The Emperor's Gambit

The storm raged ferociously, as though the gods themselves were weeping for the fallen that day. The wind pounded so hard that those experiencing the Three Shields for the first time were warned how easy it was to be blown over and into the waiting, stormy ocean below. There were few lights scattered throughout the Second Shield; each had groups of men huddled around them for warmth. Most captains would extinguish the fires before long, leaving the men to freeze in the cold and darkness. The risk of being spotted by their enemy and receiving an arrow to the throat outweighed making the men feel comfortable.

Six and his group were the only ones roaming the halls that night. After repelling the brutal onslaught and losing many friends and brothers, the fortress was left sullen and mournful. Six had lost three brothers that night. While they were not necessarily brothers by blood—or at least it had not been confirmed—the upbringing of Six’s people meant they were brothers in all ways that mattered.

As was always the case, Six led the group as they traversed the halls and corridors of the monolith that was the Second Shield—a fortress so large it took hours of climbing stone stairs to reach the top from the ground floor. Yet below, it still had labyrinths of tunnels that buried themselves beneath the ocean floor. The Second Shield was only one of three that made up the physical and magical defences that kept the former allies of humanity at bay.

The Emperor marched directly behind Six, flanked by two of his brothers, with another two behind. All five were members of the Shadow Guard—men who were cult-like in their protection of the Emperor. There were fifteen members in total, the others protecting from afar, often in shadows even Six could not see. During a time of war such as this, rarely did any of them sleep, which made each man grateful for their often-brutal training as boys. Six always led the group from the front as he was by far the slowest—not just in the guard but in the Black Legion from which they were chosen. Only his monstrous size, combined with his strength and unbelievable resilience, allowed him acceptance into their ranks.

Like a bull ready to charge, Six strode forth, attempting to keep his mind clear and on his objective, as was The Way. However, he failed to follow it, as was his nature. He turned from time to time to glance at the Emperor, Liam IronHeart III. The man was the embodiment of humanity and the tireless struggle to plant their flag and refuse to remove it, even when their old allies demanded so. It had been almost a thousand years since humanity ceased being a kingdom and became an empire that conquered the world. Since that time, many had claimed the empire was diminishing. But when Six looked at Liam, he laughed, as he saw in his Emperor that the time of man had not yet ended.

After half an hour of marching, they arrived at the Black Door. Six had stood outside several times while his Emperor went in alone to converse with the Ghost of Men—a human in appearance only. This figure had plagued humanity since its creation over two thousand years ago. Six and his fellow Shadow Guard glared at the creature whenever they set eyes on him; something in their blood turned, as though they were looking upon something inherently wrong. For reasons unknown to them, Liam took counsel with him often since he overthrew his father and took command of humanity in a bloody civil war that lasted just six months.

Liam entered as Six and his guards prepared themselves to guard the Black Door once more, its surface made of living black tar that pulsated and crawled across its surface. As Six was considered the muscle of their group, he stood directly in front of the door while his brothers formed a loose semi-circle, inspecting every entryway and corridor for any movement or threat. Six felt exhausted. After a day and a half of non-stop battle, his body ached and groaned. In that moment, he felt like he could fall asleep on his feet. Yet, determined to prove Liam was right to choose him, he stood tall and proud—even while desperately needing to relieve himself. He had resorted to pissing himself several times during the day and a half of fighting, the damp clothing underneath his armour only now beginning to itch.

They stood there for hours, not saying a word as Six’s eyes glanced over the intricate stonework that made up the fortress. The fortress had been built in just twenty years—a feat of engineering that humanity united to perform. Yet, the masons had still taken the time to chisel and carve symbols into every wall and corridor, as though it were a piece of art instead of a bastion of hope. The marvellous walls were somewhat dampened, however, by the barrels of arrows that littered every corridor in the fortress, usually stacked against the walls, blocking the images.

“Am I the only one tempted to jump off the edge of this fortress?” Five, whose chosen name was Chris, said with a grin while continuing to scan the corridors for threats. All five men laughed, knowing it was a breach from The Way, but trusting one another not to report such a thing to the Old Man.

“I am not quite that miserable yet. I think I would genuinely kill all of you, however, if it meant I could have a shit,” Six replied, causing another unified laugh as he relaxed his grip on his war hammer, resting it on the stone floor. The five of them had grown up and been trained since boyhood to join the Black Legion, so they knew each other better than they knew themselves. While Six loved all his brothers, Chris was by far his favourite. The two had gone through everything alongside each other: they had fought in their first battles together, killed their first enemy together, and even laid with their first woman together. Chris was everything Six was not, and while that often made them fight, it more often allowed them victory.

“I would much rather just go home, if I’m being honest. But having a shit would be just as preferable,” Eight, whose chosen name was Cole, said. For the first time since they had woken up two days ago, the group visibly relaxed, simply laughing, needing some release from the stress that had been building up. Every day, the war grew more desperate. The never-ending tug-of-war between humanity and the Old Races had stopped being a war and simply turned into a stalemate.

