The morning light filtered thrgough the tall windows of Zeke's study, casting long shadows across the maps and documents scattered on his desk. He sat motionless in his chair, golden eyes focused on nothing in particular as his mind worked through the inevitable conclusion of the hearing taking place across the city.
The Empire would be declared innocent. Of that, he had no doubt.
His fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the armrest as he considered the implications. The verdict itself held no surprises—he'd predicted it the moment he'd understood the game being played. What troubled him was the why of it all.
Augustus Geistreich didn't make random moves. Every action, every word, every carefully orchestrated event served a purpose in the Emperor's grand design. Yet try as he might, Zeke couldn't discern the pattern emerging from recent events.
[Notice]
Host appears troubled. Shall I compile the latest intelligence reports?
"Not yet," Zeke murmured, his gaze drifting to the continental map hanging on the far wall. "I need to think."
The Empire had invaded Rukia, deployed an Exarch against elven forces, and shattered centuries of precedent. They'd done so knowing full well it would draw the ire of the Matriarchy, knowing it would force a response. Why?
He rose from his chair and moved to the window, hands clasped behind his back. Below, his estate continued its daily routines, blissfully unaware of the tectonic shifts occurring in the halls of power. Maya was in the garden with Lue, both girls practicing their newly awakened abilities under Akasha's watchful projection. The sight of their innocent enthusiasm brought a ghost of a smile to his lips before his thoughts returned to darker matters.
The elven Matriarchy commanded more Exarchs than any other power on the continent. Conservative estimates placed their numbers equal to all human Exarchs combined. Some whispered the true count was even higher, that ancient bloodlines had produced warriors whose names were known only to the eldest trees.
So… why provoke them?
Zeke's jaw tightened as he considered the possibilities. The revelation that the Empire possessed hidden Exarchs hadn't surprised him. Augustus was too careful to show all his cards. But could they have enough to counter the elven advantage? The math didn't support it. Even if the Empire had somehow concealed half a dozen Exarchs, the elves could field twice that number.
"Unless..." he murmured, then shook his head. No, distance alone couldn't be the Emperor's shield. The elven forests lay on the opposite side of the continent, yes, but that meant little to beings who could reshape reality with their will. A Wind Exarch could cross that distance in days, perhaps less if truly motivated.
There had to be another reason. Something that made Augustus confident enough to essentially spit in the face of the most gifted race on the continent.
Zeke returned to his desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. Sometimes, visualizing helped clarify his thoughts. He drew a circle to the right, signifying the west, representing the Empire. On the left side, he began adding the other powers. Two Alliance nations lay to the east of it: Invocatia and Equanox. Korrovan sat in the south. The elven forests stretched across the far east, with the remaining kingdoms scattered in between. The dwarven mountains occupied the north. Each one now nursed grievances against the Empire.
"You're bringing them together," he said softly, as if Augustus could hear him across the miles. "You're giving them common cause."
But that made no sense. The Emperor's greatest advantage had always been the divisions between his enemies. The Alliance and the elves had never trusted each other. Heck, even the Alliance members didn’t wholeheartedly support the cause. The dwarves had always preferred their neutrality to any foreign entanglement. By threatening all of them, by showing that previous agreements meant nothing...
Zeke's hand stilled, quill hovering over the parchment. A drop of ink fell, spreading across the paper like blood on snow.
[Observation]
Host's heartrate has increased. Reaching conclusion?
"No," Zeke admitted, setting down the quill. "That's the problem. Every angle I examine leads to the same result: the Empire is uniting its enemies against itself. And Augustus is too intelligent not to see that if even a fool could."
He began pacing, a habit he'd developed during particularly vexing problems. The floorboards creaked softly under his measured steps, a rhythmic counterpoint to his racing thoughts.
"What if that's the point?" he wondered aloud. "What if he wants them united?"
But that path led to even more questions. Why would the Emperor want a unified opposition? What possible advantage could that bring? Even with hidden assets, even with whatever schemes he'd been cultivating for centuries, facing a united front of elves, dwarves, and the human Alliance would be...
Zeke froze mid-step, a chill running down his spine.
The thought shattered as power washed over him like a tide of ice. His knees nearly buckled from the sudden pressure, every instinct screaming danger. The sensation was intimately familiar, carved into his memory from his time in the Deadlands.
Death Domain.
Zeke's head snapped toward the window, eyes wide. The power emanated from the city center, from the very heart of Tradespire, where the hearing was being held. There was only one being on the continent who could manifest such overwhelming Death magic. ɽÁŊỔ𝐁È𝘴
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"Sheol," he breathed.
The sensation lingered for several heartbeats before fading, leaving him with the phantom taste of grave dirt on his tongue. Whatever had prompted the King of the Dead to act, it couldn't bode well for the proceedings.
His mind raced through possibilities. Had someone been foolish enough to threaten Sheol? Had the verdict somehow offended the ancient being? Or was this another piece in the game he couldn't quite see?
[Notice]
Multiple rapid movements detected throughout the city. Pattern suggests people departing the great hall in haste.
"What’s going on?" Zeke muttered.
He returned to his desk, forcing himself to stillness. Panicking would serve no purpose. Information would come soon enough, and then he could adjust his plans accordingly. Until then, speculation was merely—
[Alert]
Incoming reports from multiple sources. Shall I compile?
"Do it."
The wait seemed to stretch, though it couldn't have been more than moments. When Akasha finally spoke again, her tone carried an unusual note.
