“Told you my plan was working,” I rasped.

“You p ​ lanned ​to become a necromantic abomination?” said the Swordsman, aghast and
still stepping away warily. “You’re Callowan. We should be fighting side by side, not
against each other. Why do you work for them? How can you possibly justify working for
these tyrants?”

Oh no, I wasn’t getting drawn into another monologue. Besides, what was the point of
trading barbs when I could barely even talk? I tugged once again on the strings
controlling my arms, and my body ​moved.​ I could feel even more muscles tearing, but
the comically surprised expression was still only just forming on his face when my sword
went straight through his heart.

Surprise gave way to shock and pain. He opened his mouth and choked, a trickle of
blood dribbling down his chin. His legs collapsed and he tumbled backwards, nearly
going over the wall. I managed to grab him, no small feat in my current state, and
dropped him against the ramparts. I might be new at this, but I knew better than to let a
Hero fall off a cliff when he was already mortally wounded. He fell onto the floor, sinking
down the blade of my sword, and I managed to pull it the rest of the way out. A pool of
blood quickly spread out beneath him. He choked a few more times, perhaps trying to
get out a final curse, but in the end he died without a word.

I coughed again, hacking up another gob of blood. “​That’s ​how I justify it,” I told his
corpse.

The strings holding me up were starting to give out. I stumbled over to the ramparts and
sunk down against them. Fine irony it would be if I died here anyway after what I’d said.
But I wouldn’t. I could feel it in my bones with a strange certainty. That wasn’t how this
story went. And so I wasn’t surprised when I heard footsteps approaching, calm and
unhurried. I turned to find eerie green eyes regarding me. Even in the dark I could see
the smile, sharper than the Swordsman’s magic blade.

“You seem to have had a productive evening,” said the Black Knight.

“I got stabbed a few times,” I rasped.

“Happens to the best of us, Squire.” He leaned down and put his hand on my forehead,
and blessed unconscious took me.
 ——

I woke in an unfamiliar room with the reek of blood in my nostrils and agony
everywhere else. It was tempting to just lay there for a while. Probably hurt less that
way. Might even be the right thing to do, if I still wasn’t fully healed. I pushed myself up
anyway, hissing with pain, and threw the covers aside. An angry red wound ran across
my entire torso. It’d leave a nasty scar, no two ways about it, but at least it didn’t seem
to be bleeding. As for the rest of me, there wasn’t a sign of the wounds I had taken,
even though I still hurt. Most of the damage had probably been internal, but I still
wondered how long I’d been out for.

Before I could force myself to get up to search for an answer, the door opened. Captain
squeezed herself through, ducking under the threshold and still slouching slightly to
avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. The sight drew a small, painful snort out of me, and
I wondered if she’d ever considered wearing her helmet whenever she needed to go
inside. “Good. You’re awake,” she said.

“Only just now. How long was I out for?”

“It’s been two days since you nearly killed yourself. Us Named are tough, but there are
still limits, and you went ​way ​passed them.”

I’d figured, but hearing it said out loud still sent a small shiver down my spine. “I
suppose I ought to send a nice note and some flowers to the Legion healers, then.”

She snorted. “There’s not a healer in the Legion who could bring you back from what
you did to yourself. Lucky for you, we had a blood mage from the Swiftfoot tribe in
camp. Took three bleedings to get you back to something manageable.”

Blood magic. “You mean sacrifices?” I blurted the words out before I could stop myself.

Captain nodded. “Where else do you think you could get that kind of power from? Only
a Named sorcerer would have enough on hand to heal you any other way. Rough stuff,
but it usually gets the job done.”

A rock settled into my stomach, a rock which tasted like guilt. Three people had died to
heal me. “Who were they?” I managed to get out.
She shrugged. “Death row prisoners. Scribe would probably know more, she filled out
the requisition papers.”

Requisition them, like they were a cart of turnips instead of human beings. And Captain
didn’t even think it was particularly notable. How easy it had been, to forget what kind of
monsters I was dealing with. How easy, when they were charming and fair-handed and
even kind, when they seemed to ​understand. ​As though they weren’t capable of murder
without a second thought if it suited their ends.

I shook my head, cursing myself for my naivety. I’d ​chosen​ to align myself with them,
what did I think I’d been signing up for? I wasn’t just a hero with a black coat of paint.
My own actions two days ago had firmly slammed the door on that. I’d taken a life
myself, and for all his idealism and idiocy, the Swordsman had certainly been a more
admirable person than a condemned prisoner. That didn’t mean I was comfortable with
blood magic, there was too much Callowan in me for that, but it would be the height of
hypocrisy for me to pretend I wasn’t just as willing to kill for my own ends as they were.
Slowly, I nodded. “I supposed it doesn’t really matter.”

