Blood and Vengeance

"What can the Master of Magic do?" you ask? Many have speculated on what powers he will be able to wield and how he will act, but it is just speculation and I do not deal in wistful fantasy. What I do know is that I would not want to be against the One should his fury be roused.

— Sage Te of Fogora

Temple of Kubei
City of Kubei,
Angvardi Province of Kut
August 30

It had been three days since Bronwyn had been taken and everything was set. True to his word, Growald had provided no fewer than three men at any given time to help Syler build the lamp holder. Even if they didn't know how to smith, they were still handy in doing menial tasks. The smith, a man who refused to give his name or accept any money, that Havert provided was far more valuable in speeding the project up. Once it was complete, the massive holder had been hoisted onto Havert's cart by a small horde of men provided by Growald.

He didn't know what other plans the sergeant was making and he didn't care. As long as he got inside that Temple and was able to rescue Bronwyn, he didn't care what happened. The only people he cared about were her, Havert, and Alltis. The rest were on their own in this. The night before, he sneaked out of the village and placed two packs full of food, clothes, and a bedroll in a large bush with the intention of collecting them on their way out after this was all finished. All of his savings were now in a pouch tied to his right thigh under the thick leather smith's apron he was wearing as "armor" during the raid.

Syler was not too surprised to see Havert among the men preparing for the attack. He did not know what had been involved in the conversation with his wife, but apparently they had decided to stick it out with him even if it meant leaving the city. Alltis didn't seem upset at it because she was there to send them off and wasn't angry or arguing with Havert. She even wished them the god's blessings as they set out toward the Temple. Syler was glad to have his friend at his side once more. They had fought together at Fazei Crossing and Syler knew that the redhead was good enough with a weapon.

Everything was set on Syler's end and Growald assured him that the rest of the plan was in place. It had taken until the late afternoon to finish the last touches on the holder, but it was finished and they were on their way. Growald, Syler, Havert, and three of Growald's best men were riding in Havert's wagon with the pieces, but by the way the sergeant kept looking around, it was clear that he was expecting something to happen. The weapons he had procured were concealed within the wrappings of the pieces, though each carried knives tucked away in their belts.

Syler had cleared everything with the Angvardi overseer who was eager to get the lamp holder in place so he could get the priests off his back. As they rode in through the outer square, Syler didn't look off to the sides, but kept his gaze forward and his jaw set with determination at the grizzly and bloody task ahead of him. He had gotten little sleep over the last few days, but had been fueled by images of horror that Bronwyn was likely facing to keep going at all costs. He had lost weight and his skin had taken an ashen appearance, but he didn't care. All that mattered was finishing his work and preparing for tonight.

At last, Havert pulled his team to a halt as close as possible to the ominous black doors that sealed the Temple. As a smith who centered his life around working with metal, Syler had often wondered what sort of alloy these oily doors were. He had asked a few people in passing over the last two months, but nobody knew. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but take advantage of the opportunity to get a closer look at the doors, but was left as clueless as to their composition as the first day he saw them.

Two regular guardsmen standing at the doors paid them only a casual glance as they got out of the wagon and began going about their work. The six of them split into teams of two and hoisted the beams over their shoulders. The black doors slowly opened from the inside as those within noted their arrival. Once through the doors, they were met by four armed Shalktra and a priest wearing the white colors of Faetwel. The priest was clearly excited over the arrival of their precious lamp holder and inspected the visible parts of the struts. Syler assured him that he could see them in all of their glory as soon as they were on the roof and able to install them.

As soon as the doors shut and the Angvardi guards outside were not able to see what was happening inside, Growald made his move. As one, all six of them pulled out their knives and attacked. Within two seconds, all of the Shalktra either had their throats slit or a knife driven into their hearts. Syler was glad that Growald's former Seinari were well skilled because they had done the dirty work before their targets could as much as cry out.

"Now, we open the door and let our friends in," Growald said with obvious pleasure as he triggered the lever that would force the door open.

Syler was looking around for anyone else to notice them, but nobody did. The others quickly fell upon the two hapless Angvardi guards that had been outside and cut them to pieces with little trouble. That was the signal for the other three dozen men to charge into the square and launch their attack unopposed.

