There was an air of anticipation hanging over the halls of the Magiran palace like a thick blanket. Everywhere he went, Sabin felt as though he were interrupting gossip, the tail ends of whispers and theories trailing off into awkward silence at his presence. Even in the dining room at breakfast, the waiting staff all seemed to hold their breaths as they stood at attention along the ornate walls.
It had been three days since the airship docks had been destroyed—by his own hand, though that wasn't public knowledge—and Marithyda had made a very aggressive stand against Empress Bethesda and her royal guard. Such a thing had never happened in Magus Opté in the last one thousand years, and though Sabin was still a newcomer to the kingdom he could sense that the attack had everyone on edge.
Today, finally, the Empress was going to address the kingdom in the heart of the capitol and set the circulating rumors about the rogue Princess to rest. And though Sabin knew her better than most, the Empress's motives still evaded his full understanding. Following Marithyda's dramatic departure, he hadn't seen the Empress for even a second. She'd been keeping to herself more than usual, though Sabin couldn't blame her. The accusations Marithyda had fired at her weren't exactly something you could easily bounce back from.
Sabin threw the hood of his cloak over his head and pushed through the towering front doors of the palace, entering the courtyard. Cleaning crews were still removing ash and debris from the ruined docks, and already he could see huddles of engineers and designers fast at work planning for the construction of a new airship fleet. He kept to the shadows, still paranoid that every pair of eyes were boring into his own, accusing him of ... what, exactly? Everything that he did, he did because the Empress demanded it of him. If he had to bear their blame, so be it.
Every time he blinked, or even tried to go to sleep, the emerald glow of enchanted flame encroached from the dark spaces of his mind. He thought of the Empress's defeated look when she finally revealed the prophecy to him, just days before. She'd never looked more like a mother to him than in that moment, as she mourned the fate of her only daughter. And Sabin could hardly stand to think of it without feeling as though someone were carving jagged shapes into his heart. The girl that he was closer to than anyone in the world—the brave, foolish, hopeful girl that he loved—was destined to stand against him and destroy the thing that she'd always sworn to protect: magic, and the people who possessed it.
When he first heard the prophecy, he'd quite literally refused to believe it. But the Empress was insistent, explaining to him that for the thousands of years of Magus Opté's existence, not a single prophecy ever went unfulfilled. And so he had to make the hardest decision of all, rejecting Marithyda's love in exchange for his duty towards the Mages. Now he stared out at the Eternal Sea, stretching like a blank canvas towards the horizon, and his mind wandered to another kingdom across the water.
What was Marithyda planning to do once she reached Karvoth? The Empress hadn't bothered sending any forces to chase after her, but she'd seemed completely sure that the Bethesdan Princess would return. Could she actually succeed in convincing King Harlan to aid her? Sabin knew better than to underestimate the Shadow Witch. But even then, would that really be enough to defeat a kingdom as powerful as Magus Opté?
Sabin turned and made his way down the steep hill that led into Magira, the capitol city. He brushed his fingers over the dark stone ridges of the great mountain upon which the palace sat, overlooking the Sea. The Empress had specifically requested his presence for her address to the kingdom, and he'd given up hours ago trying to predict what she might want with him. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he'd much rather be in the Sieving ring, wasting away the hours by getting lost in combat techniques.
When he was fighting, he felt more like himself than he ever had. Of course, he preferred not to use deadly force. He'd had a pair of gloves specially tailored so he could engage in hand-to-hand combat without using his lethal power. But gloves or not, he relished the roar of the crowd, the ache in his muscles, the feeling of sweat cooling against his skin as he faced off against an adversary. And unlike his forced performances in Karvoth's Royal Exposition, Sabin felt no guilt when it came to defeating these particular opponents. They were all flagged as dangerous individuals to Magus Opté, and would have been faced with Inundation anyways. If anything, Sabin offered them a kinder death. It was certainly quicker.
He remained hunched and concealed beneath the cloak as he fell in with the stream of bodies that flowed through the primary Magiran thoroughfare. As much as he preferred to keep to himself, Sabin always loved this city. It was brimming with life and merchants and common people using their magic freely, a small bowl in the earth surrounded by mountain and Sea. Today, the people seemed flustered, pushing restlessly towards the center of the city. He followed the crowd, unnoticed, until he rounded a sharp bend in the road and saw the platform that was set up in the center of the path.
Empress Bethesda sat regally in a chair made from dark wood and blue leather, flanked on one side by her aid Rumiya. On the other sat the Empress's royal guard. It was comprised of four young adults, one from each of the powerful High Houses that were most influential in the Magiran court, and Sabin had definitely seen them look better.
Before Marithyda had made her escape with help from Merrick Westcobble, she'd inflicted some pretty serious harm on all four of the Empress's prime defenders. However, bruised and battered as they might have been, they still remained tall and proud upon the stage. That had to count for something, he thought.
Sabin still wasn't recognized, hidden as he was in the crowd, so he pushed his way through to the base of the platform. Before he could climb the rickety staircase that led to the upper level, however, he felt a rough hand close around his upper shoulder. He shuddered even though the stranger had taken hold of his clothes and not his bare skin.
"What do you think you're doing?" It was a palace guard. He had a sneer across his weasel-like face. Sabin swallowed hard.
"Empress Bethesda requested that I join her." He moved to push past the guard, but the man only tightened his grip, his sneer deepening.
"Are you deaf? You aren't permitted past this point!"