The Autem elves that ruled Scarvo had countless races at their disposal—from monstrous beasts to sneaky assassins—allowing them a brutal combination that had slowly been chipping away at humanity. Much to the elves’ dismay, humanity continued to evolve. While the elves gained victories, each one humanity learned from, becoming smarter and more brutal with each loss. However, humanity had been on the defensive the entire war, and simply holding back the tide would not gain victory.

Six went to make another joke. However, the door behind him groaned as the handle turned, making him and his brothers seal their mouths as they fell back into The Way. Six turned to see Liam standing and looking at them with sullen eyes. He then did something he had never done before and nodded towards Six.

“Please come inside. The rest of you, I order to go get some sleep. I will not be leaving this room until tomorrow morning at the earliest, and there is nothing that will attempt to breach this door.” The Emperor ordered, showing no sign of the version of himself he portrayed in public. Knowing Liam for so long, Six knew a lot of what he did was simply an act to portray strength and hope to all who looked upon him. In truth, he was a scared young man, forced to rule before his time. Seeing him so openly show exhaustion and sadness put Six even more on edge as he imagined tearing the creature within that room apart for daring to hurt his Emperor.

“We will wait, your Highness. We are all wide awake and do not need any sleep,” Chris lied, intending to stay there all night if he had to, the others nodding their agreement.

“That was an order. Go rest and prepare yourselves, as there will be another attack tomorrow around midday. I will need you to guard me in my tired state, unless you want all of us to be exhausted.” Liam ordered once more, revealing information he should not know—something he refused to explain even to them.

The men audibly growled their disapproval. However, keeping with The Way, they did as they were told. Each moved towards the royal quarters where they rested, with only Chris lingering as he stared at Six with an edge of doubt he rarely showed.

With his brothers gone, Six entered the room, finding it unlike what he had been expecting. He had pictured organs in jars and mutilated corpses on display. Instead, he found a simple wooden desk with a few typical items upon it, such as quills and parchment. The walls were painted blue, like a clear sky after a storm. Other than that, there was not a single thing in the room except a man sitting on a chair.

The Ghost of Man had many names, given to him not only by humanity but by every race. His true name was something he changed every time he was asked, leading many to believe he did not have one. He had the appearance of a man in his late forties. His right eye had been melted away, leaving a burned wound and a sealed eye with black veins protruding around it. His right hand, which rested on the table, was a deformed husk, its skin warped and twisted on all but his little finger. The remaining digits had been partially replaced with metal resembling the material of the Black Door. He had stubble for a beard and green eyes that were beautiful—even to Six—as though staring into a well that never ended, drowning in a green so bright it was blinding.

“Please, sit,” the creature said. The name the Old Man had given this creature came to Six’s mind: Trickster.

“I would rather not,” Six replied, resting the head of his war hammer on the floor with his right hand upon its pommel, while his left rested on the hilt of the dagger attached to his hip. Liam sat at one of the chairs opposite and went to order Six to follow. However, Trickster interrupted.

“He wishes to sit, as he is exhausted. However, if he sits, it will not allow him to guard both the door and keep an eye on me in case I attempt to curse you—or some other nonsense. Isn’t that right, boy?” Trickster said with a grin that resembled a viper’s. Six stared at him, feeling his rage rising and being forced to bury it. While Six’s lack of skill with a blade and his inferior speed to his brothers had caused him issues with joining the Legion, his difficulty controlling his rage had been the biggest concern.

“I assure you, I could be sitting, chained to that chair, and I would still be capable of completing both of those tasks,” Six replied, giving a warning glare to this creature that made his blood run cold. Instead of being afraid, like most were when Six’s towering mass glared at them, Trickster merely smiled as one would at a child.

“Prove it. Sit down like a good little soldier, and let’s have a discussion—unless you are scared?” Trickster challenged. Six imagined tearing his dagger free and launching it across the room, knowing it would not kill the Trickster but would distract him, allowing Six to wield his war hammer, Rib Smasher, and crush his rib cage. While Six was slow for a member of the Black Legion, he was still far quicker than almost any mortal man. With his shadow-iron armour and weapons, the creature’s magic would be almost entirely nullified. Instead, he remembered The Way once more and did not give in to the rage—yet. With a heavy sigh, he sat upon the chair to the right, not tucking himself in so that he could still jump to action if needed. He also rested Rib Smasher atop the table, keeping his right hand upon its hilt.

“Good. Would you like some tea? I always find sensitive discussions go better with a nice cup of tea,” Trickster asked, with a grin still on his face—a grin that Six wanted to slap off. Part of him longed for a cup of tea, but he did not need The Way to know he should not accept a drink from a creature he did not trust. Simply shaking his head, his eyes no longer looked to the door but instead rested on what his instincts told him was the most dangerous creature in the entire fortress. Trickster grinned at him as though reading his mind, causing a fresh growl to leave Six’s lips.

“Enough games. I need rest before the next assault comes. I am in no mood for bantering,” Liam ordered. However, Trickster’s eyes never left Six.

