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  The amusing thought of forcing Bastion upon the entire Scourge population faded abruptly. Slate knew he was unfeeling, selfish, and ambitious, but he didn’t consider himself that evil. Matek announced the new arrival. The ambassador is entering now. He reported it through the open channel, and as a result, the Scourge in the room shifted until they could provide some measure of protection to the Scion. Shale and Serena positioned themselves so that they would be ready to intervene in the case of attack, their instincts flaring beneath a surface of calm. There wasn’t a single man or woman—Guardian or not—that wasn’t taking this audience seriously. Gazing around the room, Slate was proud of the hard-eyed stares and tense postures. Everyone here was willing to die for him, and he felt a surge of satisfaction at their display of loyalty. Of course, as their Lord, he knew that he must reciprocate.

  Loyalty begets loyalty. Tragedy begets tragedy. I wonder which this day will provide, he mused.

  Two Guardians opened the wide doors to the throne room, and Slate marveled, for perhaps the hundredth time, at their meticulously carved surfaces. He expected that the Imperial representative would be suitably impressed at their appearance. The entire throne room exuded power and prestige. The significance of the aura wasn’t lost on Slate. He was no peasant lord for this ambassador to visit. He was the Scion of the Scourge and the Champion of the Lord of Light. This Ignatum empire would be his before this holy mission of his was complete, and his burden could be laid down.

  A woman walked in on tall heels that clicked against the celestial marble. Slate raised an eyebrow at the choice of footwear. He hadn’t seen anything so impractical since he arrived in Somnium. The heels were the color of arterial blood—Slate’s favorite—and they wound their way up, in thin straps, the tanned skin of long, shapely legs.

  Slate’s eyes continued upward, and he took in the fact that the woman was wearing a long tunic that extended to her knees. He would have called it a dress but for the fact that it was split up either side to the top of her hips. As a result, he could see that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and he felt intrigued by the outfit. The crimson cloth trimmed in black dangled loosely. Slate was convinced that a stray breeze would reveal her body underneath to entire world. She was attractive enough that Slate wished the throne room were a bit draftier. A golden articulated belt made from interlinked silhouettes of flames wound its way around her impressive hips. The decorative flames reflected the firelight in his throne room impressively.

  His gaze moved over her flat, smooth torso before alighting on her small, slight breasts. The fabric of her tunic was thin, and he noticed that her nipples pressed against the shimmering cloth with small protrusions that Slate took to be large piercings. Surprisingly, the tunic covered the entirety of her chest, collarbones, and shoulders before descending to long sleeves.

  Golden flames wound around her wrists and neck, matching the belt around her waist. Slate idly wondered if they were a personal fashion statement or if they were signs of power. He wasn’t even aware of what kind of forces the Imperials had in their possession.

  I’ll need to ask Matek about that later, he reminded himself. He would try to glean information from the ambassador while she was here, but he would have to make sure that whatever tidbits of intelligence fell from her lips could be confirmed by his forces as well. He had the feeling that this particular ambassador wouldn’t reveal anything unless there was an apparent reason for doing so.

  As the ambassador walked, she kept her eyes forward so as not to disrespect the monarch she sought to woo, but Slate could tell her eyes were taking in every detail of the throne room. She had no expression as her eyes passed over Matek, Sumnu, Lynia, and Fidem. Either she was well informed and knew of their bestial appearances before arriving, or she was practiced at maintaining her bearing in strange situations.

  Probably both, Slate thought, amused. The art of politics was a severe discipline. Slate couldn’t help but relish the challenge before him.

  Slate studied the ambassador carefully as she made her way down the center of the room. Scourgling-enhanced Guardians stared blankly from their positions, and members of the Scourge stood sentinel around the room like well-trained attack dogs. Overall, the ambassador had to feel like she was walking into the lion’s den and pulling its tail. Even then, she likely didn’t know that there was enough destructive power in this one room to level an entire city. The ambassador finally reached the base of a raised platform that held the Scourge leaders, and she made a small curtsy. The action caused the fabric covering her nether regions to move ever so slightly, which caused Slate to stiffen unexpectedly.

