Page 1

Years before the assassination of the Daervanian queen.

Titus, the mighty emperor of Merisu, the longest reigning of his line, did his best to remain awake on his throne. At his age—a body-aching seventy—being forced every few weeks to listen to the complaints of petitioners bored. As if he cared about flocks of sheep and other petty matters.

However, despite being emperor, he did not have a choice. Blame his advisors, most specifically his vizier, Phelgar, who insisted Titus make an appearance and rule on the matters, even though the result was decided by others ahead of time.

Once upon a time, Titus had dreamed of the grandeur of ruling the most prosperous continent in the world. The reality proved disappointing as bureaucracy had long since stripped the emperor of power, making him but a figurehead, his existence governed by rules and expectations—and boredom.

As Titus struggled to appear interested in the droning vassal before his throne, he thought of what would come after.

A goblet of wine fortified with herbs, hopefully a nap, and then he would attempt to impregnate his latest consort.

Such a bother. If only his one and only son hadn’t died.

But he had and Titus no longer had an heir despite his many marriages and countless concubines, none of whom managed a successful pregnancy.

His lack of an heir had his advisors quite agitated.

Very little time remained before he died of old age, and, without a child to inherit, his country would most likely splinter, something his advisors and the lords wished to avoid.

As the last petitioner took his leave—after complaining that his well went dry because his neighbor had stolen the water, to which Titus offered to send a dousing witch to seek out a new source—the tired emperor rose from his throne, grimacing at how his aged limbs creaked and protested.

“I’m off to rest before doing my duty,” he muttered.

“Not yet, Your Eminence,” murmured Phelgar. “There is still one more case to be heard.”

“But it is midafternoon,” Titus whined, knowing no one would dare point out his petulant tone. The last person overheard murmuring about the emperor’s attitude lost their head. Not on his order, he should add. Phelgar took insults to Titus’ reign quite seriously.

“They paid an impressive sum for a moment of your time,” Phelgar remarked.

A rude reminder that their coffers ran low.

The once-prosperous Merisu had been hit by a series of unfortunate events.

Droughts the last three summers had spawned wildfires which in turn decimated the already sparse crop yields.

Hard to collect taxes when no one could earn any coin.

It didn’t help the treasury had been paying extra for additional guards to keep a hungry populace from rioting.

At least the many executions of instigators made for fewer mouths to feed.

Titus dropped back onto his throne with a sigh. “And what is the verdict I’m to propose?”

“I don’t have one,” Phelgar replied, surprising the emperor. “They only just arrived, bearing a chest of gold.”

A chest? Impressive and intriguing. Especially the part where Phelgar couldn’t tell him in advance what to reply. Titus couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually made a decision on his own. “Their generous contribution pleases me. Let us see what they have to say.”

The guards at the entrance to his throne room flung open the bronze doors, the height of at least two tall men and gleaming from the daily polishing.

Through them marched a trio of women, clad head to toe in white robes that included concealing veils.

An interesting attire that probably hid hideous countenances.

His third consort had to wear one when he bedded her so he didn’t lose his erection.

The three petitioners stopped a pace before the last step of his dais and in unison knelt with bowed heads.

“Rise.” Titus waved a gnarled hand.

They rose as one, and the woman in the center spoke, her voice low and husky. “Oh, mighty emperor of Merisu, thank you for receiving us.”

“Your names,” Phelgar demanded, a quill and parchment ready to take notes.

“I am Klothi and these are my sisters, Kachezi and Karoki.”

Unusual names. “Why do you seek an audience? By your speech, you do not appear to be Merisuan citizens. Are you here as delegates for another country?”

“We have no allegiance to any country, your eminence, for we were chosen to serve a higher purpose.”

The claim arched his brow. Had a new religious sect sprung up? Surprising since Phelgar’s spy network usually stamped out anything that might run counter to his rule.

“There is no higher purpose than serving Merisu,” Phelgar tartly replied.

“What we do is for the betterment of everyone,” Klothi stated.

