out where these hostages are. We’ll need to know where they’re being held so we can free them when the time comes.”

“Understood, Your Lordship. I’ll tell my men to look into it, along with what this Utgard’s really up to.”

“Please.” Hiro nodded appreciatively.

“You can count on— Eek!”

“Isn’t that a relief, Igel?”

“Gerroff!”

As Huginn tried to reply, Luka pushed her to the floor of the carriage and began to rub her with her cheek. The tense atmosphere of a few moments prior vanished in an instant.

Hiro turned his attention away from the pair and up to the driver’s window. A large palace had come into view, silhouetted against the sky. It was a magnificent building, like an artisan’s sculpture crafted from wood and stone. A low white wall surrounded it, manned by a host of soldiers ready to repel any signs of unrest.

The elites signaled to the sentries at the gate, and the doors ground open. Hiro’s carriage passed through the open portal without incident.

The palace entrance came into view. A large crowd stood in front of the doors, dressed in luxurious garb. They shone to a tacky degree, as if they possessed all the wealth in the world and were not afraid to flaunt it.

“Jewels choose their wearers as much as their wearers choose them,” Hiro murmured. “And they could make any gemstone look as dull as a roadside rock.”

Muninn turned around to look back through the window. “That there’s the Nidavellirite senators and their associates.”

“They look quite well-off for people who were losing to the Jötunheimites a few months ago.”

“No one dresses fancier than a dwarf drunk on power, chief. Rumor has it they’ve even forgotten how to wield their swords. There’s an underground bar in town where the commonfolk gather, and I’ll tell you this: the dwarves who ain’t elites don’t got good things to say about the ones who are.” Muninn began to hum a jaunty tune. “‘Shame of Nidavellir, strangers to toil, jewels on their hands where they used to wear oil, laid down their hammers to count out their gold, grasping for gems while their forges grow cold, living the high life that folks only know, when they’ve forgotten who lives down below.’ They were singin’ that, chief. Uh, loud.”

He blushed, scratching his cheek bashfully. Unfortunately for him, a scar-faced man looked far from cute doing that. Huginn went pale, and Luka began to exude an ominous aura.

“You know that never gets a good reception,” Hiro said.

Muninn continued humming as he spoke, oblivious to the roundabout warning. “I say dwarves, but most of ’em are half-human or half-beastfolk nowadays. The elites try to keep their bloodlines pure, but that’s old thinking. Most of the commonfolk don’t care who’s what.”

“Interesting. Perhaps we could make use of that.”

Just as Hiro was about to sink into thought, the carriage came to a halt. The doors opened and sunlight streamed through. He stepped outside to find himself greeted by a crowd of dwarves.

“Ah! Lord Surtr, my old ally! In our hour of need, you come to honor our ancient pact! Truly, I am overjoyed.” A dwarf came forward from the throng and fell to one knee with his hand on his belly. Between his grandiose voice and ostentatious garb, he could have been an actor on the stage. “A pleasure to meet you, I’m certain. I am Utgard, lord of Galza and descendant of Emperor Artheus himself.”

Hiro’s nose wrinkled in displeasure behind his mask.

＊＊＊＊＊

Thrynheim, in Jötunheim Province

The province of Jötunheim had once been a nation of beastfolk, who still made up the majority of its population, and was situated in Steissen’s only grasslands. One could see to the horizon in all directions. To the west lay a fertile breadbasket, while to the east was the fortress city of Gastropnir, home to the largest hunting grounds in all of Aletia. The province’s geography permitted the breeding of fine horses, the export of which formed the backbone of its wealth and supported much of Steissen’s economy. If the dwarves were peerless smiths, the beastfolk were unrivaled breeders of animals; once upon a time, the former’s weaponry and the latter’s warhorses had kept Steissen’s lands peaceful and its armies strong, but that time was long past, before they had turned on each other in bitter conflict.

It was the seventeenth day of the sixth month of Imperial Year 1026, and Liz had arrived in Jötunheim Province’s capital of Thrynheim.

“The stars look so close out here.”

The sun had set, and the curtain of night lay over the world. The stars were the only light in the darkness, glimmers of resistance proclaiming their presence to the people below.

In the palace of Thrynheim, a banquet was underway. A bundle of lumber blazed in the courtyard. Humanoid figures danced around it with drinks in hand, their steps ranging from merry to feverish. From the smiles on their faces, one would never have guessed they were a people at war. In a sense, not worrying about tomorrow was in their blood. The beastfolk lived life for the joy of the moment, reveling in taking the front line in battle, and even their funerals involved sending the deceased off with a smile. They did as their whims dictated, preferring to act rather than think.

“A white wolf, eh? Now that’s a rare sight. I thought they only lived on the islands to the east.”

