I had to remind myself why I was here. It wasn't just for the Republic. It was because I had a job to do. A duty. But that didn't make the air in this chamber any less oppressive or the people around me any less dangerous.
I stood in the shadow of the table, the dim glow of the crystal torches casting fractured reflections off the black obsidian walls. The floor beneath my boots was cold, as if the very foundation of this place had been carved from the bones of a dead world. It was fitting for the gathering, a place where trust went to die.
The council room was silent except for the slow, rhythmic pulse of the arcane artifacts embedded in the stone—pulsing with a faint, unnatural energy. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through with a knife, as if every ruler present was already preparing for the inevitable betrayal. And it was inevitable.
Across from me sat the most dangerous individuals in the world, each of them representing the most powerful factions left on the continent. Overlord Malkvias, cold as ice, his eyes as sharp as his mind. The man was a tactician, and I could see the wheels turning behind those calculating eyes. Every word, every glance, it all meant something. He was here to win, and he always had a plan for that.
Then there was Empress Galjastiviel Basillius, her reputation preceding her like a plague. The 'Mad Empress' they called her, and I could see why. The madness was in her eyes—something wild, untamed, and dangerous. I'd heard the stories. The way she burned entire cities to the ground, the atrocities she had inflicted upon those who defied her. The way she smiled as she did it. It was the smile of someone who had nothing to lose.
And then Elder Tornajar, the so-called Holy Father of the Sereon Theocracy. His presence filled the room with an oppressive air of sanctity, as if every word he spoke carried divine weight. I'd been warned about him. The way he crushed anyone who opposed his beliefs, how he slaughtered heretics with no hesitation. I couldn't shake the feeling that if I spoke out of turn, I'd find myself on the receiving end of his righteous fury.
I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself. But nothing in the world could prepare me for the silence that followed. They were waiting. For me to speak. For me to take my place at the table. But I wasn't here to talk about the Republic's interests. Not yet.
I kept my hands steady on the table, not daring to shift. This wasn't my turf. I was just an envoy, a messenger sent by a ruler too distant to care about the small details of the present. The real players sat at the table. It was their game, and I was just a pawn.
The first voice broke the silence like thunder.
"Let us begin," Malkvias said, his voice as smooth as oil and twice as deadly. The Overlord leaned forward, his fingers steepled before him, his eyes fixed on each of us in turn. "The Rift is opening. The balance of power is shifting. The question is, how shall we divide what remains?"
I couldn't help but glance at the others. Tornajar's face was unreadable, though I knew his thoughts were centered on the very word 'balance.' He had no tolerance for compromise. Basillius, on the other hand, didn't even look at him. She was far too busy inspecting her dagger, running a finger along the hilt with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
"Divide?" The Empress's voice was like a rasping whisper, but the venom in it was unmistakable. "There will be no division. Not unless we divide them first." She motioned toward the far corner of the room, where a set of maps lay on the table. "I say we take it all. Every last scrap of power. The Federation can lick the bone clean, the Theocracy can pray to their gods, and the Republic—" She turned her gaze toward me, her eyes narrowing. "What does the Republic want? Tell me."
I swallowed, carefully keeping my composure. "We want stability. A fair share of the resources, control of trade routes, and an understanding that the Rift is too dangerous for any single faction to control." My voice was steady, but I could feel the weight of their scrutiny on me. "If we are to come to an agreement, we must think beyond the petty power struggles. The consequences of full control are... unpredictable."
Tornajar's lips twisted into something like a smile. "The Republic, always the voice of reason," he said with a thin edge of mockery. "Tell me, envoy, what do you think the world will look like if we let the Rift sit untamed? You believe it will remain a tool for trade and peace?"
"I believe it will remain a weapon, yes," I said, my voice firm. "But not one that can be wielded by a single hand without consequences. You all know that. Even you, Empress."
Basillius didn't flinch. She merely gave a soft laugh. "I've heard your Republic's pleas for peace, envoy. How quaint. But in the end, it's all about who has the strength to take what they want." Her eyes flicked to the maps. "Strength. Not reason. And I intend to show you exactly how strong I can be."
I clenched my jaw, but I knew better than to engage. Malkvias was still watching, his calculating eyes already weighing every word.
"There's a better way," I said, looking at him. "A way where we all survive this. The Rift has its own rules. It is not a simple object of conquest. The truth is, none of us understand it fully. We're all gambling."
Malkvias's lips twitched upward, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, we understand it well enough, envoy. We understand that power is the ultimate truth. Everything else is... secondary."
He turned his gaze to Galjastiviel. "The Empress is right. There can be no division. The Rift is too valuable."
"But I'm not convinced it's something worth risking everything for," Tornajar cut in, his voice thick with fervor. "The gods have their say. The rest of you... you only have your weapons."
I could feel the storm brewing between them, each of them testing the limits of the others' patience. If there was ever a fragile moment, this was it.
I had to be careful. One wrong word, and I'd be swept up in their game.
The Rift was just the beginning. It was more than power—it was about what lay within it. What had been hidden for so long. And whatever it was, it wasn't something any of us could control. But they didn't see that yet.
Not yet.
