I was thus on my own when Katya showed up for a chat.

Everyone else was off on their various little missions—sowing doubt, stoking paranoia, whispering lies like seasoned political interns—leaving me, of course, to climb down from what I was generously calling my "battlements" and face, all on my lonesome, the woman who'd already killed me once. Right here. At Anchorfall's gates. No pressure.

I'll admit, it was tempting to stay up and unclog my nose in the general direction of this daughter of a window dresser, but for the sake of appearances, I did the dignified thing and trudged down to meet her. Even though I was sure her mother was a hamster and her father smelled of elderberries. Yeah, I'm doing a little 'bit' here. It tends to happen when I'm nervous.

As I approached, Katya—excuse me, the Harbinger of the Empire, according to the glowing, self-important title floating above her head—stood waiting with all the smug poise of someone who'd just been promoted to Head Girl in the Cult of Smug Superiority. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who'd been busy since our last meeting. She was flanked by two absolute units of knights who looked like they could bench press me with one hand while peeling oranges with the other, probably using a trebuchet. They didn't move. Just watched. Like bouncers at a very exclusive execution.

Yeah, you better believe my metaphor game is STRONG right now.

Katya had changed quite a bit since we'd first met on the train: gone was the slightly geeky-looking business suit-wearing assassin, to be replaced by someone who looked like a promotional model for a medieval leather fetish emporium. She had her hands clasped behind her back, head tilted at a disapproving angle, and her mouth was framed in a condescending sneer. She was nailing the "Dungeon Mistress – Now With Extra Judgement" vibe.

"What are you finding so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "I'm just a guy, standing in front of a woman who has definitely installed a dungeon into her Bayteran home, with chains on the walls and a full array of questionable instruments, asking her—humbly, sincerely, with all the awkward charm I can muster—to kindly go away and leave my people alone."

Katya's eyes narrowed, and her insincere grin twisted into a tight little moue of distaste, like she'd just bitten into a lemon. She flicked her gaze up toward one of her looming knights, the gesture sharp and imperious—as if she were half a breath away from ordering him to pulp me into the dirt. But the knight didn't move. Not an inch. He just stood there, armour gleaming, helm fixed forward in a perfect posture of stoic, muscle-bound disapproval.

Like a particularly disapproving fridge that had taken a vow of silence.

She then began to deliver some long, impassioned monologue clearly meant to be chilling. The tone was there, at least one part lament, two parts warning, all artfully rehearsed like someone had been practising in front of a mirror.

I didn't catch much of it. Something about inevitability, fractures in the world, the creeping collapse of decency, and how I was a "pattern-breaker." I tilted my head, pretending to listen, but really I was watching the way she was trying very hard not to smile, which meant she was enjoying herself far too much.

So I decided to poke the bear.

[Tactical Provocation – Level 1 Activated]

The Ability flared quietly in my mind, heat in my sternum like a held breath—and then:

[System Notification] → Target is immune to compulsion. Tactical Provocation: Rebuffed. Cooldown initiated

That was a bit annoying. Obviously, I needed to rank it up a bit; however, it at least made her frown. Her brow creased in a way that suggested something just buzzed her tower. Alright. So, I couldn't make Katya throw the first punch. It'd been worth a try.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

But what about her entourage?

[Zone of Authority – Level 1 Activated]

The ground didn't crack. There was no swirling vortex of power. But there was a subtle shift in pressure, like an invisible ring suddenly grew up around me. Five metres of implied dominance, and I stood dead centre. The effect was subtle, but very much real. The big guy on the left's foot faltered mid-shift, and the one on the right sagged, just slightly. Like someone turned gravity up a notch and forgot to warn him.

No action taken. No spell thrown. Just a man standing there like he belonged.

Katya certainly noticed the impact of my second Ability, even if it didn't seem to bother her much. Her eyes snapped to each of her knights in turn, her head tilting with slow, theatrical disappointment, like a teacher discovering her top pupils had forgotten their own names. Her eyes twitched, barely, but I caught it. The Empire's perfect little Harbinger was not impressed.

"And you think this will end well for you?" she said at last, turning her gaze back to me as if concluding the final lines of a villain monologue I hadn't been courteous enough to listen to. "You think you can stand in defiance of the Empire and not be swept aside like the rest of the rabble?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, blinking as though I'd just returned to the present. "Were you still talking? I sort of zoned out after you said 'fractures in the world.' Didn't realise I was getting a TED Talk."

"Here are the Empire's terms for your immediate and total surrender. Anchorfall, as it stands, is utterly defenceless. The Empire will grant you amnesty—if you submit and open your gates and hand over the fugitives you are currently harbouring."

"Fugitives?"

"Behind your walls are the murderer known as the Dark Wren and also her father. Both are required back in Sablewyn to stand trial for murder."

Interesting. The Empire really had it hard for Lia and Jorgen, didn't they? Although, as we'd left Jorgen out in the woods somewhere, it did kind of suggest that Katya's intel wasn't exactly A1.

"Ah, right. See, here's the thing, Katya. I tend to get twitchy around ultimatums. Allergic, you could say."

Her eyes flashed. It might've been chilling if I hadn't been so busy coming up with new nicknames for her. Discount Valkyrie. Leather & Loathing. Fifty Shades of Strategic Deployment. It honestly was quite hard to be intimidated when someone looked like they had stolen their outfit from a BDSM-themed Renaissance Fair.

"Very well," Katya said. "If diplomacy won't sway you, then let me make things plain. To the north stands the Empire. Disciplined, ascendant, and the only force in this realm with any hope of lasting order. Their army is not just ready. It is inevitable. Trust me. I've seen it close up. To the south, the Rebels boil with every kind of chaos you've ever tried to pretend doesn't exist. Mercenaries. Fanatics. Deserters. They'll turn Anchorfall into a bonfire just to warm their hands. And to the west," she nodded, as though even saying it left a bad taste, "the Crusade of the Eternal Flame waits to burn your town clean from the pattern. They don't negotiate. Those guys don't conquer. They erase."

She let that sit for a moment. I didn't interrupt. I was curious what came next.

"So," she said, eyes fixed on mine, "the only rational path is the one that keeps you breathing. Join us. Join me. Ally with the Empire. They can protect you."

"Oh, am I supposed to be impressed?" I asked. "Because you're making this sound like I have more options than I thought."

Katya's face twisted, obviously a bit confused by my complete lack of subserveience. "You misunderstand," she said. "This is not a request. The Empire does not make offers lightly, nor do they entertain foolish pride. You should consider it a privilege to throw yourself upon their mercy."

"Oh, that's what this is? A privilege?" I said. "I thought privilege was what you enjoyed with your feet up, not when some leathered-up sell-out showed up uninvited and demanded you bend over for it."

Katya's face flushed with barely restrained fury. "You are a fool, Warden", she spat, clearly frustrated. "Do you not see the forces against you? Do you not understand the hopelessness of your position?"

"Oh, I understand hopeless, believe me. But forgive me if I'm not convinced you're offering anything more than a fancy prison cell," I said, glancing over her knights and then back to her glowering face. "And don't call me 'Warden .' I only let my friends call me by silly titles."

"Then die with your petty pride," she snapped, giving one last, dramatic sweep as she turned to leave, her knights lumbering after her in perfect lockstep.

As he strode away, I caught sight of another notification:

System Update: Faction Reputation Changed Your standing with the Empire has decreased. New Status: Anathema Relations between the factions have deteriorated beyond reconciliation. Cooperation is no longer possible. Hostile actions are now likely in shared territories.

Awesome.

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