An eye for an eye, demands the man born blind.

- FORSAKEN PROVERB

"LAZARUS," I SAID TO MY PERSONAL GUARD as the carriage rattled. “Repeat.”

The stoic Guard - who, coincidentally, moonlighted as one of my Seraph lieutenants, cleared his throat.

“Narkisa will put on the veil and pretend to be you while staying with the kids and the others,” he said, gesturing to the woman beside me, “while we’ll go to the Docks.”

“Good.” I didn’t allow myself to relax. There were only four active Seraphs so far - my infiltrator, Narkisa; my Guard, Lazarus; my confidenceman and runner of my legitimate business, Macedon; and my blade, assassin, and Scout-leader, Mercy.

It had taken weeks to establish a good rapport and system that worked from the recruits I had personally weeded out, but it had been established all the same and there were loyal subordinates. Of course, it helped that they were paid very well.

“Narkisa, are you confident?” I turned to the dark-haired beauty.

A nod.

As the Carriage stopped to a halt, and the Guards said, “My lady, we have arrived,” I smiled.

Dark eyes, an infiltrator, eyes darting for entrances and exits, a thief. Hidden personas. “Through glory and ruin, Narkisa.”

An Oath, old-fashioned yet strong.

Hesitation, reluctance. Possible shifting loyalties. A decision made.

The infiltrator put on the veil and shrouded my Ability.

“Through glory and ruin, Your Highness.”

And so the woman left the carriage, and I was left with Lazarus.

One of the Guards called good-naturedly, “Lazarus, are you leaving with the beauty?” Obviously, Narkisa was out of ear-shot and he was referring to the actual Narkisa.

“Her Highness told me to drop off Sir Narkisa at Sir Macedon’s,” replied Lazarus as his gaze shifted back to me. I had secured honorary knighthoods for the duo, although it had cost them quite a chip off their salaries.

I nodded, approving the excuse. Lazarus was undoubtedly going to ask if I would make him swear an Oath as well.

“You know me well, Lazarus,” I said.

“I’ve known Your Highness since the Marksman Duchy, Your Highness.”

Known, but Lazarus had been just one of the talented Guards that had tossed a sympathetic smile or two my way. I had only poached him because he was easy to rein in, had an alarming amount of connections, and was satisfied with the pay.

I peered at him. “Do you want a salary increase, too?” I asked, causing Lazarus’ expressions to flicker as I let an amused smile spread across my face. “Don’t worry,” I said, as the carriage started up again, “I won’t force you to swear an Oath if you are unwilling.”

Breaking Oaths had consequences, although it depended on the severity of the Oath - through glory and ruin was a significant one, it wasn’t enough to invoke the wrath of the Gods if broken. Maybe some bad luck with future paths since it was a Fealty Oath, but...

I was obviously suggesting to Lazarus, however, that it would be better for his standing with me if he swore one. With the upcoming storm - if my Ability was right, and it was never wrong - to weather, having the loyalty of the people I had under my command would be beneficial.

And so the Guard bent his knee - Gods, I froze my features and didn’t let surprise seep in - and looked up.

He thinks being by our side will be beneficial, whispered my Ability.

“I swear Fealty by the Gods, to Imperial Princess Seraphina Marksman Queenscage, to be by her side as her subordinate through glory and ruin, till death do us part.”

We’ve only been partnered for three months. There’s an ulterior motive, I insisted back.

The Oath was familiar, and rather than Lazarus’ face I saw his face, his lips mouthing the words.

I swear by the Gods, to Lady Seraphina Marksman, to be by her side as her partner through glory and ruin, until death do us part. He had smiled. Isn’t it quite contrary, swearing an Oath inside a Cage?

I had smiled. You may rise, I had added, jokingly.

“You may rise,” I echoed, meeting the Guard’s eyes.

It is contrary, I had smiled. But then again…

I could practically see his electric-blue eyes, finishing my sentence.

The Queen’s Cage is nothing if not contrary, isn’t it...Sera?

“Your Highness?” Lazarus blinked, confused, as his voice broke me out of my reverie.

