The palace dwarfed his estate, making it appear a peasant's dugout hovel in comparison. It was a fortress on its own, standing upon the zenith of a hill—the only building taller in all of Nova was the Column a short ride away, though a few arenas and other palaces came close. Laczlo looked upon the Column and reflected on all that had happened because of it: his chance encounter with Emalia and hearing of this Daecinus, his mission to uncover a plot of religious conversion which ended up being far more, and then its original support of him during the succession war.

If it were any other group, any other organization, I would blame it all on chance, he thought, shaking his head. The Column, like Vasia, was seen as inevitable, immortal. But he'd been around long enough now to know how foolish such a thought was. Nothing lasted forever.

"He's ready, Voivode," Isak whispered to him.

Laczlo nodded and made himself stop picking at his callouses, worn and cracked. "Thank you." He looked across the waiting chamber at Iarek Kostuveski, who had refused to speak to him, evidently furious about his withholding of the documents. Before, the thought of the other man being upset with him would send Laczlo into a worrying spiral, but now he hardly cared. After the events of the day, he had little care for much of anything.

Leaving his small retinue of a handful of druzhina and Iarek's single escort holding a beaten and limping Karnys Vestile in the waiting chamber, he followed the older voivode in. His silk robes whispered across the floor with each step, gold thread glinting with firelight. After his fight, even with his wife's tending, he felt, frankly, like shit. Walking was a pain, and deep breaths made his chest hurt. Smiling, or any other large expression, warped the angry bruises on his face, causing more pain, only somewhat hidden by his wife's careful application of powders. His knuckles were scabbing over, but were still a wrecked mess after his bludgeoning, as were the stitched and bandaged cuts hidden under his attire. In all, he felt unfit to be up and about, much less facing the tsar—Kapitalena made that well known when she helped him dress, though they both knew he had to go. Matters were all the more complicated and exhausting when, as he left his estate, he caught a glance of Vida there. She was watching him closely, eyes wide with worry, perhaps at his battered state, perhaps at the distance he now forced, not even speaking to her. But what else could he do? He couldn't indulge in her feelings, nor even his own; now, all that mattered was his duty. To Vasia, to his children, to Kapitalena, so long ignored… Still, it didn't help to make him feel anything other than exhausted.

Entering the tsar's hall, for all its gaudiness with vibrant murals, both eastern and western rugs padding the floor, and large windows of colored glass, it was not all too different than any other's. Trestle tables would normally be laid out for meals, but were stowed away, leaving a long center approach past blazing firepits to a small dias where the tsar's wide carved oak throne sat crouched and dominant, the tsaritsa's empty throne to the side and back slightly. The man himself, Radokh Vadoyeski, was younger than Laczlo, in his late twenties. He had ruled for nearly two decades, with the tsaritsa mother as regent for part of that. He was thick, with a warrior's build that was certainly more genetic than due to any training, for his jowls made an otherwise noble face appear lazy and tired. His skin was pallid, thin hair hidden with the magnificent imperial crown of gold topped with multiple spires surrounding a central one rising above the rest in no small reference to the Column. He rarely wears his official regalia. Why now? Nearby, were a half-dozen imperial guards—all personal druzhina wearing the finest armor silver could afford. Painted lamellar, double-layered mail, and even scale coats made them an intimidating sight indeed.

"I'm told you killed Commander Voiakh's champion, Ygon, Voivode Vilsky," the tsar said as soon as they straightened from bowing before him, immediately shirking typical formal language. "And put his and his men's heads upon your gates. I imagine this has something to do with the news you bring me?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Laczlo caught Iarek's stare. So he didn't have spies on me and only knew what I told him? Curious. "Yes, Great Prince, it is as you say."

"It is late, and I am tired. Please elaborate."

"If I may," Iarek went to answer, before being cut off by a waving hand and the tsar's frown.

"I asked Voivode Vilsky to answer." His punitive gaze centered on Laczlo expectedly. "Go on, Voivode. I am told Karnys Vestile is on the other side of these doors, so your explanation must be significant indeed."

