Redmane entered the great hall of Beroh Keep, escorted by a guard.

  And feeling like a brand new monster.

  It was dinnertime. Torches flickered against the stone walls, bathing the hall in warm light. The air hummed with the murmur of voices, punctuated by the clink of goblets and the scrape of chairs on the rough-hewn floor. The scent of roasted meat mingled with the tang of spiced wine wafting through the space. A minstrel sang while his mate plucked at the strings of her lute, their melodies weaving through the din of conversation as serving girls weaved through the crowd, delivering a constant supply of fresh food to the hall’s long tables.

  His perception of it all felt… Cleaner. Sharpened.

  His senses hadn’t felt this keen since his days of forced starvation at the hands of the Morholts.

  Even as he stood amid such a din, he could peer through the eyes of any of his Spawn as if he were standing by himself in the dark. It was faster now. Before, he’d have to close his eyes and concentrate, search through space for the right set of eyes to borrow. Now he knew where he was at all times, and without effort.

  He was a bird perched on a branch outside the window.

  He was a lumbering chimera with the body of a bear and five snakes for heads, out there in the forest.

  He was many places, and he was here, and his consciousness of all of these things did not detract from each other.

  Redmane supposed he now knew how Flora felt. He no longer had to imagine how she managed to be present and attentive in so many places at once.

  Krum of Asgoph, meanwhile, hadn’t noticed his entrance yet. He was face first in his dinner, eating rapidly and reverently, and with no trace of table manners whatsoever. Now and then, when he took a bite of meat or a sip of wine, he made an ecstatic face, as if this meal were the best he’d ever had.

  He still had burn marks and cuts all over him.

  Good to see that defeat hadn’t deflated the man’s spirit.

  “I’ll let him know you’re here,” said the guard who had escorted him in. “Stay put, yeah?”

  Redmane nodded.

  The guard gave Redmane an uneasy smile and made his way to the head of the central table to get Krum’s attention. He did so by tapping the giant pugilist on the shoulder, then leaning in to whisper in his ear and point in Redmane’s direction.

  When Krum saw Redmane, his eyes grew wide and the maniacal grin took over his face.

  He rose to his feet and boomed, “REDMANE!”

  The hall went silent.

  Everyone looked at Redmane.

  Some of the eyes upon him were fearful, many were cautious, a few merely curious. Something about all that attention felt familiar. Perhaps it stirred the memories of Sencis Karalis hidden somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

  Redmane gave Krum a polite bow. The giant laughed in answer.

  “Do not bow in your own hall! Come!” he pulled out the chair next to him and waved for Redmane to sit. “Enjoy the bounty of our kitchen.”

  He walked across the great hall toward the head of the table, and the silence held. Every pair of eyes tracked him as he moved past them. By the time he reached his seat, the spell still hadn’t broken.

  It would be wise to say something to these people.

  Redmane pondered his choice of words for a moment.

  “I came to your home in search of an enemy, whom I have discovered and dispatched. It wasn’t my intention to wager your safety on the outcome of a duel. You have my word that any agreement reached between your Faction leader and myself will be to your benefit. Indeed, if my endeavors can improve your lot, then it shall please me to do so.”

  They looked satisfied. Most of them, at least.

  A man in the back raised his flagon and said, “Here here!”

  “To Redmane!” said another.

  Krum of Asgoph grinned and hoisted his cup as well. “To Redmane!”

  Half the room joined in the next one, and the rest joined in the third. Krum seemed to have a knack for energizing his people.

  Redmane smiled and took a seat.

  As he did so, he noticed that the two women sitting to his right had System icons.

  —

  Evelina Crol

  Class: Magister

  Archetype: Frostbrand

  Faction: Defenders of Volos

  Level: 113

  Alma Brador

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Class: Magister

  Archetype: Firebrand

  Faction: Defenders of Volos

  Level: 122

  —

  Evelina was tall, with gray eyes and hair so blond it was nearly white. Alma Brador had a healthy tan, golden brown eyes and a mane as black as lacquered ebony. They both wore the robes of Magisters.

  Alma smiled when he looked at her. “Well met, Redmane.”

  “Sorry we missed the show,” said Evelina, with a smirk. “We usually see Krum giving the thrashings, not taking them.”

  “I can see why,” said Redmane. “Your comrade is formidable.”

  “Any chance we can get a repeat performance?” asked Evelina.

  Krum slapped the table to get their attention. They all turned to look at him and he grinned, his palm flat on the wood and his cup in his other hand.

  “We train later. First we settle the score, before you run off again.”

  Defenders of Volos propose a merger with House Redmane:

  Merger terms:

  Members of Defenders of Volos become members of House Redmane

  Zones in the domain of Defenders of Volos become Zones in the domain of House Redmane

  The Faction Account of Defenders of Volos cedes all Gnosis to the Faction Account of House Redmane.

  The following Zones will be assimilated into the domain of House Redmane:

  Sanctuary: Beroh Keep

  Upper Asgoph

  Lower Asgoph

  Mount Merkuur

  Lake Arnza

  Do you accept these terms?

  Yes/No

  House Redmane has received Faction Membership Requests:

  Krum of Asgoph (Warrior)

  Evelina Crol (Magister)

  Alma Brador (Magister)

  There was a long list of names beneath those three. Normal folk, non Imbued, and a good healthy number of them. The Defenders of Volos had cared for their survivors well.

  Do you accept these applicants?

  Yes/No

  Redmane frowned, glanced at Krum.

  “You’re certain this is what you all want to do.”

