As I stumbled forward out of the dank, fetid swamp, I felt the fever that had been wracking my body for days finally begin to recede. The cool night air was a balm on my flushed skin as I emerged from the marsh’s humidity.

  My hand throbbed with a dull ache. I glanced down at it in the moonlight, flexing my fingers experimentally. Though the strange healing I’d been given had stopped the deadly infection from spreading further, the damage to the nerves was permanent. My once-steady sword hand trembled slightly, the fingers curling into a claw. I knew instinctively that I would never wield a saber with skill again.

  Despair threatened to overwhelm me at the thought.

  What good was a one-eyed, crippled soldier to the Holy Valtorean Empire?

  I shook my head, pushing those dark thoughts aside. I was alive. Permanently maimed, yes, but I still drew breath.

  And more importantly—I had grievances to avenge.

  I pressed onward, gritting my teeth against the throbbing ache in my hand and the residual weakness from the fever. The solid ground felt strange under my feet after slogging through sucking mud for so long. Crickets and night birds called from the underbrush, ordinary sounds, as I walked onto one of Baltiva’s many dirt roads, sighing in relief as I stumbled forward.

  My mind whirled with thoughts as I trudged along the dark, empty road. Heavy with the scents of loam and wildflowers, the night breeze cooled the sweat on my brow. High above, the stars glittered coldly in the moonless sky, ancient and unchanging. How small and insignificant I felt beneath that vast, infinite expanse.

  My eyes drifted down to my hand yet again.

  Though my sword hand had become a clumsy shadow of its former self, I was astounded that I still had a hand. Was this the divine intervention of the Savior Himself? Had He laid a healing touch upon me, sparing me from certain death so I may continue serving the Holy cause? It seemed almost too wondrous to believe. The priests always spoke of the Savior’s grace and benevolence, but I had never witnessed such direct intercession in all my years.

  And yet, a small, doubtful voice in the back of my mind whispered of another possibility.

  Of diabolism.

  Of witchcraft.

  I pushed it aside. I didn’t dare think about it. Instead, my thoughts turned toward other damnable things.

  Namely, what would await me back in Rega? Did they whisper my name among the dead and defeated—Sir Ardent Kaelitz, the promising young captain, cut down alongside his men in that cursed marsh? What slander would there be against my name once I arrived?

  The thought made my stomach clench painfully. Honor was the pillar of a Valtorean gentleman, and the treacherous von L?we, that cruel, Machiavellian schemer, had set me up to fail from the beginning. Sending my company into that godforsaken swamp on a fool’s errand, all so he could undermine me, get rid of me, assuming I was a loyalist to Duclaire. I could picture his scarred, sneering face as he penned the damning reports that would destroy my career—my commission, gone in tatters.

  I clenched my fist, ignoring the throb of pain from my injured hand.

  No. I would not let that conniving snake von L?we destroy my honor and reputation so quickly. I was a Kaelitz, from a proud lineage that had served the Empire for generations. My father had not raised a coward or a failure.

  Gritting my teeth, I struggled to my feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment before finding my balance. My armor felt like a leaden weight, my muscles screaming in protest, but I forced myself to stand tall. I would march back to Rega, injury be damned, and demand an audience with the Emperor himself if I had to.

  I gazed heavenward afterward, gritting my teeth.

  I could almost hear Alaric’s voice, that roguish grin on his bloody lips.

  “Come now, Kaelitz. Don’t let a few scratches stop you—the Empire still needs men like us.”

  Perhaps it still does.

  The cold city of Rega sat on the shoreline of Baltiva like a blister as I approached, slinking along.

  The weathered gray walls of Rega loomed before me, ancient stone fortifications built by Valtorean engineers in ages past, now manned by the mongrel Baltzers who styled themselves as the city’s rulers. I could see their banners snapping in the chill sea breeze atop the battlements of one of the castles—a black griffin rampant on a field of crimson. The same symbol flown by young Sir Siegfried and the delusional Order knights.

  As I limped closer, I finally saw the prized banners of the Valtorean Empire. Some small comfort washed over me as I stumbled down the road—disturbingly, the only refugee.