Captain nodded back. “Well, I hope you enjoyed your rest, because Black wants you.
Get a tunic on.”

I scowled, groaning as I forced myself to my feet. Someone had laid out clothes for me,
and I limped over to them. “I killed a Hero myself. What’s it take to get a bit of time off
around here?”

Captain snorted again. “All he needs is for you to be seen out and about. There are
rumors that you died, too. Besides, people want to put a face to the fire.”

The goblinfire. Shit. “That wasn’t my fault!”

“And yet of five Named, you were the only one to survive it. You’re lucky no one died.
Istrid managed to evacuate everyone in time, but half the quarter still went up in flames
before they could get it contained.”

That was good to hear, at least. I hadn’t been the one to start the fire, but I’d still been
the instigator. Far better that no one else had died on my account. I suspected I’d have
plenty of deaths on my conscious before it was all over. I slipped on the tunic, which ​of
course​ was black, and turned back to Captain. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
I followed Captain out of the inn, which was deserted except for a few Blackguards. The
muffled roar of a crowd came from up ahead, growing louder as we walked. She led me
to a large paved plaza. The Court of Swords, I remembered. Despite its size, it was
absolutely packed; it looked like most of the city had turned out. Dense as the crowd
was, it parted like water in front of Captain, and I followed in her wake. I left a wake of
my own in the form of whispers.​ Squire​, I made out, but also ​traitor. ​I gave them no
heed. There was nothing easier than throwing invectives at the people who actually took
it upon themselves to do something, while you sat back and risked nothing.

At the center of the plaza, the crowd was held back by ranks of Legionnaires. As we
cleared the crowd, I was finally able to see what had gather them: Gallows, nearly two
dozen of them. Black sat mounted before the structure in full armor, with Scribe at his
side. I frowned. ​This seems like a lot more than just wanting me to be seen out and
about.

“Squire,” he greeted me as we approached.

“Black. Seems like I’ve missed a bit. Who’s being hung?”

“Traitors to the Empire,” he replied calmly, eerie green eyes watching me.

I turned back to the gallows, close enough now that I could make out the figures. Ice
clutched my heart as I realized I recognized every one of them. Patrons from the Lost
Crown, and a few I’d seen in the warehouse who must have managed to escape the
fire. Almost, almost I turned to Black to protest before biting my tongue. Traitors to the
Empire, he’d said. Was he wrong? No. Traitors they were, traitors who I still even now
had sympathy for, after I’d killed their leader with my own hands.

It was another test, I realized. Not a test of loyalty, no. Black had to know that my loyalty
to the Empire was barely skin deep, that given the choice I’d let every one of the
conspirators walk away, and damn the consequences. It was a test to see if I really had
the stomach for the path I’d chosen, here in broad daylight when my blood wasn’t up.
These were not rapists abusing their power, nor were they Heroes capable of fighting
back on even grounds. They were just people. Just my fellow countrymen, who had
gotten sick of the abuses of the Empire, sick enough to take up a doomed crusade, and
now their foolishness would cost them their lives.

I grit my teeth and watched, saying nothing. I kept watching as the nooses were tied
around the first row of prisoners, as the bottom opened and two dozen Callowans died
of broken necks. I kept watching as the process was then repeated with the second row
of prisoners. When the last of the bodies were untied and the crowd began to disperse, I
finally let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “What a gods-damned
waste,” I said softly.

Black still heard me. “Not a waste. A necessary lesson. One I hope the city takes to
heart. They paid a high price for it.”

Too damn high,​ I wanted to mutter, but I once again bit my tongue. He probably knew
what I was thinking anyway, the bastard.

If he did, he withheld comment. “We’re finished in Summerholm. We depart at noon bell.

Return to the barracks by then.”

He rode away without another word. Giving me space, I thought. I wasn’t sure whether I
wanted to thank him or curse him for it. But either way, I knew I’d be back at his side
when we left. It was too late for anything else.

——

We rode east through the Fields of Streges, the site of so many Praesi defeats, and of
their ultimate victory. Black told me about some of them as we travelled. Often they
were so absurd that I’d assumed they had to be exaggerations when I’d first heard the
stories back in Laure. But Black assured me that Dread Empress Malevolent really had
attempted to invade with an invisible army. The more I learned of Praesi history, the
more I came to appreciate what a radical departure Black and Dread Empress Malicia
represented. They had conquered Callow not with with convoluted schemes or esoteric
sorcery, but with pure force of arms. They had won because their soldiers were better
trained, better organized, and better equipped. More than anything else, the fact that not
a single previous Dread Emperor had attempted that method told me how the Praesi
thought.