Skadi tossed Cerberus a hunk of meat on the bone. The white wolf sprang after it with astounding speed and tore into it with relish.

“Have you ever been there?” Liz asked beside her.

She shook her head, goblet of ale in hand. “Never. The Twelve Tribes only care for purebloods. Anyone else, it’s said they drive them off with steel.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“When I was younger, for certain. Now I don’t know. After a thousand years, it might as well be a faerie tale. Nobody’s sure the place exists, and even if it did, you’d have as much chance coming back from it alive as you would from Ambition.”

She took a large gulp and turned to Liz with reddening cheeks. It was only her first, but her steady gaze made it clear that she was not a weak drinker. Liz made a mental note to leave her cup alone for now.

“Anyhow,” Skadi said, “you can ask me all you like, but first, I got a question for you.”

“Hm?”

“That white wolf of yours.” Skadi gestured to Cerberus, who was busy cracking a bone in her jaws. “How’d you get your hands on her?”

“If you’re hoping for a grand adventure, it wasn’t anything like that. Just luck. I found her wounded and took her in.”

“Quite some luck.” Skadi’s brows pulled together dubiously for a moment, but she shrugged it off and downed the last of her ale. Then she set about tearing into her meat.

By her side, Liz quietly worked her way through her enormous plate of vegetables. But watching the beastwoman eat made it difficult to stomach even that, so she turned to the dancers in the courtyard instead.

“I’d heard Jötunheim was a lively place, but I didn’t quite expect this.” She had no problem with merry banquets, but naked dancing was perhaps a step too far.

“What’s wrong? Not enjoying yourself?” Skadi moved to seize her arm.

Seeing where that was likely to lead, Liz inched back out of her reach. “No, I’m fine. I’m having fun just watching.”

“Hmph. I’d heard human princesses were all prudes. I suppose it must be true.”

“I don’t think being a princess has anything to do with it. Besides, aren’t you part human?”

“Some. A little bit of álf, a little bit of dwarf... Everyone’s everything here. But my beastfolk blood runs thickest. I’d rather cut loose than feel shame.” Skadi rapped her horns with a knuckle and grinned. “Still, I’m with you for now. Just happy to watch my people have some fun.”

She poured herself another goblet of ale and watched the dancers for a while, squinting against the firelight. After some time, she turned nonchalantly back to Liz.

“We leave in three days. Planning to join us, Princess?”

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“We’ll be going straight to Galza. We’re going to beat those Nidavellirites once and for all.”

“Are you sure you should say that out loud?” Liz looked around, checking whether anybody was listening in.

“Don’t you worry. I can sniff out a rat twice as good as any human. Call it my animal instincts at work. Ain’t no way anyone could hear us over this racket, anyhow.”

“All right, then. If you say so.”

Skadi sounded so confident that it was hard not to be convinced, and besides, she bounced between topics quickly enough not to let the conversation get awkward. Suddenly, something in the distance caught her attention.

“Huh. Looks like that old man of yours is joining in the fun.”

“What?” Liz followed her gaze to see Tris surrounded by beastfolk, who were throwing him high into the air. Tears streamed from his eyes with every ascent. She burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha! I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so happy.”

“Happy, huh? You figure those are tears of joy?” asked Skadi.

“Oh, no. He’s scared of heights.”

Ordinarily, she would have gone to help, but Tris had been distant ever since their arrival in Steissen, growing quieter and spending more time thinking alone. It didn’t come as much of a surprise that he was looking for a way to take his mind off things. There was no need to intervene. Better to let him laugh, cry, and rage as much as he needed. Hopefully, it would not be long before he was back to his normal, hearty self.

“So they’re tears of terror. Not a lot of guts for a man his size.” Skadi took another gulp of ale from her goblet.

“He can be surprisingly sensitive sometimes,” Liz said.

“Oh? You known him long?”

“He’s been with me ever since I was a little girl.”

Both he and Dios had served her faithfully, even when nobody else had expected anything of her. She wondered if the day would ever come when she could repay him for his loyalty. He was not a man who cared for gold, but despite how long they had known each other, she was struggling to think of a reward that would appeal.

Skadi scratched her horn and sighed. “No doubt you care for him, ’specially if you go back that far, but old age is a foe no one can beat. Or someone might do for him before he gets there, like assassins did for my old man.” She leaned back, legs crossed, and looked up at the night sky. “He can’t fight by your side forever. And if you’re his commander, you got a duty to tell him when he’s past his prime. Don’t wait too long. If he’s been as loyal as you say, you owe him that much.”

“I know. I’m going to bring it up eventually.”

“Good. Although, by the looks of him, he’s not in danger of keeling over anytime soon.”

Anything could happen on the battlefield. War picked no favorites when it came to reap its harvest. The weak could survive while the strong died, and vice versa. Strong, courageous, wise men like Dios often died young.