  Shale shot him a bemused look. Do you like this woman? She asked him privately through the Scourgemind.

  Slate’s eyes grew wide—nothing wrong with looking, my Queen.

  Nothing indeed, she replied, sounding amused.

  Her response was normal; what struck Slate was the anger and jealousy percolating through the bond behind him. Serena was clearly not happy with the ambassador’s show.

  “Greetings, my Lord Scion.” The woman’s voice was smoky and rich. It was the kind of sound that would catch every person’s eye in a crowded room.

  “I am Ambassador Daishi,” she greeted while presenting another bow.

  Slate looked at her sharply. He couldn’t help but be intrigued, himself—by her voice, of course. Although, now that she was closer, he could study her less apparent features. She had a strong facial structure with high cheekbones. Her eyes were large and the color of a campfire. Her hair was red like brushed copper. It was styled high on her head and secured with two black, lacquered sticks. There wasn’t a stray hair out of place. Outside of her attire, she looked professional and competent. The Scion could only assume that the entire appearance was a well-crafted persona. It took too much time to convey so many things so adeptly.

  “Hello, Ambassador,” he greeted warmly. “Is Daishi a family name or a personal form of address?”

  The ambassador looked surprised at Slate’s question. “It is a family name, Lord. My first name is Chen, but first names are not widely used in the Empire.”

  “I see,” Slate mused. “So, by that information, would I be correct in assuming that the Empire cares more for the whole than the individual?”

  The ambassador narrowed her eyes before laughing in pleasure. “Of course, my Lord, how else would we get anything done?” She gave him a mischievous smile as she looked around the throne room. “Is it not the same way here? On my way in, there was rarely a unique face to be seen or a dissenting voice to be heard.” She bowed slightly once more. “Your city is full of beautiful people and well-crafted buildings. Surely, it isn’t a product of democratic will.”

  The way she said ‘democratic will’ made it sound like it was something as strange as spying a unicorn. Slate supposed that in this world, it probably was.

  “Thank you for the compliments on behalf of my people,” he demurred. “I’m sure you didn’t travel so far just to talk culture, to what does the Scourge owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “On the contrary, my Lord, I would be fascinated to learn more about the Scourge.”

  She presented a dimpled smile but kept the rest of her face neutral. She was a skilled orator and politician, but Slate detected the slight tugging of her features that told him she was surprised by his admission that they were the Scourge. He wasn’t sure why that would be a significant admission. The city was awash with the name of the Scourge. It wasn’t a secret. Perhaps she thought that he would want to keep his identity under wraps until he was better positioned against the Collective.

  Either way, it doesn’t matter what she thinks. He mused. She’s here to assess our strengths and weaknesses. Likely, the Emperor will provide token assistance until he knows which way the Collective is going to fall. It can’t be comfortable having a nation of soul-forged psychopaths on the border.

  Slate didn’t reply and let the air grow empty. It was an orator’s trick t
o make the other person fill the space. It worked as intended.

  “The Holy Emperor has sent me to warn the Scourge of an impending attack. It is no secret that the Ignatum Empire is in constant conflict with the Vallyrian Collective. The Vallyr use their twisted magic to subjugate and destroy their people from the inside while the Vallyr themselves profit.”

  She paused before looking into Slate’s eyes. He saw her flinch. His eyes were the color of liquid moonlight. Set within his ethereal elven features and graced by the explicit attributes that marked him as a monster, his gaze was intimidating to the average person. More than once, the other members of the Scourge had remarked that Slate always seemed to be looking at them like he could read their thoughts as they thought them. It wasn’t true, of course, but that didn’t lessen the impact of his gaze.

  For the first time since arriving in Bastion, the ambassador felt worried about the role that she knew she must play here. She swallowed heavily before continuing.

