Beginning of ACT 2

Death came for Libro, but the Empress denied it once more. He opened his eyes to blue sky and bird song. The Verdant Plains. A beautiful mirage, if but little else. Before the Empress used half of Byzantia's citizens as kindling, turning the once lush paradise into a gray wasteland.

The spicy richness of tilled earth nipped at Libro's nostrils. He sat up, wiping red dust off of his shoulders and arms. He'd been laying in a horse track, fine dirt spread out in a long oval shape, rope fencing on either side. The Imperial manor loomed off in the distance, its stony gray foundation as solid as it was graceful.

He remembered the Empress mentioning horses once. Her son loved to ride them whenever they visited their little villa. Well, used to anyway. One fall and a broken neck later, everything had changed. To think that one simple act could alter the course of history forever.

Libro wondered what life under the Emperor would have been like if the Empress had never killed him in the first place. Was it grief over her son that had changed her, or something else? Memories of Elena crossed his thoughts briefly. As the Emperor's mistress, one could only wonder where she fit in this twisted, imperial puzzle. But there would be time later to wonder over the past.

Libro had other, more present matters to attend to.

"Empress!" He called out, wiping the last of the road dust off his uniform. "Empress, where are you?"

"I am here, my Captain." A cold tickle ran up Libro's back. He turned, found himself staring down the nose of a mighty stallion, its thick corded muscles wrapped in a tight bound of dark furred flesh. Atop it sat the Empress, dressed in a gown of deep royal purple trimmed with gold and stitched with black pearls, her ivory white mask polished to a mirror bright shine. A simple circlet of burnished gold sat atop her bruised temples, trailed by a silk hood that hid the shadowy outline of a pale, shapely neck.

A second horse stood next to her. A brown chestnut stallion, saddled and bridled, awaiting its rider. Without a word, Libro mounted up, taking the reins with his one good hand. He squeezed his thighs for balance and hitched the horse into a soft trot. They rode on, sunlight shining between the leaves of the trees swaying close by.

For a long, agonizing moment they rode together in silence, The Empress never once turning to look at him. Libro glared at her side-eyed, wondering when the questions would start, the prodding, the gentle reminders of where he stood in her eternal empire. Alas, all that was spoken of was the chittering of insects, the nickering of horses, and the unknowable secrets whispered by the wind.

"Empress," Libro started to say, knowing full well he was walking into a trap. "I need to go back. I still have yet to find Regis."

"I am well aware," the Empress said, her voice cold and calm, like the soft tumbling of fresh snow. "Both the rebels and the King's soldiers have made it quite difficult for you. It is hard to find one man when the entire kingdom he hides in tries to kill you."

Libro swallowed, wondering just how much she knew. He looked directly at her, realized she'd guided her horse to the other side of the track, far away from reaching distance. Back when he'd first grabbed her a year ago he'd sensed something happen between them, and by no doubt did she sense it as well. It was the same snapping sensation he'd experienced in Middlefort. The scars in his arm, they could take hold of other people's magick, even rip it out if necessary.

He stared down at his hand, remembering the crushed iron ball, the Chosen he'd sent flying with a single punch. Perhaps he could even retain some of that magick and use it for himself. A petrifying prospect, he considered. Ever since joining the Vangen his exposure to magick had shown him it was a fickle master at best, and a terrifying weapon at worst.

"And I suppose you do have more urgent matters as well," The Empress continued, her tone still tepid and neutral. "The future of your unborn child, for example."

It took everything Libro had to not lunge at the Empress. Instead he gripped the reins tighter, gritting his teeth till his jaw started to ache. He knew a threat when he saw one. If he angered her now though, while still in the confines of the dream, things would only get worse. If he wanted to get back to Elba quickly, he would need to play along.

"Am I that easy to read, my lady?" Libro feigned instead, producing a wan smile.

The Empress was silent for a moment as she considered his words. "No. Ever since your return from Middengard, my late husband's influence has tarnished any access I have to your memories. As if he barred the door and threw away the key." Her shoulders visibly relaxed. "That, or your mind has grown too resistant to my influence. Too many hands working the clay, I suppose. First me, then that wretched courtesan, and finally my dear departed husband."

"Consider it a positive then. My enemies will never know what I'm thinking, magickal or not."

And neither will you.

"Don't worry. I've found other ways to keep track of you," The Empress said. "In the dreams of your guardsmen, for example. Or your wizard. Or your wife." The slightest chill fell over her tone as she stared at him. "After you rode off into Danic I even began to see a second dream coil around her belly. Tiny little shapes and colors, fleeting moments of sensation and realization, but such a strong heartbeat. He will grow into a fine young man one day."

Even in the eternal summer heat of the dream, Libro felt himself go cold. "He?" his voice came out in a whisper. "You know it's going to be a boy?"