He’s hiding something.

“Thank you, Sir Lazarus,” I said, calmly. “I accept your Oath of Fealty. May you be by my side, through glory and ruin.”

Get out of my head, Caspian Nameless.

You’re dead for a reason.

You were the reason, my Ability said back.

Shut up.

It had been established: Cyrus was dealing with the Forsaken, those who occupied the Union of the Forbidden, in order to destroy the relationship between the Republic and the Empire.

At least, that was the most likely scenario. My Ability didn’t reinforce my conclusion, but merely hummed in agreement. There was more, I realized, and I was utterly inexperienced.

Three months of getting used to any political climate would be enough for some, I supposed, but the utter lack of political power I had accumulated was getting in my way.

I had wanted to stay out of the others’ way, as was Wise, and wait for them to murder each other.

But I hadn’t considered their own individual motives. That was why I had been blindsided - I hadn’t considered their own backgrounds, or probed enough in their activities enough to be familiar with them to make a decision.

I hadn’t been acting like the Sixth Imperial Princess of the Empire, but rather had followed what was Wise for my survival, and both were an either-or.

Yes, they were an either-or, my Ability agreed.

But the sweaty Piermanager in front of me wasn’t budging.

“I’m sure you’re aware, My Lady-” I wasn’t stupid enough to expose my identity just yet, but I was sure he knew that I was a noble, which only confirmed everything further.

“I’m sure you’re aware, Face Nero,” I interrupted, putting emphasis on the commoner courtesy, “that you are in no position to negotiate with me. I do not care what Cyrus has promised you, and I do not care what Orion has said to you. What I do care about, however, is that if you continue to be difficult, I will slit you and your loved ones’ throats in your sleep."

I kept my tone casual.

Nero Vas, the Piermanager, shifted on his knees. “My Lady-”

Shifty eyes. Close to the breaking point. Self-preservationist. Doesn’t care about loved ones.

“I could turn you in for high treason, you know,” I continued, nonchalantly, “for dealing with the Union. It’s against the law. And let me tell you - the Guard will not be as lenient as I am.”

Break.

“My Lady!” Nero suddenly sobbed, as if a switch had been flipped. “It was against my will!” Then, desperate, he reached for my skirts. I avoided his lunge with a slight step to the left, leaving him on the floor. “If I sell them out, Prince Cyrus-”

“He will not approach me,” I said. “He knew you would squeal, which means that its a part of his plan.” Console, my Ability whispered, he will be useful. “You will be alright. For now. But if you disobey me-”

“Yes, My Lady!” Nero cried, “I’ll do anything for you! Please don’t kill me!”

I motioned to Lazarus to secure the files - the Guard was confused, but no protest had escaped his lips. I knew somewhat what he was thinking - the Guard could’ve easily just tackled Nero to the floor, and the Scouts could’ve just raided the place without the Seraph interfering. But no, this matter would have to be seen in person.

“What was in the crates?” I interrogated Nero calmly.

“F-F-Forsaken weapons! Made from Stygian metal!”

Ah.

Weapons.

“Do you have any left, or did Cyrus take away the crates?”

“The Prince took them all way, and the shipper-”

“The shipper was likely one of Cyrus’ front businesses,” I mused. “And the manufacturer’s in the Union, but-”

Nero’s eyes gleamed. “There was a problem! With the shipping documents!” Aha. “I made them file it right, and you wouldn’t see the mistake without me, but-"

An attempt to make himself seem useful.

My Ability flared, and suddenly I could see the Crownboard in front of me again. An offered Soldier, a lure. This was too easy. A trap, bait. I took it all the same, even though my Ability insisted that it wasn’t Wise. Nero was obviously manipulated to say this. Paladin to Triple Squareright? A single Troop Squareforward, retaliation, Mirrored?

An Opening move.

And you never wanted to play Crown with me, Cyrus, I muttered. It was obviously his handiwork. For shame. A smile flitted to my lips.

