Connor is who I would describe as the perfect hero. He has no interest in ambition or power. He’s good with people, especially children, and he’s naturally well liked. He’s a very relaxed type of guy who doesn’t let anyone get under his skin. He’s a natural leader and a stategist at heart, he knows how to utilize his skills and abilities to the fullest.

I’m none of those things. Even coming to this world, I’m as antisocial and awkward as ever. Sure the power fantasy has made me more confident, but when dealing with peers and not Commons, I find myself stuttering over my words. I act on impulse, and I’m usually wrong when I strategize, and people are still naturally inclined to ignore me.

I’m jealous. I try to tell myself it’s fine, but I just wish I was normal. Just enough that I could make friends as easily as Connor.

And yet, he’s my friend anyway.

Tyrannus Maximus sat on the Eternal Throne. The metal roses, responding to their master, twisted and curled around him. Agathe stood to his the right of the throne, watching over the Great Lords as they entered, and Thaim stood to his left, notepad in hand, ready to scribble down notes from the meeting.

Thaim watched as the Great Lords entered. It had been about three years since all of them were summoned in such a matter, the last being during the Hero of Frosts rebellion. Thaim lamented to himself. He had heard that Archivists in the past had gone their whole life times never having seen all the Great Lords in a room once. Thaim had seen them assemble like theis four times already in his tenure.

Agathe watched with his dragon mask, scanning the room, spear in hand. As was characteristic of Hands, he did not show any emotion. He simply loomed, an ever watchful eye.

“Supreme One.” The eldest in the room, Lord Chastings bowed before the throne. He wore a prim black suit, fur coat over his shoulders, with a small cane in his hand.

The other Great Lords, having taken notice, stepped forward, bowing and acknowledging him the same.

“House Chastings. House Tyrene. House Mosul. House Morganna, Aramere and Solas.” The Supreme One acknowledged, tapping his rings against the throne as he counted them. “Where is Lady Kestings? Edward Chastings.”

“Yes, Supreme One.” The old man answered.

“Where is your sister house?”

The great iron doors creaked opened. In them, a woman appeared. She had blonde hair, and wore a red and black noble’s woman’s dress, long white fur coat trailing behind her. She walked forward on heels, her stride confident, ignoring the glares of the other Great Lords as she stepped before the throne, bowing.

“Supreme One.” She said. “House Kestings has come to your summons.”

“I see.” Tyrannus leaned back, tapping his fingers against a metal rose. “Why is it that you see fit to be late to my summons, Lady Charlan Kestings?”

“I meant no insult Supreme One.” She said, her demeanor as smooth as ice. “I had run over a Common boy. Made a mess of my carriage. You know how they are.”

“No. I do not.” The Supreme One said. “I don’t understand those rats out there at all. I give them this, a home amongst the frozen wastes, and yet they see fit to rebel against me.” The Supreme One lifted his head, allowing his cold eyes to peer out from under his hood. “Which is why I assemble you here today. House Chastings and Kestings, I had charged both of your noble house’s with the policing of my eastern domain.”

“Yes, Supreme One.” They said in unison.

“And yet the pests remain. The echoes of the rebellion.” He said, shutting his fist. The air seemed to grow heavy as he did so. It was much harder to breath, at least for Thaim.

“Do you both remember what I did to your former master Houses, Aveline and Callmore?”

“You destroyed them Supreme One.” Lady Kestings replied. “For failing you.”

“Let it be known. Though I am a benevolent ruler, those who fail me will meet a similar fate. The inquisition hunts this half-Common, the one who has the audacity to name herself Queen of the Boroughs. My keep was broken into, causing me to lose a precious toy of my mine.” Thaim swallowed, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his head. “One of my Hand’s is dead, and my Experience Mines are empty of workers. Whose fault is this?”

“Our own, Supreme One.” All the Great Lords said.

“Indeed. You all have failed me.” He said, his voice shaking the throne room. “But, worry not. For a light has come in the darkness. An old enemy of mine is dead. It puts me in a good mood, enough that I don’t exact my rage on the domains I have so graciously given you. However, I fear his death was not without reason. I do not believe after all these years he would have allowed himself to die like this. His death is connected to remnants of that heretical rebellion. Kestings, Chastings.”

“Yes, Supreme One.”

“The mines are nearest to you. We have reason to believe radical elements are hiding within the east. I am tasking both of you with weeding out any sign of dissent. Of course, Agathe here will help you. You will have the full power of my Hand.”

Agathe bowed.

“I task the rest of you with being vigilant. Any sign of rebellion within your house will no longer be handled on local level. Every act of discipline, no matter how minor, shall be conducted by the Inquisition. I shall disperse multiple delegates to each of your respective domains, as well as assign a High Inquisitor to each of your households.”

“Yes, Supreme One.” They echoed.

“Very well. You lords are dismissed. We shall meet again tonight to discuss these manners further.” He said.

With that they left the chambers, leaving only Thaim and Agathe.

“Supreme One.” Agathe said, kneeling. “I…”

“Agathe. You have been my Hand for two thousand years. Not once did you ever dissent me or try to overthrow me. You are not like those great lords over there. You have seen them try to rise up against me, you’ve seen them try to accumulate their own power, to break free from my domain.”

“And you crush them every single time.” Agathe answered. “For you are god.”

“I am.” Tyrannus said, leaning back in his throne, the metal roses curling around his body. “Agathe. I leave all manners of inquisition to you. Find this woman and do what must be done. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, Supreme One. It is all according to your plan.”

“Then go. Make the preparations. Perhaps make the preparations for the creation of a new Hand.”

“Supreme One.” Agathe hissed.

“Speak.” He said.

“Perhaps it best we bolster our force. Seven is not enough to monitor the whole empire for heretics. Let us double, no triple the number of Hands, that way we can police the state more effectively.”

“No. You will make only one more, and that’s final.” The Supreme One said.

“As you wish.” Agathe said.

Thaim watched with a curious expression, scribbling down every line of dialogue with a trained hand. As the Grand Archivist, it was his job to record everything said before the Eternal Throne. It had been that way since the Supreme’s One’s rise to power. A record of everything since the very beginning.

“I tire of this. I already use the Flame once this year, but I did not expect the death of the old man.” The Supreme One sighed, leaning back on his throne.

Thaim paused. Master Qun is dead? He held back his sadness. Qun had trained him for this, ever since he was first selected as an Archivist candidate. He wrote down the Supreme One’s words.

“Now I must wait for the next Deep Winter before I can use the power again. Agathe, that’s your time limit. Destroy the rebels before I can use the power again. It will be dangerous to have a rogue element loose when I activate it.”

“As you wish Supreme One.”

The power… what was it? Thaim knew. It was the World Forge. Qun had taught him since he was boy that the Supreme One abused the World Forge’s power. He was using the flame to hold the world hostage in ice in order to consolidate his power.

“Thaim.” Tyrannus said.

“Yes Supreme One?”

“Attend to the Great Lords. They should be in the ballroom hall. Record any propositions they may have.”

“As you wish Supreme One.”

The Supreme One nodded, getting up. He snapped his fingers, disappearing in a blue mist. The throne, absent of its master, froze in place, now a sculpture of metal.

Agathe turned to Thaim, grinning as always, not saying a word. He then faded into his shadow, leaving Thaim alone in the throne room.