I was the High Magistros, head of the government for a land I knew little of, clawing and sneaking power away from the priestly episcos with every passing day, leaving her a figurehead of irrelevancy as I grew stronger. I had arrived and taken the title of Magistros of Power and turned it into that of Supremacy. The action had been an impulsive one, in truth, and I knew little of what it meant for those who praised the oaths as concrete things beyond symbolism. For the New Pethans, it was not just a shift in policy and intention but an axiomatic realignment. Their artificial prophecies and whispered divinations were coming to fruition before their very eyes. Hundreds of years of victimization and isolation had turned them into a cautious, resentful people.

And now I was awakening them from their slumber.

It is a total war economy, I thought as I walked with Demetria along the sandy beaches facing the cold northern sea. An eastern wind assailed us, salty and sharp, cutting through our clothes with the efficacy of sharpened blades, yet dull to our cold-resistant skin. Some of my mercenaries—now personal guards—followed behind at a close distance. But closer were some of my new creations: Soulborne. They were armed with long axes and armored with rudimentary plates, taller and wider than men could be, silent and watchful. Humans were necessary for their observational and intuitive skills, whereas the Dead could be my muscle. I'd briefly considered raising Behemoths—monstrosities of power and ferocity—but judged them too difficult to control given the current Sorcerous limitations. So, I stayed with the tried and true Soulborne.

"There are few obvious obstacles anymore," Demetria was saying as we walked together. "We have some nominal support and treaty with the cities of Merkenia, a foothold through Novakrayu with the formally allied Targul, scouts already scouring the landscape for foraging means and potential routes… And yet, I cannot help that we are missing something." Her voice was pensive, and through our bond, I felt a deep uncertainty.

"Something is wrong?" I asked, watching her face as she worked through the words to articulate what was intuition. Her skin, smooth and platinum, creased along the brow, edges of her lips, and about the eyes as she worked through the problem at hand.

"I simply do not believe the silence."

"Hm. It has been easy."

"Exactly. Too easy, I would venture." She stared out over the sea, endlessly grey with choppy, white-tipped waves. Brave fishermen and traders dotted the waters. "Perhaps they really did plan to get rid of the Magistros of Power—all of them—but I would bet on more contention than a unanimous ousting. What we're doing is too ambitious not to inspire resistance."

"You think it is unavoidable?"

She shook her head in dismay. "There are still too many questions. For one, where is Maecia? Her policy has been isolation. I don't think she would concur with our plans."

"She forfeited her rule when she left." I felt a stroke of resentment bubbling up at the thought of her. I loved my sister, but she'd left me in Rotaalan for decades. Over a century, even. And that meant leaving Demetria dead, too. But all to avoid raising the priest. Well, that was my theory, at least. Maybe there was more.

"If she comes back, Daecinus, it could ruin everything."

I nodded, expression drawing thin and grim. "I know. I want to see her, and yet…"

"We still have the sorceii and strateii—they both would remain loyal in any event." She stopped herself and turned to me, hand finding mine. "I'm sorry. This is more personal for you than me."

"No, worry not." I gave a dismissive wave and nodded forward. "Working through the problem helps. Ironically, it is the military I trust the most, yes. They've adapted quickly to my leadership and seem adamant about the mission in mind. So, then, who would be resistant?"

"In questions such as these, I consider who has the most to lose from our promised change."

"The Magistrosi of Strife and Reserve have lost power in the face of my ascension. War weakens their influence… But that doesn't feel satisfactory."

Demetria hummed in agreement. "I spoke with a collection of upset archons yesterday. They took issue with the new taxes you've issued to fund the campaign. They said it was extortionate."

"Did you resolve their concerns?"

"I wanted to speak to you first. I prefaced this with my worry about the stability of our current situation because I think we need to make a concession."

My tone hardened immediately. "I need the money."

"Claws back in, my love. Say we collect the taxes but promise a dedicated percentage of the seized plunder to the archons." She hummed in thought. "Though now that I mention it, I do not know how it would be divided typically. How did you handle it?"