“An Actor, squareforward,” I decided, my voice full of dancing mirth. “Lazarus, send Narkisa to infiltrate Cyrus’ ranks. Make sure she’s properly covered, spare little expense.”

The Guard nodded.

My Opening move. If it failed, then well - I would be rid of one more rotten apple.

“Tell me about any Dockworkers who’ve been in any strange contact with the Princes,” I ordered. After compiling a list, I smiled again.

And so I reached under my dress, pulled out a sharp knife, and slit the Piermanager’s throat. He went down. Dousing the body with the kerosene we kept around, Lazarus set the body on fire.

A message.

What fun.

Duke Matthias Marksman hated Legacies. More specifically, he hated things he left behind, because when you looked at the result of the Duke Marksman’s long and lengthy actions, anyone would agree that his hate was justified.

Legacies ran in noble blood - when members of society grew old and grey, they needed to leave things behind. And that was where ‘Legacies’ came in. They were adequately named, Matthias of the Second Isle supposed, and most younger generations knew the name but had little concern for the matter.

Then Heir Designate, Glory Prince Rocco Queenscage III had invaded a small kingdom of the Republic to help his father’s Legacy. But, in the end, Matthias remembered, Rocco had been told on the Emperor’s deathbed, that the Emperor’s true Legacy had been Rocco; and that the command to start an invasion - the start of the Skirmish - between two of the continent’s largest powers had just been to solidify Rocco’s name.

Matthias had also remembered that, out of a need for getting back at his Imperial Father, Rocco had killed himself shortly after, destroying that Emperor's legacy tragically.

To the point where people compared Matthias’ Legacy efforts to the Emperor’s, it was agreed upon in high society that the Duke of Marksman was likely going to die Legacy-less. The equivalent of dying without an ancestral portrait, which was just-

“Matthias?” the beautiful lady peered. “Are you thinking about your Legacies again?”

Matthias blinked. “No,” he lied to his wife.

“Also, I heard that you tried to pay Seraphina off to not associate herself with our name again.”

Matthias avoided the Duchess’ searing gaze. “I didn’t,” the Duke lied again. A long pause. “She accepted the drachmas, but she didn’t say there wouldn’t be any future payments necessary,” Matthias admitted.

“Matthias!” the Duchess cried, scandalized. “If you continue believing her, all the Duchy’s coffers will be empty before Yearend, mark my words! Did you, at least, make her sign a contract? Or maybe even swear an Oath?”

Silence.

“I married a man,” Theadora Williams said, aghast, “who got scammed by his own daughter?”

Matthias stiffened. “She’s not our daughter!”

“Oh, shut up, Matthias! We may disown her all we like, and she was never loved in this household, but she’s an Imperial royal now! If she gets favored by the Emperor - if she even manages to kill all the other royals and gets named Heir Designate - that won’t stop her!” Theadora spat back.

“She isn’t that capable, I tell you!” Matthias insisted. “She made it through the Cage because we gave her the duchy’s resources-”

Theadora interrupted, “We barely gave her tutors! Are you telling me that you’re taking credit for Seraphina slaughtering eleven other Chosen when we all barely helped?” A breath. “We didn’t expect her to gain an Ability! We didn’t expect her to even be capable of managing the Duchy! And we most certainly didn’t expect her to become an Imperial Princess-”

Theadora paused, gathering her words.

“They said,” the Duchess said, her hands on her lap and dark hair up in ribbons, “that when she came out of the Cage, she looked like an animal. Not one of those tamable ones, either - a wolf, after battle, that’s what the nobles who were at the Coliseum said.” Theadora met the Duke’s eyes. “And she was still hungry for blood.”

Matthias’ lips moved. “We missed an opportunity, Thea,” he said, voice tinged with regret and somewhat of fear. “But you don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“You missed an opportunity,” Theadora of Eurus corrected. Her golden eyes glinted. “You didn’t want to take the time to tame her, and treated her like a dog when she was a wolf. Now the Duchy is for the worse. That means that I still might have a chance to bring her back to the Isle.” The dark-haired duchess met her husband’s eyes.