  Two guards in salt-stained chainmail eyed me warily as I approached the main gate, their halberds held at the ready.

  “Halt! Declare yourself,” one barked in crude Valtorean, his accent thick with Baltivan consonants.

  I drew myself up to my full height, ignoring the scream of abused muscles.

  “I am Captain Ardent Kaelitz. I have returned.”

  The guards exchanged a skeptical glance before the speaker nodded gruffly.

  “Wait here,” he grunted, turning to confer with his companion in what I understood to be Lapsidian.

  After a moment, the second guard hurried off into the city while the first returned his suspicious gaze to me.

  I stood my ground, refusing to show weakness despite my battered state. The wait seemed interminable as I listened to the distant cries of gulls and the lapping of waves against the seawall until, finally, the guard returned with a severe-looking officer in tow.

  The man was clad in the uniform of an Imperial major, though his breastplate bore the scars of hard use. He looked me up and down, taking in my blood-crusted armor and haggard face.

  “Captain Kaelitz. We had thought you lost with the Forlorn.”

  “I yet live, sir, and I bring urgent news. I must speak to the Lord Commander.”

  My hand tensed, perhaps unconsciously grabbing at my empty holster.

  The major’s eyes narrowed.

  “The Lord Commander is indisposed at present. But I will hear your report, Captain.”

  He motioned for me to follow him through the gate.

  I limped after him into the castle courtyard, trying to ignore the stares and hushed whispers of the soldiers and servants we passed. The major led me to a small side chamber and shut the door behind us.

  “Now then, Captain Kaelitz. What news from the Forlorn?”

  He folded his arms, fixing me with an intent stare.

  I took a deep breath, wincing as my cracked ribs protested.

  “The Forlorn has fallen, sir. Betrayed.”

  The major frowned.

  “That is grave news indeed. But the mission…”

  “It’s complete,” I said, growling. “The Black Band, and Duclaire. They’re dead.”

  I spat on the ground.

  The major’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “All of them?”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Aye, though it cost us dearly. I’m the only one left of the Forlorn. At least, I assume so.”

  The major was silent for a long moment, absorbing the news. Finally, he spoke.

  “You’ve done the Empire a great service, Captain Kaelitz. The traitorous Duclaire—brought to justice, alongside his heretics…”

  His voice trailed off as he noticed the dark look that had come over my face at the mention of Duclaire. My fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically as a tide of bitter memories washed over me—memories of blood and betrayal.

  “Justice?” I spat, my voice low and dangerous. “Is that what you call it? Sending us to slaughter Duclaire and his followers like dogs without even telling us why? Without telling me? I hardly knew the man betrayed us—yet, to my surprise…”

  The major took an involuntary step back at the venom in my tone.

  “Captain Kaelitz, I understand your distress, but surely you know it was necessary—”

  “Necessary for what?” I roared, all pretense of respect forgotten. “You send me to kill a man—a great, honorable man—and for what? On whose orders?”

  I advanced on the major, my eyes blazing with barely controlled fury.

  “I demand to see the Lord Commander. Now.”

  The major paled and reached for his sword, but the door burst open just then.

  The Lord Commander himself strode in, his regal bearing at odds with the concerned expression on his face.

  “That’s enough, Captain Kaelitz,” he said sternly. “Stand down.”

  I rounded on him, my voice shaking with rage and anguish.

  “Why? Why did you send us to kill Duclaire? He was a good man once—now, spouting off about treason—and I believe him!”

  Then, in a daring instant of boldness fueled by rage, I lunged at the major, catching him off guard. My fist connected with his jaw in a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the ground, out cold.

  In one fluid motion, I drew the pistol from the unconscious major’s holster and leveled it at the Lord Commander. The weapon felt heavy and cold in my hand as I thumbed back the hammer with a menacing click.

  “Enough lies,” I snarled through gritted teeth, the scar tissue on my face pulling taut. “I want the truth, von L?we. No more secrets, no more betrayal. Why did you order me to kill Duclaire?”

  The Lord Commander regarded me with an inscrutable expression, seemingly unfazed by the gun pointed at his heart. He took a seat, leaning back and steepling his fingers.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Captain Kaelitz,” he said calmly, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Let’s talk about this like civilized men.”