Sabin gritted his teeth and yanked his arm away, removing the hood from his head for a small moment. "It's me," he said quietly. And it hardly took any time at all for the guard to recognize Sabin. He backed away quickly, holding his hands close to his own chest as though he feared even Sabin's clothes could hurt him.
"Reaper. I apologize, truly. I was just doing my duty, sir. Right this way." Sabin rolled his eyes and made his way past the flustered guard, climbing onto the platform. He hated the nickname that the Mages had come up with for him in the Sieving ring, but he had to admit that it was pretty accurate as far as names went. If there was anything he was good at, it was killing.
To Sabin's horror, the rest of the crowd that was gathered near the guard started to whisper and stare, having overheard the exchange.
"That's him, the Reaper! I heard he adds ground up bones to his morning tea."
"Someone told me he can stop his victims' hearts just by looking at them!"
Sabin quickly turned his face away from the gathering of Magirans, but the damage was already done. Soon every voice seemed to be chanting his false name as if he were competing in the ring instead of joining the Empress for an important announcement.
"Rea-per! Rea-per Rea-per! Rea-per!"
Everyone on the stage was staring at him now, expressions ranging from amusement to downright loathing. Sabin wanted to melt into the ground, but he saw that a chair was left empty for him on the Empress's left side.
Of course it was.
He gulped and crossed in front of the royal guard. Jon Mazeris glared at him, his dark cloak billowing in the morning breeze. He had a massive black eye from where Marithyda had struck him, and it seemed to be getting worse.
Beside him were Wesley Tyrethius and Sierra Aether, both of whom sat quietly and stared at their hands. Their wounds must have been of the more invisible variety, contrary to Jon's. When Sabin passed in front of Reylan Forris on his way to his own seat, she snatched the hem of his white military jacket and tugged so that his ear ended up near her mouth. She'd suffered a few cuts and bruises in the airship attack, but they weren't nearly as noticeable against her milky skin and striking red hair.
"Your devoted fans are waiting," she sneered. "Maybe you should show them a new trick. Autograph an ass or two."
Sabin pulled away and drew his eyebrows together, but Reylan had already turned to face the crowd, smiling innocently. He suddenly wished he were sitting anywhere else. If he and Marithyda still had anything in common, it was their dislike of the members of the royal guard.
The Empress leaned over when he took his seat, keeping a calm expression on her face. For her age, she looked almost completely flawless. Her skin was without a single wrinkle, and even her long silver hair was smooth as silk. She didn't show a single sign of stress.
"You seem to have amassed quite a loyal following."
"It seems I have."
"You have great influence over them. It would do you well to cast your line in a more tasteful pond."
Sabin sat back, feeling chastised even though he wasn't quite sure what the Empress meant. As he was trying to figure it out, she stood and the gathered crowd all but forgot that the Reaper was in their presence. The people of Magus Opté were worshippers at the shrine that was Empress Bethesda. They hung on every word that rang out over the street, desperate for her guidance.
"My dear people. It is with both a heavy and optimistic heart that I address you all today. Heavy, because as you might recall the last time we gathered it was to celebrate the return of our lost Princess, my daughter, Marithyda Bethesda." Sabin felt his insides squirm at Marithyda's name. He buried the pain deeper so he wouldn't have to feel it. "But as believers in the magic that anoints us all and holds the very pieces of our world together, we also must believe in the visions granted to us." Reylan sat up straight beside Sabin, as if straining to hear what the Empress was going to say next.
"If you have heard whispers, then yes, they are true," the Empress said. Her voice never faltered, not even once. "Marithyda has betrayed Magus Opté and returned to Karvoth. Since then, I have seen a vision of the future. Soon, we will be at war."
A great, collective cry rose up from the crowd, and Sabin could hardly move. He felt thousands of stares boring holes into his skin, and the word echoed over and over in his mind like a hammer on an anvil: war, war, war, war. He always felt that it would be an inevitability, but to hear it put in such plain words ... It sounded so brutal, so final. People shouted out questions, and the Empress ignored all of them. Sabin struggled to understand some of them, rocky as he still was when it came to understanding the Language of Magic.
"How soon will this occur?"
"Should we evacuate?"
"Are our children safe?"
"Before you panic," the Empress called over the ruckus, "I have good news. My vision might not have been as specific as I would prefer, but I am sure of one thing: we will rise up to meet this challenge, and in the end Magus Opté will not fall. Marithyda and her Karvothian cronies cannot hope to amass an army more powerful than the one I have at my disposal. They are bringing the fight to us, so we have the added benefit of foresight and familiarity with our own terrain. That being said, preparations for an invasion will begin immediately."
The Empress suddenly turned to Sabin, and he felt his face burn under her intense scrutiny. "The one that you all know as the Reaper is hereby recognized as the new Archduke of Magus Opté. He will oversee the expansion of our time-honored Sieving program as we fortify our ranks with the very best that this empire has to offer." Sabin stared blankly ahead as the Empress spoke, unable to take in so much information at once. "Every citizen above the age of fifteen will be required to participate in the sacred ritual. Any attempt to shy away from fulfilling this duty, or to prevent someone else from it, will be labeled as treason and punished as such. That is all."
And just like that, the Empress stood and started to descend the north steps of the stage where a carriage was waiting for her. Rumiya and her royal guard flanked her on all sides, but Sabin was still seated atop the platform in a state of pure shock. The gathered crowd projected a mixture of many different emotions. Mothers were already fearing for their young children who were about to be sent to the Sieving ring, old traditional Mages spoke in loud voices about how the Empress always knew how to do what was right, and Sabin felt like he was floating somewhere in the middle of it all, untethered.