Instead of shouting battle cries, they were all silent. In their brief meeting before setting out, Growald had emphasized that the element of surprise was only good if the enemy was actually surprised when they saw them. Nobody wanted to face a hundred alert and wary Shalktra and whatever priests might be within, so they kept quiet.

Once inside, they dragged the bodies of the Angvardi in with them, spread sand over the blood stains, and sealed the doors behind them. One of the men had jumped into the wagon and drove it off. Syler hoped that the casual passerby wouldn't notice the lack of guards and that any reinforcements would be inhibited by the door itself. If the Angvardi were alerted to what was going on, they would surround the Temple and a very nasty siege would begin, but that wasn't his concern at this moment. He wanted to at least have the opportunity to deal with everyone in the Temple uninterrupted before they had to worry about getting out.

"We head down, now," said Growald quietly.

"Down?" asked Havert with a look of confusion.

"Yes, down. The priests here wouldn't want the shrieks of anguish from their victims to interrupt their meditations, so the prisoners will be held underground, and believe me, there is an underground dungeon here."

While the rest of his men fanned out throughout the Temple, Growald started down one of the hallways with six of his men with them. Havert and Syler quickly followed him. Their group encountered and dispatched a few priests and a couple of off duty Shalktra, but there was not much resistance as they made their way towards what Syler hoped was the entrance to whatever underground lair this Temple held their prisoners in.

At last, Growald pulled open a door revealing stairs that went down instead of up. He was right. Without pause, he charged down the stairs with such force that he bowled over the two guards standing at the bottom. His men killed them quickly as he continued his charge hoping to catch any more guards by surprise. The stairs had opened into small room that divided into three passageways each leading different directions. Their attack had not gone unnoticed and four armed and angry Shalktra emerged from one of the passageways. Growald and his men charged head first into them and filled the room with the sound of clashing metal and the cries of men in mortal combat.

Syler blocked one of the Shalktra's attacks and prepared to block the next when Havert dug his sword into the man's side spilling his innards all over the rough stone floor. The fighting didn't last for long with the Terulans being outnumbered two to one. As a testament to their skills despite being outnumbered so badly, two of Growald's men remained unmoving on the ground.

With only six of them left and three passageways, Growald ordered them to split up in groups of two. Syler and Havert went down the passageway directly opposite of the stairway entrance and continued down it cautiously. Syler had expected the passageway to quickly lead into a series of rooms, but it did not. Instead, it began a fairly sharp decline leading them deeper into the earth in a series of odd twists and turns. The stone walls were no longer the crisp, cleanly cut and occasionally polished stones that made up the tower portion of the Temple, but were now rough, poorly fitting stones held together by mortar hastily applied. Instead of ornate lanterns, the corridor was lit by crude torches in plain holders stationed every couple of yards. Syler figured that whoever went down here didn't care about aesthetics.

They went on for another hundred or so yards before they heard it: faint screams echoing down the passageway from in front of them that Syler thought sounded familiar. Both friends looked at each other for a second before breaking into a run. They ran another fifty or so yards before coming to a room containing several cell doors. All but one of the doors was shut, but one was open.

The one with shrieks of horror and pain coming from a very familiar voice emanating from within.

Syler sprinted forward and halted in shock at what he saw. There, with his back to him, was a man standing over a naked and bloody Bronwyn with a knife in his hand making a cut down her left arm. He didn't hesitate, but merely reacted on instinct and lashed out with his sword to cut the man's entire hand off just above the wrist. The man's mouth gaped in a silent cry of pain, but Syler didn't want to give him any chance to recover and harm Bronwyn again. Without hesitation or remorse, he shoved his sword clean through the man's back and pulled it out with a sickeningly wet squelching sound. The man tumbled to the ground without another word and would never move again.

Not that the man was dead, Syler's attention turned to Bronwyn. She was completely naked, but was clothed in blood and filth. Her face was no longer the beautiful, almost delicate visage that he had come to love, but was a mass of painfully swollen bruises and cuts. Her lip had been split in at least two places leaving a thin dark red trail of dried blood down her chin. Her nose had been broken in multiple places while her eyebrows and eyelashes looked to have been plucked out. The amber hair that once flowed down to the middle of her back had been crudely hacked off and her scalp was caked in mud and blood. Her left ear had been boxed so many times that it was swollen into a sickening blob of purple flesh while the cartilage in the other ear had been slashed in two.