  I kept the gun trained on him, my arm unwavering despite the exhaustion seeping into my bones.

  “I’ll stand, thanks. Just give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger and rid the Empire of your treachery right now.”

  Von L?we raised an eyebrow.

  “Treachery? Come now, Captain. Everything I’ve done has been for the good of Valtore. Duclaire and his ilk were cancer, eating away at the very foundations of our great nation. They had to be excised, no matter the cost.”

  “You bloody bastard,” I said, my finger tightening on the trigger. “They were our men. Our men! You wanted us dead—us, all of us.”

  My voice cracked on the last words, raw grief welling up to mingle with the rage.

  “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good,” von L?we said, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “The cancer Duclaire was spreading had to be excised.”

  He sighed, looking at me with weariness.

  “But now I see.”

  Von L?we’s eyes seemed to soften slightly as he gazed at me, a flicker of something akin to respect passing over his hardened features.

  “I must admit, Captain Kaelitz, I underestimated you. When I first heard the whispers of sedition among the ranks, I suspected you might be involved. A junior nobleman, scarred and maimed, mentored by the old Lord Commander himself. Uppity for his position, and bold. From a little-known family.”

  He leaned forward, his voice low and intense.

  “But I see now that I was wrong. You are a true son of Valtore, Kaelitz. Your devotion to the Empire is unwavering, even amid unimaginable adversity and betrayal.”

  I kept the gun steady, but I could feel a tremor beginning to build in my arm as I glared at him.

  “And what about the Order? I killed that heretical bastard, Siegfried. Gutted him. I could swear Duclaire said you were in league with them.”

  Von L?we’s expression changed, a flicker of surprise passing over his stern features before he quickly regained his composure. He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound emanating from his barrel chest.

  “The Black Order? Really, Kaelitz. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  He stood slowly, ignoring the gun still pointed at his heart as he walked over to the grand fireplace that dominated one wall of the side chamber. Ornate carvings of dragons and knights danced in the flickering light cast by the flames. Von L?we rested a hand on the mantle, his back to me.

  “Do you know the history of this building, Captain? It dates back over four centuries, to the early days of the Empire.”

  His voice took on a storyteller’s cadence.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Legends say that the first Grandmaster of the Order built this castle—the first Valtorean castle in Baltiva.”

  Von L?we turned back to face me, the firelight casting harsh shadows across his scarred visage.

  “The Order and the Empire have always been intertwined, Captain Kaelitz. Two sides of the same coin. Both working tirelessly to maintain order and suppress the enemies of Valtor within Baltiva.”

  He took a step toward me, seemingly unconcerned by the pistol I still had aimed at his chest.

  “Siegfried was a useful tool, but he allowed his ambition to outgrow his loyalty. He thought of using the forbidden arts of Goetia to challenge the rightful rule of the Emperor. To try and reform the Empire into his vision—one that I, and the rest of my colleagues, do not share.”

  He grinned.

  “Colleagues?” I said.

  Von L?we nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Oh yes, Captain Kaelitz. Did you think I was acting alone in all of this? Many within the highest echelons of the Empire share my vision. A vision of a Valtore restored to its former glory, purged of the weak and the disloyal.”

  He took another step closer until the barrel of my pistol pressed against his broad chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him and smell the smoke and steel that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

  “The Order has lost its way, corrupted by the heresies it once sought to destroy. But there are those of us who remember the old ways. The true path.”

  Von L?we’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Join us, Kaelitz. Take your rightful place among the sons of Valtore. Together, we can burn away the rot that eats at the heart of the Empire and usher in a new age of strength and purity.”

  I stared at von L?we, my mind reeling from his words. The zeal in his tone and the way he spoke of burning away rot and ushering in a new age was all too familiar. I had heard similar sentiments before from the lips of fanatics and madmen.

  “You sound just like him,” I said slowly, my gaze never wavering from von L?we’s scarred face. “Like Siegfried when he tried to convince me to join his twisted cause. The same righteous fervor and talk of restoring glory and purging the weak.”

  Von L?we’s eyes narrowed, but I pressed on before he could interject.

