“Absolutely not,” said the Marshal of the West. He flung a forged report from the Sun Outlands Patrol to the ground with a disgusted grimace. Heavy white paper with neat black script burst into flames as it hit the floor, leaving a charcoal trail as it skated across the flagstones. The Marshal pointedly turned his back to the Advisor.

“Old friend, please consider the Advisor’s idea,” the Sun King said, laying a hand upon the Marshal’s shoulder.

The Marshal rounded on his King, and the hand slid from his shoulder. Offense weighed down the set of his brow. “Even if I engaged in such a deception, the Marshal of the East would see through it. The northern supply lines are my responsibility. If the Crystal Valley Coalition attacked my mining villages, I would be the one to handle the threat.”

“Normally, that would be true,” said the Advisor, “but these past few months, you have been busy setting up the Sun Pyrotechnic Institute. Many new students look to you as the country’s foremost expert on fire tactics. You cannot be spared to chase down every minor incident.”

This was indeed the case. Though the Marshal of the West still held the rank of a prominent military commander, the Sun Pyrotechnic Institute had indeed become his first priority as of late. He had taken to supervising the administrative military affairs while he directed much of his attention to devising the pyrotechnics factory and training program for future elites of the Sun Army. The explosives storeroom in the catacombs was just one component of the Institute’s functionality. Meanwhile, the Marshal of the East’s responsibilities had expanded accordingly, and he now presided over the Sun Army on most matters of security and foreign affairs.

A hopeful light flashed in the Sun King’s eyes. “Very good. Let’s do it.”

“My King, we cannot wage war based on a lie. Remember how the Sun Revolution began! Misinformation goes against the fundamental principles of your reign. When the Marshal of the East discovers that he has been used, he will never forgive this ploy. A small tract of land is not worth losing one of the Sun Army’s most capable commanders.” The Marshal of the West scowled. “If it is Crystal Valley that you desire, I will battle the Coalition in his stead. I wish only that you would have us conquer openly, without the use of underhanded schemes.”

“I cannot ask you to take this mission. You are already overburdened with the Institute and homeland army administration,” said the Sun King. “Besides, I know that you are from the northern lands. It would be poor recompense for two decades of loyal service if I ordered you against your own homeland.”

The Marshal of the East hailed from the same homeland as the Marshal of the West. A northward conquest would be equally painful for both, but the Marshal of the West knew the importance of duty to one’s leader better than anyone.

“It is no matter. No long-past ties shall stand in the way of the Sun King’s glory.” The Marshal of the West raised his hands in salute. “Let me march against the Crystal Valley Coalition. Better to raise an army from willing hearts than petty deceit.”

However, the Advisor foiled him again.

“The Marshal of the East is more skilled in commanding an army through difficult terrain. When the Sun Army became stuck against the forces of the Eastern Capital, only the assistance of the Marshal of the East enabled us to progress. He is the more suitable choice in this campaign.” The Advisor glanced at the Marshal of the West, a challenge in her eyes. “The consequences that you fear will never occur if he does not discover our deception. Only us three shall know who the true aggressors are.”

This time, the Sun King backed her openly. “Do not insult my Advisor with further doubt. You will cooperate with her plan.”

The Marshal closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, any protest had faded from their depths. Never before had the Marshal looked more defeated. “Yes, my King.”

The Sun King turned away from the window, and upon his face was written the weariness of long leadership. Grey-streaked hair and lines by his eyes marked his frail mortality, yet the dream behind his sharp gaze still shone as sincerely as ever, a passion undimmed by the passing of years. He strode over to the council table, where four high officials were seated. Hands settled upon the ornate wooden back of his chair, and the Sun King took his seat as well.

“Colleagues and dear friends. Marshal of the West, Treasurer, Sheriff, Marshal of the East.” The Sun King nodded to each in turn, from the place at his right hand to that at his left. “We gather today to determine the matter of succession. This nation must never stop reaching further, yet a nation’s potential is only as vast as its leader’s vision. The span of my life may be too short to gather all the world under one flag. I wish to appoint the Advisor as Heir to the Crown.”

The Marshal of the West shot to his feet.

“You must not!” The Marshal of the West balked at his own outburst, bowing his head. “Forgive my insolence, but you must remember the old Empire—over thirty generations of rulers, each one less capable than the last. You cannot choose the Advisor simply because you believe that she is your daughter. Nepotism is a certain path to downfall.”

The Sun King’s palm hit the table.

“Nonsense. That the Advisor is talented and related to me is merely coincidence. She understands our mission best of all the courtiers, and her foresight is a rare skill. She already shows great potential to become an influential leader.”