“So...” Liz began hesitantly. “You asked about Dios...”

“So I did. And you never did give me any answers.” Skadi rolled over and gazed at Liz in the torchlight, stifling a yawn. “I had four siblings, all by different mothers. Dios was the only one with a human mother and, well...your lot just ain’t as strong as beastfolk. He was the oldest of us, but it wasn’t long before he felt like the runt of the litter.”

Any living creature, no matter their race or species, was born with an innate sense of pride. Yet Dios’s had been crushed almost from birth, just because he had been unlucky enough to be born human in Steissen.

“Discrimination ain’t as bad here in Jötunheim as it is over in Nidavellir, but when you’re talking about the chieftain’s firstborn son...well, that’s a different story. Everybody held him up to the standards of the beastfolk, and when it turned out he wasn’t any stronger than the average human, they gave up on him. Not his fault, of course. And he hated knowing he fell short, so he worked himself raw. But there’re some gaps you can’t make up no matter how hard you try. In the end, their expectations were too heavy for him.”

A prideful noble son born to a responsibility he couldn’t bear. It was a tale as old as time. Dios had not been the first, and he would not be the last.

“He never got on well with our father. In the end, he ran away, and that was the last we ever heard of him. I tried to send someone after him, but my old man stopped me. Better that way, he said. He was an embarrassment. Anyway, someone offed my old man three years back, and my other brothers went with him. And with Dios gone, that left me chieftain of Jötunheim.”

Liz’s eyes widened. She had never known how closely Dios’s circumstances had mirrored her own. Perhaps he had seen himself in her; perhaps that was even why he had pledged himself to her cause. There was no point in puzzling over the matter now, however. The thoughts of the dead were forever barred to the living.

“You saw yourself in him for a moment there, didn’t you, Princess?”

Liz jumped in surprise. Skadi seemed to have read her mind. Come to think of it, she had mentioned something to that effect.

“Is that what you meant earlier? Your animal instincts at work?”

Skadi righted herself, grinning as she waved her hands in front of her face. “No, no, nothing like that. It doesn’t take my nose to know who you are. The whole continent knows your story. And let me say this...” She pointed a finger at Liz’s nose. “Dios ran away. You didn’t. Don’t go around telling yourself you’re the same. You chose the hardest road and came out standing. That’s worth something.”

The beastwoman heaved a deep, melancholy sigh, looking at Liz out of the corner of her eye all the while. “That’s what I wanted to ask. Dios spent his whole life running away. In the end, did he...” She turned to face her fully, eyes burning like a wolf’s in the moonlight as they took on a new intensity. “Did he find it in him to stand and fight?”

A gust of wind blew between them, as if reaching out to wipe the tears of sorrow from Skadi’s eyes. It tousled Liz’s hair and caressed Skadi’s head as it passed on through. As Liz looked up to follow its path, she felt the revelry grow distant. The canopy of stars shone brighter than ever, so close that at any moment they might come tumbling down to earth.

She gave a small smile, which was gone by the time she looked back at Skadi. “He did. He died a warrior’s death.”

She spoke clearly and firmly, making sure her words could not be snatched away by the noise. They seemed to strike home. Skadi broke into a grin of sincere delight.

“A warrior... A warrior, eh?” She gave a mighty shiver, thrusting her goblet to the sky in an eruption of joy. “Then that’s all that matters. A warrior’s death is the greatest honor any of the beastfolk could wish for.”

“Are you sure? It was my fault he—”

Liz couldn’t finish the sentence. Skadi had grabbed her face, covering her mouth.

“I ain’t out to make you pay. That wouldn’t do me any good.”

“Bhuth—”

“But nothing. All I wanted to know was whether my brother had died a good death. I ain’t asking you to make yourself a martyr.” Despite Skadi’s aggression, there was an undeniable kindness in her words. “Nod if you get it. Or I’ll crush your jaw right here and now.”

Her eyes weren’t joking. Liz’s jaw began to creak. Skadi must have had a little too much ale to control herself completely. Liz was still struggling to keep up with what was happening, but she nodded. Suddenly, she was free.

“When a man dies a warrior’s death, we send him off with a smile. Might be new to you, Princess, but it’s how we do things here in Jötunheim.” Skadi thrust her goblet skyward again. “That’s how real beasts think.”

The beastwoman stood and, to Liz’s surprise, started stripping off her clothes.

“I think I might dance after all. Wouldn’t usually, but today’s special. Today, I celebrate my brother’s life.”

Her attire was light at the best of times, so it quickly came off, revealing her rippling muscles—which were just as quickly hidden again as Liz tore off the tablecloth and threw it over her.

“Have a bit of modesty!”

There was more than an echo of somebody else in her words.