"As you say, your Imperial Majesty." Laczlo took a deep breath and recounted, in more brevity than he had with Kapitalena, the events from the past two months. Has it truly only been a handful of weeks? How can the world have changed so drastically in so short a time? The question haunted him as he spoke, for the understanding that it was all coming to a head, all finalizing now, after so short a time… He spoke about finding Ygon in his home, threatening his wife—though left out any hint at her near-infidelity—and his fight subduing the enemy. Finally, he approached and offered the documents stolen in Delues, presenting the most damning piece of evidence within the whole bag directly, which detailed the sheer wealth transferred to whom in the Vasian empire. And, of course, the letter from his wife was nowhere to be found in the bag. He'd hidden it in his home in case it was required in the future.

"This was, of course, all on my direction, your Imperial Majesty," Iarek interjected as Laczlo finished, bowing. "My agents suggested a scheme's presence. Voivode Vilsky was my tool of choice in assessing the matters, of course. As he did well, I will see him rewarded."

The tsar's brow raised, a questioning look sent to Laczlo. Was it to verify or see if he would resist the insults? Laczlo simmered beneath a flimsy mask of patience, the rage and indignation of the day's abuses never ceasing. Betrayals, lies, excuses, apologies, violence, condescension—the endless insults to his station and honor. Gripping the hilt of his sword, Laczlo pivoted to face the other voivode, breaking tradition in always facing the tsar.

"I don't believe it is your place, Voivode, to determine my reward. Indeed, we were partners in this discovery, but let us not mistake your distant guidance with my attained results."

Iarke's face darkened. "Do remember that this investigation was only prompted by my determined ask of you, Voivode Vilsky, for you would have refused otherwise."

"You helped me in my family's time of need. For that, I was grateful," Laczlo said through gritted teeth. "But to turn this favor into a demand for subservience is arrogance and presumptiveness upon the imperial seat itself. No one voivode should rule over another."

Iarek took a step toward him. "Do you dare question my allegiance to the tsar with such allegations? You, who hijack my good deeds for your ends. Who brings a sword into an imperial meeting?"

"Do you fear me, voivode?" Laczlo asked, hardly believing his own words.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you fear the man who killed Ygon with his own hands? Who took his head with this very blade?" Laczlo leaned forward and whispered, so only he could hear, "I know what you tried to do to my wife. You would be right to fear me."

"Voivodes!" the tsar shouted. "Please, control yourselves and behave as your station demands!"

Laczlo turned and bowed smoothly, leaving Iarek standing dumbfounded in shock.

"Voivode Kostuveski!" Finally, the other man bowed. The tsar sighed and propped his chin in hand, looking to the stained glass windows, dark with the onset of night. "I would seek punishment for your displays, but in light of all you've done for Vasia… Voivode Kostuveski, retrieve Prince Vestile."

Without a word, which was in itself a slight, the voivode turned and marched outside.

In his brief absence, the tsar leaned forward, looking Laczlo in the eyes. "Is it all as you say, Voivode? This grand scheme? Have we truly been so betrayed? Please, I grow weary of deceptions, you must understand."

"Great Prince, I know as well as any could… It is all true. On my family's life and honor."

"I need not such oaths, I believe you. Few boyars are honest, but I know you are one of them. I shall require honest men in the coming days. There is too much uncertainty in these turbulent times."

Laczlo bowed. "I shall serve to the best of my abilities."

"Good." He leaned back and raised his voice. "Has the prince confessed to his subterfuge?"

Voivode Kostuveski approached with his druzhina escorting Karnys. "He has, your Imperial Majesty. I also have Lady Marion Olverin of Delues, who took part in this scheme. She has signed a confession as well." He handed over a few parchments and stood back, seemingly in control of himself once more, standing rigid and stoic. "And, of course, the two confessions from the pirates hired by Iarek Gorodenski to kill Voivode Vilsky."