He could see bruises and older lash marks covering all of her bare body, but it was the fresh cut that started at her navel, traveled up between her breasts, across her heart, and down her left arm that concerned him the most because it was still leaking blood. Upon closer inspection, it didn't appear to be too deep, but the sight of all that blood coating her body was terrifying. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt next to her and ripped part of the dead man's shirt to form a rag with which to wipe the blood off of her face.

"Bronwyn, I am so sorry I took so long," he said in anguish. He could hardly speak because his throat was constricted in horror and remorse. She didn't react, but simply sat there simpering as though trapped in a nightmare he couldn't comprehend. Wanting to get the chains off of her, Syler searched the man he had killed and quickly found a set of keys attached to his belt. With fingers slick in his wife's fresh blood, he fumbled with the keys to find which one would unlock Bronwyn. When she was at last free, he cradled her filthy head in his arms while repeatedly whispering to her that everything would be okay.

He was so consumed in the agony of seeing her like this, he didn't even hear the commotion outside as Havert found himself facing two Shalktra who had been in a small room at the end of the row of cells. He was calling out to Syler, but wasn't able to get to Bronwyn's cell. Facing the more experienced warriors, he was driven back into the passageway they came from and was using the narrow walls to keep from being overwhelmed.

One Shalktra let his companion deal with the redhead while he went to find Syler. When he approached the cell, he smiled in anticipation of the easy kill. Syler was kneeling on the ground half holding Bronwyn with his sword lying next to him. He jerked when he finally heard Havert's screams and the sound of swords clashing, but it was too late.

The Shalktra clubbed him with the hilt of his sword sending him to the ground. Bronwyn screamed, but Syler was in too much pain to think about screaming with her. The Shalktra laughed and grabbed Bronwyn by what was left of her hair and pulled her up to where he could see her better. "Shame about the cuts," he leered, "but I am sure you will still be just as much fun as you were last night. Killing always whetted my appetite for women." Even though his free hand was holding a sword, he still managed to grab her breast in a bruising grip.

Bronwyn's shriek turned Syler's blood into ice. Never before had he heard such pure terror in someone's voice, and judging on the Terulan's words, he had a good idea why she felt that way. The very thought of what the man was implying ignited a fury within him that melted the ice faster than a snowdrop in the middle of his forge.

He pushed the pain he was feeling aside as he got his legs beneath him. From his crouching position, he launched himself at the Shalktra with nothing but murder as his intent. The man was too busy enjoying Bronwyn's helpless squirming to react in time and fell as Syler's full weight slammed into him. The three of them tumbled back against the cell wall and slid to the floor. Bronwyn scrambled away, but Syler bent all of his focus and will towards one goal: getting his hands around the vile Shalktra's neck. He allowed his hatred for this man to drive him in his struggle and ignored all else, even the fact that the world was beginning to turn red. The only thing that mattered to him was killing this man so that Bronwyn wouldn't be subjected to more rape and torture.

They wrestled back and forth on the ground for a few seconds, but the Shalktra didn't possess the ferocity that Syler had and wasn't going to last long. The man's initially confident look quickly melted into panic as he realized just how worked up and driven his opponent was. With a steeled jaw and blazing eyes that offered no hint of mercy or forgiveness, Syler slowly but surely forced his way through the Terulan's defenses until his hands were around the man's neck. The blacksmith didn't bother trying to choke the life out of the man, he simply squeezed as tightly as he could and jerked once. There was a faint popping sound and the Shalktra stopped struggling, his face permanently frozen with his wide eyes looking up and his mouth gaping.

Syler remained on top of the other man for a few moments while catching his breath and letting the world come back to normalcy. Colors other than red once again returned to his vision, though his heart didn't stop racing. He didn't hear any more fighting in the hall and feared what that meant. Before he could get up to see what was happening outside the cell door, he felt the cold touch of steel on the back of his neck and realized it was all over.