  “And not just Siegfried. Your words echo those of another man I once knew—Grand Prince Michaelovich. His dream of an autocratic, unified Kholodia.”

  I kept my gun trained on von L?we’s chest as I spoke, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me.

  “Michaelovich dreamed of a great Kholodia ruled with an iron fist, where dissent was crushed mercilessly. He saw himself as a visionary, a savior of his people.”

  I let out a harsh laugh.

  “He sounds more noble than a man such as you.”

  Von L?we’s face darkened, his eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight.

  “You dare compare me to that Kholodian dog? I am nothing like him, Kaelitz. I serve the Empire, not my selfish ambitions.”

  “Do you?” I challenged, taking a step forward, the pistol never wavering. “Because from where I stand, you’re willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for your so-called vision. The men under your command, the very people you swore to protect, are just pawns to you, aren’t they? Disposable pieces in your grand game of Imperial restoration. And that’s not to mention that this is personal.”

  Von L?we’s jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple.

  “You understand nothing, Kaelitz. The sacrifices I make, the hard choices—they are all necessary for the greater good of Valtore. A soldier like you should understand that better than anyone. You dishonor Valtorea, even bringing up your personal dispute with me.”

  I shook my head slowly, a grim smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

  “You’re right, von L?we. I am a soldier. I’ve made hard choices and sacrificed more than you can imagine for the Empire. But I know a traitor when I see one.”

  Von L?we’s eyes blazed with fury.

  “You naive fool. The Empire needs men like me, willing to do what must be done! Have you been to the court at Vien? Do you know what lies back at home for men like us? Whelps like you—you think you know it all, the day you march to war, the moment you see your comrades die…”

  His face twisted into a sneer as he stared me down, his voice dripping with scorn.

  “You think you understand sacrifice, Kaelitz? You know nothing of what I’ve endured for the Empire. Nothing.”

  He took a step toward me, seemingly uncaring of the pistol aimed at his heart.

  “Now, let me enlighten you about the difference between us. You were born into nobility, a silver spoon in your mouth, even if it was just a minor noble spoon. Your family’s estate, name, small comforts—you had them handed to you. And now? Now, you swaddle yourself in this cloak of martyrdom as if it comforts you from the cold truth.”

  His voice dropped to a soft, menacing cadence.

  “Your family’s lands, seized by me after the sheer staggering debt—orchestrated by whom? Myself. Your disgrace was not just a product of war, but of politics. Tell me, Kaelitz…”

  He paused, his lips curling into a grimace of disdain.

  “How does it feel to fight not only for an empire that cares nothing for you, but also stand before the man responsible for your disinheritance?”

  I lowered my pistol slightly, struck not by fear but by the piercing accuracy of his words. The fires of anger and betrayal flickered in my heart alongside the haunting memories of my father’s crestfallen face when we were turned out of our home. My world had crumbled that day, brick by brick.

  Yet I steadied my voice. My aim rose again as I met von L?we’s icy gaze.

  “You mistake understanding for acceptance,” I retorted sharply. “Yes, you stripped me of everything. My home, my rights, nearly my honor. But unlike you, Lord Commander, I am not here clawing back for power.”

  Von L?we glared into me before barking a harsh laugh.

  “Enough of this, Kaelitz. You wanted your answers. Now you have them. Don’t you dare play the martyr here.”

  His eyes bored into me with unsettling intensity.

  “Here is how this is going to play out, Kaelitz. You have two choices before you now. Two paths. On the first, you pull that trigger and strike me down where I stand. Maybe you even get away with it, slip out of the city before they catch you. But how far do you think you’ll get? How long until they hunt you down like a dog, brand you a deserter and a traitor? They’ll hang you from the gallows and leave your body for the crows.”

  He took a step closer, seemingly uncaring of the flintlock pistol aimed at his heart.

  “Or, you lower that gun and get back to service. Maybe scrape enough gold together after all this, and you might even be able to afford a title of nobility.”

  He smirked.

  My mind raced as I stared down the barrel of my pistol at von L?we, his ultimatum hanging between us. The moment’s weight pressed down on me, the gravity of the choice before me almost suffocating.

  And so—

  I tightened my finger around the pistol.

