Emil Vince struggled with the mantle draped over his shoulders. The heavy cloth felt strange against his body, and he tugged at it again, trying to settle it properly over his robes. He had never liked wearing such garments. They were stiff, ceremonial things, made more for show than comfort.

  Yet with the Emperor planning a journey to the south, Lord Vince knew he had little choice. He would need to look every bit the noble ruler when the Emperor arrived. The mantle, the rings, the fine robes—these were all part of the image he had to present.

  He sighed quietly.

  It was not just the clothing that troubled him. In truth, the mantle was the smallest of his concerns.

  What truly angered him was the news that Zuhran would be travelling with the Emperor.

  Zuhran… that evil swine, Vince thought bitterly.

  The man’s presence alone was enough to turn any peaceful visit into a problem. And now that Ardet had become a refuge for more and more Truthers fleeing persecution in the Empire, the situation was already delicate.

  Zuhran’s arrival could easily turn that tension into open conflict.

  “My lord,” a gentle voice said behind him.

  The sound of it instantly eased the storm of thoughts in his mind. For reasons he did not fully understand, that voice always brought him a strange calm.

  It was Marie, his chamber-maid.

  Most lords preferred male servants in their private chambers, and Lord Vince had many such attendants. But Marie was different. He had met her during one of his rare visits into the town outside the palace walls.

  She had come to work on a farm with her brother.

  When Vince first saw her, she had been standing in the fields beneath the afternoon sun, her hair loose and shining like copper in the light. Their eyes met only for a moment, yet something in that brief glance had lingered with him.

  He had invited her to the palace that very day.

  “A farm is no place for a girl,” he had told her brother, though the truth was far more selfish.

  Lord Emil Vince had once had a wife. A good woman. But the plague had taken her decades ago.

  In the many years since, the Viceroy had buried any thought of loving another woman. Though he had kept several concubines over the years, none had ever stirred his heart deeply enough for him to make them his Lady.

  But Marie was different.

  She was the most beautiful woman he had seen in many years, and whenever she stood near him, he felt something awaken in his chest that he thought long dead.

  And he wanted her.

  Not as a concubine, but as his wife.

  “Yes, Marie?” Lord Vince said, trying to hide the frustration that had been on his face moments earlier.

  “I was wondering if you needed help with your mantle, my lord,” she said politely.

  “No, I am quite alright,” Vince replied quickly, adjusting the garment once more. “You may help by returning some of those clothes to the wardrobe.”

  Several garments lay scattered across the room from his earlier attempts to dress himself.

  “Yes, my lord,” Marie said with a small bow as she moved to gather them.

  Lord Vince remained where he stood, watching her.

  She bent to pick up a robe from the floor, folding it carefully before placing it over her arm. Her movements were graceful and quiet, as though she had been born to walk the halls of the palace rather than labour in a farmer’s field.

  Marie suddenly paused.

  She had realised that the Viceroy had not yet left the room. Slowly she turned toward him. When her eyes met his, she caught him staring.

  Vince quickly looked away and placed a hand against his temple as though he had suddenly remembered something important.

  “Ah… yes… uhh…” he muttered awkwardly. “Have you seen Tancred?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Marie replied softly. “I saw him enter the council chamber earlier. I believe you were meant to meet him there.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Oh… yes. Yes, of course.” Vince cleared his throat. “I should be on my way.”

  He walked toward the door, but just before leaving, he paused and glanced back.

  “If you need any help with those garments,” he said, trying to sound casual, “do not hesitate to call one of the male servants.”

  Marie nodded politely. “Yes, my lord.”

  Satisfied, Vince stepped out into the corridor.

  The stone hallway was quiet as he made his way toward the council chamber. His thoughts turned once again to the meeting awaiting him there.

  Several of his most trusted officers had gathered to discuss the Emperor’s visit and the preparations required for his safety during his stay in Ardet.

  And of course… there was the problem of Zuhran.

  When Lord Vince entered the council chamber, the men inside immediately rose from their seats.

  His General, Tancred, stood beside the long table. Beside him were Jon Haggin, the Treasurer of Ardet, and Oswald Ableman, his Chancellor.

  Vince nodded slightly as he walked to his chair at the head of the table. Once he sat, the others followed.

  Oswald was the first to speak.

  “I received word from a Privy courier,” the Chancellor said. “The Emperor should arrive within three or four days.”

  “Should arrive?” Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Oswald nodded. “Reports say he is greatly enjoying his stay at Almeroth.”

