Kaedric Solvere had always considered himself an exceptional man, and the warmth of pride nestled in his chest certainly failed to challenge that belief. After today, his ascent to the office of First Elect - the highest elected authority in the nation of Emberthain - would be made official. He opened one display box after another, lifting the medal found in each to pin to his chest. When he found one he had first considered a consolation prize, he paused.
It was the insignia of the High Commander, a position he had been appointed to six years prior after his loss in the election. He remembered the whispers from the time, labeling him too popular to dismiss, but too raw to lead. He remembered the crippling weight of uncertainty that settled heavy on his shoulders.
He remembered the exact moment he realized it had been a blessing to lose that election.
As High Commander, he gained access to resources and a language that he had previously lacked. Generals deferred to him, and nobles requested his counsel. Decisions lay before him that would shape his destiny - and intertwine it with the nation’s. The language came naturally to him - one spoken in owed favors and leverage and implications, but also one that required sincerity and reliability.
In the end, he spoke it well.
He settled himself before the mirror in his dressing room. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, tugged the cuffs of his sleeves into alignment, and once more straightened the medals pinned to his chest - each movement reverent. Purposeful. Every piece of him was part of his image, and that image demanded perfection.
If a button was forgotten, people would notice. If the medals failed to catch the light just right, people would question. They would wonder whether he deserved to wear them at all, and then they would question his every command.
He crossed the room to the window overlooking the grand plaza and smiled at what he saw - a throng of citizens in the grand market’s square below, and still more people crowding balconies and rooftops. He could not have orchestrated a better turnout himself.
“First-Elect,” called a male voice from near the balcony. “It is time for your introduction to the people. Are you ready?”
He turned with the practiced ease of a seasoned soldier and approached the still-closed doors.
“I am,” he said. “Let us begin.”
The assistant pulled down on a chain, engaging the mechanism that swung the doors open in smooth unison. Solvere stepped confidently into the sunlight, raising his right hand upward to wave at his adoring subjects. Thunderous applause and raucous cheers rose to greet him, and pride swelled once more within his chest.
Guided by his voice and his hand, Emberthain would reclaim the dominion it once held.
* * * * * * * * *
The crowd had already surpassed even the most optimistic estimates from the pre-inauguration briefings. For days, the City Guard and Emberwatch had struggled to keep order, and Rhoric had anticipated today to be worse.
It didn’t make the stress any easier to bear.
As captain of the Emberwatch contingent, he stood at the head of the main square in the Glittering City’s Market District, the usual clutter of merchant stalls cleared away to make space for spectators. Directly above him loomed the main balcony of the Trade Hall, where Solvere would soon appear before the people as First Elect - the first time since his victory.
For the tenth time that hour, he looked over the line of Emberwatch and City Guard positioned before him. Three dozen in total, evenly spaced along the base of the Trade Hall steps to manage the crowd back and maintain a clear view for the speech.
As Rhoric scanned the line again, he noticed something off - an imbalance in their arrangement, a wrinkle in their carefully designed plan. Guards were slowly migrating toward one side of the formation, creating both a small knot of bodies, and a widening gap where none should exist.
His brow creased and his lips pressed into a thin line. He turned to his lieutenant, standing just to his right.
“Lyren - stay vigilant for a moment, would you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Rhoric marched toward the lopsided bunch of guards, taking quick stock of the situation as he approached. Ten guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder, murmuring among themselves. Before them stood a small group of Wildkin, no more than eight in all, bearing the familiar blend of human and animal features. They looked wary. To their right, half-hidden beneath the shadow of an overhanging balcony, loitered fifteen or so self-proclaimed Drakesworn - a vigilante gang who had taken Solvere’s darker campaign rhetoric literally.
“Have you lot forgotten what spot in the formation you were assigned?” he barked. Three of them startled like first-day recruits, while the rest managed to turn to him with some level of professionalism.
“N–no, Sentinel-Captain!” one of the braver ones stammered.
Rhoric’s eyes narrowed, if only to fight back the flutter of amusement he felt rising within him. They only used his full title when they knew they’d been caught like children with their hands in a cookie jar.
“Then what, pray tell,” he said, firm but calm, “the fuck are you doing over here?”
Silence. Until another guard found his courage.
“Well, you see, Captain, we heard raised voices and saw a bit of a commotion kicking off, and…”
Rhoric let him ramble, even as his attention shifted. He saw tension between the Wildkin and the Drakesworn, but nothing warranting an intervention from a gaggle of guards. What had likely begun as simple unease would quickly become something worse if they weren’t careful.
“Enough,” he said, slightly sharper. “Emotions are running high, and it’s not our job to instigate them further. Back to your posts. Now.”