  The flintlock cracked like thunder in the enclosed chamber.

  Von L?we’s eyes widened in shock as the lead ball tore through his chest, a crimson blossom rapidly spreading across the front of his tunic. He stumbled back, one hand clutching at the wound as his legs gave out beneath him.

  I stood frozen, pistol still raised, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel.

  For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

  Then, with a final rasping gurgle, von L?we collapsed to the stone floor and lay still, glassy eyes staring sightlessly at the vaulted ceiling above.

  The reality of what I had just done crashed over me like a frigid wave. He lay in a slowly spreading pool of blood at my feet. My pistol slipped from numb fingers and clattered to the floor.

  Suddenly, the heavy oak door burst open with a splintering crash. Imperial guards poured into the room, blades leveled and faces grim beneath their steel helmets. At their head strode a captain, his weathered face set in a scowl.

  The Imperial captain’s steely gaze swept over the scene before him—von L?we’s still body, the expanding crimson stain on the stone floor, and me standing over him, the dropped pistol at my feet all but proclaiming my guilt.

  “Arrest this man,” the captain barked, his voice cracking like a whip in the shocked silence.

  Two guards surged forward, roughly seizing my arms and wrenching them behind my back. I offered no resistance, my mind still reeling, barely comprehending.

  As they hauled me toward the door, the captain stepped into my path, his grizzled face inches from mine.

  “You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, soldier,” he growled. “Murdering a superior officer? You’ll hang for this.”

  Despite the circumstances, I met his glare blankly, a curious sense of calm settling over me.

  “He was a traitor,” I heard myself say, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “He would have destroyed the Empire for his ambitions.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  He turned to the guards.

  “Get him out of here. Let him rot in the cells until the magistrate arrives to pass judgment.”

  As they dragged me from the chamber, my boots leaving smeared trails in von L?we’s blood, a grim sort of resignation settled in my gut. I had made my choice, for better or worse.

  Now, all that remained was to face the consequences.

  Slowly, I was getting used to a prisoner’s cell. It seemed like a companion, almost, as I rested my scarred, bare back against the wall.

  The cold, damp stone seeped into my bones as I sat in the darkness, the only light a thin sliver under the heavy oak door. The shackles around my wrists and ankles chafed with every slight movement, the metal long since warmed to my skin.

  Time seemed to lose all meaning in this place. Had it been hours since they’d thrown me in here? Days? With no windows to mark the passage of the sun and no sounds beyond the occasional scurrying of rats in the corners, I could only measure time by the slow, steady drip of water somewhere in the blackness.

  I wondered if they were readying the executioner’s rope for me.

  Could I blame them?

  Suddenly, the scrape of a key in the lock jolted me from my grim musings. I squinted against the sudden flare of torchlight as the cell door swung open with a groan of rusted hinges.

  A figure stepped inside.

  One that seemed all too familiar.

  Gerhart.

  “Captain Kaelitz,” he said. “We ought to stop meeting like this.”

  The functionary sat on a stool.

  My eyes narrowed as I regarded him in the flickering torchlight. His tone was light, almost conversational, but I wasn’t fooled.

  “What do you want, Gerhart?” I asked, my voice rough from disuse. “Come to gloat before they string me up?”

  Gerhart tutted, shaking his head.

  “So pessimistic, Captain. I’m here to offer you a deal.”

  I barked a harsh laugh, the sound grating in my ears.

  “A deal? Like the same deal that had me march nearly to my death? Forgive me if I’m not leaping at the chance.”

  Gerhart leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. The torchlight cast deep shadows across his angular features.

  “Hear me out, Kaelitz. Yes, you killed a superior officer. Yes, that would normally earn you a short drop and a sudden stop. But these are not normal times.”

  His eyes glittered in the half-dark.

  “The Emperor asked about you, after all. It’s not very often men like you come to his attention.”

  I eyed him warily, not trusting the calculating glint in his eye.

  “The Emperor asked about me. Why?”

  Gerhart leaned back, steepling his fingers.

  “You see, Captain, your actions, while… unorthodox… have solved a few issues.”

  He paused, letting his words hang in the dank air of the cell.