  Krum nodded solemnly. Alma and Evelina smiled and inclined their heads in concurrence.

  He selected Yes to the merger and Yes to the membership requests.

  Krum sat back with a smile on his face. Redmane noticed the relief in his expression, and at that moment he realized that the giant probably hadn't wanted authority over these people in the first place. When the Blight struck he was likely in the right place at the right time to take the lead, more likely than not.

  “Now we are the mightiest Faction in all the land,” said Krum, with relish. And to celebrate, he tipped back his flagon and gulped down its contents, the rest spilling onto his torso and the floor.

  Out of curiosity Redmane opened the atlas of Volos. The glowing blue map appeared before the four of them, and they could see the size of their newly combined domain. Castle Redmane was surrounded by the Zones he’d cleared in the first few days of the Blight, which were now connected to the Skalla Mountains and Caverns, the town of Rollo’s Pass, and the village of Kenvik. To the west, Valtr and Vengarl's Coterie had been busy. Four more zones connected to Castle Redmane in that direction, and now there was Asgoph.

  Evelina and Alma leaned over to look. Evelina’s eyebrows rose, and Alma let out a low whistle.

  “Goodness,” said Alma.

  “We’re rich!” said Evelina.

  That made Redmane frown thoughtfully.

  There was an abundance of resources to work with. Especially in the Zones Flora had already seeded with… Herself. They already possessed a formidable income. By the time Flora made it to all the Zones they now owned, it would be massive.

  Managing such a thing effectively was not within his realm of expertise.

  He may once have been a King and a God, but today he was merely a warrior.

  Krum sat there, drinking wine with a smug look on his face. He'd passed off the responsibility, but Redmane was no master administrator either.

  Who could he get to handle all this…

  Jarel Craith opened the door to his chambers, peered down the hall in either direction, and then bolted for Mecia Porsena’s office at a brisk walk.

  That smirking serpent Lar Tathvaal would not talk him out of it this time.

  The Dicentis wanted to wait and see how this would unfold. Well, now they had seen.

  The creature called Redmane consorted with Monsters and witches. It willingly, perhaps even proudly, carried the taint of the Abyss inside its body. And while conflicts between Factions of Imbued were far from unheard of, even encouraged sometimes, the fate of Aerin Morholt and Helmold Brecht made his skin crawl.

  His mere existence was blasphemy.

  The more he watched, the more convinced he became that the System could, in fact, make a mistake.

  It was time to deal with it.

  This conversation should have taken place days ago.

  But as his hasty footsteps echoed down the hallway, his mounting fear of the Governess eclipsed his mounting fear of the actual problem. What excuse would he give for not telling her sooner?

  Only the truth could be spoken. Lar Tathvaal, who no doubt wished to slip the monster into his own pocket, had placated him. Told him to wait.

  Whatever the consequences, he would have to bear them.

  Some solace came in knowing the Dicentis would get it worse.

  He reached the giant doors to Mecia Porsena’s office and knocked politely. In a moment they slid open to permit him, and he found the Governess at her desk.

  She was looking at a projection of Volos. At the new domain of House Redmane. And she had a smile on her face.

  Jarel’s eyebrow rose. “Ah, Governess, I was going to bring to your attention…”

  “This?” she gestured at it without looking up.

  He paused. Uncertain of how to proceed. “Yes.”

  “An unexpected development, to be sure. But far from unwelcome.”

  Jarel cleared his throat. “We have learned more about the one called Redmane. He is indeed the cause of the Blight, and I fear the risk he poses is significant, Governess.”

  Mecia Porsena’s eyes shifted from the atlas to Jarel.

  “That no longer matters, Praetor. Look at these Gnosis production numbers. So what if the world’s full of gibbering beastmen. If every Zone in the land has the potential to be this productive, we may find ourselves sitting upon the highest yield from a colony world in centuries, if not longer. It may even be strong enough to survive Terminal Drain.”

  “But Redmane—“

  Mecia held up her hand. "My curiosity is satisfied, and the matter is resolved. The Blight will be cleared by the Imbued in play, and every Zone belonging to House Redmane will supply us with inconceivable Gnosis generation rates. Make no mistake, Jarel. This is a victory for us all.”

  Jarel felt like someone had reached in and scooped out his guts.

  He stood in stunned silence, frozen.

  “That will be all, Praetor,” said the Governess. “Oh, while it’s on my mind, go and tell Arnth Turan to ratchet up the Gnosis draw from all Zones.”

  Jarel found his mouth suddenly dry. Instead of speaking, he mutely nodded and excused himself.

  No sooner did he clear her doors did he feel his stomach harden into a rock. He’d expected at least mild punishment, instead he received a reminder that Mecia and Lar weren’t so different from each other after all. The only thing that made Lar Tathvaal different was youth. The day he backstabbed himself into a comfortable, prestigious position would be the day the two of them would be indistinguishable from each other.

  He was no fool. He knew Mecia and Lar well. And to say there were many like them in Numantia would be a comical understatement. But still, their lack of integrity made him sick.

  Blinded by greed. Turning away from the presence of the corrupted.

  People who paid lip service to the Nine but had no true faith in their hearts.

  This monster trucked with Abyss Witches and they had no issue…

  Jarel Craith shook his head.

  He knew what he had to do.

  He was the Praetor here. The Sicari answered to him.

  He had the authority to use them in any capacity, even against members of a colonial government, in exigent circumstances.

  If she chose to ignore the danger growing right under her nose in favor of simple greed, he would be left with no choice.

  PATREON