The Duke observed her admiringly. “Now this, my Thea, is why I admire you. You make use of every opportunity. Your insights-”

The Duchess snorted. “Your attempts at flattery are noted, my dear Mat, but not taken into consideration. Flattery does not change, nor make up for, the fact that you got scammed.”

Theodora said the last word with a distaste that seemed to emanate from every syllable. “Besides, you know the only reason why I stick around is because you cheated me into swearing a Godsbroken Oath. Scamming does seem to run in the family - just not my branch.”

“I was young back then!” Matthias protested. “I didn’t know!”

“But then again, what you said back then was very compelling.” The Duchess pondered the quandary of accurate remembrance, her head tilted. “What was it again? ‘To be a good leader-’”

“‘They say you have to take credit for your partner’s successes and condemn them for your failures,’” Matthius of the Second Isle, the Duke Marksman quoted, “‘So-’”

“‘Will you be my partner, Theadora Williams?’” Theadora of Eurus, the Duchess Marksman finished, “‘And let us steal from and condemn each other, through glory and ruin?’ That was the most romantic thing you ever said in the course of our marriage, and that was before we even courted. Of course I accepted.”

“In the course of our marriage?”

The Cagekeeper did not remember their former name. They did not remember their former face, or anything before the Light came. They remembered the Titan, the mangled, almost unsightly yet beautiful source of light. Blinding, revealing light. Then they remembered the bliss, the ecstasy at being delivered a purpose, a sense of self. The Light had cleansed them of all their sins and past, of their mistakes, and had introduced himself.

I am the Titan of the East, had said the Light. The Observer, the Darkness in the Light, Pillar of Kato. You may address me as Lord Hyperion, and you are now a Keeper of the Queen’s Cage.

The Light had continued, searing into the Cagekeeper’s skin, into their veins, their being, cleansing their existence and scorching into their brain like an unchained beast of purity.

The Light knew all, saw all, and would claim those under its rays. It ravaged and plundered, it was unforgivable and did not know mercy, but it cleansed and shone.

What should your name be? the Light had mused to himself. The being had pulled closer to the Cagekeeper, and had almost smiled, only the expression seemed so monstrously mortal on someone so not.

You seem so fascinated with my Light, my little one, had said the Light. And so your name shall be Fos. Obey the rules, Watch the Footage, and Keep the Cage. That is your duty, dear Fos.

Fos watched, until they were snapped out of their reverie as another Cagekeeper shook him. “Keeper Fos?” said the other Keeper. “Are you conscious enough to continue to Obey your Duty?” she continued, questioning. There was no concern in her eyes, and if there were, Fos themselves would’ve been concerned. Cagekeepers did not have time for concern - they were to Watch, and Record, and Obey.

“Yes, I am conscious enough, Keeper Afaneia. Have you finished your File?”

“No, Keeper Fos. I will finish it by Dayend.”

“May I inquire about your collected observations, Keeper Afaneia? This may help me perform my Duty further.”

“Of course, Keeper Fos.” Afaneia cleared her throat. “Victor Seraphina Marksman-”

“My sincere apologies for interrupting, Keeper Afaneia,” said Fos, blandly, “but the Lord has expressed a preference to use their project names instead of their personal ones.”

Afaneia didn’t seem offended. “Thank you for your input and informing me on the Lord’s preferences. It allows me to perform my Duty further.”

“I accept your thanks. Please, continue.”

“The Actor,” began Afaneia, “has demonstrated no sense of the concept the Outsiders call ‘camaraderie’ for any of her Chosen teammates. The only affection she seemed to display is for Chosen Caspian Nameless, who took his own life after both came to the conclusion that there was no way for two Victors to emerge. This seems to have impacted the Actor greatly, as one of her listed weaknesses seems to be cliffs.”

Cagekeeper Fos nodded, sagely, as Afaneia continued.

“The Actor has also demonstrated a willingness to use others, along with an exhibited tendency to view problems as a game of Queen’s Crown. She also has mentioned aloud, while conversing with other Chosen, how she views her Ability as a separate entity, which may hint at an unstable mental state.”