  “You did the Empire a service, even if your methods were questionable. Dishonorable, and ungentlemanly. The Inquisition seems to be in your favor as well. Likely that’s what stayed the Emperor’s hand.”

  “So von L?we was a traitor after all?”

  “Not an obvious one, at least. But hardly a friend of the Inquisition…”

  A grim smile tugged at the corner of Gerhart’s mouth.

  “Von L?we was a complicated man. Loyal to the Empire, in his way, but his methods were becoming increasingly… troublesome. It was likely a matter of time.”

  I shifted against the cold stone wall, the shackles clanking with the movement.

  “So what, I did you all a favor by putting a bullet in him?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  Gerhart leaned back, crossing his arms.

  “Your actions, while reckless and insubordinate, have potentially saved the Empire from great turmoil. Von L?we’s death, while unfortunate, has eliminated a growing threat. Not to mention the death of Lord Commander Duclaire.”

  I digested this information, furrowing my brow.

  “And what does this mean for me? Am I to be rewarded for my ‘service’ with a quick execution instead of a slow one?”

  Gerhart chuckled, the sound devoid of humor.

  “Perhaps. The Emperor is not at all pleased over Duclaire’s death. After all, they were relatives.”

  “I see. Such are things in the Empire.”

  I grinned bitterly.

  “What happens now if the Emperor decides to spare me?”

  Gerhart studied me, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

  “Well, Captain, the fact remains that you killed two high-ranking officers of the Empire. That’s not something that can be easily swept under the rug. Your commission, at the very least, is gone. Your noble title—while that was under review pending the courts…”

  I let out a bitter laugh.

  “My commission. My title. As if that matters now, sitting here in chains.”

  I rattled the shackles for emphasis.

  “So what’s the alternative? A life sentence in these charming accommodations?”

  I gestured sarcastically around the dank cell.

  Gerhart leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the torchlight.

  “Not quite, Captain. In his infinite wisdom, the Emperor has decided to offer you a choice.”

  I couldn’t help but scoff.

  “A choice? How generous of him. And what might these choices be?”

  Gerhart ticked them off on his fingers.

  “Option one: you face a noble’s tribunal for your crimes. With the evidence and witnesses against you, alongside von L?we’s connections in court, a guilty verdict and execution is all but guaranteed.”

  I grimaced. Not an appealing prospect.

  “And option two?”

  A slow smile spread across Gerhart’s face.

  “Option two: you take a commission in the Emperor’s army—not the Imperial Army, since that would be untenable at best at the moment.”

  I stared at Gerhart, trying to process his words.

  “The Emperor’s army? You mean the Palatine Guard?”

  Gerhart shook his head.

  “Not quite. Technically, as a retainer. Some discussions are being had about appointing you to a battalion of irregulars along the border with Arkanthia…”

  He paused.

  “But I recommended you for another post.”

  “And that would be?”

  He smiled.

  “Well, there’s a small battalion of riflemen—a good eighty or so men. Arlenian rifles, expensive stuff. The best foresters the Empire could gather together from all the provinces. That includes Hortharia, Celija…”

  He leaned in slightly.

  “From the troublesome military frontier provinces.”

  I leaned back against the cold stone wall, considering Gerhart’s words. The Emperor’s army—it was a chance at redemption, a way out of this dank cell and the looming specter of the noose. But I knew it would come with a price.

  “And what would be expected of me, in this battalion of riflemen?” I asked cautiously. “I assume the Emperor isn’t offering me this out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “He is not. And frankly, you have a rather dour history with your commissions.”

  He grinned.

  “The Forlorn Hope, despite being scum, are presumed dead. The first Arkhovost Battalion shattered. A few dead superior officers…”

  I met his grin with a scowl of my own.

  “My ‘dour history,’ as you put it, is a direct result of the incompetence and betrayal of those superior officers. The Forlorn Hope, the Arkhovost Battalion—their blood is on the hands of men like von L?we and Duclaire, not mine.”

  Gerhart held up his hands in a placating gesture.

  “I’m not here to debate the past, Captain. The Emperor is offering you a future, albeit a dangerous one. This battalion—they’re good damned men, but they’re scum, disorderly, and undisciplined.”

