A man in a gray greatcoat walked briskly beneath fluorescent lights, through a brass-plated hall that was braced by bronze struts and bolted by steel. Doors on either side of the hall had been sealed by metal shutters, their brass placards removed, or melted by the head of a thermal torch. As per the Kalen’s emergency declaration, Protocol Sigma had been activated. All subterranean sectors classified delta or higher were on permanent lockdown. Following final evacuation, protocol dictated they would be flooded by sea water, and all records destroyed.
Before the siege of Vultheras, the Bastilhas supported at least one hundred executive-level projects deemed top secret by the government of King Darigon—King Kalen, as the people called him. While horse-drawn carriages rattled on cobble streets above, scientists in the king’s employ pushed the envelope on new mana-based technologies. In sealed sub-halls, in rooms long since sacked and burned, were once documents for experimental automatons, vehicles, and guns, among more broad pursuits, such as long-distance communications.
There were also studies conducted on the Eyes, but of those things, the man in the greatcoat knew little. Even the shadow king—the rumored Hidden Hand—didn’t have access to Kalen’s private work.
The man in the greatcoat exited the hall and crossed into a wide room with a domed ceiling. Men and women in gray uniforms were at busy work, sat around desk-mounted Sonoscopes with brass cups strapped to their ears. When a line rippled on the viewing screen, the operators made note of the color, frequency, and the feedback in their listening phones. That information was then passed by pages from one desk to the other.
A uniformed officer made a salute, right hand leveled at the forehead. “Duke Eddleston, sir,” he acknowledged the visitor.
“At ease,” Eddleston replied, stopped in the middle of the room. “Do you have a report?”
The duke looked weary, but his face had always been wrinkled, worn by stress and long hours in the sun. His thin white hair was groomed in a comb over, and his long mustache waxed into thin handlebars. While the officer was marked by ribbons and medals, Eddleston’s chest was pinned with just a small, down-turned sword fashioned in gold.
“The situation is normal, my lord,” the officer answered. “No major fluctuations observed.”
“The observation unit spotted ships on the horizon,” Duke Eddleston said. “Keep an eye on the shield’s integrity.”
The officer couldn’t suppress a smile as he nodded. “Yes, of course, sir.”
The duke patted the man’s shoulder with his gloved hand and brushed past him. Across the room were a pair of eight-foot tall automatons that stood guard at an exit. They were crafted of bronze and molded to resemble humans, but their face masks were shallow and featureless. The duke raised his right hand as if to wave and the automatons answered with courteous bows.
A chime crackled through the subterranean intercom. “This is an announcement, read by King Kalen of Great House Darigon,” a woman said as the duke passed into the next hall.
“To all personnel,” a rough, yet noble-sounding man began. “You are doubtless aware that the Atilonian army has captured the towns of Wenderguard and Dakkenthras, and taken control of the central bridge. I will admit, their advance caught us flatfooted, and Vultheras was separated from the 27th and 31st defense divisions that formed the remainder of our army. After careful consideration, I have decided that we cannot win a decisive battle with the Atilonians, but take heart, for hope is not lost.
“Our god, Mathematzen, will provide for our safety. All civilian and military personnel are hereby instructed to secure your belongings and make contact with immediate family. Those that are in Vultheras are permitted to enter the palace where they will be placed under Mathematzen’s protection. One week after this statement, this offer will be broadcast publicly on all local channels and delivered by hand to every burgher, every pauper, mother, and child.
“To provide time for an evacuation of over one-million citizens, your First Sorceress will erect an invulnerable shield that will block all entry to Vultheras. Meanwhile, the army will make ready for a final resistance. Since it is highly likely that the Atilonians will penetrate Vultheras’ sub-levels, by arms or by bombs, I hereby establish a state of emergency and activate Protocol Sigma.”
The duke stopped and stepped to the side of the hall. He held his arm across his stomach and made a respectful bow as three maids approached. They wore black dresses with white aprons, and a white headband was tucked onto their heads.
“On-going projects are to immediately halt,” the announcement continued over the intercom while the maids passed the duke. “All documents and materials relevant to research classified as delta or higher are to be totally destroyed. Any sectors dedicated to those projects will be sealed by shutters and welded closed. Following a breach of our sorceress’ shield, final evacuation will commence, and all sub-levels will be flooded. You understand that we make Adohas a safer world by denying the Atilonians the fruits of our labor.”
Duke Eddleston lifted his head and continued on his way.
“I assure you, this is not a cowardly suicide,” Kalen’s voice crackled above. “This is a necessary sacrifice. While we are safe under our god’s protection, Edwindy will continue to fight, bolstered by our army. They will be victorious, and when peace reigns we will return. We will begin our work anew.”
“Announcement ended,” a woman’s voice returned to the intercom. “The following are those still eligible for Mathematzen’s protection: Women between the ages of 60 to 70, Children below the age of 10….”
The duke tuned out the noise as he came to an intersection; on his left a brass plaque read ‘Cell Block A’ and on his right he read, ‘Cell Block B.’ He turned right and followed the dimly-lit hall to a metal door with a finger-width hole instead of a handle. The duke pressed his index finger inside.