[Report compiled]
Verdict delivered as predicted: Empire found innocent of violating Accord of Limitation. Following verdict, Lord Veylor initiated unprecedented action.
"Unprecedented? How?"
[Report]
Sheol Veylor demanded inclusion in expanded Accords with specific restriction: No Exarch may approach Deadlands under any circumstances. When met with resistance, Lord Veylor demonstrated power sufficient to coerce compliance from all parties present.
Zeke sank slowly into his chair. "All parties?"
[Confirmed]
All human Exarchs present signed binding agreement. Emperor Augustus signed via proxy through Chancellor Geistreich. Elven and dwarven delegations were not invited to participate.
The words hung in the air like smoke from a distant fire. Zeke stared at the report, reading it twice more to ensure he'd understood correctly. Sheol had forced the greatest powers on the continent to bend to his will. Had made even Augustus Geistreich sign what amounted to a surrender.
The words reportedly spoken by Sheol were even more ominous. Death, for breaking the promise. To him, that sounded suspiciously like Soul Magic. It was something similar to the Rituals that forced compliance, like the Memory Sealing or Slave Rituals.
It now seemed that Sheol was able to compress that into a single sheet of paper, and still have it powerful enough to bind Exarchs. Honestly, Zeke would have been impressed if he hadn’t been too frightened.
This could mean that every word spoken by Sheol had enough power to be a binding contract for someone like him. He couldn’t even be sure that his Soul wasn’t already tangled in a myriad of strings he didn’t even know existed. After all, he had interacted with the King of the Dead far too often and casually to feel safe.
Zeke's gaze returned to his diagram, to the circle representing the Empire surrounded by its enemies. Another player had just announced themselves, one that stood apart from all existing alliances. The Deadlands had always been neutral territory, a place where the living feared to tread. Now, Sheol had broken that impartiality with the threat of annihilation.
"Akasha," he said slowly. "What was the exact sequence of events?"
[Reconstructing]
Followingthe innocent verdict, delegations began to disperse. Lord Veylor commanded attention, presented terms. Initial resistance was met with a show of force and terroristic threats. Compliance followed rapidly.
An unpleasant feeling settled in Zeke's stomach, cold and heavy as lead. The timing was too perfect, the outcome too convenient. It felt orchestrated, as if unseen hands were guiding events toward a specific configuration.
How did this change the situation?
He thought of the elves, ancient and proud, shown that human law offered them no protection. He thought of the dwarves, practical and steadfast, learning the same lesson. Both races had been excluded from Sheol's new accord as well as the existing one.
"He’s riling them up…" he said softly.
[Query]
Did Host learn something?
Zeke didn't answer immediately. His fingers found a quill, began sketching new connections on his diagram. The Empire's provocation. The Alliance's calculated non-response. Sheol's dramatic actions. Each event built upon the last, each seeming to push the non-human races toward a specific choice.
"Look at what's been accomplished," he said, thinking aloud. "The elves and dwarves have been shown that the humans don’t care about them, not even the Alliance. And now Sheol has demonstrated that even the mightiest human powers can be forced to bend if confronted with overwhelming force."
[Conclusion.]
That seems like an explosive combination.
"Exactly." Zeke set down the quill, staring at the web of connections he'd drawn. "But that brings us back to the original question. Why would Augustus want this?”
The pieces were arranging themselves into a pattern he couldn't quite see. Like a mosaic viewed too closely, the individual tiles made sense, but the greater image remained hidden. The Emperor was too intelligent to leave things up to chance. Which meant...
"He benefits from this somehow," Zeke concluded. "He intends to exploit the chaos."
But how? What possible advantage could come from rousing the non-human powers into action?
Zeke rose and moved to his bookshelf, pulling down a volume on historical conflicts. Perhaps the past held answers the present obscured. As he flipped through pages detailing ancient wars and forgotten alliances, his mind continued to worry at the problem.
The Empire had shown its willingness to deploy Exarchs. The non-human races were being pushed around. Sheol had demonstrated power that could humble even emperors. Each thread seemed significant, but the tapestry they wove remained frustratingly unclear.
[Notice]
Lady Margret approaches. Shall I grant entry?
"When she arrives," Zeke replied absently, still absorbed in his thoughts.
He thought of Augustus Geistreich, centuries old, patient as stone. The man who had orchestrated Maximilian's death, who had guided the Empire through countless conflicts, who played games spanning generations. Such a man didn't make mistakes. Didn't act without purpose.
"What do you see that I don't?" Zeke whispered to the empty air.
The door opened, admitting Margret still in her elven finery. Her face was pale, her movements carrying the careful precision of someone processing shock. She'd witnessed Sheol's display firsthand, felt that crushing power. The experience had clearly left its mark.
"My lord," she began, then paused, seeming to gather her thoughts.
"Sit," Zeke said gently. "Take your time."
As Margret composed herself, Zeke's attention drifted back to his diagram. The Empire, the Alliance nations, the dwarves, and the elves. And now, to the very south, the Deadlands, which had emerged as a new power on the continental stage. All the pieces were positioned.
Was this a trap designed to catch something else entirely? Something that would only emerge once the board was properly set?
"My lord?" Margret's voice drew him back to the present. "Shall I begin my report?"
"Please," Zeke said, though his mind was already racing ahead. Whatever Augustus had planned, whatever grand design required all this preparation, Zeke was certain of one thing.
When the trap finally sprang, the entire continent would feel its teeth.