Page 21 of Realms of Swords and Storms (Empire of Vengeance #3)

There was something in her tone I couldn't quite identify—not quite bitterness, but perhaps resignation. "We'll still meet later?"

"Yes." Her voice softened slightly. "Eastern courtyard after classes."

I wanted to kiss her again, but the moment had passed. "Until then," I said, and with a final glance, I turned and headed toward my quarters.

My quarters at the academy were fairly luxurious, and though they didn’t compare to my own at the Imperial Palace, I had a sitting room, bedroom, and private bath, with windows overlooking the western training grounds where dragons practiced aerial manoeuvres.

I found Legate Santius standing at those windows, watching a pair of red dragons performing synchronized dives. He turned as I entered, his weathered face breaking into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Lord Jalend," he greeted me, extending his arm in the traditional soldier's clasp. "Forgive my intrusion."

I clasped his forearm firmly, meeting his gaze directly as my father had taught me. "Legate Santius. This is an unexpected honour."

He was an imposing figure in his formal military regalia—scarlet and gold, the colours of the Imperial Guard, with the insignia of his high rank displayed prominently on his breast. His face bore the scars of numerous campaigns, and his left eye was slightly clouded, the result of a Talfen spear during the Northern Rebellion fifteen years ago.

"Please, sit," I said, gesturing to the comfortable chairs near the hearth. "Can I offer you wine? Tea?"

"Wine would be welcome after the journey," he said, settling into one of the chairs with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to command.

I poured two glasses of the fine Westlands red my father had sent with me to the academy, handing one to Santius before taking the seat opposite him. "What brings you to the academy, Legate? I hope all is well with my father?"

"The Emperor is in excellent health," Santius assured me, taking a sip of the wine and nodding appreciatively. "He sends his regards. But I'm afraid my visit isn't purely social."

I set my glass down, giving him my full attention. "I suspected as much."

Santius studied me for a moment, his expression calculating. “Your father speaks highly of your progress."

"I've done well enough," I said modestly. "Fourth in my class overall, second in tactical theory."

Santius nodded approvingly. "Good. The empire needs men of intelligence as well as strength." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Lord Jalend, what news reaches you here of events in the imperial city? Or the outer provinces?"

The question caught me off guard. "Very little," I admitted. "The academy keeps us rather isolated. Our focus is on our studies, not current events."

"A wise policy in many ways," Santius said, swirling the wine in his glass. "But perhaps too sheltering for someone who will one day sit on the Imperial Throne."

My curiosity was thoroughly piqued now. "Has something happened, Legate?"

He set his glass down, his expression growing grave. "There has been... unrest. In the imperial city at first, but now spreading to other towns and cities throughout the empire."

"What kind of unrest?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Protests. Riots in some areas. Those with Talfen blood and their sympathizers demonstrating against what they call the empire's 'oppression.

' Slaves have attacked their masters in some of the eastern provinces.

Three noble houses have been burned to the ground.

" His voice hardened. "It's chaos, carefully orchestrated chaos. "

I frowned, trying to process this information. The empire had always had its malcontents, particularly among the subjugated Talfen and their half-blood descendants, but organized resistance was something new. "What's changed? Why now?"

Santius's gaze sharpened. "An excellent question. The Council believes there's an organized resistance movement operating within the empire. Not just disgruntled barbarians lashing out, but a coordinated effort to undermine imperial authority."

"A resistance?" I couldn't keep the interest from my voice. "You mean the Talfen tribes have organized beyond their territorial boundaries?"

Santius's expression darkened. "I find your tone concerning, Lord Jalend.

This isn't some academic curiosity. This resistance, whatever its composition, is inciting violence against imperial citizens.

They're spreading sedition, encouraging slaves to murder their masters, distributing pamphlets calling for the overthrow of the emperor himself. "

I schooled my features quickly. "Of course, Legate. I didn't mean to sound dismissive of the threat. I'm simply surprised that the tribal peoples have developed such sophistication."

"That's just it," Santius said, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "We don't believe they could have managed this on their own. The Council suspects there are sympathizers within the nobility, perhaps even within the military."

That did shock me. "Imperial citizens? Betraying the empire?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Santius shook his head in disgust. "But we've seen evidence. Funding for these activities has to come from somewhere. Information about imperial movements, about vulnerable targets—that requires inside knowledge."

I took a sip of my wine, using the moment to collect my thoughts. "What does my father say about this?"

"The Emperor is as concerned as the rest of the Council. He was the one who suggested I speak with you."

"With me? Why?"

