The Undying Emperor [Grand Conquest Fantasy]

All popular historical records of the revolution portray Lucius as riding straight for the cathedral. This aligns with the observed reality, but is not quite true. There was much menial chaos in the process of bringing the mechanisms of governance to heel under Austin Feugard, though it should not be understated how much was accomplished by the human desire to maintain normalcy. A great deal of people convinced themselves that their duty and responsibility was to fulfill their jobs they had been appointed to, and that they were not in conflict of duty just because the king no longer sat upon the throne. The momentum of everyday life can indeed continue for a great deal of time so long as no sweeping changes are demanded. Indeed, having somebody at all in charge of the palace helped prolong all affairs and the chaos following the demise of the King In Yellow of Giordana was not repeated. In short, so long as he is paid for what he delivers, a baker delivering bread to the palace cares little where the coin comes from.

Golden's time to digest proved an accurate estimate, although his first attempt to use Montem's stigmata earned him a slap across the face. He wore Lucius' face to the boy's tent and found Lupa instead, and a slap from her was no trifling matter. Despite his claims that one of his teeth had been loosened, three parties were arranged. Golden was to proceed directly to the cathedral and bring with him enough troops to reinforce the temple's security while he brought the clergy to heel. Leomund was tasked with the harbor, as he was known among the agents of the Wavefront Corporation and their additional manpower would be necessary for the city's defense. No troops were spared for Lucius, save for Lupa.

The two of them, donned in the regalia of Acheliah's forces, broke off from the forces headed to the cathedral and ran through the city. Talking their way through the gates left excruciatingly little time to rescue Aria and any survivors of Louie's trio. It was one thing to task Leomund with preparing the defense, and another to have him lead it. The northman was competent at the task, but he was a northman. Throughout the hours before the Aillesterran assault, his orders were scrutinized as those of a foreigner and all the men expected the Gambling Lion to lead them. Make no mistake, I educated him in the grander details of war but I had never seen him speak with a bard's eloquence. His directions were blunt, direct, and accurate, but not inspiring. His time marauding north helped, but the glory was Lucius' to claim.

Of the trio, only Louie could be said to be at liberty. The man was distraught and putting stains upon his heart amid the chaos of the night. A great deal of criminal minds had deduced that the guard was of little threat, but he at least had good cause to ransack the homes of apothecaries in search of a surgeon to haul off. Paul and Jon would be of little help to Lucius, for they were restrained as much by injury as rope.

With the sun setting across the city, Lupa abandoned the blue cloak of Acheliah before they turned the corner to the road on which Golden's manor sat. Beneath she had a custom suit of jack, tailored well to her form such that no ting of steel could be heard as she hugged Lucius, then vanished into the alleys. The boy kept the cowl of his cloak up about his face as he strode forth. The dramatic narrative would have it that he marched straight to the door, but he had never once been to the residence and Lyam had ample time to observe him as he checked the house numbers and warded off strangers with the set of his shoulders and the glare of his eyes. For his part, Lyam had invited him within by leaving the door open.

For lack of furnishings, the common area of the manor was cavernous. Shelves sat empty. The fireplace crackled with only a scant blaze, warming naught but the Steel Blade's anger. The dining table had been toppled and before Lucius could reach Lyam, he had to cross over the inert form of Paul. Great and ghastly, the man's blood trickled across the floorboards with naught but torn clothes attempting to bandage the gash across his gut. His medic, Jon, was hardly in better shape, his scalp smote open and his wits languishing. Both stirred, muttering apologies, but Lucius could barely mutter a promise of help before Aria was held toward him. Lyam's fingers dug through her hair.

Apologies flowed out of her mouth in a torrent as Lucius and Lyam locked eyes. Lucius paid the words little heed. Her eyes were red and she quavered in the iron grip that held her. She made promises no sane mind would pledge and he had no will to hold her to. Charging Lyam was no simple matter however. The Steel Blade stood at the peak of the stairs and grinned down at him as Lucius drew his blade.

"Enough," Lyam ordered, throwing Aria against the wall. With her arms bound behind her back, she had no protection from smashing against the wood, nor could she rise once Lyam had the tip of his blade pointed at her. "We should have taken her from you months ago. She squealed like a pig."

"You could have tried," Lucius said, half an ear listening to Paul whispering that Louie would be back. "I would have killed you. How did you get out of Donjon?"

Lyam snorted. "Are you saying that wasn't your doing? Three days I hid in the belly of a ship, sick with fever, and I thought about you. At any moment, the king might have ordered your arrest. You would have been there. And, miraculously, a swarm of fanatics broke the doors down. They thought they were freeing political prisoners. They found murderers, degenerates, and cannibals. You would have been carried out like a saint."

