The Sun King wore a crown of gold and a mantle of silver; his seat had held Emperors of ages past, and it would bear leaders of ages to come. Rumor had it that he glowed like the sun when moved to passion, and in anger wings of fiery wrath would consume his enemies. Where he walked, soldiers saluted and noblemen knelt. The Sun King ruled over the Capital and two of the largest western provinces, commanding fear and respect from the proudest of his subjects. Some regional lords had even suggested that he take the title of Sun Emperor, though he had graciously declined.

“A land may have many Kings,” said he then, “but there is only one Emperor. Our work is not yet done. To name myself thus without command over all who live under the sky would be premature.”

The noble lords did not test him again.

A messenger from the front lines now came before the throne, presenting a status update on progress against the army of a northwestern province. The Alchemist General reported a resounding victory: three villages were captured in the latest engagement. As a gift, the Alchemist had sent the Sun King several cart-loads of weapons and food supplies, as well as thousands of surrendered enemy troops from the provincial garrison.

“The Alchemist is indeed without peer.” The Sun King received this report with satisfaction. A glint shone in his eye as he said, “Continue fighting without peer, old friend.”

Another messenger knelt before the Sun King. According to scouts beyond the southwestern border, some lunatic—colloquially called the Betrayer—had cut through the Silver Militia ranks like a knife through paper.

“Impressive,” the Sun King murmured. The Silver Militia had given his forces a bit of trouble in the past. Any enemy of the Militia, especially one skilled enough to have them fleeing for their lives, might be a valuable ally.

The report continued: after decimating the Silver Militia, this Betrayer had also killed several innocent civilians who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him.

The Sun King frowned. If word of civilian deaths spread within his own borders, people might start questioning the effectiveness of his leadership. This matter had to be handled quickly and delicately.

“Gather a squad of twenty elite soldiers. Bring this Betrayer to me alive,” the Sun King commanded.

In the Sun King’s court, a messenger from the northern front delivered a report. Another province had surrendered to the Alchemist General, and the people welcomed this change in leadership with open arms. As proof of their surrender, the messenger bore the head of an Imperial Army commander from the region. A note accompanied the head. This commander was well-known as a mercenary, and he had easily been bribed into opening the gates—a great fortune for the Alchemist’s troops, and a grave misfortune for the commander himself.

“My Alchemist never ceases to amaze,” said the Sun King. “If even such vast conquests are within my old friend’s grasp, we must reach for greater pursuits.”

Another messenger arrived from the southern front. Attempts to capture the Betrayer had failed; only one of the twenty elite soldiers had returned, severely injured and unlikely to survive another fortnight. By the survivor’s account, the Betrayer was a formidable swordsman. Only bodies trailed in his wake.

The Sun King stood. “Send two hundred riders to hunt the Betrayer, dead or alive. This disruption must cease at once!”

Under the royal dais, a messenger from the northwest knelt to offer a laquered box.

“Good news again, I presume?” The Sun King smiled, recognizing the Alchemist’s messenger.

Inside the box was the head of a local governor, accompanied by a plea of surrender from the regional officials. Yet another victory had fallen to the Sun King’s reborn Empire.

The Sun King smiled. “Excellent. More.”

The next caller was a wounded soldier from the southwest. He had been one of the two hundred sent to find the Betrayer, yet now he was the only one remaining. In a stealth ambush at night, the Betrayer set fire to their camps, severely injuring many of the soldiers. Without proper medical supplies or skill, dozens of soldiers had perished from their injuries. The Betrayer had stolen one soldier’s armor and killed many others in the confusion. All who remained alive had decided to desert, terrified of the Betrayer. All were gone but this soldier, who alone had braved the journey back to the Capital to beg for reinforcements.

To the soldier, the Sun King said, “Your loyalty is commendable. Go to the city doctor. When you have healed, you shall be awarded two hundred gold.”

The soldier bowed and thanked his King, scurrying off. Once the doors closed behind him, the Sun King brought a fist down on the throne armrest.

“How could one man defeat two hundred?”

The Sun King drooped upon his throne, shaking his head.