He closed his eyes and waited for the final blow, but none came. Risking a look behind him, he saw that the sword wasn't being held by another Shalktra, but by Bronwyn herself. In the brief struggle with the Shalktra, she had grabbed Syler's dropped weapon and now held kept it up against Syler's throat as he turned around slowly. Her lips were peeled back in a snarl and her cheeks were red with more than just blood. Her eyes held no humanity within them, but were more fierce than a wolf's. He hadn't ever seen her like this and feared what it had taken to bring her to this point.

"Bronwyn, it's me," he said calmly. His words didn't register on her face. He smiled and made sure he didn't make any sudden moves as he tried to slowly stand up. "You know me. I am Syler, remember?" There was no response from her, but she kept the sword steady in her bloody hands.

"Wha—" came Havert's voice from the cell door. Syler grimaced both at his extremely bad timing and from the feeling of the sword as it was pressed slightly into the soft flesh just above his collarbone. He felt warmth trickle down his neck, but it was nowhere near as much as would soon flow from him if she decided to stab him fully.

"Stay back," he said calmly to his friend. He looked back at Bronwyn and met her manic eyes. "I am Syler, your friend, your husband. I came here to rescue you, but I can't help you if you don't put down that sword."

Her head began to jerk back and forth a little, almost as if she were trying to process things, but there was still no other reaction. "Look, Bronwyn, you love me and the Bronwyn I know would never hurt me. I have only ever tried to protect you. I love you, Bronwyn, I love you and was too stupid to admit it until after you were gone." Realization slowly began to dawn on her face and her grip on the sword lessened a little, but she did not put it down, so Syler continued. "I am so sorry that it took me so long to come for you, but I couldn't do it alone. I spent day and night working to get you out and I have come for you." Tears were beginning to form in her eyes and one or two escaped to mix with the blood splattered all over her face. "If you put that sword down, we can get out of this place and escape forever. We will never come back to this place."

With a single sob, realization came over Bronwyn's face like a flood and the sword clattered to the ground. Paying no heed to the sorry physical state she was in, she grabbed Syler in a fierce hug. "Syler, my love," she said, though her voice was a mere whimper. "It is you."

Syler returned her embrace and stroked her matted remnants of hair for a few seconds, but had to break it and step back. "We need to get out of here or we will be trapped."

Though she was still shaken and clearly weak from her captivity, Bronwyn was herself again. Havert had pulled the Shalktra's shirt off and gave it to her. It wasn't enough to cover all of her nakedness, but it was better than nothing. While she pulled the large shirt on, Syler looked out in the cell block and saw the bloody body of the other Shalktra where Havert had felled him. He took another look around to make sure there were no more foes around. Only then did it register that the other cells were occupied. Some of the other women were there as well, though they didn't dare cry out for fear that the wrong people would answer.

"Come on," he told Havert as he picked up his sword and the key ring from the torturer off of the ground. "We need to get these other women out."

They left Bronwyn to collect herself while they quickly began releasing the other six women. They were all in bad shape, but it was clear to Syler that those who were the most attractive had seen the worst of it. Not all were naked, but some were. One poor woman was unconscious and had to be carried out by two of the stronger women. Syler and Havert needed their hands free in order to fight off any further Shalktra. Any weapons carried by the dead guards were purloined, but Syler didn't hold much hope for any of the emaciated women being able to do much in a fight.

When they were finished, Syler went to get Bronwyn. As he looked into her dim cell, he was surprised to see her wearing the Shalktra's pants and boots. The pain and shock were still on her face and she didn't seem all there, not like the woman he used to know. She had the presence of mind to cut the legs of the pants down so they wouldn't trip her up, but it she had put the boots on backwards. Her movements were slow and unsure as though she was in a daze.

When she noticed him, she tried to smile at him, but it looked more like a grimace. "I am sorry, Syler," she said with a voice made hoarse by screaming. "I would never hurt you."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied. "After what they did to you, I would be surprised if you weren't jittery."

She looked at him with eyes that still possessed a hint of the craze that filled them earlier and said, "Promise me that you won't let them take me, even if you have to kill me."

Syler prayed to the Elements that it would never come to that, but after seeing what they had done to her and the other women here, he could understand why she wouldn't want to go back to it. "I promise."