"Oh, I do. I know he will make for an excellent guardsman, perhaps even having the honor of making Captain one day. It's almost...story book just thinking about it." The Empress gave a visible wriggle of satisfaction in her saddle.

All it gave Libro was nausea.

They circled the oval track now, coming back around to the dirt patch where Libro had been laying prior. Had they really ridden for so long? The racing path was nearly a mile long, but he'd been so focused on what the Empress was saying, he was losing track of precious time.

"I've even found myself able to enter the minds of those outside the Vangen," The Empress continued, unaware of the storm raging in Libro's head. "This King Erik's magick is unlike anything I've seen before in his soldiers. So different, and yet so eerily similar to my own. Truly, he is worthy of the crown...or perhaps it's his—,"

"Empress, I apologize for interrupting, but I really must be going back," Libro said. "The other Vangen need me if we're to find Regis. I know we're close though. I just need a little more time."

The Empress placed a finger to the lip of her mask, laughing ever so gently. "Of course, my most loyal hound. I've rambled on for long enough. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. About you, about me, and about that sweet little child growing in your dear wife's belly." Letting go of the reins, she lifted up one hand and snapped her fingers.

"Don't die on me now."

Strong hands grabbed Libro by the collar and hauled him up. He gasped as he was ripped out of cold water and dumped unceremoniously to the ground, the fleeting warmth of the dream washed away in an instant. He flopped over, immaculate blue sky, green grasses and rich earth replaced with dark miasma, dead trees and black soil.

Danic, how he'd missed the place already.

A bitter chill coiled through Libro's guts then and he bent over, vomiting river water onto the wet shingle, his body one entire aching cramp. His eyes watered as snot pooled under his nose, the dreadful cold of reality creeping back into his bones. He wiped away what remained on his lips and looked up, blinking away stars in his eyes.

Cent and Moss loomed over him, looking just as wet and miserable as he did. Moss' beard had turned into a snarled mop of dripping green tangles, Cent's flaxen hair pasted over one side of his scalp. Their armor was completely soaked through, some of their equipment gone as well. Moss' shield was nowhere to be seen. Cent's sheath lay swordless.

"Moss...Cent," Libro forced their names out between gasps of breath. "We have...to go...have to...get back to...Middlefort."

"No," Cent said.

The word clubbed Libro over the head, leaving him stunned. He stared dumbfounded at the man. "No?" He wheezed, legs wobbling like a newborn horse as he tried to stand up. "What do you mean....no? We have to...go back...we have to...get—,"

"I said no, Captain! I'm done with this!" Cent roared back. "I'm done taking orders from the farking Empress! Not if it means hunting down our own brother to the literal hells themselves! I'll die a traitor before I die a kin-slayer!"

"Cent," Libro snarled, feeling the iron mask coming down. The ragged cold in his chest was quickly melting away into anger and the predicament they were all in now was not helping to ease it back down.

"Go ahead! Call me a traitor! Hang me by my own entrails even, but I know it, Moss knows it, and by Nido's pearly white tits I know you know it, Captain! This little mission the Empress has us on was cursed from the very start! We should have turned back at that farking tower and told her he was dead! Then we wouldn't be where we are now! Well and truly farked!"

Cent turned and kicked a rock as hard as he could, sending it flying into the river. He snarled, bent down, clutching at his foot. "Damn it! I think I broke my toe."

Libro's head buzzed like an angry beehive. On one hand, everything Cent had said was completely true. This mission had been well and truly fecked from the start. Their search for the needle had jumped from the haystack into a pile of sharpened swords, each one keen enough to slice them through with no hesitation. And now with Brand missing, and Elba's fate unknown, it had all gone to shit.

But on the other hand, time had shown him that raging over it would solve nothing. Taking action was the only thing he could do now, even if it simply meant putting one foot in front of the other and heading back towards Middlefort. Towards glory or disaster.

"Go on then, Captain. Order Moss to kill me. I know I deserve it." Cent stood back up, testing his foot one more time and finding it stable. "Speaking ill of the Empress is a crime punishable by death. I've served in the Vangen long enough to know better." He sucked in a tight breath and blew it out. "And don't worry. I know Moss won't hesitate to kill me. He's always been the obedient type. Ain't that right, Moss?"

"Captain," Moss said, completely ignoring what Cent had said. "Where's Elba?"

Cent's eyes went wide. He turned to look at Moss, then back at the Captain, before his gaze settled over the roaring white waves of the river.

Libro stepped over, placing a hand on Cent's shoulder, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

"Forget about Regis. They have my wife, Cent. And we are going back. Do you understand me?"

The knobble on Cent's neck bobbed as he swallowed hard before nodding.

"Good." Libro turned, started marching, the voices in his head screaming and raging and worrying all at once. "Let's go."

***