Chronicles of a Falling Empire [Bloodstained, Bloodshed]

in Life's long path Death weaves our goals
watching as Fate grows our souls.
the queen of spades leaves Death's cold hand
collect all life—that's Death's grand plan.

"The Soul Trade," Verse three

When I open my eyes I'm on a witness stand, seated atop a comfortably cushioned chair. A judge's bench is to my right, elevated above the rest of the room. The man behind the pew box is wearing golden robes. Hanging jewels—silver and blue—make the regalia blinding. It's no judge's robe like we had in the public hangyard in Valenès—the thick fabric, elegantly embroidered, hangs to his ankles. Gemstones—rubies, amethysts, even diamonds—decorate the massive metallic collar draped around his neck.

"You're the God King," I say, and follow it up with "Holy shit."

He must be.

Instead of being offended, he smiles. "The pleasure is mine, Marix."

"Not Marix," I say. "I'm Ko."

"To me, Loss's conduit will always be Marix, no matter what face you wear," he says pleasantly. He's an older man, and his long hair is streaked with gray. "A part of him is here with you. Please—allow me to give you a tour of my courtroom."

The God King himself has called me to court—it's a crazy thought, and I feel a little manic. He wrote all seven of the Lady's testaments, and it's said he was closer with the divine entities than any other mortal in history. He's the one who discovered the sacred laws that bind our monarchy, our realm, to the forces which have dictated the winds of change across all of humanity's history—Love, Death, War, Hope, Fate, Life, and Loss. His heirs—the seven titans—led the revolution that won L'Anglimar her independence from the Xobratic realm, and he lived to see it through before ascending to The Fjords to join his Ladies at last.

The Fjords…I wonder if that's where we are now.

I look around. "I would love a tour."

"Over there is the court reporter's desk." He pauses. "Leclère usually takes notes for me, but I'm not expecting her tonight. She has…other places to be, as do Yosif and Vandame, but their conduits—that is to say, the living lords—I have summoned. The clerk's desk is over there—you'll find files, documents, and records of everyone who ever breathed in those drawers. The jury box is equidistant to my attorney tables, and—oh yes—the gallery for public seating, occupied by fallen and retired incarnates, is behind the bailiff's abode. Do you have any questions before we proceed?"

Hundreds, but they don't seem important when talking to the effing God King. "Nope."

He snaps his fingers. At once, every seat in the room is filled.

Behind one of the attorney's tables are Lefe and Killián. Behind the other are lords of the Septemvirate—I recognize their faces from portraits lining the walls of Colçon's tower. Audrin, Lord of Love and king of L'Anglimar. Bardic's father Gregorie, Lord of War. Galtero, Lord of Hope.

Ra'mes, Lord of Life.

I know him from Kolton's Kitties, the brothel where I was raised. Hate him.

The jury's box is filled with women—retired and fallen incarnates, like the God King said—and seven young women sit on the chairs before it. Lady Death, aka Brid Naya'il, is second in the line. The fifth lady is the same one who threw the orange at me in Marbecante—Genevieve, I think. I don't recognize the other five, but the gray-haired woman who's third in line must be Bardic's mother.

Beyond them, the courtroom chairs and gallery are packed with bodies. The murmur of voices fills the room.

Killián rises, and silence falls like a taut noose.

"General Killián," the God King says. "Lady Loss has put your church on trial through her newest conduit. What have you to say in your defense?"

"Greetings, Your Grace." Killián dips his head respectfully. "I would like to request this case be nullified, and Loss's conduit turn his allegiance to Death."

"Is that all?" King Audrin speaks scornfully from the opposing attorney's table. "One cannot change allegiance from one Lady to another. That's heresy at its finest. The precarious position your church has found itself in is unfortunate, but you do yourself no favors by wagging your tongue against tradition."

Lefe nods. "He has chosen to worship Loss. The whore's son is damned."

Killián meets my gaze. "Ko—return to me."

There's nowhere to run. There's nowhere to hide. He's looking at me—they're all looking at me—and the expression on his face makes my insides twist in a humiliating, debilitating sort of way.

"You can't save him, Killián." Lefe shuffles a deck of cards, looking morose. "Don't make us say it."

"The general's whore." King Audrin shrugs. "I'll say it."

"Let's try to keep this civil, Audrin," the God King says.

"There's no civility in times dark as these," Lefe says. "This is the soul trade, not a Veneer Festival."

The soul trade?

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Killián looks frustrated. "He signed with me in Bathune. Ko—let's get this over with so we can move forward. What exactly are you accusing us my church of?"

"Give your testimony, Marix," says the God King.

Throw Baumé in the lake of fire and end the church of Fate, Marix murmurs in the back of my mind, low and menacing. He wronged me in life and he wrongs me in death—this is why the time web remains unstable. As for Yosif, let his living lord proceed as he wishes. He's done nothing to warrant disciplinary action. A crime was committed at his school, but it's on the shoulders of the perpetrator. Ko—speak with my voice.

"Uh…" I clear my throat and squirm under the eyes of every important and divine figure L'Anglimar has to offer—both living and dead. How in Hel did a kid from L-Street end up here? "Marix is after the church of Fate. He says Death's church is fine, though."

"Preposterous." Genevieve's voice, sweet as nectar, cuts. I shift on my seat. "This boy knows nothing of our ways or traditions, yet you put him on the stand? With all due respect, Your Highness—"

"You're the one who threw him an orange, Lady Fate." Again, Killián rises. "He caught it—he carries the potential to usurp a church. Once more, I ask The Father's permission to allow Ko to turn his allegiance to Death."