This was just the beginning. The real game had only just begun. And I was beginning to realize—if the Republic was to survive this, I would have to outplay them all.
I let the silence stretch on for a moment before speaking again, my voice carrying the weight of an idea that had been circling in my mind for far too long. They were all so blinded by their own ambitions, their own hunger for power, that I could already see how they would fall into the same old patterns. If they wanted a new game, they needed new pieces. And I had just the suggestion.
"Perhaps," I began, my eyes carefully scanning the table, "we don't have to use only our own forces. Not everything has to be done through brute force or political maneuvering." I let the words hang in the air for a moment, just long enough to make them curious.
Basillius snorted derisively. "And what would you suggest, envoy? A well-spoken speech and a friendly handshake?"
I met her gaze with steady resolve. "No. I suggest mercenaries."
The words landed with a distinct weight. I could feel the sharp eyes of Malkvias on me now, his brow furrowing slightly. Tornajar, however, simply raised an eyebrow, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of interest in his gaze.
"Mercenaries?" Tornajar echoed, as if testing the word on his tongue. "And what makes you think they will be of any use to us? They are nothing more than tools, hired hands. Disposable."
I nodded, appreciating his bluntness. "Yes, they are disposable. But they are also unpredictable. And that's what you need when you're playing with fire." I let my words settle in, knowing they were listening now. "Imagine this—mercenaries like those hired by smaller factions, the ones who don't have a direct stake in the major powers. They can be sent to do things we can't afford to get our hands dirty with. Things that can be done quietly, without anyone knowing who's behind it. Like... setting a trap."
I felt all eyes turn to me. This was a dangerous game I was playing, but it was the only way. The tension in the room grew thicker as the idea began to take shape in their minds.
"And who exactly do you propose we use?" Malkvias's voice was colder than before. His mind was turning, and I knew I had to tread carefully. "Do you think your Republic's mercenaries can be trusted to do what needs to be done?"
I tilted my head slightly. "Not the Republic's mercenaries. Not directly, anyway. I'm talking about the independent ones—those on the fringes of this world. Mercenaries like... the ones who have been hired for that mess near the Rift. You know the ones I'm referring to. Lanni and Kvatz."
At the mention of their names, the room fell into an unnerving stillness. I could see that they had all heard of them. How could they not?
"They've already stepped into the web we're weaving," I continued, allowing the coldness of their potential fate to seep into my voice. "They're already trapped, unknowingly, and as far as they're concerned, they're just doing the dirty work. But what if they can be used to help push forward our true objectives? What if they can unwittingly become the catalyst for the very thing we're all fighting for? The Rift."
Basillius's lips curled into a sly grin. "The Pariah, you mean."
I suppressed a wince. I didn't want to say the name out loud, but I had to. It was part of the game now. The game that Lanni and Kvatz were now caught up in, without even realizing the stakes.
"Yes," I said, careful with my words. "Lanni. The so-called Pariah. It seems she's already playing a much larger role than she knows. And Kvatz, her companion—he's just as valuable in his own right. A former soldier, a man of skill and cunning. The two of them are walking right into the heart of something much bigger than they realize. And they don't even know the truth of it."
Malkvias leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "The Pariah..." he murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time. "And you believe they will play into our hands?"
I nodded. "They already have. What better way to use pawns than to allow them to think they're making their own moves? The prophecy tied to Lanni is no coincidence. The more they continue down this path, the more they'll push the world toward chaos. And when the time is right, when they're in the right position, we strike."
Tornajar's brow furrowed as he weighed my words. "And what would we gain from this... chaos? If we use them, how do we ensure they don't destroy us first?"
"Because they don't know what they're truly walking into," I said, my voice calm but firm. "Their role isn't to destroy us. It's to trigger the events that we need to unfold. The Rift, the power within it, the Empress of Ruins—Lanni is tied to it. Her presence will pull everything together, and it'll make the rest of us the masters of what's left. They'll be the spark, but we'll control the fire."
Basillius gave a low chuckle. "And the best part is, they won't even see it coming."
Malkvias's calculating eyes never left me. "You're suggesting we use them as our unknowing instruments," he said, voice like a razor's edge. "And what of the consequences? What if they start to realize what's happening? What if the prophecy is true, and she's not just the Pariah, but something far worse?"
I met his gaze without flinching. "That's the beauty of this strategy. We control the narrative. We make them think they're in control. And by the time they realize the truth, it'll be too late for them to stop us."
There was a long pause as they all considered my proposal. I could feel their minds working, weighing the risks. But I also knew they would come to the same conclusion: it was a risk worth taking. The idea of using pawns—especially pawns like Lanni and Kvatz—was too enticing. They were already caught in the web, their fates intertwined with the greater schemes of the Rift, and they had no idea how deep it went.
Finally, Malkvias spoke again, his voice as cold and sharp as a blade. "You're right. They're already set into motion. We might as well use them."
I suppressed a smile, careful to keep my expression neutral.
This was my gamble. I wasn't just the envoy of a distant Republic anymore. I had become a player in this game, and those two mercenaries? They were the unwitting pieces that would push us all forward into the unknown.