A servant entered from the doors behind the throne and whispered into one of the bodyguard's ear.

"All signed confessions? Impressive," the tsar began.

The guard's eyes widened in surprise, but as he went forward to the tsar, two of his companions drew blades and thrust them into the druzhina's sides and back. He screamed in surprise, shoving one away before taking a blade in the stomach, sinking him to his knees. The tsar shouted and scrambled away. The other druzhina turned on the traitors, and the dias quickly turned into a bloody melee.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Isak!" Laczlo roared, drawing his sword, rushing to the tsar, a hand outstretched.

The tsar hesitated for a moment, but eventually took it, and Laczlo pulled him away from the ensuing chaos.

Iarek, momentarily stunned, looked between the fight and the tsar, then demanded, "Hand him to me. We shall go to my estate."

Laczlo maneuvered the dazed tsar behind him as Isak and the others broke through into the hall. He glanced to the tsar's personal guard and found the remaining loyalist already dying on the floor; the two others turned toward Laczlo with weapons bared. He retreated to his retinue, ignoring Iarek's demands.

"I must go to my family," the tsar shouted.

"It's not safe here. We need to—"

The clatter of armor, weapons, and rushing footfalls from outside. Laczlo turned to stare as two score of armed men burst into the hall behind Isak. Laczlo's men followed closely behind as he rushed into the labyrinth of rooms that made up the imperial palace past the two traitor guards. Karnys struggled against Iarek's druzhina, throwing him off-balance and wrenching him back toward the approaching rebels.

"Leave him!" Iarek shouted. His man complied, abandoning Karnys to the approaching rebels. "Run!"

"Do you have other men here?" Laczlo asked when they all exited the hall.

"No." He glanced to the tsar. "My druzhina are at my estate."

They rushed into a narrow stairwell, and Oiir slammed the door shut behind, locking it with a simple deadbolt. Laczlo peered out a small window, making out only shapes of the city and part of the palace courtyard. Small groups of men were fighting, some running, others bleeding and dying. It was pandemonium. In the distance, he could see the Column. It stood in dark protest to the night sky, a black outline. And, oddly, much movement nearby in the streets. It was difficult to see in the night, but he could just make out—

There was a flash of sickly green light. It arced like a lightning bolt from some hidden place within the Column, striking into the ground. Upon impact, a spiderwebbing of what had to be Sorcerous light rippled through the ground and a mass of figures. In that brief moment of light, he saw that it was not mere movement but the rush of warriors. The Column was under attack.

"We'll need more druzhina," Laczlo said, turning from the window, pale. He glanced at Iarek, who had seen the scene, along the others, including the tsar. "Any notion where more might be?"

He muttered something in response, shaking his head.

"What?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he said. "We were too slow."

The door to their stairwell shook. Someone was slamming into the other side.

"We must move!" the tsar hollered, charging upwards.

Laczlo rushed after him, giving up on Iarek. Whatever solution was to be found, he'd have to manage. Deus, could he do it? With an open attack on the Column… It felt like the very world was ending. That it would all be for nothing.

They exited the stairwell into an antechamber that the tsar rushed through with ease and familiarity. He went to toss open a pair of double doors, but they were locked. He banged on them and shouted for them to be opened, voice cracking in fright. As soon as Laczlo reached him, the doors were unlocked and opened, revealing a massive personal hall. The imperial family was there, watched and guarded by a contingent of druzhina. It was halfway through being cleaned and cleared from supper, with the trestle tables still in place and the linens abandoned to the floor.

Radokh Vadoyeski II rushed forth to embrace his family, though Laczlo paid it little mind. He was focused on the others. There were nine guards, as well armored as those in the great hall below, with free weapons and distrusting stares towards Laczlo's party. There was, however, one more. Near the back of the room, standing by a window as if she'd been peering outside to keep watch, now staring at him, was Vida. She stood frozen, dark eyes locked on his. Tall and lithe and beautiful as ever. She went to come to him, then stopped herself with some effort, joining the others.