"My campaign was a discrepancy. I mostly led my own Dead against the Vasians. This will be an army of the living. Primarily, at least."

"The raising goes well?"

I smiled. "Well indeed." Milta—the Sorcerer who was Demetria's guard in a past life—had been put to rest, his concentrated power utilized through Eudoxia's Artifacts to animate many Dead. I had learned from my recent experience in Nova, and so, this time, I would organize them around Sorcerers to protect them from foreign influence and my incapacitation. "Yes, I have no use for further wealth. We can promise a portion. Fifteen percent."

"Thirty."

"Thirty?"

She nodded. "They will need a serious incentive, I believe. This is a great risk they are bearing for so uncertain a reward."

"Twenty-five if they join the campaign with my required number of their own troops. Ten if they stay behind. Will that suffice?"

"I think so." She smiled and touched my arm. "Thank you."

"Of course. Have we abated all present threats?"

"Doubtful. But there is only so much we can do. What about Eudoxia? She seems loyal. See what the magistros knows."

I grunted and looked away. "I'd rather not expose us like that."

"We are, for all intents and purposes, akin to foreign invaders. We know nothing of the local politics, try as I might to map out the situation," she said. "We must rely on the locals for knowledge and connection. That's a fundamental rule of governance. She could be very useful."

"Very well. I will speak to her."

"And Ignatia."

"She's just an archon, Demetria."

"She's been with us since our first meeting. We both trust her. She has a good deal of status and power as a powerful Sorcerer within their ranks—"

"Fine, I will speak to her too," I interrupted with a sigh. "You're right."

Demetria laughed, leaned in, and kissed me on the cheek. "And you're wise."

Later that day, I toured the site just outside Aurelesar where nearly every competent Sorcerer in the city and, to some extent, the whole island, had gathered. Making up these Sorcerers were archons—nobles like boyars—who could afford time away from their domains to pay their obligations to the state with Sorcery, and then there were sorceii, who were professional, state-employed Sorcerers that served under either Eudoxia or me. There were a hundred men and women raising Dead dug up and prepared by a thousand laborers. It was an intensive operation on a scale New Petha had seldom seen. The isle had some Dead that worked the fields and some jobs such as in mining, but generally, they were too dependent on Sorcerers to be of much industrial-scale use. And yet, Eudoxia and her predecessors had maintained a large reserve of bodies for a time when an army was needed.

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I taught the Sorcerers how to raise Soulborne, and while few individually could, groups managed. Each Soulborne was assigned a handler, of sorts, with each Sorcerer who would join the expedition controlling anywhere between two and a dozen Soulborne. Eudoxia, exceptional for her power, could command thirty to fifty. I, strengthened by potent Artifacts such as my diadem, as well as those gifted to me here, would control one hundred. Nearly the same number as my Nova campaign. But I was stronger now. In addition to the diadem, I now bore a few small rings, a bracelet, a new arm ring, and a long, layered, silver-white silk cloak that I wore over my Sorcerous gambeson. Of all my new Artifacts, the cloak was most interesting, boasting a second layer of Sorcerous defenses—but more curiously, woven throughout were small threads of sinew. Human or not, I didn't know, and wasn't sure I wished to. Regardless, the odd sinew took on enchantment well and gave me a significant well of power to draw from as necessary. All the enhancing artifacts made my presence somewhat stressful for Sorcerers who could see other Sorcerers' power. To them, I learned, I was like the sun to a bare eye.

Regardless, it was adorned with these vestments of power that I toured the grounds where my new army was being prepared. And alongside me, besides my guards and Soulborne, of course, was Eudoxia. I'd already spoken to Ignatia that day, finding that she had some concerns shared by Demetria, though she agreed with the promise of future loot as an incentive for accepting the taxes without further issue. I broached the topic with Eudoxia, Magistros of Hubris, as we watched the Sorcerers turn lifeless corpses into Shells and then those into Soulborne—many with the Soul power granted by Milta's last power.