  I nodded slowly, the appeal of the challenge growing stronger with each passing moment.

  “And what of the men themselves? What kind of scum are we talking about here?”

  Gerhart chuckled darkly.

  “Thieves, brawlers, poachers—men who have spent more time on the wrong side of the law than the right. But they’re tough, Kaelitz, and they know how to fight.”

  “You could say that about most of the Imperial Army’s troops,” I said. “I keep seeing younger and younger lads—and more and more scum.”

  Gerhart sighed and nodded solemnly.

  “You’re right about that, Captain. But I’m afraid the situation is even more dire than you realize. The Emperor has just enacted a state of conscription across the empire. Men between seventeen and twenty-five are being called up to serve. The training camps are already overflowing with raw recruits, most of whom have never held a rifle in their lives.”

  I felt a chill run down my spine.

  “Conscription? But why now? What’s happened?”

  Gerhart leaned forward, his voice low and urgent.

  “The revolution in Eclair. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. They executed the king just a month ago, and now, worst of all, the Radicalists took over. As we speak, the clergy of the Church are being persecuted, and the faithful perish under the hands of these revolutionaries.”

  “And the Emperor fears the revolution will spread to Valtore,” I said grimly, piecing it together. “He’s building up his armies, preparing for war.”

  Gerhart nodded.

  “Precisely. The Emperor believes the only way to protect the Empire from the radical contagion is to put it down in its cradle.”

  “And so—what about the Baltivan campaign?” I said. “Surely we will not just give up our position here. Not after so many men have been lost.”

  Gerhart’s expression darkened.

  “The Baltivan campaign will have to either be forfeit, or succeed. These will be its final days before its conclusion. The Emperor’s top priority is securing our borders and stamping out any hint of revolutionary sentiment within the Empire. That means recalling troops from the front lines and redeploying them to key strategic locations.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “So all the blood spilled, all the sacrifices made—it was all for nothing?”

  “Not for nothing, Captain,” Gerhart replied firmly. “We’ve made significant gains in Baltiva, and now it’s time to push our luck and go all in. Regardless of our failure here, the Emperor must focus on the greater threat now. If the revolution spreads to Valtore, it could mean the end of the Empire as we know it.”

  I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders like a lead cloak.

  “So be it. When do I leave?”

  “This afternoon—after the paperwork for your release is secured,” he said. “I recommend never mentioning the von L?we situation again.”

  “Of course. And I don’t plan to.”

  Then I stopped.

  “And what about my father? Does he… does he know yet?”

  Gerhart’s eyes shifted uncomfortably, a pained expression briefly crossing his weathered face before he mastered himself again. His next words fell heavily, like stones, into the still waters of my soul.

  “Captain Kaelitz, I regret that I bear ill tidings on that front. Your father… he passed away a week ago, not long after receiving word.”

  The room seemed to tilt, the edges blurring as though I were viewing the world through fogged glass.

  “Passed away?”

  My voice sounded detached, foreign to my ears.

  “Yes. From grief,” Gerhart continued softly. “After the Emperor stripped him of his nobility due to the alleged misconduct tied to your family’s name—a decision spurred by Lord Commander von L?we’s accusations—your father could not bear the dishonor. It… it broke him, Kaelitz.”

  Dishonor.

  A cold fire kindled in my chest, spreading its icy tendrils through my veins. My father had been a stalwart man, stern but fair, and his life was a testament to service and loyalty to the Empire. That he should leave this world not with the glorious dignity he deserved, but shadowed by disgrace, was a cruelty beyond reckoning.

  “I… I see.”

  A silence fell between us, heavy and thick.

  Gerhart cleared his throat, adjusting his collar uncomfortably.

  “I must leave now, Captain. Your release should be processed by the end of the day. Prepare yourself for the journey ahead.”

  He stood, his chair scraping softly against the stone floor. As he moved toward the door, he paused and returned to me before deciding to say nothing.

  I remained seated, staring at the vacant spot where Gerhart had been just moments ago. The cell’s oppressive silence enveloped me again, broken only by the distant echoes of marching feet and clanging armor from outside the corridor.

  The world felt hollow, dim, and cruel, as if the very essence of life had been sucked from its marrow.