＊＊＊＊＊

Galza, in Nidavellir Province

It was late at night. The streets were deserted. Insect cries rang loud, filling the stillness of the city with a constant hum. By contrast, the palace of Galza was lit up like midday, bathed in an opulent glow.

Hiro and his party were whiling away the hours in their chambers. Hiro was perched on the edge of the bed, while Garda sat cross-legged on the floor. Luka hugged her knees, nestling on the windowsill and covered by a blanket. The moonlight cast her face in silver as she stared at Hiro.

“Where are Huginn and Muninn?” Hiro asked Garda.

“Huginn is meeting with our agents in the city. Muninn you sent on leave, as I recall. No doubt he’s carousing in that tavern he spoke of.” Garda crossed his arms and cast Hiro a glance. “So? Come to any conclusions yet?”

“I won’t know for sure until I can get a closer look. But I expect it’s the real thing.”

“Then this Utgard is what he claims?”

Hiro tilted his head with a noncommittal grunt. Artheus had been a notorious womanizer, and even the queens and princesses of the nations he had conquered had not been exempt from his attentions. It was not difficult to imagine him counting a dwarf among his lovers.

“Another question, then,” Garda continued. “What would you do if he was?”

“Huginn asked the same thing. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on siding with him. But if he really does have the first emperor’s blood, it might be worth letting him live as our pawn.”

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll make sure he pays for his lies, of course.”

“Then there’s little to do but hope Huginn can tell us more.” Garda gave a dismissive shrug, satisfied that Hiro had no conflicted feelings on the matter. “Come to think of it, I heard that the little princess has joined the Jötunheimites. They’re massing their forces in Thrynheim as we speak.”

“Then we should watch and wait until things start happening. There’s nothing we can do until Utgard makes a move.”

Garda nodded. He stood and made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Hiro asked.

“I thought I might share a drink with my men outside the walls. They deserve a rest too. I can’t let Muninn have all the fun.”

“Treat them all to a round. Chalk it up to expenses.”

“Very well. If anything happens, you know where to find me.” Garda laid his hand on the doorknob.

“Oh, that’s right,” Hiro said. “You can start making ready now. There shouldn’t be any further changes to the plan.”

“Aye, I’ll see to it.” With that, Garda left the room.

Once the zlosta was gone, Hiro rolled back onto the bed. He lay there for a while, sinking deeper and deeper into thought. How was the board laid out, and what pieces could he move in order to achieve his goals? And even before that, there was something more important to consider.

If Utgard isn’t Artheus’s descendant, that would mean someone else is pulling his strings. Who gave him the necklace, and how did they get it?

Artifacts of the first emperor were not easy to come by. If somebody had secretly obtained it, they would need to at least have connections within the royal family or among the great houses. Or perhaps it had been stolen—there were rumors that the imperial burial grounds had been breached on the same day Chancellor Graeci died. All involved had been sworn to silence before the day was out, so if anything had been taken, only Liz and Rosa would know.

On that subject, I suppose Orcus might be involved...

The shadowy assassins acting more openly had given Hiro the opportunity to learn more about them. Sensing the presence of his nemesis had been a significant result. Indeed, if not for that, all his effort feigning death at the hands of Six Kingdoms would have gone to waste.

He’s moved back underground now, though. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s covering his tracks. But I’ll flush him out sooner or later, and then I can finally put an end to this with my own hands.

Hiro raised a hand before his face. He removed his mask and touched his fingers to his right eye.

Your gifts are proving useful, Artheus. Very useful.

He realized belatedly that the candles on the desk had burned out. Only the faint light of the one on the nightstand still illuminated his face. His golden eye gleamed brightly in the darkness, ethereal and regal.

“Will you not sleep?”

A glacial voice issued from somewhere near his feet.

“Can you not sleep?”

The one-armed figure of Luka crawled its way up his supine form. She moved with awkward, jerky motions, like a broken wind-up doll.

“I was going to think for a while. You go on ahead.”

The woman halted, still draped in her blanket. An abyss, darker than darkness, swirled in her eyes as she regarded him. “That would defeat the purpose.”

Hiro smiled wryly. “Hard to kill me if you’re asleep, right? I should have guessed.”

“I don’t know how to kill you.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.” His voice came out weaker than he meant. A wave of exhaustion seemed to have crashed over him; he must have been more tired than he thought. He snorted. There was a woman right here out for his head, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel afraid.

“Does something amuse you?”

“Not at all. I was just thinking how complicated everything has gotten.”

“You have only yourself to blame for that. This entire situation is your doing.”

“I guess you’re right. Oh, and one more thing... About what you said before...” Hiro gave a rueful smile. “I don’t think I know how to kill me either...”

Before the sentence was out, he sank softly into darkness.