"The assembly is in attendance, Your Imperial Majesty.” The Royal Page announced, prostrating himself as expected, touching his forehead to the cold marble.

The old man, bedecked in great swathes of golden and deep purple cloth, grunted and rose to his feet. He pulled at his poofed-up pants irritably, scowling momentarily at the necessity for such flamboyant showmanship. The requirements of his position however, and the fashions of the Court, were more powerful than the combined threat of death, dismemberment and torture. Such was life for the Emperor of the Lucid Dawn.

A small army of assorted hangers-on preceded him along the sweeping hallways and gilded paths of the Royal Palace. Plants unfurled and quivered as he swept by, releasing pleasant aromas and purifying the air. A smattering of birds and pleasant-sounding insects broke out into song, trilling and whistling, doing their best to smother the cloud of uncertainty that preceded the Imperial procession.

It was an inauspicious journey to the Royal Court, for those who paid attention to those kinds of details.

The Emperor entered, the beautifully engraved double-doors swinging open with a purposeful groan, his gaze sweeping over the suddenly hushed drown of courtiers and noble families. They gazed back at him greedily, some fearful and respectful, others with hatefulness in their eyes. They were unified in their desire to prize more and more concessions from him, whatever their base feelings were.

He walked slowly to his extravagant chair, his senses picking out the more powerful amongst the Court. The Nessets and D’Uvalan were watching from amidst their supporters, comfortable in their strength, and happy enough to show him deference while they plotted away. The Ootu also attended, the silent tribesman of the Eastern Steppes standing separate from the rest, a natural barrier of open space appearing around the grey-skinned natives, their scowls the only warning they needed to give the Emperor that they were very unhappy about something.

His footsteps almost paused at the information pouring into his mind, but force of habit kept him moving. The usual cold expression was all the Court saw as the man they called Emperor sat on the throne of Radiance, Capital of the Empire of the Lucid Dawn.

The chatter sprang back up as soon as he was seated, the Court seeming to completely dismiss his presence now that the formal part of his appearance was complete. The Emperor’s mood soured even further, but he said nothing. Things were getting worse.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I’ve just received word that First Prince Valdez is on his way.” One of his advisors muttered next to his ear, the words buzzing from behind a sound ward. The Emperor’s lips tightened a fraction but didn’t react otherwise. The First Prince had been avoiding the Court for the last two years. His attendance was sure to spark something – in fact, that would explain the reaction from the Ootu family. They’d all heard the rumours about Valdez and his rising faction.

A side door slammed violently open, one restricted to the lesser nobility. A predecessor had come up with the idea, giving the ruling Emperor the only main entrance into the room. Everyone else had to enter through small doors on the sides as if the rest of the Court were sneaking in like common riff-raff.

The attempt at instilling some humility was ignored by the presence of the man that swept through the shattered doorway. Gasps and exclamations rang out, some outraged cries even heard from the more devout members before they controlled themselves.

The man himself, First Prince Valdez, ruler of the city-states of Lisbon and Hartford, grinned at the reactions, striding forward confidently into the centre of the hall. He was richly attired, as was to be expected of someone at the peak of the nobility, his house colours of sea green, grey and trimmings of white setting off his pallid skin and fiercely jutting brow. His dark hair was coifed back, set in place with a green brooch coiled into the shape of a dragon, matching his exquisitely decorated scabbard and gold-handled rapier that hung at his waist.

The stink of petrified flesh and grasping, dark magic made their way through the room, worming their way into the Emperor’s nose and across his tongue, the acrid taste sitting in his mouth like a wad of wet ash.

The Emperor visibility twitched, an eyebrow twitching as he scowled for a moment. Fortunately, only First Prince Valdez was watching him, the others too distracted by the man’s return to court.

“Lord Valdez,” The Emperor said, his tone sharp as he called out over the outbreak of whispers and muted conversations, “I see you’ve returned from your latest campaign with some success.” A vein pulsed almost imperceptibly in his forehead.