"The archons have always been in opposition to the magistrosi, Returned One," she explained as we walked. "They always desire more independence without offering anything in return for such demands. They are incessant in their askings. But to be fair, of course, there were magistrosi that have… disappointed."

"Explain," I said, eyes narrowing.

"Nothing currently worrying. But the current structure does not promote based on merit, but on favoritism. It is entirely to the magistrosi's discretion who is to replace them and when. It is a position for life unless they are unanimously voted out by the others. This makes for entrenched incompetence as long as one has at least a single ally. Take Bardas, for instance. He was fine enough as Magistros of Power, but led with disregard for our concerns as High Magistros. This could not last forever." She stiffened as she walked, voice taking a cooler edge I had become used to. Calm and calculated, the magistros was also quite passionate. Not that I was much better. "The archons are hereditary, of course, with rights to their lands recognized as immutable. They resent the magistrosi, for few archons rise to our ranks directly. Typically, one becomes a magistros and then gains land and prestige. All except one."

"Magistros of Power, I would guess."

"You are right, of course. Your position, or the one you replaced, is interconnected with the minor military might of individual archons. Leaders were either archons or sorceii, whereas the other magistrosi have independent institutions where professionals are trained and rise through the ranks." She searched for her words as we navigated a small bridge over a small river lined with mills, their millers likely unamused with the sheer number of corpses and Sorcery in the fields around. "My point is that they can rely on the Magistros of Power representing their interests, given how close the position is tied to them historically. But with your return—"

"I took the place of the Magistros of Power, preventing future archons from taking the position, and initiating a new stance that is likely against their interests. It is the opposite of what they could possibly want." I understood the full scope, finally, and the dawning realization sank my stomach like a stone in the grey northern water. "Why am I just learning of this?"

Eudoxia looked away. "We underestimated the impact."

"Are there complications now? Things you've hidden from me? From Demetria?"

"There are matters we can control, Returned One."

I stopped walking at the end of the bridge and turned, cornering her so she remained on the wooden platform, forced to face me. Her diluted eyes widened at me as I leaned forward, leveraging my height to peer down at her. "Already, Demetria works to mitigate widespread concern among the archons. And those were the reasonable few who came to her directly. Are you telling me there are others? Ones you've hidden from us?"

Her head dropped in submission. The gesture of a disciplined hound.

Before she could speak, I said, "Look at me. I am not your god. Call me what you wish, but treat me as a superior, Eudoxia. And report to me as such."

Slowly, cautiously, her eyes rose to mine. "It is as you say. I feel responsible for this. For your ascension… I led Bardas's ousting. The blame for the archons' revolt lies solely with me."

"Revolt? Explain yourself!"

"A strong word," she added quickly, glancing away, then dragging her gaze once more back to mine with some effort. "In the north of the country, some gather in hopes of forcing a hearing. A petition for redress and balance, they call it. I'm handling it now, but—"

She stopped when she saw my eyes shift to a deeper hue of red, my Soul burning with indignation that must have felt like a wave of biting cold to a Sorcerer of her caliber. "What explanation do you have for this?"

Her eyes widened and voice became panicky. "Loyalty! I do this for you, Returned One! I swear it. It's my responsibility, and I wanted to resolve it without distracting you…"

"And if you failed? If their redress became inflamed with rebelliousness? Would you use force against them?" I saw in her expression that she very well would. Anything to avoid failing before me, before all the others who relied on her coup against Bardas. "And you know such measures would only incite open rebellion? Especially when we leave for war. You will direct all negotiations through Demetria and I. This is unacceptable, Eudoxia. When I ask for trust, I intend on it. And that means being aware of everything, even if it's unflattering. Do you understand?"

"I do," she replied quickly, too adamantly for my taste. "It won't happen again."