She nodded and followed him when he led her out. Havert had finished getting the other five women ready to move. Though two were carrying the unconscious woman, all looked eager to get out and offered no resistance at all to their directions. They were silent, too, and for that, Syler was very grateful. He had heard enough screaming today to keep him up for a lifetime of nights.

They managed to make their way through the winding passageway and to the room that led the stairway up and saw that they were not the first ones to make it back. The second pair of Growald's men had returned with six other freed prisoners in a condition similar to what the women they freed were in. The men didn't say anything, but remained in their watchful positions with their eyes on all four entrances to the small room.

A minute after Syler's group arrived, Growald arrived one man short but with seven women in tow. He took one look at Syler and asked, "What happened to you, boy?" He gestured at Syler's chest, throat, and head.

For the first time, Syler noticed that there was fresh blood dripping down the side of his face where the Shalktra had hit him with his sword hilt. His chest, too was covered in blood, but it wasn't his. "The head was just from one of the Terulans getting the drop on me before I killed him," he explained quickly. "The rest of it mostly Bronwyn's blood but also some of her torturer's."

Growald looked over to see Bronwyn in her Shalktra outfit but with blood still dripping slowly down from her arm and a large stain down the center of her chest. He made no comment, but shook his head angrily as he took stock of the situation. There were now five men left and they were now responsible for twenty women, one of which was still unconscious.

"Let's get outta here," he said gruffly. "There should be more of us up top and if the Elements are with us, we might be able to escape into the city without much notice."

The group didn't even manage to get to the top of the stairs before running into further resistance. Three priests armed with daggers and a single Shalktra were inspecting the bodies of the two Shalktra that had been guarding the door. They looked up when they heard footsteps and charged down the narrow stairs to confront them.

Growald was in the front and started to fend them off, but the priests proved to be surprisingly adept with their weapons. He killed one of them before a priest managed to slice him deeply in his right arm causing him to drop his sword. With a loud curse, he punched the priest in the face with his left fist and backed away. Syler, who was behind him, was more than willing to take his place. He was still furious at how the women had been treated and now that he had Bronwyn with him, he would not let anyone stand in his way on their flight to freedom.

The priest who had sliced Growald tried to stab him in the side, but Syler managed to twist out of the way and make a quick slash into the side of the priest's neck. The Shalktra sidestepped the fallen priest's body and lashed out with his sword. He locked blades with Syler, then fell back with blood gurgling out of his mouth as one of the Sei men threw his knife over Syler's shoulder and into the Terulan's neck.

Syler didn't have time to thank the man before the last priest was on him. After a few rapid exchanges, Syler shoved the priest's knife hand out of the way, grabbed his robes, and pulled him into his waiting sword. After the priest breathed his last pained breath, Syler let him go and pulled his sword free. The way up was now clear, but Syler didn't take any chances that there might be more of them and kept his attention focused ahead.

A hand clapped his shoulder and he heard Growald's voice say, "Good work, son. Those priests warn't no holy men. The Angvardi train some o' their priests as assassins and they are usually pretty good." He chuckled at himself. "They are quite zealous in pushin' their faith onto others, even if it means killing them."

"I don't care, we need to get out of here," said Syler through clenched teeth.

"We need to meet up with the others, assuming there are any. They should be done with their tasks by now, though the presence of these here isn't a good sign."

With a shrug, Syler continued up the stairs and into the main Temple tower. What they emerged into was absolute chaos. As they cautiously worked their way to the front doors, they encountered bodies and random destruction at almost every corner. Most of them were of priests or Shalktra, but there were several Sei who had met their deaths among the bodies of their foes. Blood was everywhere, as were scorch marks from fire. Syler even spotted a few places where the stone itself had been melted. When he put his hand up to touch the stone, he could feel the warmth emanating from it.

Growald didn't seem fazed by the carnage around them, but continued to push them forward while tightening a bandage around his wounded sword arm. Several of the women had grabbed bits of clothing or even some weapons along the way, though Syler didn't count on them contributing much to any fight in their weakened state. Bronwyn stayed close to him and he couldn't help but notice that Havert constantly moved around to ensure that she was always between the two of them.

As they passed a room, Syler heard a noise inside and motioned for everyone to stop. With his sword at the ready and Havert at his back, he entered the room to investigate. Inside, cowering behind a plush fur chair, was a green robed priest. "Please, don't hurt me!" he cried out when he saw that he had been discovered.