The First Prince didn’t react to the provocation. As the conqueror of Hartford, he’d certainly earned more recognition than the simple Lord or Lady that referred to anyone with even a drop of noble blood. In fact, he seemed to be amused at the statement, smiling as he toyed with the handle of his rapier.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, bowing much lower than was required for a man of his standing, “I return with great news. The South has been united under my banner.” He looked around the room, leering at the Ootu family who glared angrily back at him.

Of course, this wasn’t news to the Emperor. It had only been a matter of time before the arrogant git thought he had enough support to bring the matter up at court. The time had come and the Emperor had no recourse, no way out of what happened next.

The assassins had failed to eliminate the menace before he became a real problem. In fact, the Head Questor suspected the man had killed and raised the assassin as a powerful Undead servant. Most of what the Emperor had heard about the man standing before him was hearsay or rumour, his spy network and diviner’s unable to get a clear image of what Valdez had been up to. The only thing they knew was that he’d swept through Hartford, the seat of his last real opponent in the South without a problem. And you can be sure the Emperor had expended quite a bit of effort helping his opponent, trying to maintain the balance amongst his southern nobles.

Now there were rumours coming from the other territories, about brigands, Undead and other dark creatures attacking remote villages and towns. The disease that Valdez and his people had nurtured was beginning to spread into other parts of the Empire.

The Emperor was helpless to do anything in public. So he did what he could in the shadows. Political moves to curtail the First Princes’ power proved relatively ineffective, as did the assassins sent after him personally – though there was some success in removing those close to him. Other avenues that would normally be employed were nullified because of the very nature of Valdez and his magic.

So, they were at an impasse until recently. While the Royal family and their many allies and servants worked on more inventive strategies, the First Prince had invoked the Right to Ascend and challenged his neighbour. Now here they were, with the victor to claim his spoils and not a thing the Emperor could do about it.

It galled him. But he could not avoid this.

“Lord Valdez,” It didn’t mean he had to be courteous about it though, “you have proven your right to rule through the ancient Right to Ascend.” The Emperor spoke with a grave tone, impressing the seriousness of the next statement upon the chamber. “The Imperial Seat hereby recognises the Lord Falit Imari Valdez, Marshall of the South-West. May he rule with the grace of God.”

Short and sweet. That’s all the young fool would get from him.

The arrogant smile on the First Prince’s face twisted into a sneer, before Valdez remembered himself. He had gained what he came for, the title. All the years of planning were finally coming together and the look on the decrepit old man’s face had been truly satisfying. He hoped he’d get to see that face when he realised he’d lost all of his carefully hoarded power. Generations of Imperial breeding and selective training, lost within two decades of Valdez realising his potential. It just showed exactly how powerful his magic was, to be able to challenge that dynasty.

With a flick of his hand, the Emperor announced the end of the session, his alert chamberlain seeing the gesture and declaring it to the chamber. A murmur broke out from the packed room, but no-one was really surprised at the early end. They were all too intent on currying the new Marshal’s favour. That, or making plans to deal with the fallout.

The Emperor cared for none of that. He left the chamber with a measured stride and calm countenance. It wasn’t until he reached his personal chambers and dismissed the majority of his retinue that he was able to relax.

“That fucking shit-eating grub!” A stool flew across the room to smash into smithereens against the wall. “The gall. Strolling in stinking of Necromancy, right into court.”

He fumed, pacing back and forth in his luxurious chambers, as his two most trusted advisors looked on with troubled expressions.

“I should have ordered his execution years ago when we first heard the rumours.” He muttered darkly, swiping at the drooping feathers that hung from his headwear. He threw the ornate hat away with an irritable grunt and wiped at his eyes. He suddenly looked all of his one hundred and sixty years of age.

The Emperor walked over to his favourite seat, a plush royal purple armchair, and took a seat. He sighed and looked up at the other two people in the room. They straightened at his look, expressions grave now.

“What can you tell me? Jac, any news?”