“Mana signature confirmed,” an autonomous system addressed him via speaker. The door juddered and Eddleston heard the thunk of moving levers. “Please step back from door.”
He removed his finger and took two steps back. The door shook and split open, hydraulic pistons whistling as they slid from their secured position. When the duke stepped through the cold steam and into the cell block, he suddenly felt the weight of two dumbbells on his shoulders. In that place, where copper walls surrendered to steel bars, a mana suppression field silenced all spells and skills. It was a necessary precaution for prisoners powerful enough to warrant Block B.
Immediately on the duke’s left was a cell larger than a burgher’s townhouse. It was well-furnished with oak furniture, colorful rugs, and personal affections like frilly pillows, books, and a four-pronged training dummy. Five swords of mithril, forged in the smithy of Bastan, leaned on a weapon rack. They were gifts from a suitor, and the duke had inspected them personally; there were no finer swords in the east, or at least beyond Atheria.
That prisoner had, in fact, received many gifts: Jewelry, dresses, horses, games, stuffed toys, and exotic perfumes. What she kept were the weapons, and the steel plate armor that was ordered by one adventurous young man. She also liked her horses, but she settled for a single stuffed toy—a sable-colored horse—that reminded her of her favorite steed.
The duke rapped the back of his hand on the bars.
“What do you want?!” a feminine voice replied from somewhere in the cell.
Duke Eddleston was forced to strain his eyes, for the cell was deep, and there were many partitions that separated the main room from the bedroom, the washroom, and so on. He wrinkled his lip and sighed.
“I am here, princess.”
A door swung open and a girl stepped out into the cell. She was tall for a Bastilhasian at 5 foot 11, and at only 16 years, she had plenty of growing left to do. Already, she was broad at the shoulder with a head of long raven-black hair, and although she looked so much like her bear of a father, she also had her mother’s cunning blue eyes.
“What is it?” the princess asked. She made no attempt to hide her annoyance as she stood behind the bars in her white, sleeveless sleeping gown.
Duke Eddleston frowned. “Hannah, the maids were supposed to prepare you.”
Princess Hannah folded her arms. “I turned them away,” she said. “I don’t want to hear it, whatever it is. I don’t want to hear it from them, especially. ‘Please, Princess, this’ or ‘Mistress, we beg you, stick a fork in your dinner.’ If I’ll hear anything, it’ll be from my father.”
“This is about your father,” Eddleston said.
“Is he dead?” Hannah asked. She didn’t bat an eye.
“And it’s about you,” he said.
Hannah clutched the cell bars and stood on her toes, leaned close to the duke. “Is it now?” she seethed. “Now it’s about me? After he ignored me? Ignored my pleas for action? When the Atilonians breached the pass, I was the only Darigon with the stones to act. So, he threw me in here, but you know how that happened. You know how this is all about me.”
Eddleston shook his head. “I won’t argue with you,” he said. “You know where I stand.”
The princess made a deep breath and dropped back on her heels. She released the bars and turned away. “He should have reinforced the southern keeps,” she said. “He was so confident in that stupid offensive, but when it failed, the Atilonian counter offensive shattered our reserves. The first keep fell in days, and then after the castles were blown apart, the survivors—damn those Atilonians, they’re animals!”
“I agree there’s more the king could have done,” the duke said. “But we were in crisis and you were ready to start an insurrection.”
“That’s my right,” she said. “I’m his heir, but thanks to him I would lose my kingdom before I ever wore the crown.”
“And the moment you raise your sword against him, he will have no choice but to hang you.”
Hannah spun around, arms stiff, hands tightened in fists. “We’re all going to die, anyway!”
Her voice shook the bars and the duke made one cautious step back. To think she still has such raw power, he thought as the princess stared through him, cheeks red, and huffing in her anger. Mary, what gifts you gave your daughters.
Duke Eddleston closed his eyes took a calming breath. “I was ordered to deliver you to your father,” he said, opened his cold blue eyes.
Hannah blinked. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Eddleston said.
Her hands relaxed and she cautiously approached the bars. “What’s happened?”
“The siege is almost over,” the duke answered.
“Is it Lady Jessica?”
“The sorceress is perfectly capable, but—”
Hannah scowled. “That’s your daughter,” she snapped.
“But there are ships in the bay,” he said sharply.
The princess staggered back a step, watched him with wide eyes.
“Observation reports ships—battleships—princess, and our time is short,” the duke continued. “Jessica will hold the shield for as long as she can, but she’s made no guarantees for an onslaught from all sides.”
“So, suicide, then?” Hannah asked. “Father wants to feed me my poison himself?”
“There is a means to escape,” Eddleston said.
She shook her head. “No, no, I won’t go with Mathematzen. He can’t make me go there.”
“Your father is aware.”
“But, no one can leave the city.”
The duke looked over his shoulders, checked either end of the hall with careful eyes. Although the cell block was empty but for the princess, it was better to be prudent. “You may discuss it with your father,” the duke said quietly. “Now dress yourself, and put on some tact, too. Don’t let the maids catch you shouting about stones, or those hens will give me the whip.”
