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Fortiss fields this one. “The lord protector at that time, and Rihad since, elected to ignore that particular part of the instruction. Any such bandings were done without the knowledge of the Imperium and were certainly not advertised. Bards from every generation we’re given enough gold to keep them quiet on that score, and fortunately, these were men with sufficient understanding to realize that any betrayal would eventually be discovered. ”

He waves across the jumbled pile of sacred texts.

“Every lord protector has had the ability to inspire fear as needed. And the truth was, we couldn’t afford to lose any opportunity to keep the connections between our houses and our Divhs strong.

Because the threat of the Western Realms, while faded into distant history, exists as a threat yet today. ”

“Since when?” Lemille humphs. “This Tournament of Gold is all puffery, you ask me. This Court of Talons and its winged crown. All of it is lies and fancy stories, meant to scare us into submission.”

He blinks, as if surprised at his indiscretion, but Fortiss only allows himself the smallest flicker of a smile while I try not to choke in surprise.

“Winged crown?” Tennet echoes. “Warrior Caleb mentioned that too. What is it, some prize of the tournament?”

“A prize, yes, but more a rite of passage.” Another of the councilors speaks, his worn, scholarly face alight with enthusiasm as he reels off the history for us all.

“The original winged crown was an artifact discovered by the first lords of the Protectorate and worn by General Mirador in the Great Conflict that resulted in the warriors of the Imperium bonding with the Divhs. It was lost in the years following that conflict, but its legacy lives on, its honor granted to each winner of the Tournament of Gold.”

“So it’s not real,” my father points out. “You can’t show it to us.”

“The winged crown and the Court of Talons are honorary terms now, but they existed at the dawn of the Protectorate,” Miriam counters firmly. “They’re not lies. We forget the past at our own peril, Lord Lemille.”

My father just humphs again and rolls his eyes. “And this threat from the west? Is that honorary too?”

“It was a dormant one for hundreds of years, but not anymore,” Fortiss says, his voice turning hard. Maybe he doesn’t enjoy the honesty he’s spelled into this room as much as he thought he would.

He reaches over and picks up a sheaf of parchment pages.

“There are multiple accounts of hordes of snake-like creatures coming down from the mountains surrounding the Eighth House to terrify travelers on the open road. Those attacks have been increasing over the past few years. What few accounts Rihad has of the dawn of the Protectorate here in the First House all tell stories of these snakes practically blanketing the higher reaches of the Meridian mountains, where the great pass to the Western Realms remains. These skrill, as the snakes were called, are the advance army of creatures the books reference only as the shadow hunters. We have ridiculously little information on all this, but these hunters operate and manipulate darkness to turn men against themselves. They’re definitely of the blighted path, not the Light. ”

“Glad we established that poisonous, mind-altering snakes weren’t here to be our friends,” Tennet observes dryly. “In case anyone was wondering.”

Fortiss ignores him. “We also know that generations of houses along the western borders have lived in fear of any sort of uptick of activity from the skrill. That sort of uptick—which is what we’ve apparently been seeing around the Eighth, for all that they didn’t breathe a word except to Rihad directly—is a precursor of the return of the shadow hunters. ”

A brief silence settles over the room, cut short by Tennet, because of course it is. Like most warriors I’ve met over the past several weeks, Tennet tends to think with his mouth.

“Well, then, fair enough. We’ve got a legitimate threat on the western side of the country; one we need to launch an army to defeat.

I understand we’ve a growing battalion of Divh-enabled soldiers here at the First, and I can spare some men for the cause, along with myself.

I assume you can offer up a few soldiers too, Lord Lemille? ”

He turns to my father, clearly catching him off guard. Lemille, however, has more to share. “Soldiers, certainly, but the western border isn’t our only issue. The eastern one is also imminently at risk.”

“What?” one of the councilors asks sharply, and Miriam steps forward. Fortiss and I exchange a quick glance, and the flash of camaraderie between us warms me, even as my nerves wind tight.

“What are you talking about, Lord Lemille?” Fortiss asks him.

My father spreads his hands wide. “Why do you think I returned here so quickly? I assure you it wasn’t for your gracious hospitality.

For generations, the Tenth House has employed a series of households within a five-days’ ride of our holding, along the Imperial Road.

Their job is simply to alert us to any force coming our way from the heart of the Imperium.

Marauders, traveling gangs, that’s one thing, and a challenge we are well used to solving at the Tenth.

But when it comes to actual agents of the Imperium, some advance notice is always ideal. ”

“And they’re coming?” Fortiss presses. “How many? And what is their manner?”

Fortiss turns to Miriam before my father can respond. “You sent what we discussed, yes? Only that?”

“Only that,” she agrees, her manner firm.

“We sent word of Rihad’s transfer of power to Lord Protector Fortiss and requested agents of the Imperium to come to help adjudicate an issue of law.

But we did not disclose anything more than that.

The precedent of past generations has been to avoid courting too much interest from the Imperium, lest they start to covet more control over what is ours. ”

“Well, from the reports I’m getting, they’re sending more than just a few magistrates and supplies for the journey,” my father says, and now it’s his turn to drop his hands to his belt.

For just a moment I imagine him in his younger days, a man eager for the battle, ready to defend both house and Protectorate.

His face flushes as he continues his report.

“It’s a battle party of about fifty soldiers altogether, along with what appeared to be functionary types unused to riding.

They’re moving slowly, almost leisurely, their caravan spread out over several days—far enough apart that they wouldn’t attract notice unless someone was being paid to notice.

I expect they will stopover in Rhienne and allow their numbers to consolidate, which will take perhaps a week, but no more.

It’s less than a day’s ride from there to the eastern pass and into the Protectorate. ”

“How far away, then, are they now?” Fortiss asks.

My father shrugs. “From the Tenth House, I’d say two days. Add to that another two to get here, if they ride hard, four if they don’t.”

He smiles, and his expression is hard, but expectant.

“So don’t waste too much time on snakes from the west, Lord Protector Fortiss.

You have barely more than a week to get your story straight about Rihad.

And you’ll need that same week to pull together what fighting men you can, in case the Imperium decides that they do covet what they see once they get here. ”