CHAPTER TWO
Kol 9102 - Seventh Day of the first turn of Oathmarch
The bell had stopped ringing, but Sam still heard it.
It clung to his skull like a curse sixty-nine tolls for the Empress, each one hammering the same truth into the city: the Deialger line was bleeding out, and everyone pretending otherwise was a liar. In the Metaforger estate, the air felt too clean. Too rich, too insulated from what the Empire was. Sam stood in his room staring at the wall, Armor stripped off but war still stuck beneath his skin. Spencer's words replayed like poison.
A Gofindal princess
At the wedding
The date won't change.
Only Three days of mourning instead of a week Breaking tradition
Sam's hands curled into fists.
He thought of Arthur.
The battlefield smile at the wedding news.
The prison.
Sam grabbed his coat and left without another word.
He crossed the bridge over the lake, passed soldiers who bowed automatically because Metaforger wealth had trained them to bow, and mounted a horse.
The palace wasn't far.
But it felt like riding into another war.
The Palace Gates
The Deialger palace walls rose like cliffs
The gates were open.
That was already wrong.
Sam approached and saw why.
People lined the streets, not cheering, not celebrating just standing in rigid silence. Heads lowered. Hands clasped. Fear dressed up as reverence.
Royal death did that, Royal uncertainty did worse.
Sam dismounted and walked, feeling eyes on him. Commonfolk eyes. Soldier eyes. Noble eyes.
They all wanted to know the same thing:
Is the Empire safe?
Sam didn't know.
He only knew Arthur wasn't.
The Main Hall
Paintings of past emperors stared down from the walls fifteen rulers, their faces stern, proud, cruel, wise, hollow. The empire's entire history was hung here like trophies.
Sam walked past them quickly, but one caught his eye:
Emperor Caelum "The Unifier"
The one who won the War of Four.
The one who burned the Order's reach back into obedience.
The one who unified most of the continent, then turned and fought his own children.
Sam had seen men like that on battlefields men who believed the world could be saved if only everyone obeyed.
He prayed Arthur would never become that.
He already knew the prayer was failing.
The Trident
Four guards opened the door, the Trident chamber smelled like incense and ambition, Seven seats, Seven powers and the emperor at the end of the table like a fat spider in the centre of a web.
Sam entered quietly, but everyone noticed.
Sebastian Metaforger's eyes flicked to him for half a second no warmth, no greeting, just evaluation. Trade first. Family second. Always. Gordon Oscar leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming, Jack Corvus smiled like a man watching a game he'd already rigged, Fino Redwood looked tired, worried the only one who wore his concern honestly, and in the Lord of Relations seat That Highkin envoy sat calm as stone, blonde hair, long ears, Watching.
Like the war hadn't ended only moved indoors.
Sam's throat tightened.
The emperor spoke first
"Ah," Johnathan Corvus said, voice booming to remind everyone he was still the loudest thing in the room. "Sebastian, your son returns. How pleasant."
Sebastian didn't even stand.
"He returned," Sebastian said. "There are more important matters than greetings."
Sam felt the sting anyway.
He bowed out of habit.
"We greet the emperor. We bow in your name."
"Enough," Johnathan said lazily. "Sit. You'll be useful soon."
Useful, Sam swallowed.
Gordon Oscar leaned forward. "The wedding preparations begin tomorrow."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Tomorrow? With the Empress dead?"
Jack Corvus chuckled. "Tradition is expensive."
"It's not just tradition," Sam said. "It's stability. If you break mourning laws, the people will talk."
Nowell tapped the table. "The people always talk. They don't matter unless they riot."
Sam's jaw tightened. "That's how riots start."
The emperor waved a hand like brushing away a fly.
"The wedding will proceed," Johnathan said. "Three days of mourning. That is all. We cannot stall the alliance."
Sam looked around the table.
No one argued.
Not even Sebastian.
Which told Sam everything.
This wasn't a decision made today.
Fino Redwood cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, the Empress's illness..."
Johnathan's eyes sharpened. "Not here."
Fino went quiet, Sam felt a chill crawl up his back.
As if the Trident chamber was not safe from its own members.
Gordon smiled. "You understand politics quickly, Metaforger."
Sam didn't smile back. "I understand funerals too."
Jack Corvus leaned in, speaking softly, like friendly advice.
"People grieve," Jack said. "Then they eat. Then they work. Then they forget. The wedding keeps them focused on celebration rather than… questions."
Sam held Jack's gaze, Questions
Like how the Empress died.
Like why the emperor seemed prepared.
Like why a Highkin sat in a Trident seat.
Sam's eyes flicked to Frieden, The Highkin envoy sat there with the calm of a man who knew the Empire was choking.
Johnathan noticed Sam looking.
"Oh," the emperor said, as if remembering a piece on a board. "Yes. The envoy. Part of the deal. He will ensure the Highkin keep their word."
Sam didn't hide his disgust. "And we keep ours by letting the enemy sit at the Trident table."
The Highkin envoy's lips curled slightly.
Not quite a smile, more like amusement, Johnathan leaned back, heavy and pleased with himself.
"You soldiers think war ends with blood," he said. "War ends with ink."
Sam felt anger rise, He kept it down.
Because anger was how Arthur was going to fall, Sam couldn't fall too.
The Hallway Outside
Sam left the Trident with his fists tight and his mind louder than any horn.
He didn't go far before he saw Antony Deialger waiting in the corridor, Armour still worn like a habit even at court, Antony's face was drawn tight
"Sam," Antony said quietly. "You shouldn't challenge them in there."