I sighed. A different approach might aid my purposes here. "Listen here. The second time I invaded Nova, it was with subterfuge. I released my Soulborne inside the city through means of a transport vessel upon a navy dock. What followed was chaos, in short. I tried to manage everything, control everything, but that was impossible. Elements beyond my vision and expertise undermined me, weakening my purchase upon the city until I erred, enticed with the allure of resurrecting Demetria. And though I do not regret the sacrifice I made, it needn't have been made if I had planned differently. If I could have had others on my side, supporting where I needed it. More, at least." The memories were still too fresh, and I had to pause to let my nerves settle. Feia was a specter of my mind, haunting each moment I happened to recall her. Though she would never say such a thing, my mind conjured hurt words of blame to heap upon me for sacrificing her for Demetria. "I lost someone in my impatience and independence. It didn't need to happen that way. But it did. And now, we face a campaign hitherto unimagined and unprecedented. So, do not attempt to shoulder this burden alone. Rely on those you must. Do you understand me?"

She nodded meekly. "You're right, of course, Returned One. My deepest apologies. I only ask you let me continue my work, and any punishment comes after the necessary pieces are completed…"

"I'm not removing you, Eudoxia."

"What?"

"I am correcting you so you do not make the same mistake again."

Before she had a chance to reply, no doubt one of appreciation and slow understanding, a messenger was dashing across the bridge to our rear, shouting out, "High Magistros Aspartes! Urgent news from Novakrayu!"

I took a letter from the man and fixed him with a stare. "What news?"

"I only know that, High Magistros. All else is within the letter."

I waved him away and opened the sealed parchment, reading the finely inked words under the noon sun. Immediately, it was obvious the letter was from Emalia, for her handwriting was clear, concise, and remarkably consistent—it still baffled me how some priests could do that. It was short, as if hurried, and explained that Protis had ventured out on its own and found evidence of Maecia's nearby presence. They were going to investigate, as Maecia was reportedly overseeing some large Sorcerous construction at the Grand Observatory. And finally, it said that Maecia knew of my return and planned on coming back soon.

I smiled widely and tucked the letter away. Over a hundred years… I wonder what changes she's gone through. Indeed, Maecia had built all of New Petha, rescuing our people after my failure. It was astonishing and admirable. And then, here I was, changing everything. Her careful isolationism reduced to splinters the moment I returned.

"I will go north," I said after a while, "and deal with these archons' redress myself."

"That is unnecessary, Returned One. Allow your subordinates to handle it or the Great Lady."

Memories of sending Demetria as an envoy for peace surged forth in a flash like a flooding river. It was difficult to contain its surges. But ultimately, it was for Maecia's sake that I wanted this duty. "I owe it to my sister to understand her rule and treat her people fairly."

"Your people. The Honorary Episcos has not returned for many years," Eudoxia said, mouth tightening into a poorly suppressed frown. "We make do in her absence."

"She does not owe New Petha her leadership."

"She owes us change. Isolationism would only strangle us, ultimately weakening our advantages with the march of time. Her doctrine and philosophy will only weaken us. But this is why you are here—to deliver us into a new age."

I sighed and sat down on a large stone, elbows resting on my knees. I looked up at her. "I don't understand how you can think so much of me, Eudoxia. I failed in anticipating the Vasian attack—in fact, it was my initial revenge that inspired their ambush upon Maecia and I. If it weren't for me, your ancestors could have lived long, unharried lives in our homeland."

"The Vasian expansion was impossible to prevent, in my eyes. We either fought them then or in the future. Either way, your defense allowed many to escape. If the Honorary Episcos had fought alone, then all would be dead, but you were there and raised an army of Shells in your wake. That was significant." She knelt before me, gazing up with a kind of fervent belief found in few but zealots. "You are here to guide us into the next—I know it. You have a promise to fulfill. An oath to redeem."

"My hubris, yes."

"Your supremacy, Returned One. We will march on the mainland and conquer our oppressors. And then, Pethya will be born again."

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