  “It is the Emperor’s wish that I remain here and assist you in defeating the Collective forces arrayed against you. I am one of his most capable battle advisors.” Her voice was calm and confident. She hadn’t sounded like she was braggadocios. Instead, she seemed like she had merely repeated a fact that many had heard before. It was no more remarkable than the sun rising every morning and the moon taking its place in the evening.

  Slate found himself impressed with her demeanor. He always appreciated working with professionals, and this woman was competent in her position.

  “And what exactly is arrayed against us?” He asked, lazily. His tone implied that he was no more concerned about the Collective forces than he was about what he was going to eat for dinner that night. If he was honest, those two could be one and the same.

  The ambassador studied him for a moment, trying to determine the source of his confidence; Slate merely smiled back. His fangs caused Ambassador Daishi to stare a beat longer than was strictly necessary. Finally, she responded to his question.

  “The Vallyrian Collective currently has forces stationed at Crosstyr. They’ve discovered your destruction of Standur, and they’ve sent General Bludtyr, one of the fiercest and most experienced generals, with Mors’ personal army to reclaim Bastion and destroy the Scourge once and for all.” She paused to assess his neutral face.

  Is she correct? He asked Matek through the Scourgemind.

  Yes, my Lord. She is. Matek sounded pained to admit it. His pride, or maybe his vanity, hated to allow anyone else to present information before he did. The Circle knew there was an army in Crosstyr, but we couldn’t be sure where it was bound. Crosstyr is almost directly in the center of the Collective. It could be going anywhere. He paused to think. I’m more concerned that the Empire is already aware that we destroyed Standur. She may have been able to glean that on her way in, but she sounds more confident than that.

  My sentiments exactly, Slate mused. Thank you, Matek.

  You’re welcome, my Lord. His tone was peeved, and he was staring hard-eyed at the ambassador. His intense gaze appeared capable of reading the woman’s thoughts from across the room. It was that or trying to see down the front of her shirt. It was hard to tell with Matek, and even Slate had to admit that the sight was probably worth getting caught looking.

  While they spoke inaudibly, the silence stretched in the room. Slate could see the ambassador making calculated glances between Slate and those in the rest of the room. He could tell that she was looking to see if any of them communicated. However, outside of Slate and Shale’s faces, the rest of the Scourge were more beast than elf. It would be difficult to read any expressions on their faces. Additionally, Matek was experienced in the art of deception. He wouldn’t let a tell present itself so easily.

  “What makes you think the army is on their way here?” Slate asked. He wanted to display his knowledge of the geography of the Collective. It was likely the ambassador, and by extension, the Empire wasn’t aware of the Scourge’s origin. By knowing the geography of the region, he put it in question from where the Scourge hailed. He continued.

  “Crosstyr is in the center of the Collective,” he said idly. “That army could be going anywhere.” Slate paused as if a thought had just struck him, “In fact, they could be on their way to the border rather than to Bastion. We’re a little out of the way for an army.” His tone was casual, with a touch of humor.

  The ambassador frowned at his tone. “As long as anyone can remember, the conflict between the Collective and the Empire has been in a state of balance. Since Mors ascended to the throne of the Collective, they’ve been content to rule their territory with only a token display of aggression on our border.”

  She stared directly into Slate’s eyes, no longer intimidated by their supernatural quality. “Something has changed to rile the old vampires up, and the Emperor is convinced that the new factor at play is the Scourge. That’s why I have been sent to assist you in their defeat. The Empire would prefer that their perverted soul-magic be swept from the face of Somnium. He would prefer the Scourge on his southern border rather than the Vallyr.”

  Slate chuckled, and he saw nodding all around the throne room from various members of the Scourge. “Well, that’s one place where your Emperor and I agree, Ambassador. The Vallyr is a plague that needs to be wiped out.”

  He paused and tapped a finger to his chin. “Although, I’m not sure that we need the Empire’s help to do it.”

  The ambassador nodded. “As you will, Lord Scion. The Emperor doesn’t seek to force his presence upon the Scourge. He merely wants to have warm relations and help where he can.” She took a breath.