Sam stared. "They're breaking mourning law."
Antony's mouth twisted. "They don't care about law. They care about control."
Sam stepped closer. "Where is Arthur?"
Antony hesitated, that hesitation was answer enough, Sam's stomach dropped.
"Where," Sam repeated, voice harder.
Antony spoke low. "With his brother. Then… he went elsewhere."
"Elsewhere," Sam echoed.
Antony's eyes flicked away.
"The prison," Antony finally admitted. "Or the armoury. I don't know."
Sam turned and walked without another word.
Antony grabbed his wrist.
"Sam," Antony said. "Listen to me. Arthur is..."
"Changing," Sam finished for him.
Antony released him slowly.
Sam walked faster.
Because whatever Arthur was becoming, it wasn't waiting.
Liam's Room
Inside, the room smelled like perfume trying to hide blood.
Liam lay asleep, bruised and bandaged.
A maid sat nearby, she turned when Sam entered, her eyes were too calm too bright not servant eyes, Believer eyes.
Sam recognized that look.
He'd seen it in soldiers right before they died for a cause they barely understood.
"Who are you?" Sam asked.
She smiled.
"I go by Nav," she said. "You must be Sam Metaforger."
Sam's skin prickled.
"You know me?"
"We know many things," she said.
Sam stepped closer. "Who is 'we'?"
"Those who still believe in the ancient teachings," she replied.
Sam's throat tightened.
Ancient teachings.
Sam's mind flashed orange eyes in endless white, I can't wait to see the choices you make.
Sam forced his voice steady. "What are you doing here?"
"Protecting the Savior," Nav whispered, gaze drifting to Liam like worship.
Sam's stomach turned.
"So, what you believe he is, The emancipator?" Sam asked.
Nav smile widened.
"No," she said softly. "The Emancipator was only the vessel."
Sam froze.
"What does that mean?"
Nav leaned forward like she was telling him a secret out of kindness
"It means the flame" she murmured. "It belongs to purpose."
Sam's heart pounded.
He didn't know why.
But he felt like the room had grown colder.
The Armory
Sam left Liam's chambers and went straight to the one place he knew Arthur would go when he couldn't breathe, Steel, the Armory doors were open, two guards stood outside, Obsidian Knights.
They didn't move.
Sam stopped.
"You can't go in," one said.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Since when do Obsidian Knights guard an Armory?"
The other knight spoke. "Since the Warden-Marshal requested privacy."
The title was already being used like a weapon.
"I'm not here to challenge him," Sam said. "I'm here to stop him from doing something he can't undo."
The knights didn't move.
Sam swallowed his pride and did the one thing soldiers hated doing.
He lowered his voice.
"Please."
That made one knight's posture shift slightly, like the word wasn't expected.
The doors opened.
Sam entered.
Arthur stood in the centre of the Armory, surrounded by weapons, he was still wearing battlefield Armor Blood still dried in the grooves
His eyes looked worse than when Sam had last seen him.
He wasn't grieving like a son.
Arthur turned as Sam approached.
"Sam," Arthur said calmly. Too calmly. "You're home."
Sam forced himself to meet Arthur's gaze.
"The Empress is dead," Sam said.
Arthur's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"The Trident is pushing the wedding forward," Sam continued. "Three days of mourning."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Good," Arthur said.
Sam blinked. "Good?"
Sam stepped closer. "Arthur...."
Arthur's eyes snapped sharper.
"They planned this," Arthur hissed. "They waited for her to die. They prepared their little speeches and their little smiles, and they think I'll sit at their table like a trained dog because they gave me a title."
Sam felt the air tighten.
"This is how Caelum started," Sam said before he could stop himself.
Arthur's eyes flickered.
Caelum "The Unifier"
The tyrant reformer.
The War of Four shadow.
Arthur stepped closer until the space between them felt like a blade edge.
"Do not compare me to him," Arthur said softly.
Sam's voice shook. "Then don't become him."
Arthur's hand went to the hilt of a sword on the wall.
Not gripping, just touching, Like an instinct,
Sam watched the metal.
For half a breath, it glowed, White gold, not normal heat, not forge heat, The Ascendant Flame.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Arthur noticed Sam seeing it, his smile returned, thin and sharp.
"You think the flame makes men good?" Arthur asked.
Sam swallowed.
"I think it makes them dangerous," Sam replied.
Arthur leaned closer, voice almost gentle.
"Then you understand why I can't be weak." Sam's heart hammered.
"What are you planning?" Sam asked.
Arthur's eyes hardened.
"I'm going to find out who killed my mother," Arthur said. "And then I'm going to make sure the Empire never belongs to pigs and paper-pushers again."
Sam's stomach twisted
The sentence sounded righteous.
The intention sounded like salvation.
The tone sounded like a funeral for restraint.
Arthur glanced toward the door, then back at Sam.
"And you," Arthur said, "you're going to help me." Sam stared at him.
Because he heard the trap, not spoken, But implied.
Help me… or stand in my way, Sam took a slow breath.
The dream returned in his mind, orange eyes, Endless white, I can't wait to see the choices you make Sam looked at Arthur.
And for the first time, he understood what the war had truly been, not seventeen years against the Highkin, not four years in the Black Valleys, the war was about what came after.
Sam met Arthur's gaze and forced his voice steady.
"I'll help you," Sam said, Arthur smiled.
Not grateful, Relieved.
Because the first chain was now fastened and Sam wasn't sure whether he'd just saved his friend or stepped onto the road that would make him the hero who had to stop him.