  “Well,” Vince said with a small shrug, “good for him.”

  He turned toward the Treasurer. “How much gold are we expected to spend on this visit?”

  Jon Haggin glanced down at a parchment in front of him.

  “Approximately forty thousand pieces, my lord.”

  “What?” Vince exclaimed, nearly rising from his seat.

  “That estimate assumes he remains here for four days as planned,” Jon added calmly.

  “That is far too much,” Vince protested. “We are not building the Emperor a second palace.”

  “You did say you wanted to make him happy,” Jon replied carefully.

  “Yes,” Vince said sharply, “but not at the cost of making myself miserable.”

  He waved a hand dismissively.

  “Cut the budget. Half of it will do. A third would be even better.”

  Oswald raised his eyebrows slightly at the command.

  “What?” Vince said when he noticed the look. “What is Creel going to do to me besides express his disappointment?”

  Oswald gave a small bow. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “Good.”

  For a moment the chamber fell quiet.

  Then General Tancred spoke.

  “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we should give the Emperor the treatment he deserves… and later recover the cost with a small increase in taxes.”

  Vince turned toward him slowly. His mouth hung half open in disbelief.

  “Taxes?” he repeated.

  Tancred nodded.

  “Tancred,” Vince said, narrowing his eyes, “how much wine did you drink before coming here?”

  The general frowned. “My tongue has tasted no wine today, my lord.”

  “Then why,” Vince continued, “would you suggest raising taxes on the people when taxes are the very reason the Empire is drowning in unrest?”

  Tancred opened his mouth to argue, but the words never came. After a moment, he lowered his head.

  “I apologise, my lord. I only believed a small increase might help.”

  “Well it would do far more harm than help,” Vince replied firmly.

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “I asked you here to update me on the security arrangements for the Emperor. What have you prepared?”

  “I have assigned additional guards to the chambers that will be given to the Emperor,” Tancred said. “There will also be an escort accompanying him whenever he moves through the city.”

  “And the Truthers?” Vince asked quickly.

  Tancred hesitated before answering.

  “They have promised not to attempt any attack on the Emperor.”

  Vince waited.

  “But,” Tancred continued, “they did not promise the same for Zuhran.”

  Lord Vince rested his chin on his clasped hands as he considered this.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “they will have to.”

  He looked around the table.

  “The last thing we need is a violent clash between the Truthers and the Lord Valiant here in Ardet. Such chaos might give the Emperor the perfect excuse to station imperial soldiers in this city.”

  Tancred nodded.

  “I spoke with the Truthers earlier,” he said. “Their current leader wishes to speak with you.”

  Vince blinked.

  “They chose someone after Leofric’s death?”

  “Not exactly a leader,” Tancred replied. “More of a voice for the group. She is waiting outside.”

  “Good,” Vince said. “Bring her in. I would like to make my expectations clear.”

  Tancred stood and left the chamber.

  Moments later he returned with a young woman.

  She was pale, with auburn hair tied loosely behind her head. Her clothing resembled that of a warrior rather than a noble guest. Several weapons hung from her belt and across her back, marking her clearly as one of the Truthers.

  She stepped forward and bowed. “My lord.”

  “Come,” Vince said, gesturing toward the table. “Sit.”

  She and Tancred took their seats.

  Vince studied her for a moment.

  “So,” he said, “you are the new voice of the Truthers.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the woman replied calmly. “My name is Tessa. The Truthers sent me.”

  “Tessa…” Vince repeated thoughtfully. Then he nodded.

  “Welcome. I assume Tancred has already told you about the Emperor’s visit.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good.”

  Vince leaned back in his chair. “Then let us speak plainly,” he said.

  “We must discuss what the Truthers may—and may not—do while the Emperor is here.”

  Tessa smiled faintly. “I am listening, my lord.”

  Over 50 Chapters | 100,000+ Words

  Updates: Monday – Wednesday – Friday

  "In the dark waters of death, he kept watch."

  He was the Silent Hunter. A Reaper with no name, no emotions, and no mercy for those who disturbed the cycle. Pulled from the void by a God-Emperor and forged into a body of divine flesh and crystalline mana, he is now Voss Truechild.

  A Prince of the Empire. Engineered for a war the living are losing.

  The Empire is rotting. The Damned—the predators Voss once patrolled—are rising. They think they have cheated the cycle. They think the Empire is their hunting ground.

  They are wrong. The Reaper has been reborn. And he will set the balance right.