A cave.
It was in the mountain forests, east of Windsor Castle.
Alina sat on a cold, flat stone.
Her eyes were closed.
A soft, silvery light pulsed from her palms, which were pressed flat against her abdomen.
She was healing her internal injuries.
Her breathing was slow. Measured.
She was stunning.
Her hair was a cascade of pure, spun white. Her figure, even under simple traveler's robes, was enough to start wars.
A man walked up, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel floor.
"Alina. How's your recovery?"
He kicked a loose rock, his face dark with a frustrated anger.
"Dammit," he cursed. "I never expected that kid Kevin's personal guard... that captain... to be a damn Bloodline Awakener!"
Alina took one last, deep breath.
The silvery light in her hands faded.
She opened her eyes.
"It doesn't matter," she said. Her voice was slow, calm, and held an absolute authority.
"The result was good."
She rose from the stone in one fluid motion, brushing invisible dust from her robes.
"We've taken the outer city."
The man grunted. "Imperial reinforcements will be here soon. We don't have time."
"Then speed up the supply transport," Alina replied.
She had taken the outer city with a simple, almost insulting, stratagem.
The fortress's lord, Earl Mido, was away on some long journey.
His son, Kevin, was in temporary command.
And Kevin...
Kevin was a fool.
A lecherous, arrogant, stupid fool, who just happened to be in charge of the Empire's northern shield.
He was, according to her spies, "seeking beauties" within the territory to "ease his stress."
So, she had appeared before him.
A refugee. Helpless. Destitute.
And beautiful.
He was hooked instantly.
'Pathetic.'
He brought her into the inner city himself. He paraded her around like a trophy.
The banquet. The endless, terrible wine.
She got him hopelessly drunk.
He barely even noticed when she "went for a walk to get some air."
Slipping past his personal security was a joke.
She was a powerful mage. They were just overpaid guards, soft from years of peace.
She made her way to the outer city alone.
The sewers... were disgusting. Filthy.
But effective.
She cleared the path. Killed the three guards at the grate.
And, finally, she'd opened the main gates from the inside.
Click.
There had been one surprise.
That personal guard. The captain.
The Bloodline Awakener.
He was good. Fast. He'd sensed her magic.
He had cornered her just as she'd reached the gate mechanism.
She hadn't expected that.
It had cost her.
But she had cut him down.
The moment the gates were open, her forces had stormed in.
Her bandits.
And her new... "allies"... which she had seduced from the rot of the North.
The rotting corpses.
It was chaos.
The castle was plunged into absolute, screaming chaos.
And just like that, she'd seized the outer city.
She almost laughed, standing there in the cold cave.
'A border fortress. The Empire's shield.'
It shouldn't have fallen.
It never should have fallen.
But the Empire had been at peace for too long.
Everyone had grown lax.
Fat. Stupid.
Alina stood, stretching her mended body. The pain was gone.
"The age of chaos is coming," she said, her voice echoing in the cave.
"We have to arm ourselves. We have to be ready."
She looked at her subordinate, her eyes hard.
"Let's go. Back to Windsor Castle."
"I'll help move the supplies."
...
Roland watched as the slaves equipped themselves.
It was a mess.
They fumbled with stiff, unfamiliar leather buckles. They didn't know how to properly tighten the straps.
One man put a helmet on backward, and another fumbled to figure out which hand held the spear.
They tested the weight of the swords. They were heavy. Awkward.
But, one by one... they suited up.
Leather jerkins. Mail coifs that covered their necks. Simple, round iron helmets.
They looked...
They looked almost like a proper military unit.
A ragged, terrified, greedy unit.
But a unit.
Roland crossed his arms, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
'This is a start.'
Just then, one slave...
A big one. Scars covered his face and neck.
His eyes, which had been darting around nervously, suddenly glinted.
A murderous, opportunistic light.
He gripped his new spear.
He had just finished buckling his leather armor. He felt strong. Protected.
He looked at Roland.
One man.
He looked at Anna and Violette.
Two women.
He looked at his fellow slaves.
Dozens of armed men.
The math seemed simple.
He lunged.
Not at a corpse.
At Roland.
"NOW!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with a desperate roar.
"HE'S JUST ONE MAN! KILL HIM!"
"TAKE THE WOMEN AND THE SUPPLIES! WE'RE FREE!"
A few of the other slaves tensed.
Their hands tightened on their new, unfamiliar weapons.
They hesitated.
They were tempted.
It was a critical, heart-stopping moment.
The single moment where everything could fall apart.
But Violette moved.
No.
She didn't move.
She vanished.
One second, she was standing quietly at Roland's side, watching the slaves.
The next, she was... gone.
She hadn't ducked. She hadn't jumped.
She had melted.
Melted into the shadows themselves.
The rebelling slave's eyes went wide. His lunge faltered.
"Where...?"
The next instant, she reappeared.
Directly behind him.
Her dagger was already in her hand.
A single, silent flash of her blade.
Shhhk.
It was a soft sound. A sound like tearing silk.
The man's head...
Flew from his shoulders.
It hit the stone floor with a wet thud and rolled, its eyes still wide with confusion and shock.
The body stood for a full second, a fountain of red spraying from the severed neck.
Then it collapsed in a heap.
It was that simple.
It was that fast.
Silence.
A dead, absolute silence.
The only sound in the armory was the drip... drip... drip... of blood pooling on the stones.
A Bloodline Awakener.
The other slaves, the ones who had been tempted, instantly went rigid.
Their new swords and spears felt impossibly heavy in their hands.
They didn't dare breathe.
Their obedience was no longer just bought with coppers.
It was absolute.
Anna's eyes flashed.
Shock.
Then... awe.
She stared at Violette, who was calmly wiping her blade clean on the dead man's tunic.
She never dreamed...
That quiet, half-starved girl...
Was this.
Roland spoke.
His voice was calm, quiet.
It cut through the silence like a razor.
"Trust me," he said, letting his gaze travel over the assembled, terrified slaves.
"She can kill every single one of you before you take a second step."
He smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"Feel free to try."
They were paralyzed.
'Good.'
'That's settled.'
Anna stepped forward.
"My lord. What is the next plan?"
She gestured toward the open door. "We're armed. But we're exposed."
"It isn't wise to linger here. The bandits... that knight... this place is a death trap."
"We should head straight for the Northern Reaches."
It was good advice.
Sensible advice.
Roland thought for a moment.
He looked at his newly armed, newly cowed force.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
Anna blinked. "My lord?"
"The North has no resources," Roland said, his voice flat.
"We're going to a barren, frozen wasteland. With nothing."
"This..." He gestured around the armory. The castle. The chaos. "This is a gift."
"Bandits. A cowardly lord. A fortress in chaos."
"It's an opportunity."
"We're going to plunder as much as we can, while we can."
Roland sheathed his sword.
He looked at Violette. She nodded, her eyes bright. She understood.
"Come."
He headed for the door.
"Anna," he ordered, "get these men organized. And be careful."
"My lord? Where are you going?"
Roland paused in the doorway and looked back, a shadow against the light.
He smiled, and it was the smile of a wolf that had just found the sheepfold.
"Hunting."
He and Violette stepped out into the chaotic, corpse-strewn courtyard.
He was going to have her clear out every last one of them.
Every single bandit scout.
The red dots on his mini-map.
With his map, they couldn't hide.
With her power, they couldn't escape.
Not a single one of them.