Book of The Dead

Lady Recillia Erryn sat, hands folded in her lap, her posture unthreatening and cooperative, yet the look in her eyes revealed fire and ambition raging out of control within. The very picture of what a Noble should be, a child of The Five Divines and ruler of the lands.

She would never win any beauty contests, and had lost the allure of youth some time ago, yet that wasn’t what was compelling about her. Dressed simply, almost plainly, in a green dress with little lace or decoration, and only a few, well chosen pieces of jewellery that matched her striking ice-blue eyes, she still managed to command attention with the force of her personality and her almost palpable iron will.

The Duke regretted that she had never come into his eye before. Placing someone with her ability and ambition in charge of the Magisters had been a mistake. Such a position was usually a dead end appointment, something thrown to one of the houses as a sop that nobody truly cared about. Yet in this current emergency, the position had risen precipitously to a station of incredible value and power.

Now this woman with eyes like a dragon sat in his council chamber, and he depended on her to survive this crisis. He wasn’t happy about it.

“Is there anything else the Magisters can do to influence the rogue Slayers?” Duke Raugrave demanded. “We curse each and every one of them, the expense of which is astronomical, mind you, yet you tell me you’ve done all that you can?”

The most senior Magister in the province stroked his beard nervously. Grand Magister Tommat Baln had never wished to live in such important times, and he was keenly aware of the fact he was failing to live up to them.

“It is difficult for us to determine which Slayers are responsible for the deaths of our brothers,” he said nervously.

“So activate all of them,” the Duke demanded impatiently. Lady Recillia nodded to show her agreement.

The Grand Magister blanched, almost yanking the beard from his chin as he was in the process of stroking it to calm himself.

“Every Slayer in the province?” he gasped.“Of course not, don’t be daft, man,” the Duke declared impatiently. “All of those who were recorded as present in the Slayer Keeps where Magisters died.”

“Well, their curses would have activated automatically, your grace,” the old mage said haltingly. “The moment they enacted violence against a Magister, they would have been in excruciating pain. In some cases, it can be fatal. It’s possible many of the perpetrators are already dead.”

The Duke absorbed this in silence, staring daggers at the Grand Master sitting opposite him. In this moment of unparalleled danger, with the Emperor staring down at him, this was the most senior Magister in the province?

“Tell him what would have happened if the Slayers had reached gold rank before they killed the Magisters, Tommat,” Lady Erryn spoke up, her voice as cold and calculating as her gaze.

The Grand Magister swallowed, and the Duke braced himself for further bad news.

“If… if the Slayers increased their rank unofficially, then the curse would have a significantly weaker effect on them. As you know… the brand needs to be reinforced every time they rank up.”

“What are the odds they didn’t increase their rank to gold before they killed your brothers, Grand Magister Tommat?” the Duke asked, his patience hanging by a thread.

“I would say… they are… low.”

“Then why in the name of The Five are you wasting my time suggesting the culprits are dead?” the Duke demanded, glaring across the table as if he wanted to throttle the old man using his own long beard. “They aren’t dead, they are unsanctioned golds, unaffected by the curse, and you are helpless to stop them! They’ve had weeks. Weeks! To raise others into footsoldiers who’ve never been touched by the brand at all! Weeks while monopolising the rifts!”

“The Magisters have been lax in their duties, blind in their watch over their charges and incompetent beyond belief, your grace,” Lady Recillia stated evenly and without emotion.

Every accusation caused Tommat to twitch in his seat, though there was nothing he could say to refute the claims.

“However dull a tool they have proven themselves to be, they are the tool we have available, and thus we must put them to use,” she continued.

“Doing what?” the Duke rumbled. “We already know they’ll be less than fully effective against the rebels. What use are they?”

“They are not as useful against the rebels, though the brands will still have a serious effect, but there are many, many Slayers in this province who are not yet rebels.”

That was true. According to the report in front of him, only those keeps furthest from Kenmor had erupted into open revolt. The ones closest to the capital were still operating as normal, though signs of tension were reported everywhere.

Signs that had gone completely unnoticed by the Tower, apparently.

“What are you proposing, Lady Erryn?” the Duke said, his tone flat. “You are the one who has been responsible for the Magisters during this period of, as you say, catastrophic failure. So I suggest you make your suggestion a good one.”

This threat was only partially real, and they both knew it. As the liaison, Lady Recillia Erryn was responsible for the Magisters, but the Nobles would always lay the blame at the feet of the mages. No matter how hard he tried to pin the blame on her, she would be able to wriggle out by directing the ire toward Grand Magister Tommat and his Council. Doubtless her uncle, Lord and head of the house of Erryn, would assist.

“Of course, I bear some responsibility for what has occurred during my tenure,” Recillia said, then continued. “However, I believe it will be trivial to show the rot set in long before I arrived at the Tower.”

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Doubtless she had already gathered a wealth of evidence in order to secure her escape route against exactly these accusations.

“It’s necessary that we look with clarity at what is going to transpire in the Western Province of the Empire. Slayers will fight against us, gold ranked Slayers. Marshals and Priests are going to be of limited use in a fight like that.”

This was self-evident. Marshals were excellent at sniffing out the guilty and suppressing civilians. They had abilities that allowed them to take away the strengths of their opponents and counter attempts to avoid them. When fighting criminals and thugs, they performed extremely well, and that was what they were trained to do.

Against Slayers, who fought against the beasts of the rifts? The Marshals would be little better than bags of Levels that their opponents would puncture with ease.

“Against the Slayers, it would be foolish to send anyone other than the professional soldiers of the houses. Getting them to work together will be a challenge that I don’t envy, your grace.”