“Summon the Alchemist General. The Western campaign has already won victory after victory; they have enough able commanders to proceed without his guidance. I have need of his services here.”

A trail of corpses littered the main road. The members of this trade caravan had annoyed the Betrayer with their inane chatter—some lunatic has been killing the Silver Militia, oh how awful!—for an incessant five miles. The Betrayer welcomed their fear, for within that fear lay the roots of his growing power, but what use was fear without respect? These people’s exaggerated tales praised the Alchemist’s otherworldly martial feats of conquest, yet they reacted to news of the Betrayer’s far lesser slaughters with horror and disgust.

Eventually, the Betrayer could stand it no more. He had considered leaving the main road to find more considerate traveling companions, but then he realized that there was a far easier solution: removing the problem at its source. These last survivors fled from his wrath for almost half a mile. The silent air, free from their raucous conversation and piercing screams, was a true relief.

The Betrayer walked away from the carnage, watching crimson beads drip from the edge of steel. He shook the sword, encouraging the blood to fall off as cleanly as the rumors claimed the sword-masters of ancient tales could manage. Unfortunately, shaking had little effect on the stains. Some red splattered on the ground, and some on his shoes, but quite a bit of dark red still encrusted the sword.

Scraping sounded behind the Betrayer, and he turned. A noble draped in rich blue silks struggled toward the distant treeline, shielding a young child with his body. These two were the last survivors of the caravan, but their journey ended here. The Betrayer raised his stained sword to cut them down.

A streak of fire struck the pommel, flooding the world with light and noise. The sword flew from the Betrayer’s hand as he stumbled back, deafened by the explosion. His weapon landed on the ground, twenty paces off the main road. The Betrayer scrambled upright. From the depths of the forest, the unmistakable flash of golden armor and crimson cloth caught his eye. Here approached the Alchemist—once an enemy, then an instructor, and now a threat.

The Betrayer pulled a long knife from his belt, running for his dropped sword. When he looked up again, the Alchemist had appeared on the road between the Betrayer and his victims, mere paces in front of the prone noble.

The Alchemist slung a black longbow across his shoulder, leaving both hands empty save for their ever-present metal gauntlets. With a full set of heavy plate armor equipped, the Alchemist must have brought a horse at the least, and possibly also a contingent of Sun Army elites that was now concealed in the woods. A quiver was across the Alchemist’s back, a sword hung from his belt, and redundant buckles poking from the edges of each armor-plated leg spoke of more hidden weapons.

The noble sensed a shift in fortunes. He tugged on the back of the Alchemist’s cloak.

“Oy, archer! Kill that lunatic and I’ll pay you ten thousand gold coins—more than you’d earn in a lifetime.”

The Alchemist spun around, sword flashing in the sunlight, and impaled the noble through one eye.

The Betrayer wished that the treeline was just a hundred paces closer. If he chose to flee, the Alchemist would have more than enough time to shoot him as he ran. What had happened to the level-headed instructor who liked to lecture about honor and righteousness? Killing as one pleased was supposed to be the role of the Betrayer, not the Alchemist.

“The Sun King once said, ‘Those who offer bribes incur equal guilt as those who accept such tainted gifts.’ Fair is his judgement,” the Alchemist recited, his eyes glittering like hot coals.

Bracing a foot against the corpse, the Alchemist retracted the sword, now smeared with two feet of crimson liquid. He flicked it sharply. White fire enveloped the blade from tip to base, rising no further than the cross-guard. When the flames dissipated, the sword gleamed with the pristine smoothness of pale steel, devoid of even a droplet of blood.

The Alchemist took the child’s arm, gently lifting her to a standing position. The child whimpered.

“The Sun King once presented a child with fifteen coins to start a new life. His benevolence is an example for all in the land.” The Alchemist took fifteen coins from his own pocket and pressed these into the terrified child’s hands. When he released the child’s arm, she fled as fast as her legs could run. The Alchemist watched her hurry down the road with the tender, slightly unhinged expression of one who has just done a good deed.

The Betrayer gaped. “You... you... what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out conquering some innocent villagers for your fair and benevolent King?”

