The Withering Sword

Chapter 38: Ice

XEMYO

Issei, southernmost city of Hassal

Throughout the past three weeks, Xemyo had seen the gossip spread in the reports of her spies: the empire wanted to turn the lords of Hassal against each other. A few members of the court of Issei even accused the empire of poisoning its own ambassador so that they could frame Lord Misson for the murder.

The northern lord, Hassen, was obviously behind the rumors―he’d personally told Xemyo that he would destroy her with uncertainty, discord, and what little evidence he had. He was good at it, and Xemyo had to appreciate the skill of her opponent as she listened to her spies’ reports.

Of course, she hadn’t made it hard for him. She’d already half-turned many of the lords and minor nobles against her before he started. And even now, she continued to help him along.

“Whether or not the harvest was poor this year is not my concern,” she told the lord of the fief to the east of Issei, who had come to plead for more time to gather the money for the imperial taxes. “If you fail to pay the full amount required by the empress, you will be fined. If this continues, we may be forced to find a new lord for Fihei. Someone who will respect the agreement made with the empire.”

“A new lord will not make the harvest better!” said the lord, shifting from one foot to the other in front of her desk. “My family has held the lordship of Fihei for generations!”

“Your father had bad harvests,” said Xemyo implacably. “He never failed to pay his taxes to the empire. Perhaps you are not as worthy of your title as your ancestors were.”

The lord of Fihei cursed her and the empire soundly at his private dinner that evening.

Xemyo felt as though winter had come early this year. With every passing day, another thin layer of ice covered her. The further and stronger the hatred for her and the empire coursed through the castle at Issei and the surrounding fiefs, the calmer she became.

Yarod, by contrast, grew more restless. “You should leave the castle,” he said as he paced around her rooms late one night. “There will be an uprising soon, and I don’t want you caught up in it.”

“There is still much to do,” she said, without looking up from the letter she was writing to the lord of another southern fief, who had also failed to pay his taxes in full due to the poor harvest. “I cannot leave now.”

“The new little lord of Issei raised the taxes on his people in order to pay his own higher taxes to the empire. There was a riot in the streets earlier today.”

“Yes, I heard. From one of your spies. Why do you tell me this?”

“The people will start to starve soon, between the bad harvest and the higher taxes. It’s anyone’s guess whether the commoners or the nobility rebels first, but either way, you’ll be a target.”

“Yarod.” Xemyo sighed and set down her quill, staring up at him. “Where do you want me to go?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you should return to Gyoto.”

“If we do our job right, soon Gyoto won’t be safe, either. And in any case, when was safety ever our concern?” She resumed writing her letter. “I won’t abandon my work now, when we’re so close to succeeding.”

After a pause, Yarod spoke again, more quietly now. “Sometimes I regret ever meeting you.”

Xemyo didn’t look up, but she stopped writing. A shard of painful heat had penetrated her layers of ice and buried itself in her heart. “That was needlessly cruel,” she said softly.