The man, middle-aged and sporting a dark goatee and long silken hair, shook his head sadly. “No, Your Imperial Majesty. The Eastern Provinces are stable and calm, but there have been a couple of isolated attacks. We’ve worked hard to keep word from spreading, so only the closest towns have grown paranoid. The other Marshalls are as intractable and selfish as ever.” He said, in a measured tone. He bowed his head when the Emperor nodded and politely stepped back for the other speaker.

Clad in a white robe, decorated with only a single blue circle that matched the symbol marking on her forehead, this woman seemed much more energetic and outgoing.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” she said, bowing quickly, “I also don’t have a lot to report. As you know, the Questors have been stretched thin over the past six months, trying to pin down these attacks, but without much luck. There have been several arrests and subsequent executions, but they haven’t stemmed the frequency of attacks at all. In fact, they still seem to be increasing. Reports have come in from both the Southern and Western Provinces that whole villages have been wiped out and bandit gangs are growing more frequent.”

The Emperor took the news in stride, a frown his only reaction. “Any suggestions then on what we can do? So far, all of our plans seem to have either failed or barely mitigated the worst of the damage. We need new ideas, new strategies! Anything!” He was getting worked up now, red in the face and almost shouting by the time he was finished.

The pair looked at each other, Jac quickly looking away again, his eyes downcast.

“Aliz?”

The woman hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing her face before she straightened. She wasn’t one to avoid a tough conversation.

“There is one avenue we could explore. One of my junior Questors discovered something after a bandit attack on a small village in the Western provinces.” She cleared her throat, her eyes flicking up to assess the Emperor’s reaction. “You know how these things can result in surprises from time to time.”

“Yes, yes I’m well aware. Death and battle drives discovery and progress, we’ve known that for a long time.” He waved her on impatiently.

“Well, after the constant failures of the Blood program, I’d all but given up on realising our goal of producing a counter to the Necros. But in that no-name village, we finally found one. A natural.” She said breathily, her eyes alight with hope and nerves, waiting for his reaction.

Beside her, Jac breathed in sharply. The Emperor leaned back and frowned thoughtfully; his eyebrows dangerously low.

“You know how I feel about the Blood arts Aliz… I only allowed the experiments to go ahead because of the danger from those power-hungry fools. If I had a choice, I’d scour them and the Vampyre scum from the face of the earth.”

“Yes well, you know how we’ve fared, trying to deal with them. Over twenty high-level diplomats drained or enthralled and nothing to show for it. It’s not like we can invade their caves.”

The Emperor inclined his head in acknowledgement of her point. He sighed and shook his head in disbelief.

“A wild one just showed up out of the blue? If he’s been triggered by battle, something must have forced it on him. Are you sure he’s stable?”

Aliz nodded. “He’s been kept under the eye of a Questor I trust. From all reports, he seems to be a regular uneducated village man who was relatively happy with his life. Young and married.” She shook her head sadly as she continued, “The trigger was his wife dying in the attack. Apparently, he then led the rest of the village to safety and discovered a Rift. And yes, it’s stable, that was the first thing I asked.”

She took a breath, her eyes locked on the Emperor. “The real kicker is that the bandits were backed by a Necro. When they went back to investigate the village, all of their dead were missing.” She shook her head angrily, “We couldn’t ask for a more motivated Blood Mage. According to Kenemen, he hates the Undead and their masters.”

Slowly, the Emperor started to nod, his own expression holding the barest glimmer of hope. “Ok, I’ll leave it up to you to handle his case. Does he need training?”

“He’s very low level at the moment and still has his first Classes, but he and a small party of villagers are being guided through the Rift, gaining levels as quickly as possible. His progress has been satisfactory so far. Also, I took the liberty of asking some questions of the Grand Magus – I’ve sent the surviving tutor from the Blood camp, along with the information I managed to glean to Kenemen. They should be meeting up any day now.”

“Very well,” The Emperor seemed to relax a fraction and reached for a nearby goblet of wine. “Keep me up to date on his progress and make sure you’re keeping a close eye on him. He’s going to be far harder to contain outside of the camp.”

Aliz nodded and bowed in acknowledgment of the order.