By way of response, the Alchemist charged. The Betrayer brought up his sword, twisting sideways. Steel rang against steel, and the impact was enough to jar his arm. He shifted the sword to the other hand and fought back, recalling his training sessions. Now that he was faster and stronger from fighting the Silver Militia, the Betrayer would not lose as easily as before.

The Alchemist brought his sword down upon the Betrayer’s, closer to the pommel than would be practical, and flames danced along steel. The Betrayer recoiled from the sudden heat, hand instinctively springing open. His sword hit the ground, and the Alchemist kicked it away. When he dove after it, the Alchemist swept out his legs with a sharp kick.

The world spun, and the Betrayer hit the ground hard. A foot landed on his chest, driving the breath from his lungs. Bright metal hovered at his neck, familiar and wholly unwelcome. The Betrayer had faced defeat before the Alchemist’s sword too many times to count, but this singular defeat wounded his pride more than all the others combined.

“The strong ought not to take pleasure in triumph over unworthy opponents.” The Alchemist spoke with the same patient tone that he had used as a drill instructor. The Betrayer bared his teeth in response, mindful of the steel at his throat.

“Isn’t that what you are doing right now?”

“This is no pleasure.” The gauntlet on the Alchemist’s free hand began to glow. “This is a waste of my time and yours.”

The Alchemist reached out. Heat slammed into the Betrayer with physical impact, and the world went black.

On the fine silk carpet before the throne, a messenger gave a report on progress at the northwestern front. The outlying villages beyond the Capital had submitted to the Sun King’s rule; as tribute, they sent a tithe of almost double the usual tax rate.

The doors to the court swung open. In marched the Alchemist General, returning from his mission after only a day—barely enough time to ride to the southwestern villages and back. The Sun King braced himself for yet another report of failure. If even the Alchemist could not subdue a threat to the new governance, then surely the task was impossible.

At the halfway point in the throne room, the Alchemist knelt, clasping gloved hands before his chest in a military salute.

“The Alchemist General answers the Sun King’s summons,” said the Alchemist. Approaching the throne, he knelt once more at the foot of the dais. “Hail the Sun King. I present the one you seek.”

The Alchemist waved grandly toward the entrance. He then stepped back until he stood to the left side of the dais. Two soldiers entered, dragging between them a bound Traveler wrapped in dark rags and a weather-stained cloak. The Traveler’s black glare promised painful death to all around him, but his limbs were securely tied. Despite the faint burn marks across his exposed hands, as well as the charred hole at the front of his outermost tunic, he seemed to have no severe injuries save for his pride. The soldiers pushed the Traveler to his knees beside the Alchemist, where he glared at the floor in sullen resignation.

“Are you the one they call Betrayer?” the Sun King asked.

The Traveler nodded, still scowling at the floor.

“Stories of your deeds circulate through the West. Murder should be punishable by execution, but your skill is impressive. Swear to serve the Sun Kingdom, and all charges will be waived. What do you think?”

The Traveler looked up, meeting the Sun King’s gaze.

“If joining you turns ‘murder’ into ‘justice,’ then I’ll gladly serve the crown. Swear it on my sword.” The Traveler flashed a tight smile at the Sun King—nervous, or perhaps just anticipatory—and then turned to the Alchemist. “Can I have my sword back?”

The Alchemist waved his hand, and a soldier clouted the Traveler over the head. He yelped and hunched over defensively. Another soldier approached, knife in hand, and the Traveler braced for a second blow. Fortunately, they only cut the ropes. Once freed, the Traveler brushed himself off, straightening his ragged attire into some semblance of order.

“Hail the Sun King. Tales of your splendor echo through the land; truly, your rule is without equal. I am most honored to have this rare opportunity to serve such a fair and benevolent leader,” the Traveler said, forehead to the ground in obeisance.

To the side, the Alchemist’s eyes narrowed at the note of mockery in the Traveler’s extravagant praises. However, the Sun King only grinned.

“Excellent, excellent. I hereby name you Sheriff of the Central Province. You shall join the City Guard in ensuring the safety of all citizens in the Capital and outlying lands. With your unique skill set, you should have no trouble keeping this city at peace. Let no crime go unpunished; let no dissent flourish unseen.”