Fos followed along as Afaneia finished, “All in all, the Actor seems like a turbulent individual-” she paused, and tried for a better metaphor. “Like those Outside have an instrument called the revellazo, she is one of those bell-strings stretched too tight,” the Cagekeeper concluded, “and-”

Afaneia’s body suddenly lurched, like a marionette on strings, as the Cagekeeper - Fos knew not her hair color, or facial features, as all seemed like a Blur to all of the Keepers - flinched, like she was…

“Recalibrating,” Fos whispered as they slumped down in that familiar bow. They could feel the Light’s eyes, in the body of Afaneia’s, and he was looking at Fos. The gaze of the Light. Searing, scorching, tearing apart and purifying. Cleansing.

“We greet you, to skotadi sto fos,” said Fos, drawing the attention of the other Cagekeepers in the Dome, who followed their lead.

“We greet you, to skotadi sto fos,” chanted the other Keepers in unison.

You must keep an eye on the Actor, said the Light. When she snaps, the Empire will either rise or fall.

And then the Light disappeared.

“What do you know,” I asked the Dressmaker, “about the Republic?”

“A lot of things, Your Highness,” said the Republica Dressmaker briskly. She reached for her measuring string, and stretched it around my waist while taking note of my measurements. “What would you like to know?”

The books said a lot of things, but books were sometimes biased. The Roma Republic and the Empire Eoina - most just called it the Eternal Empire, or just the Empire - had been entering a friendly diplomatic relationship these past few years.

Of course, most just called it a guise as the Republica probably just wanted to use the Empire’s resources - and Chosen - to conquer the Union and swallow it up in the Republic’s territory; but none of the Republica diplomats had conveyed any sign of that apparently, according to Orion, who I had asked a couple days ago and had been at most of the summits.

But there had to be something behind the visit.

“Anything that the books do not,” I replied, “and mayhaps the odd cultural tidbit about Heroes - of course, if you have that knowledge at your disposal, Face Cerenia.”

The Roma Republic - or the Republic Roma - was still one of the continent’s three major powers, and occupied quite a large chunk of it. It had a similar culture, along with their own Gods - reportedly, people had noticed much similarity between our own, which had caused a large religious dispute only a year ago - but didn’t have Abilities in the way that we did.

They had Heroes, instead, given almost supernatural strength and agility by their Gods, but never the ability to control forces of nature or any other non-physical abilities. But, apparently, the Heroes were nothing to scoff at.

Cerenia shrugged as she continued around the shop. “They are revered, Your Highness,” she replied, “but not really as feared or as rare as living Chosen are.” Right, they didn’t have the Cage to root out the strongest. “Living Heroes are rare in daily life, but they’re the sense of, my son’s army commander’s a Hero! Rather than, I have seen a Hero! You may take my life! Because in the Republic-”

“Heroes aren’t legends,” I summed up. “Good to know. Thank you, Face Cerenia.”

“The honor is mine, Your Highness.”

Cerenia Aurena’s dresses were renowned throughout nobility, and many had been hesitant at first to even look at a commoner’s clothing, much less a foreign commoner, but it was Josephine herself that had taken to the Republica’s workshop and had made her popular.

Josie was one of the reigning queens of social circles, and she had done her magic - Cerenia’s boutique was now one of the most popular in both the East Quarter and the entire Isle, and rumor had it Cerenia herself was even approaching a knighthood.

I had told her to talk to me normally, with only the courtesies, and she had agreed - surprisingly easily, considering the fact that I was an Imperial Princess and could easily lop off her head if I wanted to.

My status warranted Cerenia personally measured me, too, so there was that. She was a good, albeit a tad irritating, source of information, a better source of Republica information.

Cerenia finished measuring, and she was onto the dress design, letting her assistants fetch a paper and charcoal as she traced a figure similar to mine.

“What color would you like the dresses, Your Highness?” she asked, looking at me.

She broke etiquette, my Ability said, she considers you an equal. She made eye contact. She is arrogant.