“Now, we need to discuss your armies Jac. Are you able to exert any pressure onto the South? We cannot let Valdez solidify his grip.”

“Ok, I think that’s pretty secure now.” Silas patted the pack he’d strapped tightly to Katai’s torso.

Katai stood and shook his body, then jumped forward and stabbed an imaginary foe.

“Good enough, thanks Silas.”

Silas nodded happily at his handiwork. He’d emptied the pack, layered a few handfuls of dried leaves in there and then gently placed the giant egg inside, followed by more leaves. It was undoubtedly an annoyance, but it would let Katai carry the egg close to his body. Something that Katai, surprisingly, had been the one to suggest.

Katai had spent the night after their surprising encounter, barely able to sleep. The ease at which the powerful Megasoma had entered their camp, with no warning whatsoever, had him on edge. Also keeping him awake was the constant activity he could sense next to his bedroll.

While he hadn’t encountered any normal eggs since he became a Blood Mage, he was fairly certain a normal egg didn’t act like this. Underneath that shell of white, the unborn foetus pulsed with life, constantly shifting and reaching out past its prison walls. Katai swore he could feel its life force brushing up against his skin.

Sometime between the patches of sleep he’d gotten, he’d come up with today’s plan. His theory was that the bond between mother and child was usually initiated as soon as the child emerged, but what if the Megasoma were different?

What if the bond started before it hatched?

By no means did Katai want a pet. Especially if it was just going to be another juvenile Megasoma. If Silas hadn’t said it was a special type of Megasoma, he would have happily handed it over to Yoto, with no hesitation. Or maybe Emilia, since she seemed to have a soft spot for younglings.

If he were going to get something out of this, he was at least going to give it a good shot. Which meant rigging a harness to allow the egg to touch him with its invisible tendrils.

Eurgh, it’s weird and I don’t like it.

He tried not to react as he felt the pulse of the egg and the feather-light touch. He was only partially successful, letting out a full-body shiver.

“Are you cold or something?” Silas asked curiously.

“Just a bit. I’ll be fine.” Katai lied, gritting his teeth as the egg intruded again. It was going to be a long day.

He was hoping this might help with his Blood training since it was clearly doing something with its life force. The plan was to try and interact with the baby and see if it reacted to his Blood magic. Even if it didn’t help train his Blood, when it did hatch, he could bond with it. The Bond of Blood was definitely his most important skill now and he needed to train it as much as possible.

Katai sighed. There were just so many things to do. Train his various Blood skills, explore his magic to increase the aptitude, figure out what the symbols from this ‘Blood Realm’ are supposed to do, train his Warrior skills, gain enough experience to level his Warrior Class to fifty and advance it, and maybe even explore his Water magic aptitude. Now he was adding to that list with a potential pet, looking after and training that.

I guess I have to prioritise what is most important to me at the moment. Until the egg hatches, that’s a low priority, as are my Warrior skills. Well, apart from Lunge, that’s actually my number one priority so it can advance to mastery. Um, hmm, I think the Bond is coming along nicely without having to train it specifically. It will continue to gain levels as I use it to fight Megasoma. So that’s a low priority for now.

“Hey Silas, can we get some training in?” He said. Silas nodded happily enough, heading to a clear space.

What else, Blood Realm symbols? I mean, I don’t know how I can advance in that area, other than leaving it to Silas to try and figure something out. He’s the one with the fancy Scholar Class. Maybe I need to meditate on the symbols and see if I can gain anything from that?

“I’m heading out for the day, you two. Make sure you stay in the camp and don’t do anything stupid. I should be back before night-fall.” The voice of Kenemen called out, stopped them just as they were finishing their warm-up.

“Ok. Where are you going?” Katai asked, curious at the unexpected absence. The Questor had never left them without warning like this before. If anything, he’d always kept a close eye on Katai.

“You’ll see soon enough. Keep up the training, I expect to hear a progress report when I get back.”

Before they had a chance to ask any more questions, the man was off, striding quickly to the earthen wall and through the makeshift entrance.

Katai looked at Silas with a bewildered expression, but his friend just shrugged. He had no idea where he was off to either.

