Rasputin.

  He was a man who lived long ago who defied the empire.

  Rasputin did not have a connection to Nythris, but he preached of a booklet the empire never taught him.

  Much of his childhood is unknown, as his birth papers, and any other potential identifying papers are long lost to history.

  He suffered many injuries throughout his teenage life and into his early adulthood that left him with a limp.

  That limp wasn’t a symbol of weakness, and neither was his constant sicknesses.

  Those combined with being the first to truly and successfully defy the empire for personal gain with these debilitations defined him as a paradox.

  Strength uncannily familiar of a Grand Marshal, and yet the very same illnesses the Grand Marshal’s sought to extinguish burned bright within him.

  The book he preached has no origin either, and yet it sparked a rage in the civilians so vast and so deep that it was the first internal issue the empire needed to squash that was on this level.

  Inevitably the operation was squashed, but there was no trace of a body after his alleged death.

  It was centuries ago, but still.

  The story is largely forgotten, likely on purpose — and forced by the empire.

  Cecilia told me about it all a while back. I was far more interested in training for my exam at the time.

  I had no idea I’d turn out so similarly to some random story from the past.

  In any case, the cadets trained their hearts out in the weeks leading up to my estimated deadline.

  Fortunately, time allowed us to train even to my projected date.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  But when time came, and we were prepared for war — no one showed up.

  We readied ourselves for two weeks with absolute silence.

  I didn’t relieve anyone of duty entirely, but I did give more breaks than the weeks prior allowed.

  That was until I felt the skies coalesce with every aspect of a storm imaginable.

  Rain, thunder, lightning, snow, hail, wind. Name it, it was there.

  And all of those swirled until it acted and pounced upon a conduit.

  I had felt the power of that conduit before.

  It was a weapon. Surely a relic. It vibrated with power.

  The man holding it was nothing short of a myth himself.

  No longer in a long flowing royal garb.

  This man was primed for war.

  Muscles tensed.

  Breath steady.

  Pulse slow.

  It was Torian.

  Alone.

  I stood on top of the roof of a building. I didn’t need to see a long way out, but if I wasn’t crowded with people I could focus my senses as far away as I could.

  Torian approached directly.

  No one saw him even though I could feel his presence lurking closer.

  The storm that coalesced into his mace left a residual cloud of dust blurring the townspeople from seeing him

  Eventually he emerged closer as everyone was drawn to him.

  My soldiers I could sense shuffled around to maybe begin a barrage of magic.

  I threw my hand out to them. “No. Allow me first.”

  They stumbled and muttered amongst themselves.

  I jumped from the top of the building and landed forty feet in front of him. Gravewake glowed softly, my hair ruffled against the wind, and my gloves remained tight to my hand.

  I could feel a small amount of air enter his lungs, and his vocal chords began to vibrate.

  “Grimmholt.” Torian said as he gripped his mace tighter.

  I nodded. “Mr. Gale.” I removed Gravewake from my back slowly. “Been a while.”

  He scoffed. “For such a smart kid, why’d you have to do something so stupid?”

  I shook my head. “You call it stupid, I call it strategy.”

  Torian shook his head.

  Before he could speak I raised my voice. “Shaking your head to a blind man?”

  He raised his voice. “How?”

  I knew that he wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t asking how it happened. He had all the facts of what’s transpired so far, he was asking how I did it.

  My stance shifted slightly. “I made a pact with the divine Goddess Nythris, Goddess of the Hunt. Her power allows me to feel everything in the atmosphere around me. Furthermore, it amplifies any physical or magical abilities I had prior.”

  He shook his head. “No, There are three Gods, the God of–”

  I jolted a finger out. “No. You’re wrong Torian. Those Gods are wrong. All of it is wrong. The emperor simply played you for a fool.”

  Torian’s stance shifted to an offensive stance. As his mace channeled the storm even more than before he prepared for an attack. “I will do what I must, Grimmholt.”

  My finger that had jolted out before, slowly made its way back to my body but now shot out with all fingers flared. “Stop. Let me ask a few questions first, wouldn’t you want to poke my brain too?”

  The storm slowly calmed within Thunderheart, but he didn’t answer yet.

  His heartbeat still slow, pulse still steady, and breathing still holding.

  “Fine.” He blurted out.

  I smirked. “Over a chess board? Or over a beer?”

  His face muscles tightened into a smile. “How about both?”