“The Advisor is clearly taking advantage of your tragic past to seize power. If you make her the Heir to the Crown, she will have conquered a nation without shedding a single drop of blood.” The Marshal of the West jabbed a finger at the Sun King. “Is that how you want to be remembered? The King who lost his country to a pretty face?”

“You go too far.” The Sun King’s voice dropped low in warning. “The Advisor is in fact my daughter, and you will stop insinuating otherwise.”

The Marshal of the West sat.

“The Advisor is unsuited for leadership. You seek progress, but she would have your dominion fall into stasis,” the Marshal of the West said softly, holding his leader’s gaze. “If you must appoint an Heir, why not choose the Treasurer? He is charismatic, and his ambition will ensure that the Crown never ceases to grow in power.”

The Sheriff chimed in then. “The Marshal is right. Our people love the Treasurer for his fairness and quick wit. However, many say that the Advisor is too mild and soft-spoken to be a mere mayor, much less lead the nation. The Treasurer is a good choice since he already has popular support.”

All eyes turned to the Treasurer. His eyes widened, and he seized the opportunity with open enthusiasm.

“You flatter me greatly, my friends! I would be honored to hold such responsibility,” the Treasurer said, affecting immense gratitude. He looked up and caught the Sun King’s gaze, and his cheer slipped at the other’s irritated glare. “Ah, of course, I would not dare presume to guess the Sun King’s choice.” Head dipping in a humble bow, the Treasurer shrank into his seat. “The Advisor is intelligent and meticulous—certainly a good candidate for the weight of the Crown. Even if she might not be a perfect leader right now, she will adapt to the role easily.”

“Young and soft-spoken the Advisor may be, but her foresight has helped our army win many victories,” the Marshal of the East agreed.

The Sun King clapped. “Exactly my thoughts! You two are the only ones who see sense.”

The Sheriff held up a hand. “Let’s not be hasty. I’ve heard other rumors about the Advisor. Some commoners think her recent reorganizations have been too extreme. A leader needs the support of the people. If she takes the Crown, those people might disobey or even revolt.”

The Marshal of the West nodded vigorously. “We have only just won the nation. To lose it to another rebellion would be a great calamity. I implore you, my King, choose the Treasurer—if not for your own peace of mind, then for the sake of the people.”

Determination passed over the Sun King’s face.

“Enough. That’s settled, then. I know who must become my Heir. We’ll speak no more upon this topic.”

The Sun King returned to the window, and the Marshal of the West brought a hand to his face. The four high officials exited the meeting. Just beyond the council room doors, the Advisor stood reading an old paper booklet. She looked up when the other high officials exited, nodding to each in turn, and the Treasurer murmured a quick greeting. The Sun King beckoned the Advisor from within, and she soon vanished into the council room. The high officials proceeded in the opposite direction. Once they were out of earshot of the council room, the Sheriff shook his head.

“Our mighty King is growing stubborn in his old age.”

The Marshal of the West laid a heavy hand on the Sheriff’s arm, stopping the younger official in his tracks. All four paused in the corridor.

“Mind your words, Sheriff. The Sun King is only confused because the Advisor’s whispers have poisoned his thoughts,” the Marshal of the West said, his expression distant with the weight of memory. “The Sun King is predisposed to thought and reason, innately possessed of boundless wisdom. In time, he will regain his senses and instate the Treasurer as heir.”

“You speak too harshly, brother. The Advisor is observant by nature and quick to adapt. Though her proposals may seem a bit extreme, she will at least be a more careful leader than the Sun King. I, for one, would welcome the Advisor’s ascendance,” the Marshal of the East said.

At that moment, a palace messenger came running down the hall with a piece of official letterhead clutched tightly in his grasp. He dropped to his knees before the Marshals of East and West, offering the paper.

“Report! Sirs, an invasion at the northern border,” the messenger croaked.

The Marshal of the East took the report and scanned it. His eyes grew wide as his face paled. He soon offered the paper to his comrade of West. “Brother, they attacked your iron refineries... hundreds of miners and smiths were slaughtered...”

The Marshal of the West took the report next, but he did not need to read it to know the contents. Every deceitful word had been expertly chosen to stir the Marshal of the East’s righteous fury, an illusion designed by he who knew best the Marshal of the East’s heart and she who had orchestrated this whole scheme. The Marshal of the West sighed in pity, for the Marshal of the East still trusted the Advisor whose plot would set him against his own principles. Bound by oath and orders, the Marshal of the West could say nothing to refute such mistaken faith.

“Great calamity,” the Marshal of the West echoed his own words from earlier, wishing it were not so. Two brothers, united in purpose indeed. How long could such an ideal arrangement exist before greater powers contrived to turn them apart?