There were no arguments. A brief, nervous salute was offered from each of them before they scurried back to their position in formation. Rhoric didn’t turn away until the last of them was back in proper position. Only then did a timid voice behind him catch his attention.
“Ser… are we quite safe here?”
He turned. The speaker was a Wildkin woman with bear-like ears and little else to betray her heritage. With her cowl raised, she could have passed for human entirely. His gaze flicked toward the Drakesworn who remained nearby, still whispering, and still sneering at anyone who glanced their way. His hesitation seemed to give her all the answer she needed.
“…Mm.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line of resignation. “Come on, everyone. Let’s find another spot. Further in, or toward the back, it doesn’t matter. The mages’ll make sure we hear just fine.” She tried to keep her voice bright for her family’s sake, but when she turned, the look in her eyes made Rhoric’s stomach drop.
There had always been tension, but this was different. It didn’t quite promise violence, but it certainly implied it.
As the Wildkin melted back into the crowd, he turned to the group of Drakesworn. They lingered, and wore looks of pride that they hadn’t earned. Rhoric scowled as he approached them, parting the crowd with gentle insistence.
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Their de facto leader greeted him with a crooked, near-toothless smile. “Oi, ‘ppreciate the assist. And from the Captain of the Emberwatch himself, no less!”
The group cackled. Rhoric clenched his jaw.
“There was no assist. If I catch you harassing or intimidating them - or anyone else - I will take you into custody.” His voice was steady - controlled.
Their laughter died, and the leader’s toothless smile turned into an ugly scowl - and something dark flashed behind his eyes.
“Am I clear?” Rhoric prompted.
“…Crystal.”
“Good. This is a day of celebration. Govern yourselves accordingly.”
He gave each man a hard look before backing away and turning toward his post. From the corner of his eye, he caught his superior officer watching from a low tower near the edge of the square with a frown on his face.
He had little time to consider the expression, because trumpets soon blared, and an announcer’s voice boomed out:
“People of Emberthain, please welcome First Elect Solvere!”
The cheers and applause were near deafening, and Rhoric frowned. He knew he was meant to feel inspired, but all he found was unease.
* * * * * * * * *
SOLVERE THE FLAME TO REKINDLE EMBERTHAIN
Sahvra sighed sharply through her nose. Another day, another gag-inducing headline. She tossed the newspaper back onto the rack, grumbling to herself. They always shone the light so brightly on the incoming First Elect that the costs of his victories vanished in the shadows.
“Cat-eared freak!”
She whipped around so fast her tail struck a passerby in the packed alleyway.
“Oi, watch it!”
She didn’t apologize. She was ready to make whoever dared insult her regret it, right until she actually saw their face. Then, she snorted. A grin tugged at her mouth.
“Slack-jawed idiot,” she shot back.
Her target was a human man around her age, an apprentice at the Mages’ Guild and one of the few who had never done a double take or hesitated before speaking with her. She threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight.
“How are you, Taevar?”
Taevar laughed richly at her response and returned both the grin and hug. He squeezed her briefly before letting go. “Well enough. They gave us apprentices the day off for the festivities. I’m surprised to find you here instead of at the square.”
She pulled back and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh sh—how did I forget that was today?!”
She was met with an amused look. Sahvra responded with a deadpan expression of her own.
“Right. Well. I guess I need to get going then.” She offered a gentle, backhanded swat to his chest. “Try not to mock me too much next time we see each other, yeah?”
She turned and began weaving through the crowd.
Sahvra was built for this kind of maneuvering, darting in and out of pockets of space in a crowded lane. The only thing she ever truly worried about was her tail, longer than it should have been for her height and prone to getting into trouble on its own.
Not today, though. Well, aside from the earlier swat.
Today it helped keep her balance as she took angles that would break a normal man’s ankles. She spotted a less-crowded alleyway ahead, planted her foot, pivoted, and cut through the crowd diagonally. There were indignant shouts and colorful curses behind her, but she was careful not to knock anyone over or send anything clattering to the ground.
She made it into the alleyway as the trumpets first sounded. They were distant first, before the arcane speakers scattered throughout the city amplified them for all to hear. A quiet curse escaped her under her breath, and she pressed herself to run faster.
There was a ladder ahead, its bottom rung just out of reach, though it hardly concerned her. The trumpets were followed by cheers, near-deafening even this far away.
“People of Emberthain, I welcome you to a new age!”
That’s Solvere. The thought was so obvious that it earned an eyeroll midstride, and the confirmation that she was late annoyed her deeply. She had wanted to watch him speak, not just listen - to see if he was as much a useful idiot as she’d once thought.