Yes, she is arrogant, I replied. But that can work in my favor.

She thought she could rise to the level of an Imperial Princess - twitching of the eyes and fluttering eyelashes demonstrating disdain, tapping of the fingers indicating she has nothing better to do, smudged powder. Seeing a lover. Not planning for my arrival, thinks it a chore.

It was a blessing and a curse, not being able to turn my Ability off. Elias, another Athena’s Chosen, had coined the term Drawback. All of the Chosen, whether same Olympians or not, had unique Abilities each time with and Elias was one of my more admired Analysts. “Dark purple.”

Cerenia’s eyes blinked. “But that’s a Republica holy color, Your Highness,” she said, slowly. “Only the Republica’s Praetor and those of their family can wear that color.”

Well, at least she isn’t actively seeking my downfall.

“Gold, then. Tulle, gossamer, silk. Not too exposing of a neckline, not too wide of a skirt either. Simple, with some Imperial designs. Maybe an owl and an olive leaf or two. Good enough?” I looked at Cerenia’s rough design, found it satisfactory, and nodded towards the directions of my lady-in-waitings.

Cerenia passed the papers to them, and Alia and Celeste’s shrewd eyes skimmed over the design as all of them nitpicked it.

I looked at Mercy, who was by my side.

“Soldier? Actor? Paladin?” I asked, casually.

Mercy shook her head. “Neither. She’s your sister’s piece, and after you’ve disturbed your other siblings’ boards, it might not be the wisest move.”

I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not fun, trying not to offend people.”

Mercy didn’t reply, or rebuke me - in truth, I knew that being careful to places that you were new to wasn’t fun. And Mercy knew that I knew, so why say anything?

“I’ll go to the East Quarter again,” I decided. “Has the fire already been put out?”

“Lazarus’ brother was part of the Brigade that was sent to put it out. It has all been handled, and all the file documents have been sent to Mace for further processing. I sent some of my Scouts, and there seems to be no trace left.” Mercy paused, and I was further illuminated on Lazarus' startlingly many connections. Oh, well, at least he was Oath-sworn to me now.

“You should evoke no suspicion if you visit the site a few hours later publicly. However, privately may be an issue, since Guards are still lingering at the site, since the fire spread a bit. Visiting the Dockworker should be no problem, though.”

And you got it all done in an hour. Impressive.

I smiled at the efficiency. I liked efficiency. Efficiency meant that I could burn things down faster. “Narkisa?”

“I've requested Macedon to provide a cover, and she’s getting in persona at this very moment. Infiltration will be ready by the week.” Mercy peered at me. “Are you trying to get her caught? A test?”

I shrugged. “She took an Oath. I expect her to fulfill it.”

Test of loyalty.

“Alright.” Mercy nodded. She didn’t question me, as she continued, “Who would you like to bring?”

“You. Ask Lazarus to bring the Scouts and partner with Macedon in order to probe out the documents and prepare for the envoy’s arrival. Greta will probably handle it, since she’s used to it, but information is appreciated.” I paused. “I will try to ascertain the depth of the reason behind Cyrus’ anti-Republica sentiments. Ask Alyssa to get an apology gift for him after she’s done with the task I gave her.”

“What kind of apology gift?”

“You know, the, sorry I disrupted your Crownboard and pursuit for revenge, I was just really interested in what you were doing, type of gift.”

“Right. I’ll ask my Scouts to take care of it. I’ll get small candies delivered to Lady Roxane’s as well.”

I grinned. “You know me well.” I casted a glance at the lady-in-waitings and Cerenia, who seemed to be almost finished, and called, "Leave Face Cerena alone, I’m sure whatever she’ll make will be perfectly aligned with my demands. Celeste, Alia, get ready to head to the Docks."

Cerenia’s eyes were on me.

Misdirection using truth.

“May I ask, Your Highness, why we are heading to the Docks?” Mercy asked, on cue and in persona. She’d hit the play straight on the mark.

“To threaten my brother’s lover, of course.” I smiled brightly. “Now, let us be off.”