“And what exactly do you do?” Titus asked.

“We are keepers of knowledge. The sisters who watch. The ones who see what is to come and would prevent it.”

“Grandiose claims that say nothing. Speak plainly,” Phelgar barked. “The emperor’s time is valuable.”

“We are known as the Dracova Guardians and for the longest time have kept ourselves hidden from the world.”

“I’ve never heard of you. What exactly do you guard?” Phelgar showed little patience.

“That is not something that can be revealed to anyone but the emperor,” was Klothi’s cool reply.

Phelgar stiffened. “I am his highest advisor which means all information comes through me.”

“Not this secret. We will divulge it only to your emperor, should he choose to align with our cause.”

“No,” Phelgar spat. “I’ve heard enough. Leave.”

Titus held up a hand. “Let’s not be hasty.” For the first time in a while, he found himself intrigued. “I wish to hear more.” Phelgar’s eyes shot warning daggers, but Titus ignored him and leaned forward. “What do you mean by align?”

“I’m afraid we cannot divulge more until we are in private. But it is understandable that you are leery, hence why we brought a gift, in addition to our offering of gold, to show our good faith.”

A gift? That piqued his interest, but first… “Why have you been hiding?”

“Because the secrets we guard would cause great ill in the wrong hands. There was a time, long ago, when we had shrines on every continent and served our purpose openly. Now, we are all that is left as time and ill luck have eroded our numbers. But that will soon change as the new age is almost upon us.”

“A new age of what?”

“Prosperity. Rebirth. And you, Emperor Titus, have been selected to lead us to that future.”

At the claim, he cackled. “I’m afraid you’ve chosen poorly. I am an old man on the cusp of passing.” He saw no point in denying the obvious.

“We do not make mistakes,” Klothi replied bluntly. “Should you accept our gift of goodwill, age will no longer be a concern of yours.”

“Planning to kill me?” Titus asked.

“On the contrary. We wish you to live, hence the rare and precious offering we’ve brought exclusively for you.”

The woman to Klothi’s left, whom she’d called Kachezi, took a step forward and as her voluminous sleeves retreated, presented a vial. “Drink this elixir and reclaim your youth.”

Laughter erupted from Phelgar and he glanced at Titus. “Do you hear this ridiculousness? Do you think we are stupid?” he scoffed. “The emperor will not drink whatever poison you present.”

“We understand the hesitance. Would you like to see an example of what this elixir can do?” Klothi waved to the woman on her right. “Karoki, if you would be so kind.”

Karoki raised her hands and clasped her veil, tugging it from her head to reveal an old woman, her visage wrinkled like a prune left in the sun too long, her gray hair shorn almost to the scalp.

Without hesitation, Karoki held out a hand, the flesh mottled with age, the veins pulsing dark lines visible through the papery skin.

The female holding the vial handed it to her companion. The cloudy eyes stared right at Titus as Karoki removed the cap and took a sip.

Quickly, Kachezi snatched the amphora, and just in time, as Karoki fell to her knees with a gasp. She didn’t remain kneeling for long. As her body began to convulse, she fell to the floor and writhed.

Phelgar’s eyes widened. “You poisoned her! I knew you planned treachery.”

“Watch,” admonished Klothi.

“I’ve heard and seen enough. Arrest this woman!” Phelgar shouted, but Titus held up a hand and, while not a strong bellow, managed to shout, “Belay that order.” Because something strange appeared to be happening to Karoki.

Under his disbelieving gaze, the one who’d drank from the vial shed decades. Her face smoothed, the wrinkles vanishing as her flesh plumped. The spots on her cheeks faded, leaving them pale and smooth with a hint of blush. Dried thin lips filled and regained their reddish color.

The change took only minutes. When done, Karoki stood and faced him, a hint of a smile curving her mouth.

Klothi held her head high as she stated, “As you can see, this isn’t a poison, but rather an elixir that brings back youth. Our gift to you with the hope you’ll join our cause.”