“As First Elect, I must first thank you all for your support. Rest assured, I have been forged and tempered, made ready to lead Emberthain back to the prominence it once held. What we once were was no accident. It was destiny.”
Applause thundered once more as Sahvra leapt, caught the ladder’s bottom rung, and hauled herself upward effortlessly. No motion was wasted as she climbed, and she quietly thanked the inventor of fire escapes.
“The majority of Emberthain is made up of hard-working people. They build themselves from the ground up, on the merit of their own blood, sweat, and tears. They endure, as our people always have, no matter what hardships rise to meet them. This is what makes our nation great.”
She reached the rooftop and jogged toward its edge to gauge the gap, and found it narrow enough for her confidence. She bounced a few steps back, then bounded forward once more. She planted her foot at the lip and sprang into the air, beat the gap with room to spare, and landed in-stride on the next roof. Another round of applause sounded as her foot hit the ground, and she gave a playful wave as if it had been in recognition of her stunt.
“That does not mean we are without threats, both within and without. There was no better example than the Thornspire Syndicate. A syndicate which shattered under the weight of our military might, and whose fall allowed the safe return of our stolen sons and daughters. Even still, there remain those who would undermine our unity and challenge our way of life. Those who seek to bring danger across our borders. Those who would corrupt our morals.”
Sahvra climbed another ladder to a higher roof and walked to its edge. She could see the market square now, opposite Solvere’s balcony. She was distant enough to avoid notice, though it hardly mattered, given she wasn’t the only one perched above the crowd. Clearly, they had caught wind of her scheme and stolen the idea.
“By my guiding hand, we have met this danger and more. We have made strides. But do not mistake that for an ending. There is work that remains undone, and strong measures are required to secure our position.”
This time, the applause was slower. Uneven.
“We begin by strengthening our security - first on the very streets of our city, and soon after the borders of our great nation. Those who break the law will be dealt with to the fullest extent of our justice system. It will be fair, but it will not be forgiving.”
Sahvra rested her hands on her hips, watching the crowd more than the man himself. While the most recent applause had been tentative, they remained enthralled. They clung to every word, seemed ready to wish for a reason to go into a frenzy once more.
Something about Solvere’s charisma made her skin crawl. There was a bite to his words, something muzzled by careful choice, but present. It was something sharp, something incendiary, but nothing she could place.
“And while criminals are the most obvious threat, they are not the most dangerous. There are those who seek to undermine all that we do - who whisper falsehoods and turn brother against brother. They seek to collapse us from within.”
He slammed his fist against the podium emphatically.
“I will not stand for it, because in unity there is strength! But in division, there is only death.”
The crowd got their wish, and soon the murmuring grew louder, and soon rose into cheers. The fur along her tail bristled.
“There is more to be done than securing our streets. We see the hardships faced by those born into less favorable conditions. Large-scale engineering projects will provide jobs. Materials will be produced at home. New trade hubs will be established across the land.”
Applause swelled again. Sahvra grimaced despite herself. He’d improved. He’d learned to lean into the passion behind his words, to rally the people - but he also showed restraint and control in how much he showed. His speechwriter deserved praise, but she wasn’t sure it was the words that were carrying the day.
“The embers of our greatness are not gone,” Solvere continued. “They need only be rekindled. By standing against criminality, immorality, and corruption, we usher in a new age of innovation. An age the world has not seen in centuries.”
Her ears twitched as she thought she heard something else beyond the crowd. It was distant, but growing closer. Loud, rumbling, mechanical.
“An age that has already begun.”
She didn’t like that at all. The cacophony grew louder and naturally drew her gaze skyward. From behind the buildings emerged something she could not quite reconcile. It was shaped like the dragons of myth, but wrong. Its body and claws forged of gleaming metal, and wings stretched in canvas instead of thin, leathery skin. A jet of fire burst from its maw, and smoke curled from twin exhausts near its jaw.
There was stunned silence for a beat. Shocked screams followed, but soon gave way to excited cheers once it was apparent this was spectacle, not danger. Then, even that eager cheering was drowned out by the roaring engines above, causing her to wince and pin her ears back.
Solvere smiled.
“Let this be the dawn of our rekindled strength! Together, we rise again!”
The machine passed overhead, both too fast and somehow too slow, then banked toward the sea and vanished beyond the skyline. Smoke lingered in the air, carrying an acrid, choking scent long after it disappeared. The crowd erupted once more - or was it the same cheering from before, freed from the engine’s roar?
Sahvra felt sick. There was something in that contraption. Something old, twisted, and wrong. The sensation curled in her chest. She scanned the sky again, but it was well and truly gone. Solvere continued to speak but she did not listen. Instead, she turned back toward the ladder, dread settling heavily in her gut, and began the journey home.
