Elaine stood at attention in King Leopold’s cavernous throne room. It was a relic from a forgotten time before men ever discovered the ruins of Nethas. The heads of beasts from all around the kingdom decorated the walls, their eyes glazed over in death. The king sat at the end of the hall, resting on a throne of white stone.

  He leaned forward in his violet robes, listening intently as Nathaniel spoke of the plague. His hand rested on his short white beard as he watched Nathaniel pace back and forth across the stone floor with tired blue eyes.

  Elaine and James stood nearby, flanked by five inquisitors with faces hidden behind white hoods. They hid their faces so that their acts would not stain their souls when they passed on. Elaine hoped that was not the case.

  The swift tap of a cane snapped her attention back to where Nathaniel was stating his case to the king. King Leopold always seemed to enjoy letting Nathaniel sweat during his audience, and he was in top form today.

  “The plague has haunted our city for this past year.” The familiar diplomatic mask wrapped around Nathaniel’s face. “Everywhere in the city, our people lie dying from this affliction.”

  “I am aware of this,” King Leopold said. “Surely you did not want to waste an audience for just that.”

  “I am most certainly not here to waste your time,” Nathaniel said, scratching at his chest through his robes. “But I do bring new information regarding the plague’s origin.”

  “Another tirade for me to listen to?” the king asked, rubbing his eyes as Nathaniel continued.

  “This is not a tirade, my lord.” Nathaniel motioned to James, who wheeled the wooden table closer. “This last year, we thought this was a normal plague, a disease that could be fixed if we just contained it and found a cure. Recently my priests have been searching for a different origin to it, one that might be…magical.”

  “I expected as much from you, Nathaniel.” Leopold sighed. “Magic has brought prosperity to this city, in fact it is the very reason this city still stands today.”

  “Just as we of the Order of Astor have assisted the city ever since you started warring with the sarpans.” Nathaniel smiled coldly. “Nethas is a beacon of civilization and faith in the darkness of the world. We wouldn’t want you to fall by any means.”

  He paused, motioning to James. James pulled back the cloth covering the table with one quick tug, revealing the pale face of the mage from the night before. Something was different. A crack in the metal tube caught her attention, dark lines forming a spider web across its surface.

  “This device was cracked during this man’s attempt to break into our prisons,” Nathaniel said. “Do you not find it odd that this man, this mage, has a way to hold back the effects of this plague, but does nothing to halt its flow through the streets?”

  The king was silent. He covered his mouth with his hand and leaned closer to see the table. He did not interrupt Nathaniel, or ask him to continue. There was something, a glimmer in his eyes, a hint of knowledge related to the mage.

  “The Order has done a lot to help Tyra,” Leopold said, rising up to his feet. “Your predecessors, Nathaniel, were known for their service to the crown and the people.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see what this has to do with the problem at hand,” Nathaniel said.

  “A moment,” Leopold said, raising a hand up. “Last night, Vernon was found dead in his quarters. The servants caught a glimpse of what did it before the creature fled into the night.”

  Vernon Niland, ambassador of the Tower. Elaine had seen him a few times during the king’s audiences. He was a balding old man, given to mumbling and rude interruptions. He always appeared more senile than wise to her. Completely the opposite bearing of what a mage should carry.

  “Some of the servants said he was talking to the creature, trying to negotiate with it.” The king leaned over the dead mage, inspecting him closer. “They said he was trying to make a deal to usurp me and take control of Tyra.”

  The joy that lighted Nathaniel’s face churned Elaine’s stomach. He enjoyed the news far more than he should have. Already, she knew that he was considering just how he could exploit this new information.

  “I don’t like you Nathaniel. You are nothing like your predecessors in thought or deed. In fact, if there were not so many who followed Astor in my lands, I might have banished you from them long ago,” Leopold said, causing Nathaniel to break back to attention. “However, I will grant you permission to hold any mages you find temporarily, until this matter can be completely resolved. If you can handle this arrangement well, then I might think better of you.”

  “We will do as you ask.” Nathaniel bowed, leaning on his cane, “as a favor to the crown.”

  “Then feel free to get out of my sight.” Leopold rested back.

  Nathaniel was completely silent as they left the audience chambers, his ears burning red. Elaine kept her silence, knowing that it would be the best way to avoid his wrath. She held the hilt of her sword tight, taking solace from the Grace.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  James and his assistants loaded the mage’s body back in his covered cart, giving only a nod as he took his leave. As their horse trotted away, Elaine wished dearly that she could have the same excuse.

  “That pompous oaf needs to have his tongue removed for daring to address me like that,” Nathaniel said as the echoes of hooves faded into the distance.

  There was so little anger in his voice. It was barely noticeable at all. Elaine knew better. Hidden behind those words was the indignity of a slighted man. She chose her words carefully.

  “He did give you permission to continue on with your plan,” she said. “At least something was gained.”

  “True.” Nathaniel started walking away, his cane tapping against the stone. “Give out the new orders, captain. We start gathering all the traitors in Nethas tonight. I want you to oversee the holding of the prisoners personally.”

  “Yes, Holiness.” Elaine gave a salute as he left, and her heart ached beneath her hand.

  When she returned to the barracks, she issued the orders, sending Elise out to disperse it to the other units. Before nightfall, they were already bringing mages into the grounds, herding the robed figures in tight groups. Iron shackles, each marked with a sigil bound their hands.