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"Snuck away in the chaos, did you?"

"You could say that. Is Theo dead?"

"Yes?"

"Is anyone other than me alive?"

"Ashlynn and Rey are. Does that change anything? They're not going to help you, and we both know you can't beat me in a fight. You dragged me here with a hostage. Three hostages actually. What are you going to do? Kill them to make yourself feel better before you die?"

Lyam moved onto the steps, his blade withdrawn from Aria. While he didn't limp, there was a heavy thud when he moved his injured leg. In the dim firelight, Lucius was only aware there was something off about it, not the eviscerated nature of it. "I honestly didn't think you would come. Shouldn't you be with Feugard?"

Drawing his blade, Lucius said, "I told you people if you touched my loved ones, I would kill you all."

"She's not your sister! You're a fraud."

"She was included. Are you going to fight me or do I need to come to you?"

"I wonder what Acheliah will reward me with when I give her your head in a jar? Lucius the traitor."

The boy laughed, knowing full well that if Acheliah returned, Lyam's only reward would be a swift death. He knew also that she was occupied with me, far to the north. That, however, must come at a later time. Steel clashed left and right, blows raining down from on high the moment Lyam lunged down the steps. Lucius stood his ground, twisting and spinning his blade. He kept a high guard for the Steel Blade's position restricted him as much as it gave hammering strength to his attacks. Shadows cloaked the finer flicks and twists from each of their eyes, but Lucius' blade accomplished nothing more than cleaving open slits through the Steel Blade's trousers, the edge meeting steel instead of skin beneath.

The instant he suspected Lyam's legs were locked in position, he retreated. Although no dueling school would have taught it, he was ready to fling a throwing dagger into the man's chest. Lyam advanced first. Lucius stabbed for the meat of his sword arm's shoulder. The reflexive clench of steel halted Lyam's swing but his off hand lashed out. A fistful of cloth became a grip of iron. Despite having the strength of steel however, Lyam did not have the weight of it.

Lucius returned the grapple and slammed Lyam's face into the plaster wall, ruining the frame of an oil painting but failing to injure. Then, they went down together in a tangle of steel and brawn. Lucius sank a dagger into Lyam's back just as the Steel Blade wrapped a hand around his throat. Neither grip faltered and neither man heard the rush of footsteps toward them. The dagger proved to not be a mortal blow, not immediately so. Blood did not gush forth from guts of iron and had he kept his neck free in time, the fight would have been his.

Lyam turned his entire body to steel, a feat he had perhaps never accomplished in his life for he had never been in such a bloody mayhem as gripped the city that night. But, that did not make him a statue. Even when his eyes turned to metal and the world was but shadow and hate, he was still a living man. Merely, he was blind to the sodden cloth that encased his unfeeling skull until the smothering poison had diffused through his nose and lungs.

It was a horrid poultice made from venomous beetles in the Ashfall Mountains, rarely worth a poisoner's effort to collect. The barbs hidden within the venom cloud are impossible to contain during the collection process and impossible to clean off. The wastelanders had discovered an apparent immunity to it, however. The venom turns the body's own protections against itself, but those who had been reared in the sunless desert were, in some respects, completely unequipped for such diminutive warfare of the body. And Lucius, of course, was never one to complain about poison.

Lupa gripped the cloth about Lyam's head, one boot on his back like she was wrestling livestock. It seeped into his skull and set his body ablaze. When the swelling began, it was too late. Lucius rolled over on the ground as his throat was freed, gasping for air much the same as Lyam. The curious thing is that the venom is a silent poison. The throat closes before a noise can be made. Victims are typically busy clawing at their own necks even as their eyes swell shut, and then it is much the same as a hangman's death.

When Lyam stopped moving, he pushed the corpse onto its side and retrieved his dagger. The venom had reached his face and his own swelling had begun. He wheezed as he mounted the steps. Aria sat at the top landing, her body wilted as she listened to screams in the street. He knelt before her and offered the dagger. "I told you I would keep you safe. I never wavered on that, even when you tried to betray me."

"I'm so sorry I thought Austin was the better man than you."

"All the good men in the kingdom died last year. Coming with me is your only chance of escaping, and that is assuming I can save this damn city."

"We don't have time, Lu," Lupa said as she pulled a pair of leather gloves on. The venom was all across her palms, and would spread to anything she touched.

"But where will we go?" Aria asked, gingerly taking the dagger.

The door flung open. A lantern shined into the hall, followed by three familiar faces and sighs of relief. "Thank the gods, we're not too late," Louie shouted, shoving Sammy toward the bleeding men as the Lynnfield girl followed.

There was much that needed to be discussed with them, but Lucius gave Aria a grin. "Where else do I go? To war."