“Give it.” Titus held out his hands, but Phelgar moved to block him. “What sorcery is this? It is not possible to revert the ravages of time.”

“You would deny the evidence before your eyes?”

“It’s a trick. Given there are witches in my family, I am familiar with magic, and there is no elixir of youth,” Phelgar blustered.

“Dracova Guardians are more than mere witches,” Klothi stated in a sneering tone. “We are the last of those trained in the art of magic since birth, privy to secrets your puny mind could not hope to comprehend. Hence why our offer is to your emperor, and not a sniveling coward like you.”

The rebuke almost had Titus snickering, but Phelgar didn’t appreciate it.

“You insolent wench. I am His Eminence’s vizier. I will not stand here and be insulted, nor will I allow you to harm the emperor. Guards, seize them.”

“You overstep yourself, Phelgar. Ignore that order,” Titus called out, standing from his throne.

“But, Your Eminence,” Phelgar said, turning to face him. “Surely you don’t believe this charlatanry. It is most likely an illusion.”

“I am an old man on the cusp of death. Do I really have anything to lose?” Titus asked.

“Your life,” Phelgar bluntly stated.

“A life of aching bones and wheezing breath. I’ve been alive more than seventy years, longer than most.”

“If you die, the country will be in shambles.”

“Because I lack an heir. I’m aware,” was his dry reply. “Do you really think a few more days or months or even years will change that?”

“You’ve had ill luck with infertile women?—”

Despite a lifetime of obedience, Titus cut him off.

“It’s not them, and you know it, despite how many doctors you parade past me claiming they are barren.

Or did you think I wasn’t aware of my wives’ dalliances and their pregnancies with other men?

Incidents you caught before the babes could be passed off as my own?

Perhaps you should have allowed one of them to be born. ”

“As if I’d allow a bastard to sit on the throne,” Phelgar hissed.

“The truth is, my seed refuses to take root, and thus I either die without an heir, or I trust this elixir isn’t an illusion.”

“Once you regain your youth, you won’t need a son. You could rule forever,” Klothi stated loud enough to be heard.

Immortality. It tempted, as did the fact he wouldn’t have to keep pretending interest in the various ladies who showed up in his bed. No more being forced to marry supposedly fertile females whom he couldn’t stand to be around.

“I accept your gift.” Titus descended the dais on legs that protested as he held out a gnarled hand.

Klothi dropped the vial in his palm and Titus eyed the liquid within, a little more than half left. A sniff of the potion wrinkled his nose. “It smells foul.”

“Most cures do,” she softly noted.

True.

Before Titus could shrivel and cower obediently under Phelgar’s disapproving stare, he tilted the vial and dribbled the liquid into his mouth.

It tasted worse than it smelled. Titus almost spat it out. His throat tightened and his stomach clenched as he forced himself to swallow.

The effect proved instant. His muscles cramped, the pain gripping every inch of him. The ampoule fell to the floor and shattered, not that he noticed. He was too busy trying not to scream from the agony scouring his body.

He found himself on the floor and could hear Phelgar shouting, he just couldn’t bring himself to care, seeing as how he was dying.

He’d been wrong.

The poison would kill him.

Here ended his legacy and that of his forefathers stretching a thousand years.

To his surprise, he didn’t die. The seizures and pain eased. He took a deep breath, and it didn’t wheeze. The aches, so long a part of him, were gone. As Titus rose to his feet, staring in wonder at his smooth hands, he heard Phelgar exclaim.

“Your eminence. It worked.” The man sounded so surprised.

Titus was elated. He turned to Klothi and smiled, a charming grin with a hint of conniving as he said, “Whatever you wish from me, you have it.”

“Eminence, shouldn’t you first hear what they want from you?” Phelgar argued.

“Doesn’t matter.” After all, if these witches could keep him young forever and thought he could lead them into a new age, he’d be a fool to refuse.

And so, the three Dracova Guardians joined his court and revealed what was to come, a plan that would be years coming to fruition. Titus didn’t mind the wait. After all, he now had all the time he needed to become emperor of the world.