The Duke permitted himself a small smile.

“You don’t believe the threat of ‘support’ from the Emperor is enough to sway them into genuine support?”

Recillia Erryn raised a brow and remained silent, which said everything that needed to be said.

“So you have another idea for securing an advantage against the Slayers? What is it?”

The Noble Lady of house Erryn reached out with one hand and placed it on the shoulder of the Grand Magister sitting next to her. For his part, Tommat looked as though he had hoped the two had forgotten he was present.

“As I said, the Magisters are a flawed tool, but they still have a use. We’ve used them for generations to keep the Slayers in line and ensure they didn’t rise against us. The brand is an effective method of control, this has been proven time and time again. I suggest we allow the Tower to perform its function to our benefit in this fight.”

She smiled thinly, but there was no joy in her eyes, only the all-consuming fire of ambition.

“Who better to fight against gold ranked Slayers, than gold ranked Slayers? We have a ready supply of them here in the capital, after all.”

Even the Duke was taken aback by this suggestion. Grand Magister Tommat didn’t look surprised, so she must have spoken to him in advance, but he looked physically ill. Clearly, the man wasn’t enthused by this plan.

“You want to use the brand to force Slayers to fight against their own? What if they refuse?”

“Then we have successfully identified rogue elements living right in the shadow of the Castle. They would be killed, of course, as is only right.”

“Are they likely to refuse?”

Recillia allowed herself a slight smirk.

“I have tested this theory before bringing the idea before you, your grace. Be assured, the brand proved to be most persuasive in overcoming any objections.”

So she had already tortured a gold. Technically, the Slayers residing in the capital were privileged citizens, under the protection of the Duke himself. However, these were desperate times.

He looked toward Tommat.

“Can you confirm this?” he asked.

Almost against his will, the mage nodded.

“By supplying a specific magickal signature, we can activate the brand if we are close to the individual. It took… a day, before the… subject agreed to our terms. It is a draining and difficult process for the Magisters, requiring a great deal of power, so it would be necessary to pull my mages from… other duties.”

“Can’t you do it anywhere?” the Duke asked.

“For gold rank and above, yes, but that is a different process that requires the sympathetic arrays in the Tower, and a great deal more energy.”

Talking about his craft, the Grand Magister was much more comfortable, but any confidence he gained quickly leaked out of him the moment he finished speaking.

The Duke considered for a moment.

“What about Magnin and Beory?” he asked.

At the mention of the two legendary Slayers, both Grand Magister Tommat and Recillia Erryn stiffened in their seats. That had been a trial for everyone involved, and not something they wished to relive.

Lady Erryn nodded to the Magister, indicating he should be the one to field this question, and the old man swallowed, clearly unhappy with the situation.

“They were… exceptional individuals who put a great deal of time and effort into circumventing the brand. Despite our efforts to strengthen the curse on them, they proved to be more resistant than we anticipated. I… I don’t believe anyone else in the province could hope to do as they did.”

Duke Raugrave grunted. He certainly hoped not. A rotating line of Magisters had been required to pour every drop of magick in their bodies into the curse for weeks before the two heretics had made any move at all. If the golds were capable of a fraction of that kind of resistance, this process would be impossible to manage.

“We’ve already sent gold Slayers out of the city to reinforce the nearby keeps. Isn’t that right?”

Lady Erryn answered this time.

“That is true, but only two dozen or so individuals have accepted our offer at this stage. Many remain in the capital that we can work on.”

“And you really believe you can torture them into obedience? Keep them loyal? I worry that they’ll turn and run the first chance they get. Any Slayer you use this way will never be peaceful again.”

“That may be true, but their role in the province is fairly limited right now, and they won’t be much missed. There are other Slayers who will be more than happy to provide the children we need. If the golds we choose need to be silenced when all is said and done, isn’t that a small price to pay, considering what is on the line?”

What was on the line was the Duke’s own head. He would pay much more than that to secure it.

“In terms of securing obedience, I believe judicious use of the brand will be required. When they have been well and truly broken to the leash, only then can we risk allowing them into the field.”

A brutal, inhumane strategy, but it would put to use two resources that were otherwise useless to the Duke. If the houses held back and didn’t provide enough soldiers, then he had to find something else to use in the fight, something capable of defeating battle-hardened Slayers.

The Magisters had been nothing but a disappointment, and after the rebellion was shut down, the Tower would be culled down to the bone before being built back up. Every ounce of rot would have to be excised, and he had no doubt Recillia Erryn would gladly wield the knife.

Gold rank Slayers served no purpose other than to soak up the Duke’s money and bear the children who would replace them in the rifts. The children of Slayers were far more likely to Awaken a combat Class, after all. Even now, with the Western Province on the brink of collapse, all they did was drink and rut like dogs.

His upper lip curled.

“You have my permission to pursue this,” he said, pushing himself up and glaring at the two across the table. Grand Magister Tommat shrank back from his eyes, but Recillia Erryn met them coolly. She was built of sterner stuff. One to watch in the future, certainly. Perhaps she even saw herself as Lady Recillia Kenmor one day, stepping into the role over Raugrave’s dead body.

For now, he would have to rely on her. She could be quietly disposed of later. An opportunity would come. One always did.

“How many will you allow us to take?” she asked, rising also.

Noticing the mage hadn’t moved, she nudged him in the side, and the old man started like he’d been hit with an arrow before leaping awkwardly to his feet.

“As many as you wish,” the Duke said, waving a hand. “But bear in mind, if anything goes wrong with this scheme, it will be you who bears the blame.”

“Of course, your grace,” the Lady bowed at the waist. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”