Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER THREE

    The staircase opened into the upper-most level of the central spire. The king's throne room was a large chamber of silver and glass. The ceiling allowed in the light of early morning, and round columns ran the circumference. An antechamber adjoined the throne room, and three mechanized doors opened onto steam lifts. Cerulean banners bearing the crest of House Algara, a single blue eye set within a silver star, were hung at regular intervals. Thick, blue carpets covered large swaths of the floor.

    There was a crowd of at least a hundred nobles, men in double-breasted blazers and women in dresses. Their attire was finely-made and sumptuous, but not flashy. The king had little patience for fashion and demanded sensible dress within his court.

    Bare to the waist and shoeless, Krayson mused that he was underdressed.

    Doubtless he knew many of these courtiers' names if not their faces. These were heads of great houses, merchant lords, and hierarchs of the magocracy. The king relied on his court to advise the policy of the Five Kingdoms while they vied for position and prestige.

    It was at the heart of Althandi culture, the need to rise. As much as Krayson resented the people of this kingdom, he could admire that much about them. No matter how much power they acquired, they always coveted more. It must have been the Althandi blood in him that gave Krayson the same need.

    A handful of royal assassins attended court. They were unmistakable with their beast-like eyes and black studded leather armor that left their arms bare to the shoulder. All of them Algaras. They and the guards ringing the throne room were the only ones allowed weapons this near to the king.

    Except for one other. Krayson knew of Ambrose the Merovech. He was an old Althandi man, and his gray beard reached down to his navel. Old, but far from decrepit. The Merovech wore polished full plate, and a broad-bladed sword was scabbarded on his hip. As grand marshal of the Althandi legions, the Merovech was among the king's most trusted advisors and reputedly his closest confidant. He was also said to be the greatest living general on the Continent. The Merovech bloodline was one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, that wasn't blessed with elder magic.

    Near to the Merovech's side was a woman wearing a dark red half-robe of the Order. The hood was raised, obscuring most of her face in shadow. Even so, Krayson recognized Brother Dorna. She was a kindly woman as blood runners went. Krayson had fond memories of Dorna's stories and sweetbreads from when he was just a child in the Order's care. Her contract was now directly to House Merovech as a preserver. She was insurance, the final safeguard for the Merovech's bloodsong.

    Looking around, Krayson was surprised to note the lack of blood runners. He and Dorna were the only ones here. There must have been at least a half-dozen hierarchs present, but only the Merovech had his preserver at hand. The king's court was growing lax. Perhaps the Order also.

    A tall dais with twenty-five steps was in the center of the throne room. It was rigged with clockworks to allow it to turn to face any of the five sides of the pentagonal chamber. At the top of the dais was the Highest Throne. Sitting there, presiding over his court, was the king.

    King Cathis the Algara was a man of middle-years. His hair, tied back in a short tail, was beginning to gray, but his trimmed beard remained perfectly black. An alabaster band adorned with five cruel spikes sat on his head, the Blade Crown. He was dressed in an embroidered doublet, and he wore jeweled rings on each of his fingers.

    This wasn't Krayson's first time meeting the king. Cathis had visited a number of times over the last few days, always asking the same question. Krayson did not have an answer to what the king asked. At least, not one the king wished to hear.