Eventually we came to the ruins of the Blessed Isle, marking what had once been the
border between Callow and Praes. In the old days before the Conquest, it had been the
stronghold of the Order of the White Hand, the paladins who had served as the first line
of defense against Praesi aggression. Black had put an end to the Order on the same
night he had burned their fortress to the ground with the largest use of goblinfire in
history. The fresh reminder of the kind of man I had apprenticed myself too still made
me shiver.

The Blackguards immediately began setting up camp, while Black and Captain settled
around a fire in the burned-out shell of a tower. I chose to stretch my legs for a bit
before joining them, driven by idle curiosity about the fortress. There really wasn’t much
left, it turned out. Goblinfire burned even stone, and most of the towers had collapsed
years ago. Anything even the slightest bit flammable was long gone. Sections of the
wall still stood, though, and offered an impressive view. The Fields were quite a sight
when viewed from above rather than in the middle of them, golden waves of tall grass
stretching out for miles and miles until they became hazy with distance.

I’d been feeling more and more in touch with my Name since I’d killed the Swordsman.
Sometimes it felt like an almost living thing. And so when I sensed it stir in the back of
my mind, growling a warning, I knew I was no longer alone. I sharpened my ears and
picked out the footsteps over the rush of the river below. A slight figure in soft shoes,
not boots. That ruled out Captain and Black, and I’d still not yet managed to notice
Scribe coming or going. A stranger, then. Given the continued growls of my Name, I had
an idea of who it might be.

I waited until the footsteps stopped, still some distance away, then turned slowly and
deliberately, leaning back against the ramparts and crossing my arms. Heiress was
standing there, as I’d expected, lounging against the ramparts on the opposite side of
the wall. How did you even lounge against ramparts? Maybe it was a Name thing. Either
way, she looked even more stunning in full daylight than she had when I’d evesdropped
on her back in Black’s tent. She was unarmed, as well, which was rather bold of her.

“Heiress. What do you want?”

“Only to talk, Lady Squire. It’s past time we were properly introduced.”

I nodded. “Well, if you want to talk, then let me ask you a question. Can you think of any
particular reason why I shouldn’t stab you and toss you over the wall behind me?”

She sighed. “So hostile. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. In a sense, that is precisely
what I wished to talk about.”

“You mean about the fact that you tried to have me killed?”
She flicked her hand dismissively. “You need to learn not to take these things so
personally. I know you Callowans are famous for your grudges, but if you start a
vendetta over every single assassination attempt, you’ll never be able to make any
allies at Court.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, processing what she’d said. She was speaking
Lower Miezan, but the words might as well have been gibberish for all I’d understood
them. “You’re suggesting… that we could become allies, ​after​ you tried to have me
killed.”

Heiress looked at me blankly for a moment, and I had the sudden absurd notion that my
words had seemed just as strange to her as hers had to me. Finally, she took a deep
breath. “If you want to survive in the Wasteland, Lady Squire, you need to understand
how we think. Yes, I tried to have you killed. I judged you to be a threat, and so you
proved yourself. How else could I know that you were worth seeking friendship with?”

Again, I was silent for a moment, letting her words run back and forth through my mind.
Black might have been ruthlessly and utterly pragmatic, but I understood the way he
thought. This was… something else. She was right, I realized with a scowl. I didn’t
understand her. And mad or not, there was an entire nation just like her, and it was the
nation I had more or less volunteered to join.

“Alright, then. Let’s pretend I’m taking you seriously. What exactly are you proposing?”

“You’ve proven yourself to be a worthy successor to Lord Black,” she began. “I had my
doubts at first, but I realize now it was foolish to question Lord Black’s judgement. Killing
your first Hero on the very night you claimed your Name? That is a rare achievement.
You have great potential. But for now, it is ​only​ potential. And forgive me… but you are
still Callowan.”

My temper flared. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are not one of us. It means that, as I said, you do not understand us.
And because you are an outsider, the scrutiny on you will be a hundred times as fierce.”
She smiled, almost a gentle expression. “When you reach Ater, Lord Black will take you
to Court. And when he does, they will devour you whole.”

“Let them try,” I said, resting a hand on my sword.

She shook her head slightly. “Your defiance is admirable, but it will not be enough to
save you. There are a thousand thousand hidden daggers at Court which you know
nothing of, and every one of them is just as sharp as your sword. You are very much
like Lord Black in this respect. He also disdains the Courtly games. But he has the favor
of the Empress, the backing of the Legions, and a bloody reputation decades long. And,
of course, one should never make the mistake of thinking that Black does not
understand how the game is played just because he disdains it. You, on the other hand,
have none of these things.”

Damn her, but she did have a point. “What are you offering?”