They resumed their practice with a touch of their practice swords, each lost in their own thoughts.

So, then there’s the Water aptitude. Do I want to follow up with that? It could definitely lead to interesting Class advancements. But what do I want to aim for?

The clash of wooden blades continued, the stout poles they used clacking loudly in the clearing.

Water Warrior would be a fluid fighter, that’s for sure. What other effects could it have though? Water is good for drinking, so maybe survival skills? How would that mesh with a Warrior Class though, maybe less sustenance required? Not something I really need. Water is said to be a pure and cleansing element, so I guess it would add skills that remove poisons or other negative effects. Maybe even protection against getting sick, like disease protection and preventing infections.

Even distracted by the thoughts running through his head, Katai was still easily dealing with Silas. If they’d been practising with real blades, he’d have skewered Silas a handful of times. The high level of the skill certainly helped, but the difference in attributes made it decidedly one-sided.

But I can’t think of how it would help me offensively. I guess Kenemen did say I needed better defence and movement. But he also mentioned I have no ranged attack. Water would almost definitely improve my movement, but would it add much to my general defence? Or give me anything that I could use at range?

Questions that he couldn’t answer spun through his mind as the two took a break. If he wanted to aim for a particular type of Warrior advancement, he really needed to start it now. He was far too close to advancing his first Class, only twelve levels and he was there. Given how crazily quick he was advancing, with his days filled with battle, those twelve levels wouldn’t take that long to pass. Even if they were slower the higher level he got.

“He’s back,” Katai said, trying to quickly get back to his feet. It ended up being a slow roll-over and a cautious rise from all fours, as his sore and tired body protested against the movement.

They may have overdone it with the sparring, but there’d been little else to do and he’d quickly grown bored with meditating. There were only so many hours that he could handle sitting in one spot.

Silas also rose with a self-pitying groan. Neither of them was willing to be caught lying down in the evening light however, in case Kenemen thought they’d been skiving off for the day. That would not end well for either of them.

Emilia, noticing their movement, also got up from where she’d been creating a miniature earthen replica of her hut back in Waycrest, complete with furnishings. Yoto and Lariss were in their private corners of the camp, probably also training their skills and hadn’t heard Katai’s announcement.

Kenemen stepped through the entrance and gave a nod when he saw the groups readiness, a look of approval on his face at their alertness. A second figure followed him in, surprising Emilia and Silas with the newcomer’s presence.

Katai, of course, had sensed the man’s life force, gleaming dully in his Blood Sense. Based on his senses, he’d expected the newcomer to be relatively weak, as his presence in the Blood Sense had paled next to Kenemen. He hadn’t factored in a few things to that scenario, however.

Firstly, Kenemen was well-established as being a monster of a warrior. High-level, incredibly strong and with a matching vitality. Anyone compared to him would be weak.

Secondly, the newcomer may not have as much vitality as the Questor, but that was because he was not a warrior. He’d clearly specialised in other areas.

His dress gave it away. Or, more truthfully, his robe. Deep blue fabric covered the man to his feet, a blue that was almost black. He was exactly how Katai would have imagined a classic Mage to appear.

A thick belt of black leather cinched the robe against his body, keeping the flowing robes in check and holding a number of colourful vials and small bags. An arcane symbol of some kind appeared on his otherwise unadorned robe, sitting proudly on the man’s chest, the white rune standing out against the midnight blue fabric. Stern eyes glittered from underneath bushy eyebrows, the man younger than Katai would have imagined for a Mage, which was a silly thought since he was one too.

The newcomer opened his mouth, the cleanly shaven jaw making it clear this man had not spent too much time outdoors.

“Which one of you two is Katai?” His voice matched his eyes, stern and uncompromising.

Katai and Silas looked at each other, communicating their fear effortlessly through eye contact. This guy sounds like an Elder. Please no!

“That would be me,” Katai said, gulping nervously.

“I have a message for you from your village leader. I think his name was Hilam or some such nonsense. He said he’s very disappointed in you.” The man frowned at the pair.