Santius leaned forward, his expression earnest. "We need to identify these traitors, Lord Jalend. Root them out before their poison spreads further. Your father thought you might be able to help us."

"I'm not sure how I could be of assistance," I said carefully. "As I mentioned, we're quite isolated here."

"Perhaps not as isolated as you think," Santius replied. "The academy draws students from across the empire. Noble houses send their children here, as do wealthy merchants and even some of the more... progressive military families."

I was beginning to understand where this was heading. "You think there might be resistance sympathizers here? At the academy?"

"We think it's a possibility worth exploring." Santius's voice was measured, reasonable. "Young people are often idealistic, easily swayed by lofty rhetoric about freedom and equality. They don't understand the realities of governing an empire as vast and diverse as ours."

The idea seemed absurd to me. The academy was the most elite institution in the empire, its students drawn primarily from the nobility and wealthy imperial families.

"With all due respect, Legate, I find it hard to believe that the children of imperial nobility would betray their own families, their own futures. "

"Not all students here are of pure imperial blood, are they?

" Santius countered. "And even among the nobility, there are those who fancy themselves philosophers, reformers.

They've never seen what happens when the barbarians are given too much freedom.

They haven't watched their brothers-in-arms gutted by Talfen spears.

" His hand unconsciously rose to his clouded eye.

I couldn't argue with his experience, but something about this conversation made me deeply uncomfortable. "What exactly are you asking me to do, Legate?"

"Simply keep your eyes and ears open," Santius said, his tone softening. "Report anything suspicious—students expressing sympathy for the protesters, criticizing imperial policies, meeting in secret. You're well-liked here, I understand. People trust you, confide in you."

The idea of spying on my fellow students turned my stomach, but I kept my expression neutral. "And if I were to hear something... concerning?"

"You would report it directly to me. I'll be staying in the city for the next month, at least until after the Emperor's Festival. If you hear anything that might be useful, I would appreciate it if you would get a message to me.”

“I'm not sure what I might discover, but I'll certainly remain vigilant."

Santius smiled, seemingly satisfied with my response. "That's all we ask." He finished his wine and set the glass aside. "Your father will be pleased with your cooperation. He speaks of you constantly, you know. The son who will lead the empire into a new era of prosperity and strength."

The weight of expectation in those words was familiar, but no less heavy for it. "I hope to live up to his faith in me."

"You will." Santius rose, and I stood as well. He placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "You're going to make an impressive emperor one day, Lord Jalend. I've always believed that."

I inclined my head, accepting the compliment with the gravity it deserved. "Thank you, Legate."

"I won't keep you from your studies any longer." He moved toward the door, then paused. "One more thing, Lord Jalend."

"Yes?"

"I understand discretion is important here. It wouldn't do to create panic or suspicion where none is warranted. This conversation should remain between us."

"Of course," I agreed.

With a final nod, he departed, leaving me alone with a half-empty wine glass.

I moved back to the window, watching the dragons still performing their aerial exercises.

My mind was racing, trying to process everything Santius had told me.

Unrest throughout the empire. An organized resistance.

Potential sympathizers even here at the academy.

And now I was expected to report on my fellow students, to watch for signs of disloyalty among people I'd studied with, trained with, lived alongside. The wine turned bitter in my mouth. I set the glass down.

This was the part of my life I had come to the academy to escape—the politics, the paranoia, the expectation that I view everyone as either a pawn or a threat. Here, as Jalend, I had found a semblance of normalcy. I had friends, rivals, instructors. I had… Livia.

And now my father, through Santius, had reached into my carefully constructed world and reminded me that it was all a facade. That I was not Jalend, son of a minor noble. I was Jalius, the heir, and my duty was not to my classmates but to the stability of the throne.

The empire had always taught that our rule was benevolent, necessary—that without imperial governance, the continent would descend into tribal warfare and chaos.

But what if there was another perspective?

What if the unrest Santius described wasn't simply barbarian savagery but a response to genuine grievances? On my few excursions into the city, I had seen those with Talfen blood, seen them going about daily work, chores, saw mothers walking the streets with their babes bound to their backs, holding the hand of their other children. The more I saw, the more I became convinced that the Talfen weren’t the animals my father had always insisted they were.

Such thoughts bordered on sedition themselves.

I pushed them aside, reminding myself of my duties, my position, my future.

I was heir to the Western Territories, future member of the Imperial Council, potential future Emperor.

My path was clear, had been since birth.

And yet, as I headed down to meet Livia in the eastern courtyard, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted—in the empire, in the academy, or perhaps just in me.