Theft of Swords (The Riyria Revelations #1-2)

“You’re too arrogant for your own good,” Galien accused him defensively. “The man is an imperial wizard. What he is capable of is beyond your comprehension. For all we know, he may have been visiting her in the form of a butterfly in the garden or a moth that entered her bedroom window each night. We had to be sure.”


“A butterfly?” Saldur said, genuinely amazed.

“He’s a wizard. Damn you. That’s what they do.”

“I highly doubt—”

“The point is we didn’t know for sure.”

“And we still don’t. All I can say is I don’t think she was lying, but Arista is a clever girl. Maribor knows she has proven that already.”

Galien lifted his empty wineglass. “Carlton!”

The servant looked up. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I can’t say I know her well enough to offer much of an opinion.”

“Good god, man. I’m not asking you about her; I want more wine, you fool.”

“Ah,” Carlton said, and headed for the bottle, then pulled the cork out with a dull, hollow pop.

“The problem is that the Patriarch blames me for Esrahaddon’s disappearance,” Galien continued.

For the first time since Arista’s departure, Saldur leaned forward with interest. “He’s told you this?”

“That’s just it; he’s told me nothing. He only speaks to the sentinels now. Luis Guy and that other one—Thranic. Guy is unpleasant, but Thranic …” He trailed off, shaking his head and frowning.

“I’ve never met a sentinel.”

“Consider yourself lucky. Although your luck, I think, is running out on that score. Guy spent all morning upstairs in a long meeting with the Patriarch.” He played with the empty glass, running his finger around the rim. “He’s in the council hall right now, giving his address to the curia.”

“Shouldn’t we be there?”

“Yes,” he said miserably, but he made no effort to move.

“Your Grace?” Saldur asked.

“Yes, yes.” He waved at him. “Carlton, get me my cane.”





Saldur and the archbishop entered to the sound of a man’s booming voice. The grand council chamber was a three-story circular room encompassing the entire width of the tower. It was lined in thin ornate columns set in groups of two that represented the relationship between Novron, the Defender of Faith, and Maribor, the god of man. Between each set was a tall thin window, which provided the room with a complete panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. Seated in circular rows, radiating out from the center, gathered the curia, the college of chief clerics of the Nyphron Church. The other eighteen bishops were present to hear the words of the Patriarch as spoken by Luis Guy.

Sentinel Luis Guy, a tall thin man with long black hair and disquieting eyes, stood in the center of the room. He was sharp; that was Saldur’s first impression of the man, clean, ordered, focused, both in manner and looks. His hair was very black yet his skin was light, providing a striking contrast. His mustache was narrow, his beard short and severe, trimmed to a fine point. He dressed in the traditional red cassock, black cape, and black hood, with the symbol of the broken crown neatly embroidered on his chest. Not a hair or a pleat was out of place. He stood straight, his eyes not scanning the crowd but glaring at them.

“… the Patriarch feels that Rufus has the strength to persuade the Trent nobles and the church will deliver the rest. Remember, this isn’t about picking the best horse. The Patriarch must choose the one that can win the race and Rufus is the most likely candidate. He’s a hero to the south and a native of the north. He has no visible ties to the church. Crowning him emperor will immediately stifle a large segment of the population that might otherwise oppose us. While Rufus may not cause Trent and Calis to submit to the New Empire, it should prevent them from uniting against us. In their hesitation we shall find the time to consolidate the whole of Avryn under one emperor. After which time, we shall systematically, one-by-one, force Trent, then Calis to join or face invasion. Given the vastly superior wealth and power of Avryn, it is more than likely they will submit without a fight—all the more so with Rufus as emperor.”

“You speak as if the unification is already complete,” Bishop Tildale of Dunmore said. “But Avryn has eight kingdoms and only Dunmore, Ghent, and Warric are Imperialist. What about the Royalists? They aren’t going to accept this without a fight. It’s not like the time of Glenmorgan, when all he faced were a handful of warlords—these are kings with lands and titles that they’ve held for generations. The kingdoms of Alburn and Melengar are old and proud realms. Even King Urith of Rhenydd, as poor as he is, will not simply take a knee to Rufus merely because we say so. And what about Maranon? Their fields supply most of Avryn with the food we eat. If King Vincent resists, he could starve us into submission. And Galeannon? King Fredrick has often threatened to cede to Calis, where he could be the strong leader of a weak pack rather than a weak leader of a strong one. If we insist on his giving up what little independence he has, we could lose him.”

“I can assure you King Fredrick will bow before the imperial throne when the time comes,” the bishop of Galeannon announced.

“And you needn’t worry about Maranon’s wheat fields,” the bishop of Maranon said.

“As you can see, the Royalist problem has been eliminated,” Guy assured them. “It has taken nearly a generation, but the church has managed to successfully insert loyal Imperialists in key positions in each kingdom, with the minor exception of Melengar, where our plans did not proceed as expected. This failure will easily be mitigated by its singularity. Once Rufus is declared emperor, all the other kingdoms will pledge allegiance and Melengar will be alone. They will capitulate or face a war with the rest of Avryn. So yes, with just a few minor issues, the unification of Avryn has indeed already been accomplished. We just have not made this fact public.”

This caused a murmur throughout the chamber.

“I knew we were progressing successfully on this project,” Saldur told the archbishop, “but I had no idea we were so far along.”

“Braga’s appointment as king of Melengar was to be the final step,” Galien replied with a disappointed tone. Of all the kingdoms the church had prepared for the coming New Empire, only Saldur’s had failed.

“And the Nationalists?” the Prelate of Ratibor asked. “They have been growing in number. You can’t simply ignore them.”