"Get him out of your system and return him to the brothel," King Audrin says from the second attorney's table. "Lady Love, what are your thoughts? He's your subject."

Technically I was Lust's, though I suppose they're the same Lady in different forms. Valenès is the only city in the realm where prostitution is legal, although you can always find cathouses if you know where to look. The primary purpose of L-Street is to keep Lady Love's telltale sin in one place, containing and damning the practice of prostitution to the lowest birth caste in the realm. I have Souteneur Kolton's address tattooed on my left wrist, and I didn't even sign with him—I was just born there.

A radiantly gorgeous woman sitting to the left of Brid Naya'il pauses. She's applying lipstick in front of a compact mirror, and her blond hair is artfully coiffed. She's wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever seen—a shade of white that almost seems to glow, with elegant lace sleeves and pearls sewn to the neckline. High cheekbones, arched lips, features so delicate they almost look hand-sculpted…I've never seen anyone more striking. She belongs in a painting, not the real world, not even a dream.

"You go too far, darling." Lady Love fixes Audrin with a contemptuous stare, and then she turns to the God King. "Desiring virtue leads lovers to lust."

"There's no virtue on L-Street," Audrin says, and there's something off about his voice. Mocking, playful. "Are you sure you met him in the deadlands, Killi, or have you a secret outlet in our favorite slum?"

"I have never solicited." Killián's jaw is set. "He saved the Vestal Brid. I did what I could for his family. Now we're here."

"I have seen this," the God King says wearily. "You remain involved".

"We're all involved," Brid Naya'il mutters. "Why don't I get to testify?"

The God King turns to her. "Be my guest."

All of Brid Naya'il's attention swings to the God King. "Lady Love has a point," she says. "The Lord of Love rules L'Anglimar, and we are all subject to the church's corruption—in days like these, there is no difference between Love and Lust. Power is stolen from the weak. From the innocent. The church of Death is not the one that needs to stand trial. Ko got it wrong."

No fucking shit, thinks Marix.

Then, oddly, Bardic's voice: Lady War, I didn't see Leó for the predator he was and neither did Killi. Lefe saw it, I believe. Leó was our fourth player when we played the mirror game. That was our mistake, and we have been betrayed.

I rap my knuckles against the side of my head—what's happening? "Marix?" I murmur.

"Ko, will you give your testimony?" asked the God King.

(Not to them. The voice in my head isn't Marix's this time—I hear a woman's dulcet tone and shudder at the intrusion. The Lady who's seventh in line—around Killián's age, striking and radiant, with brown skin and black hair curled into delicate ringlets—wiggles her fingers in my direction. Just to me. There is privacy for the children of whores, Father. Do you know what Leómadura called Ko when he pulled his hair? Or should I keep that to myself?)

(The vision comes suddenly; I'm inside a tent now, staring down elite guardsmen—Killián, Bardic, Péri, Lefe, Torrense, Belén. Words exit my mouth—You can see the future? That's a real thing? How does the rest of this conversation play out?—and hear Lefe's response. Poorly for me, which isn't surprising among this group.)

Everything goes dark—the chair is hard beneath me, but despite my open eyes, I'm surrounded by blackness.

Fate always answers in riddles. Geniveve now—I recognize her voice and cryptic manner from our Marbecante meeting. That's your first clue, Lord Lefe. Do you understand why I allowed you to walk through time when Ko asked his question? He lied to the Lord of Death, whose maxim hinges on truth. Thus began a series of unstoppable events that end with Loss. This is not a war you can win with your fists—or your wits. His dice have rolled. Within a week, he'll be in the Lands of the Dead. As it is said, so be it done.

What?

The tension leaves my body, the blackness recedes, and I'm back in the courtroom.

"Ko has accused none but Lefe and Killián," the God King says. "The churches of Death and Fate stand trial. Is there anyone here who objects to his witness testimony?"

The room stays silent.

The God King turns to me. "Go on, Ko."

There's only one thing left for me to do—I have no idea what's happening, and I betrayed the person trying to help me by putting him on trial. It's time to try and make this right.

"I withdraw my allegiance to Lady Loss," I say, gaze on Killián. "I pledge myself to Lady Death and swear myself to her church. I'll obey you. I'll listen. I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm sorry."

Killián nods.

"So be it," says The God King sighs. "It goes against our ways, but if the Lady agrees—"

"I do," says Brid Naya'il. "The boy is mine."

"I do not forsake my claim," Lady Love says. "He was born to Lust, and to Lust he shall remain."

"Who hears the coins change hands?" sing-songs Audrin.

"He belongs to Loss, to whom he swore allegiance," says the woman who's seventh in line. "None since The Father have been permitted to worship multiple Ladies."

"Must we have this fight?" asks Love. "So be it."

The seventh woman—Loss? I thought she didn't have an incarnate? —dips her head. "May the best Lady win."

The Ladies know what you are capable of, even if the living lords do not. Marix's voice, again inside my mind. Your conduit potential will be our little secret, Ko…until you learn to play the mirror game. Your pledge to Death is meaningless. Make no mistake—when the time comes, Loss will conquer all.

The next thing I know, I'm falling through blackness, shrill screams surrounding me on all sides.

Down.

Down.

Down.

I never hit the ground.