  “However, you should know that the army will move on from Crosstyr and arrive in Ithicus in a matter of weeks. General Bludtyr will raise more forces, create more soul-forged abominations, and rally other high lords to her cause on her way south.”

  Slate merely nodded, imperiously. He had said everything he needed to say on the subject. Slate could feel through the Scourgemind that Matek was already speaking to his Lurkers on a different channel. He wouldn’t be surprised if members of the Circle were strategically selected to transform into Lurkers as well so that the Circle could create a faster means of information distribution. The Scourge didn’t need to put themselves in bed with the Empire at this moment. First, Slate needed to see what else the Emperor wanted.

  She bowed slightly. “The Emperor requests that, if you do not accept my services, I be allowed to remain in your palace as a diplomatic guest in case I can offer something else that would please you.”

  Slate raised an eyebrow. Clever.

  “Indeed, you may remain a diplomatic guest.” He gestured to Matek, “please speak to my First to set up the details.”

  The ambassador appeared confused for a fraction of a second as she tried to decipher the strange title, but she bowed elegantly at Slate’s command. The Scion lamented the fact that he didn’t have anyone on hand that would be appropriate to make the changes. Matek would find her accommodations that would allow the Circle and his Lurkers to keep an eye on the ambassador, and the spy didn’t need to be told what was expected, he knew precisely what the Scion was thinking. He held up a clawed hand to his ear as he communicated quietly with Bastion about appropriate quarters.

  Understanding that she was being dismissed, the ambassador bowed once more and turned from the room. Matek gestured toward her with a clawed hand; she couldn’t help but slightly flinch. She couldn’t see Slate’s face, but the Scourge leader grinned at her unintended revelation.

  So, the Empire doesn’t know how bestial we are. She was merely an accomplished politician, he thought. Well, let’s play the game and see where the chips fall. Fortune favors the shameless.

  CHAPTER 02: THE SCOURGE LEADERSHIP

  ONCE THE AMBASSADOR left, Slate looked around the room. Well? He asked the assembled leaders.

  Bastion cut through all of their ears. “Ahem, my Lord. I think that it would be beneficial for you to discuss the
recent visit of the Ignatum Empire Ambassador elsewhere.” The flehm-filled cough rattled through the tone they all had in their ears. “Might I suggest the newly-renovated small council chamber? I have upgraded it precisely so that you may discuss such matters with the rest of your staff. Additionally, I have purchased a blessing for the room that will allow you to communicate without the prying ears of mortals or gods.”

  Slate felt stunned as Bastion passed that last tidbit of information to him. I never considered that other deities might be listening in to our communications. How secure is the Scourgemind? I’ve never thought to consider it. It’s always just…been there. Realistically, as an infantry officer, he had been aware of the need for secure communication, it was a necessity of the modern battlefield. However, the mystical nature of this world made such concerns seem far removed from everyday use. He was annoyed at himself by the lack of consideration. It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make again if he wanted to triumph over his adversaries.

  Slate knew that Bastion rarely interrupted them without reason. Despite his prickly attitude, he was a stickler for proper protocol. He would never have interrupted Slate—whether he knew Slate was using the Scourgemind or not—to suggest something unimportant. As such, Slate considered the fact that Lucidus might be giving him a token of information and using Bastion as her proxy. It was like her, and now that Matek had begun using Bastion to his fullest capabilities, it was likely that he had more access to information than he used to.

  “Thank you for the recommendation, Bastion.” He looked around the room and met the eyes of his advisors. “Of course, we would love to see the renovations that you’ve organized.” He received small nods of understanding from the rest of the Scourge leadership. He spoke out loud because Bastion could not use the Scourgemind. It was an annoyance that Slate hoped he could rectify by leveling up the city management system. It wasn’t a priority now, but annoyance was the mother of innovation. Or was it desperation? Necessity? No matter. Slate had never felt desperate need and therefore didn’t understand it. Annoyance was something he understood all too well.