Sorcerer… Cyborg???

Chapter 171: And So It Begins

All around the Isle, the pieces of Tam's grand plan were in motion. To the west, countless black ships sailed across the rough waves, slicing through the water like countless razor sharp swords, all aiming for the jewel of the Empire, Aznur. 

Aboard this mighty fleet, were two of the mightiest warriors the Isle had known, Grand Admiral Anteris of Newport, and the Grand Marshal Tam, of Balin. With them, was an army that Tam, had handpicked, and had been forged into one cohesive unit by battle after battle, the army that had completely conquered Kalun, from the tiniest little village deep in the swamps, to the mighty cities that stood abreast entire rivers. 

And to the south of the center of the Isle, amongst the many fragmented states that lay beneath the plains of the Tribes People, the vassals of the Empire were caught up in the fiercest war they had fought since they had been conquered by the Empire. All of them convinced that one of the others had orchestrated the string of attacks targeting the rich and powerful across the many vassal states.

All of them were so confident that they knew who the culprit was, since each and every one of them had been forewarned by a trusted advisor, known to all of them by different names, and by a different face, but unbeknownst to them, the same man. Simon.

The mighty Storm Generals rode north, both of them forcing their armies to move as fast as they possibly could, as always, in fierce competition with the other, eager to gain the favor of the Emperor. 

And known only to Tam and Anteris, another fleet had launched, weeks ago, from Newport itself, travelling south, it's aim the same as the fleet that mirrored it, the jewel of the Empire, Aznur. 

A few weeks later, in the Imperial Court.

Today, the glass wall of the court that looked out toward the empty ocean did not show the clear blue skies that those of Aznur had grown used to. No, the absence of Nevus was truly felt by all citizens of the capital.

"Your Imperial Majesty, what of the news of the ships?" An official decked in voluminous deep purple robes, with an enormous, bushy gray beard and mustache his head shaven, strode out into the empty space before the throne, where all who wanted to speak would stand. The enormous amount of cloth that clad him, struggled to constrain his enormous bulk. 

"What of it? Speak clearly, Tomas, or you shall regret the day you begged to become Master of Coin." The Emperor's soft voice murmured from the throne, though the sky outside was overcast, without even the slightest hint of sun in the sky, it seemed as if, as always, the sun shone from behind the throne, and online the barest silhouette of the Emperor could be seen.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I meant no offense. I simply feel that we should take some precautions, I have heard more and more reports from fishermen. They all report the same thing, a fleet of black ships, sailing toward the capital." Tomas had the face of a man who drank often, swollen red, with a nose to match. He bowed low in apology, and then he addressed the Emperor in a booming voice, nevertheless, the unmistakable quaver of fear was clear in his voice. 

There was no reply from the Emperor, only silence, as Tomas nervously looked to the throne, afraid that he had truly offended the Emperor.

"Tomas! Why the scaremongering and gossip. I thought such things would be beneath you?" Another man strode out to join Tomas in the empty space. This man wore a similar set of robes, made of a fine fabric, but lacking in decorations, his were a deep blue color and were draped loosely around his lanky frame. 

He had shiny blonde hair, which had been shaved into a bowl, and his enormous beak shaped nose was made even more prominent by his virtually nonexistent chin.

"Christoff! I speak of a multitude of reports, my contacts have made many reports confirming the presence of these ships." No longer having to converse directly with the Emperor, Tomas regained his confidence, and drew himself as he boomed out at Christoff.

"A mighty fleet of black ships, heading for our capital. The only man who would be so capable of mustering such a fleet is that drunkard, Anteris of Newport." Christoff scoffed as he spoke, pausing to look around at the gathered officials.

"Such a fleet would approach from the East, but what dear Tomas has neglected to mention, is that the same fleet had been sighted from both the east and the west. I say that this is mere superstition. A rumor spread amongst the fishermen, and in fear they have hallucinated it." Christoff said with finality, and with a smug grin at Tomas, walked back into the throng.

There were murmurs of assent all around, and Tomas looked increasingly nervous, his bald head beading with sweat.

"My Emperor, please, forgive me. But I only spoke so out of a desire to protect your Empire. Please, even if you have me punished, ready what troops remain in the capital and send word to the Storm Generals. I feel there is something dreadful afoot." Tomas fell to one knee, and his voice quaked with emotion. His emotion touched all those gathered, who felt a trace of guilt for agreeing so readily with Chirstoff.

"Look at the fool, now he seeks to play on our pity." Christoff hissed, but the only response he got were dirty glances from the other officials.

"Tomas, you have convinced me, if you feel there is a threat, I give you leave to see that the capital is adequately defended. Confer with Captain Jeremiah of the City Guard." The Emperor said softly, and Tomas visibly sagged with relief, almost falling to the floor.

"And to all of my subjects, I leave you with this. The eye may deceive you. One moment, I am here. The next-" The Emperor's voice filled the room, an almost hypnotizing quality to it, and the light that silhouetted him brightened for a moment, and then, just like that, he was gone.