  It was Trymn, the word of binding. It could silence any spell or chant, leaving the user completely incapable of drawing outside power. There weren’t more than one hundred mages within Nethas’ walls at any time, but Elaine wondered if they would have enough.

  Days passed like water pouring from a gourd, and soon the knights filled the gallows to the brim. Not all the prisoners were mages. The knights captured wizards, street magicians, and outright charlatans all the same. They were all traitors in Nathaniel’s eyes.

  Elaine saw every one of their faces as the knights escorted them into the gallows. Some were confused and some were angry, but all were without hope. Each one condemned her with a cold stare. They knew what she was doing was wrong.

  She ignored the stares, ignored the cries for help. Even if it would condemn her for eternity, she could not defy Nathaniel’s orders. Soon the gallows was overflowing and camps of white tents guarded by her knights sprouted up on the grounds.

  They were taking in far too many. As the days passed, Elaine saw poor beggars and rich merchants alike walking within the camps. She had seen many before while patrolling the streets. She could name most.

  One person caught her eye as she surveyed the camps, a bent old man that tailored dresses near the castle keep. He always made dresses for the noble’s daughters and wives during festivals. He certainly wasn’t a mage.

  Elaine’s brow furrowed as she walked closer to the edge of the camp, closer to the shaking old man that sat on the grass. His skin was baked tan by the heat of the sun. He wore the grey clothes of a prisoner, simple pants and a shirt. Nathaniel was going too far in his vendetta.

  “He was hiding a mage.” Elise’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t like it, but we can’t allow sympathizers to walk free now.”

  She was standing behind Elaine, her left hand resting on the pommel of her sword. A hidden intent rested in her stance. Was Elise going to stop her if she decided get the tailor released? For just an instant, Elaine was ready to draw her sword.

  Then Elise smiled. Elaine hesitated, releasing her grip on her scabbard. That was right. Elise was her subordinate. There was no need to fear her.

  “How many have we captured?” Elaine asked.

  “We nearly have fifty sympathizers alone.” Elise gestured to the camp. “Nathaniel thought it was a good idea to save jail space for actual mages, so he moved them to the camps.”

  “And he didn’t think to relay those orders to me?” Elaine asked, clenching her fist.

  “As you’re just overseeing the security of the camps, he did not think it necessary,” Elise said.

  “I see.” Elaine turned away.

  She started immediately toward the Temple, knowing Nathaniel would be there. She needed to talk to him, needed to make him see reason in this. They couldn’t go around arresting people without cause.

  “Wait.” Elise’s hand held her back.

  “What?” Elaine shrugged off Elise’s hand, her left hand again taking hold of her scabbard.

  “It’s better that you don’t go there,” Elise said. “Nathaniel doubts your devotion to the Order.”

  Elaine stepped back. Nathaniel doubted her. She had done nothing but work towards the Order’s goals since she had joined. That was why he entrusted her with her armor. That was why he chose her as a captain.

  “He doubts me.” She restrained a bitter laugh.

  “You do question his orders,” Elise said. “More often than is seemly.”

  More than is seemly, the words echoed in her head; they pounded so terribly. What right did Nathaniel have to be indignant? She wanted to protect the Order, to protect both its ideals and its soul.

  “I’m going to talk to him,” Elaine said, turning her back to Elise and walking away again. “You aren’t going to stop me.”

  “I might not be able to alone,” Elise said as ten knights marched up and surrounded Elaine. “But we can.”

  “Are you going to arrest me as well?” Elaine asked. “When will this vain chase end?”

  “We can’t allow you to see him armed,” Elise said. “You’ll have to remove your armor and sword before you seek an audience.”

  “So this is the limit of his trust.” Elaine let her right hand rest on the hilt of her sword.

  She drew her sword in one fluid motion, pointing it directly at Elise. She should attack; put those knights in their place. There was a reason she was the captain, beside her devotion to the Order.

  Not even eleven would be enough to stop her.

  Elise flinched at the act and she hid a smile. The knights drew their swords in response, but the hesitation was already clear. Elaine edged forward. She might be able to win, might be able to fight her way to the Temple.

  The air was still, no wind blew through the grounds. Already, sweat dribbled down through her armor. Her muscles tensed, ready to pounce with the first strike. Grace filled her with strength.

  Yet, there was something wrong. Her sword was heavy; her hand could not keep its grip.

  Was there another way? She wanted dearly to ask Astor. She could stand and fight. Should she give up on her friendships to win? Was defiance of Nathaniel’s orders worth that cost?

  She switched the grip on her sword, pointing it down with two hands. There was another choice, but she didn’t like it. She didn’t have to sacrifice all that she was just yet. There was still a chance.

  She thrust her sword into the ground with all of her strength, pushing it deep into the dirt. She then released it and stepped back, holding her hands up in the air. She wouldn’t fight this time. She could only surrender.

  “Take it,” she said. “Then take me to Nathaniel.”

  “Come with us first.” Elise approached, binding her arms with a strong grip. “Once you are completely unarmed, we will bring you before him.”

  They led Elaine along, back toward the barracks. A sick pool stirred in Elaine’s stomach as they walked. She hoped dearly that she had made the right choice. Yet, the eyes of her predecessor as they took her into the prisons haunted Elaine’s thoughts.