Syler looked at the man with a placid face and asked, "Did you know about the underground prison cells?"

Beads of sweat formed on the priest's forehead as he answered in a quavering voice, "Yes, we all did. We built them after the tower had been constructed."

Syler struggled to keep his voice even as he asked another question, "Did you know what happened down there to the women behind held by the Shalktra?"

"It was necessary for the will of the Way," the priest said a little too quickly. Syler could tell that it was a conditioned response born of repetition and self delusion. The darkening of his eyes and his set jaw told the priest that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Then your death is necessary for your crimes," replied Syler. His voice was void of warmth or mercy. This man was supposed to be a priest, a man of peace and religious guidance sent out to help people. Even if Syler didn't believe in the Way, he respected the right of others to believe in it. But after seeing what happened down below and finding out that the priests above were completely complicit in it, Syler was sickened. These men were just as guilty as the man who was torturing Bronwyn for sport. His fate would be the same.

"No! Please have merc—" whatever else the priest was going to say was cut short by Syler's sword as it struck off the man's head.

Before he even finished the swing, there was a rumble of thunder outside that was loud enough to be heard even within this stone tower. The floor shook for a few moments knocking things to the ground around them. Syler had heard of groundquakes before, but had never been in one and was a little stunned. He backed away from the priest's body trying to keep on his feet as the ground continued to shake around him. There was a loud clap of thunder that rattled the very stones around them and suddenly, there was nothing but pure darkness and the sounds of startled cries.

* * * * *
Imperial Palace
Angvard City
Angvardi Empire

Princess Raella woke up screaming.

Within moments, her maid, Ellis, was trying to push her way through the alarmed guards who had rushed to her side. The maid, once she got through, grabbed the princess' hand and asked, "What is it, my lady?"
Raella wasn't quite sure. She stopped screaming to answer the question, paused to take a breath, and opened her mouth to reply. Before she could say anything, she completely forgot what it was she had been screaming about. She closed her mouth and blinked for a few seconds as though to clear her mind and remember, but nothing came. "I don't know," she said at last.

The guards looked at each other in confusion, but said nothing. As soon as they saw that no harm had come to their ward, they bowed and left her chambers. Ellis looked concerned and pressed the princess a little farther, "Was it a bad dream?"

"I truly don't know," the princess admitted with a blush. "All I remember was falling to sleep, then waking up screaming."

This was not an uncommon occurrence. Raella was the eldest child of Empress Celienna and King Rael and, as magic ran deeply in both bloodlines, was gifted with magic herself. Despite being touched by magic, her gift was abnormal for the imperial and royal bloodlines. She was a clairvoyant, one whom was sensitive to events and people around her. She would never cast spells of destruction or healing, nor would she ever see the future or have skills in alchemy and the altercation of the natural world. Though many deemed it among the weakest of the magical gifts, Raella was extremely perceptive and was sometimes able to use it to her advantage. She was able to sense subtle things in people and events that none else could see and could use it to detect deception, honesty, loyalty, and many other traits.

In the earliest of days during the ancient era, when magic was a little studied and highly mystical phenomenon, clairvoyants would often sense things at great distances or that were coming. They could not, however, see or sense the future even if on occasion, their insights allowed them to make accurate predictions of what would come. They frequently told of what they sensed happen from afar, be it a tragedy or a coming boon or some other great portend. Then, when news of that event arrived, those around the clairvoyants believed they had seen the future. Similarly, when a clairvoyant sensed a coming storm or an advancing army, they knew it would come and warned of its arrival before it happened. Because of that, early superstition had often confused clairvoyants with seers or prophets. It wasn't until detailed studies were conducted in the late ancient era that the differences between those gifts were defined. Despite that, the name "clairvoyant" remained to this day.

When she was young, Raella often woke up after having nightmares. Sometimes, she would be sitting down perfectly happy, then burst into tears when she sensed tragedy or start laughing when she sensed something happy. Even now, when she was eighteen years old, she sometimes had trouble controlling her reaction when she sensed something particularly powerful. She had been getting better as she grew into her gift and received teaching, but only a master of clairvoyance was able to completely control what they felt or even block things out.