“I can teach you,” she said. “Some. Little, really. It is not something which can be
learned in a week or a month. But perhaps enough to save you from a fatal mistake.
You do have some power. Having already slain a Hero will command a degree of
respect. Lord Black’s patronage will shield you some, as well. But he will not protect you
from the consequences of your own mistakes, nor should he.”

“And I suppose you’re just making this offer out of the goodness of your heart?”

Heiress smiled again, and this time there was nothing gentle in it. “As I said. You are a
worthy successor to the Black Knight.”

The Black Knight, who of course was the right hand of the Dread Empress. Gods, was
she really saying what I thought she was saying? I wasn’t even in the Wasteland proper
yet, it was too soon for this blatant an invitation to treason.

“You do know why I’m doing this, right? Why I accepted Black’s offer, why I became the
Squire?”

“I’m told you’re something of a patriot,” answered Heiress. “It’s part of the reason why I
chose to approach you. You’ve recognized that the future of Callow is with the Empire.”

I didn’t much like hearing her say it outloud, but I could hardly disagree with it, either.
Instead I said, “Are you offering to help me improve things in the Kingdom, then? To
deal with those bloodsuckers like Mazus?”

“You misunderstand. I’m sure an accord could be reached for such things, if we were to
become allies. But my purpose is to explain why I would consider you to be useful as
such. You set a powerful precedent, you see. For the future of all Calernia lies with the
Empire.”

That was enough to startle a laugh out of me. “Alright, I get it now. You’re an oldschool
Praesi Villain. Flying fortresses, demon summoning, trying to take over the continent,
the works. Black’s been telling me about your kind.”

“You laugh, and yet does the name of Triumphant, may she never return, not still
command fear even seven centuries later?”

“How many Dread Emperors thought they were another Triumphant? I’ll bet Nefarious
thought that right up until the Wizard of the West whipped his sorry ass all the way back
to the Tower. Black and Malicia won for a reason, and it’s not because they thought
they were Triumphant come again.”

“To reach, to grasp, is the essence of what it means to be Praesi. Many are unworthy,
and they are rightly crushed. Dread Empress Malicia and Lord Black have reached far
and grasped much, but they have grown… content.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I know where your story leads, and I’m not
touching it with a ten foot poll.”

Heiress shrugged. “As you wish. You need not swear any oaths of loyalty. I offer my aid
freely, asking nothing in return except your kind regard. My offer remains open… for
now. I do hope you understand how swiftly change can come in the Wasteland.”

“I think I’m starting to get an idea.”

“Not yet. But soon you will. And perhaps then you’ll reconsider. I do hope the lesson
isn’t too harsh.”

With that parting shot, she walked off down the wall, disappearing into a tower. I
watched her go with a scowl. I’d be a fool and a half to trust her, I knew, but that didn’t
mean she was wrong about how unprepared I was for Court. Black might be able to
give me a piece or two of advice, but his teaching methods had been far too
sink-or-swim so far for me to have much hope from that angle.

I didn’t mention the conversation when I returned to camp. I assumed Black would know
we’d had a visitor; Hells, he probably knew every single word we’d said to each other.
But he made no comment, not even on Heiress’s thinly veiled treason. Maybe that sort
of thing was considered small talk in the Empire.

I did begin to question him more about what to expect at Court over the next few days,
as we travelled further into Praes. He answered my questions readily enough, but said
little that reassured me. It seemed that to call the Imperial Court a pit of vipers would be
an insult to vipers, but somehow every answer he gave managed to avoid the specifics
of how they might try to bite. It seemed he really was going to toss me into that pit blind,
the bastard.

That all went up in smoke the day before we reached Ater, with the Tower itself visible
on the horizon. The world, it seemed, was an even stranger place than I had imagined:
Not only were gnomes real, but they were apparently so overwhelming powerful as to
cow even my teacher. And apparently a tribe of goblins had somehow managed to piss
them off. Wonderful. It was serious enough that Black was immediately traveling south
to deal with it in person, and I wouldn’t be coming with him.

“So just to be clear, you’re saying the Matrons are actually significantly worse than the
Imperial Court?”

“Absolutely,” replied Black without missing a beat. “You’ll have to meet them eventually,
of course, but now’s not the time. Not when I’m going there to carry out a purge.”

“Well, what will I be doing instead?”

Black tapped his lips thoughtfully. “I’d thought of sending you to the College, but you’re
already too strong in your Name to benefit from that. Your presence there would only be
disruptive. No, I think something else is in order.” He seemed to consider for a moment
longer, then smiled at me in a way that had my stomach dropping. “Tell me, Catherine,
how would you like to spend some time with someone your own age for a change?”