"The imperial guard—is this all that remains?" he asked, sheathing his blade, waving to his men to do the same, dragging his gaze from her. By the Gates, what is she doing here?

A man he recognized as the head of the imperial guard, named Paltas, responded, "Some were killed in their sleep. Others ran. We have a good number of men barricaded in the temple, beset by rebels. It was all done in unison. It was coordinated."

"I see." Laczlo wanted to collapse to the ground, put his head in his hands, and weep. All his effort. All his pain and struggle the past months, and for what? He was too late. Despite his blood and effort, it'd all fallen apart anyway. Fortunately, he kept himself from showing such defeat, standing still and tall and staring off, gaze flitting once more to Vida, lingering.

In his extended pause, Voivode Kostuveski broke in, "We must retreat from here. The palace is already compromised."

Paltas bristled. "And leave our men, Voivode? Without them—"

"I have dozens of warriors at my estate. Vilsky can summon his. We know the loyalists in the city; with some time and fortune, we can mass a force to retake the palace and save your men."

"They will be dead by then."

"Be that as it may, we lack the numbers to fight here and now."

Isak put a hand on Laczlo's shoulder, leaning close to whisper, "Voivode, are you well?"

"Is it lost, Isak?" he muttered.

"Not until it's over."

He closed his eyes, pushing away the welling emotions barely kept at bay, fighting to remain in control. Breath. Yes, breathe. He opened his eyes and studied the tsar, kneeling with his young children, kissing their heads and faces, nearly weeping. Was all already lost to him? Was he already in the mindset of defeat? The Tsar of Vasia?

"We cannot abandon the palace," Laczlo said, finally.

All turned to him.

Iarek scoffed. "Our position is untenable. Must I repeat myself?"

He shook his head. "They expect us to barricade ourselves here or run. What they do not expect is a concentrated push." Laczlo caught Isak's eye to see if he was on the right track; the druzhina gave the slightest of nods, smiling a grim smile. "We—all of us—push to the temple and relieve the loyal guards held there. If we lose the palace, Vasia is lost."

"Think practically. This fight is bound to be a lost one. We will lose too many men, risk the tsar's life, and for what? An abstract victory of retaining the palace?"

For the first time, Vida stepped forward to speak. "Nova looks to the palace. And Vasia looks to Nova. If it falls, so does Vasia."

"And who are you?"

Paltas answered for her, "She warned us of an attack. The imperial family lives because of her."

Of course she did, Laczlo thought wryly. Then he realized that Iarek, despite his blackmailing of Vida, didn't even know what she looked like. It must have been done by some agent of his, of course.

Iarek cleared his throat, drawing eyes once more. "Vasia will last because it always has. But for us to survive, we must retreat, rally, and return stronger than before—"

"Enough," the tsar barked. "Please, enough. I don't wish to run. I don't wish to fight. I want to be here, with my family."

The two voivodes stared at the man in shocked silence. Iarek was the first to break it, "You cannot remain here! You will die!"

"I will not run like a common rogue nor fight and endanger my family. When they come, I will negotiate."

Laczlo took a step towards him. "They will certainly not negotiate. They will behead you and place it upon a pole for all to see!"

"Not all men are barbarians, Voivode! They are my subjects, they—"

"These are! I know these men. They are rebels, separatists, claimants—all are dogs that will stop at nothing to see their bloodthirst quenched. And it will start with you, then those you hold most dearly."

"Fight, run, we must do something," Iarek urged.

His children cried louder, and for that, the tsar soothed them, scowling back at Laczlo. "The guard is lost. The palace. The Column. What more could we possibly do? They've won the day, can you not see? We will accept with grace and spare any more lives."

"No."

The tsar turned to him, scowl turning vehement. "You dare deny my orders when you claim to be one of the loyal few left?"

