Chapter 14

The room was suffocatingly dark, save for the flickering glow of embers in the ornate brazier near the bed. Emperor Tarvo sat upright, his silk sheets damp with sweat. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he wiped his forehead.

It's happening.

For years, he had known this day would come. He had told himself he was prepared, that when the mantle chose another, he would crush them before they could rise. But now that it was real—now that someone had been chosen—he felt a deep, gnawing unease.

He turned to the guards standing at attention outside his chamber doors.

"Guards!" His voice was sharp, urgent.

Two armored figures entered at once, their hands resting lightly on their weapons.

"Get me Attinute," Tarvo commanded.

"At once, Your Highness."

One of them hurried off while the other remained, silent and watchful. Tarvo clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming against the gilded armrest of his bedframe.

The monks are going to be a problem.

A shiver ran down his spine. The monks—keepers of prophecy, interpreters of omens—would undoubtedly spread word of the new Risao. If they had not already. The people listened to them. If the monks spoke, then even those loyal to him might start to doubt.

He needed to silence them.

The guard returned. "Lord Attinute is outside, Your Majesty. Should I escort him to the waiting room?"

Tarvo scowled. "No. Let him in."

A moment later, Attinute entered, his robes hastily thrown over his nightclothes. His graying hair was tousled, his eyes still foggy with sleep. He bowed low.

"Your Highness," he said, his voice calm despite his irritation at being woken.

Tarvo wasted no time. "The monks. What should we do about them?"

Attinute blinked, still waking up. "I do not understand, my lord."

"They know," Tarvo hissed. "They must know that a new Risao has been chosen. Should I be worried? Where do their allegiance lie?"

Attinute hesitated. His mind worked quickly, considering his words. "While the monks interpret signs, they do not cause them. The cat is already out of the bag, Your Highness. Many saw the sign yesterday. The monks only confirm what people already suspect."

Tarvo gritted his teeth. "But still. If we ordered them to tell the people that the sign meant nothing, that it was meaningless—" He gestured sharply. "Wouldn’t that quell the rumors?"

Attinute stiffened. Silencing the monks outright would be dangerous. They had influence, and while they were not political, their power lay in their spiritual authority. People trusted them. Feared them, even. To openly contradict them would create unrest.

Still, Attinute knew better than to argue with Tarvo. The emperor did not tolerate opposition.

He bowed lower, his voice measured. "A most wise idea, my lord. How do you wish to proceed?"

Tarvo’s gaze hardened. "Round them up. Jail them. Any who are willing to say exactly what we want them to say—release them. The rest… let them rot."

Attinute hesitated, thought about dissuading the emperor, for only a moment. "Absolutely. I will see it done immediately."

Tarvo exhaled, as if the decision itself had brought him relief. "Good. Keep me informed."

Attinute bowed once more before slipping out of the chamber.

As the heavy doors closed behind him, Tarvo lay back against the damp pillows, staring at the ceiling.

He had won.

For now.