"It must have been a terrible thing to cause you to feel this way," Ellis commented.

"Possibly. I really hope it wasn't a battle," mused Raella. She didn't like not knowing what had sent her into a fit. Even as a young girl, she would at least remember the feelings even if she couldn't interpret them. This was perplexing enough that she would have to seek advice from her tutor in the morning. She looked up at Ellis and offered a weak smile, "I am okay, Ellie, I really am. Go back to sleep."

The maid wasn't entirely convinced, but there was no use arguing, not at this late hour. Maybe in the morning, the princess' memory would come back and all would be well. She offered a quick bow, then went back to her own room.

* * * * *
Governor's Palace
City of Kubei,
Angvardi Province of Kut

Governor Uthas was sitting in a comfortable chair drinking a cup of wine and enjoying fresh pork when a sound like thunder rattled his glass. That was followed by the ground trembling below his feet causing one of the glasses to slide along the edge of his table and crash to the ground. The shaking lasted no more than fifteen seconds during which he finished the rest of his cup and sat back with a content smile.
"Ahhh, so the rabble has taken the Temple," he said calmly and without a rush.

"It would seem so, my lord," replied a man standing behind him.

"It seems, he has completed the next step," the governor added.

"Just as you predicted, my lord."

It was a good day, a very good day. Not only did those damnable Shalktra get a bloody nose, but he had helped move destiny along as planned. He had done so much preparing and planning to get to this very night and he couldn't help but to feel good about himself. Even if he were to die tonight, he would have done something that few could ever say they had accomplished: he had brought about prophecy.

"You know what comes next." It was a statement, not a question, because they had already discussed this in length. The moment the warrant came to his attention, Uthas had summoned his best operative and given him very specific instructions. Everything had to play out exactly according to plan for it to all work and so far, it was.

He laughed at the blind foolishness of the Terulans who thought they were the masters of intrigue. They thought that they could come into his domain and steal the Master of Magic right from under his nose. They thought he was just some ignorant bureaucrat stationed to a barbaric little outpost in the uncivilized West and dismissed him. "Such arrogance," he said aloud.

Numerous sages had taught him everything they knew—right before he killed them to keep them from reporting that fact. He had learned of the prophecy regarding the seer from Zazasp and had sought this position. While the foolish Shalktra had been seeking the seer for a month, he had known her exact identity for months now and had kept a watchful eye on her. Her oblivious husband had received more than his share of high paying jobs for the governor's office or the Temple itself because he wanted to keep a close eye on him should he turn out to be connected to everything somehow.

Now it was all paying off. He had taken numerous calculated gambles and now, at last, the sign had come that he was on the right path. All he had to do was make a few more moves and everything would be finished. He was fully aware of the pitiful band of Sei malcontents that had been growing more and more bold over the last few weeks. When he received word of this warrant from the Shalktra, he had seen the potential it had of stirring them into open violence. Despite multiple complaints from Captain Sosar, he had allowed it. Even more, he had ordered extra patrols along the farmlands that surrounded Kubei under the guise that he was concerned about rogue Kuti raiders stealing or burning the crops. Only the smallest of security force was left in the city and would not be able to mount any sort of counterattack on the Sei who he guessed would try to free the women. After all, it wouldn't do to flush out the Master of Magic only to get him killed trying to escape.

He had to admit, he hadn't seen the riots that the rebels had staged. People were angry enough over the crowded quarters and the forced marriages, but the arrests had sent them over the top. Now that they were raging at various parts of the city, he had to admit that he had been a fool not to think of it earlier. If anything, he was surprised that the rioters had waited this long to strike, but now attributed it to the workings of whatever leaders the rebels had among them.

"Go now," he said to his operative, "intercept him before he gets out of the city."

"What of the priests that were in the Temple?" the operative asked.

Uthas arched a single eyebrow, "What of them? They were necessary sacrifices for the greater good. The gods will reward them in the afterlife."

"Forgive me, my lord," the operative said with a bow, "I did not mean to question you."

"Go then, see that nobody gets in your way," the governor commanded. "I will see you when this is all done. Succeed and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest imaginations, fail me and you will be like one of those priests: a necessary sacrifice."