Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

It will not be long now, he thought.

Merrick shifted his grip on the weapon. Only a foot and a half long, with a bow span even shorter, it lacked the penetration strength of a traditional crossbow. Still, it would be enough. His target wore no armor, and he was not relying on the force of the bolt. Venden pox coated the serrated steel tip. A deplorable poison for assassination, it neither killed quickly nor paralyzed the victim. The concoction would certainly kill, but only after what he considered an unprofessional span of time. He had never used it before, and had only recently learned of its most important trait—venden pox was invulnerable to magic. Merrick had it on good authority that the most powerful spells and incantations would be useless against its venom. Given his target, this would prove to be essential.

Another figure entered Arista’s room, and she sat abruptly. Merrick thought she had just received some interesting news and he was about to cross the street to listen at the window when the tavern door behind him opened. A pair of patrons exited, and by the sway of their steps and the volume of their voices, he could tell they had drained more than one mug that night.

“Nestor, who’s that leaning against the post?” one said, pointing in Merrick’s direction. A plump man with a strawberry nose whose shape matched its color squinted in the dim light and staggered forward.

“How should I know?” said the other. The thin man’s mustache still glistened with beer foam.

“What’s he doing here at this time of night?”

“Again, how should I know, you git?”

“Well, ask him.”

The tall man stepped forward. “Whatcha doing, mister? Holding up the post so the porch doesn’t fall down?” Nestor snorted a laugh and doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“Actually,” Merrick told them, his tone so serious it was almost grave, “I’m waiting to appoint the position of town fool to the person who asks me the stupidest question. Congratulations. You win.”

The thin man slapped his friend on the shoulder. “See? I’ve been telling you all night how funny I am, and you haven’t laughed once. Now I’m getting a new job … probably pays better than yours.”

“Oh yeah, you’re quite the entertainer,” his friend assured him as they staggered off into the night. “You should audition at the theater. They’re gonna be doing The Crown Conspiracy for the mayor. The day I see you on a stage—now that will be funny.”

Merrick’s mood turned sour. He had seen that play several years ago. While the two thieves depicted in it used different names, he was sure they portrayed Royce Melborn and Hadrian Blackwater. Royce had once been Merrick’s best friend, back when the two of them were assassins for the Diamond. That friendship had ended seventeen years earlier on that warm summer night when Royce murdered Jade.

Although he had not been present, Merrick had imagined the scene countless times. That was before Royce had his white dagger, back when he had used a pair of curved, black-handled kharolls. Merrick knew Royce’s technique well enough to picture him silently slicing through Jade with both blades at once. Merrick did not care that someone had set up Royce, or that he had not known his victim’s identity when it happened. All Merrick knew was that the woman he loved was dead and his best friend had killed her.

Nearly two decades had passed, and still Jade and Royce haunted him. He could not think of one without the other, and he could not bear to forget. Love and hate welded together forever, intertwined in a knot too tight to untie.

Loud noises and shouts from Arista’s room pulled Merrick back to the present. He checked his weapon, then crossed the street.





“Your Highness?” the soldier asked, entering the mayoral office.

Her hair a tangled mess and eyes wreathed in shadow, Princess Arista looked up from her cluttered desk. She took a moment to assess her visitor. The man in mismatched armor displayed an expression of unabated annoyance.

This is not going to go well, she thought.

“You sent for me?” he asked with only partially restrained irritation.

“Yes, Renquist,” she said, her mind catching up with his face. She had hardly slept in two days and was having difficulty concentrating. “I asked you here to—”

“Princess, you can’t be summoning me like this. I have an army to run and a war to win. I don’t have time to chat.”

“Chat? I wouldn’t call you here if it wasn’t important.”

Renquist rolled his eyes.

“I need you to remove the army from the city.”

“What?”

“It can’t be helped. Your men are causing trouble. I’m getting daily reports of soldiers bullying merchants and destroying property. There has even been an accusation of rape. You must take your men out of the city where they can be controlled.”

“My men risked their lives against the Imperialists. The least this lousy city can do is feed and house them. Now you want me to take away their beds and the roof over their heads as well?”

“The merchants and farmers refuse to feed them because they can’t,” Arista explained. “The empire confiscated the city’s reserves when the Imperialists took control. The rains and the war destroyed most of this year’s crops. The city doesn’t have enough to feed its citizens, much less an army. Fall is here, and cold weather is on its way. These people don’t know how they will survive the winter. They can’t take care of themselves with a thousand soldiers raiding their shops and farms. We’re thankful for your contribution in taking the city, but your continued presence threatens to destroy what you risked your lives to liberate. You must leave.”

“If I force them back into camps with inadequate food and leaky canvas shelters, half will desert. As it is, many are talking of going home for the harvest season. I shouldn’t have to tell you that if this army disappears, the empire will take this city back.”

Arista shook her head. “When Degan Gaunt was in charge, the Nationalist army lived under similar conditions for months without it being a problem. The soldiers are becoming complacent here in Ratibor. Perhaps it’s time you pressed on to Aquesta.”

Renquist stiffened at the suggestion. “Gaunt’s capture makes taking Aquesta all the more difficult. I need time to gather information and I’m waiting for reinforcements and supplies from Delgos. Attacking the capital won’t be like taking Vernes or Ratibor. The Imperialists will fight to the last man to defend their empress. No. We need to stay here until I’m fully prepared.”

“Wait if you must, but not here,” she replied firmly.

“What if I refuse?” His eyes narrowed.