Whatever compelled Laczlo to refuse continued, seizing him like a Spirit takes a lifeless body. He was filled with righteous indignation, callous determination, and fury—things which both chilled and flushed him with hot anger. Laczlo looked upon the tsar and saw not a man worth following but a weak, worthless wrench. He understood then that his druzhina saw the same in him not long ago. That Oskar saw the same. Kapitalena. Though fear was thick in his blood and made his voice shake and palms sweat, Laczlo replied readily enough, "We will not surrender."

"You defy the imperial crown, then? You defy me?"

"If I must in order to save Vasia, I do."

"Subdue the voivode!" he shouted.

Laczlo's druzhina drew blades and stepped forward beside him. Iarek retreated with his sole man as the tsar's nine guardsmen hesitated. Vida stepped back from the chaos, blending in to the large imperial family, subtly palming a dagger.

"Arrest him!" the tsar commanded. "Now!"

"If you are at all loyal to the empire, at all loyal the tsar, you will do as I say," Laczlo said, hand on his sword's hilt, still in its scabbard. He stood as tall and proud as he could, aching and exhausted from the day's brutalities. These men needed confidence. They needed self-assured competence. They needed a leader. "We can rescue your men. We can protect the Vadoyeski Dynasty, but only if you heed my orders. Boldness and courage founded Vasia, and those virtues will carry us forward today."

He held Paltas's gaze for a long breath. Then the man looked back, finding Vida, expression bent in surprise and fear, though Laczlo had no doubt she was neither of the two. "You said you were with the voivode when he learned of the plot against the tsar?"

She nodded. "I was. He saved me from the traitors in Goroden. He's the only reason I could warn you. Otherwise, the imperial family would be dead."

The druzhina nodded slowly. "Very well. My men will do as you command, Voivode."

Laczlo turned to Iarek. "I will require your authority and men, too, when the time comes. Whatever victory over me you hoped for before is irrelevant; follow my lead here, and we will save Vasia long enough to discuss the future we have in the empire after."

The other voivode shook his head, though it was not in defiance but bitter bemusement. "Very well, I will do as you say for now, but do not consider this subordination."

"I consider it pragmatism." He glanced to Paltas. "Isak will lead our fight below. How many do you need to guard the family as we move to the temple?"

"A few men." He selected six of his druzhina. "These will assist your vanguard."

The head druzhina suggested a servant's tunnel that led to the lower levels, where they could then navigate together to the temple, though it would certainly not be free of resistance. But for some reason, the prospect of violence did not worry Laczlo. They would win the day because they had to. Vasia would be saved because it must. And that was all.

With Isak in the lead, and Laczlo and the imperial family close behind, they made for the servants' tunnels down back into the fighting.

In the hustle, he found a chance to speak to Vida in semi-privacy. "What did you do?"

"Isn't it obvious? I warned them."

"How'd you know? The attack happened so suddenly."

She frowned. "I saw men moving into the grounds past the hall I was hiding in… And though I couldn't reach you, I could get to the family's chambers."

"Why were you here?" As ever, her industriousness in placing herself in the right place and time seemed almost unbelievable. But then, Laczlo knew she was many things he was not.

"After arriving in the city, something felt off. I guessed a plot was unfurling. Unfortunately, I was right." She put a hand on his arm, her touch soft, comforting. "What happened to you?"

"I fought Ygon. He was a traitor. And threatening Kapitalena."

"Is your family alright?"

"Yes, thank Deus."

"That's good." She was silent for a moment, hand slipping away. "And where do things… stand?"

"I…You'll stay with us. But… Well… Not now, alright?"

"Very well," she replied. "I'm sorry."

"No. No, don't be." He almost said, "You've done nothing wrong," but held his tongue, for he wasn't sure if that was true. They'd slept together, broken his vow to Kapitalena… He should resent her for tempting him, but he didn't. He should hate her for nearly ruining everything, but he hardly could. In the end, he wanted to kiss her, even now, even here. It made him feel weak and ashamed for it, and so he turned away, doing his best not to look at her. He had to focus. He had to be stronger, for Vasia.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.