“You are so angry. I watched you during the battle today—you were like some deranged giant, towering above your fellow man as you crushed all the little insects that got in your way. You should really get a whore; I hear that helps angry men mellow out,” Trickster remarked, making Six repeat the words “The Way” in his mind as though it were a shield against the beast’s attempts to unleash him.

“I said enough. I will not have you mocking one of my trusted friends. Remember your place, else I shall swiftly remind you,” Liam ordered. This time his hands moved to his glorious sword, known as the Sword of Eden. Liam’s green eyes lit up, almost surpassing Trickster’s, as the creature relented and offered his hands in surrender.

“It’s all part of the process. I don’t want to take a chance on anyone—I need to make sure he’s the right one. And if he cannot control his rage, he’s going to be a poor choice,” Trickster said, his grin returning.

“I say he is perfect. That is all the evidence you need,” Liam said, his words firm. However, they unleashed a distorted laugh from Trickster, one mixed with a dry wheeze. The creature clutched his chest theatrically, as though testing to see if his heart still beat, his eyes never leaving Six’s.

“Your words mean little to me on the subjects of death. You think you know more than I? If I am to break the very rules I preach, I shall decide who is my subject—not a failed student,” Trickster replied coldly. His grin faded, replaced with a glare as defiance radiated from him. The two stared at each other, like a mountain before a storm, until finally Trickster turned back to Six.

“You do understand the Phoenix Empire cannot win this war?” Trickster asked, his voice low and serious.

“I would disagree,” Six replied without hesitation. To him, the Empire could never fall as long as the Legion stood at its heart.

“How can you disagree? It is written on the wall. Even the blind can see it.”

“All the more reason I don’t believe it. Unlike you, I have actually been fighting this war, and I do not believe hope has been lost yet,” Six shot back, his stubbornness carrying the weight of humanity’s struggle.

“I have no doubt humanity will put up a good fight. It has been sixty-five years, and you have proven yourselves a difficult opponent. However, you cannot win the war. Within the next seven years, you will lose. Infighting will lead several of the kingdoms that make up the Empire to rebellion. That will lead to less manpower, and finally, this war machine that requires a unified Empire will crumble,” Trickster replied, speaking as though he truly believed his words. Six simply shook his head.

“I was there during the battle of the First Landings. I’ve been fighting this war since the day it began, and I have seen no evidence we will lose. Whatever magic you’re using to see the future is wrong. We will win—I know it.”

“I do not need magic to see what is coming. Simply listen to the grumblings on the mainland—that is all the evidence I need.”

“So you say, yet you are wrong.”

“Your belief in humanity is honourable. However, I am telling you, without a shadow of a doubt, you are going to lose unless you take drastic actions. The simple fact is, while humanity was created to be an almost perfect warrior race, you are fighting a combined alliance of different races, each designed to complete a task, forming them into the perfect unified force that covers one another’s weaknesses. So far, the reason you have not lost is your stubbornness, the elves’ unwillingness to adapt, and my insight into the enemy—and each of those is about to fail. Your enemies are getting desperate. A leader is beginning to rise among their ranks who will bring about great change. They will turn their eyes to whatever allies they can find, including those you cannot hope to beat. The rules of this game are about to change—unless we change first,” Trickster insisted. His eyes bore into Six, who refused to show the unease that crept into his heart.

Trickster leaned forward, the smell of burned leaves mixed with decay radiating from him. “What is your name?”

“You may call me Six,” he replied, his tone unwavering.

“I don’t want your number. I want your name,” Trickster pressed, his voice a mix of curiosity and mockery.

“My number is my name. I gave the other up,” Six stated firmly.

“Why give up your chosen name?” Trickster asked, his tone almost sympathetic.

“I do not need to explain myself to you—unless you wish it, Liam,” Six growled, turning to his Emperor for support.

“I need to know. It is important,” Trickster interjected, and Liam sighed heavily, giving Six a pleading look. Reluctantly, Six began to explain.

“Fine. My chosen name always felt like a prison,” Six admitted, his voice low as he stared at the table. “I only ever wanted to join the Legion—to be a warrior of humanity. Yet I knew my chances were slim. I was too slow, too angry, and saw the world unlike the others. I was convinced my chosen name would be my shroud, branded onto me as punishment for failing. So, I came to hate it. When I passed my final test, I was so happy—I felt like all my hard work had led me to that moment. My true name was all I ever wanted and the life it promised. I would shout my true name from atop the fortress, if not for The Way forbidding it. As such, I settled for using my number and casting aside the name that plagued my nightmares.”

“Interesting. I can see why you would cast it away, even if the name is not at fault,” Trickster muttered, almost sympathetically, before his grin returned. “The Way stops you? You must get so tired of keeping to those strict words. I was there the day they were written on parchment, held in the highest of esteem. That was a long time ago, boy. The world has changed. The meanings of those words have been lost.”

“So, I am guessing whatever it is you’re going to ask me clearly goes against my beliefs? If so, then I should warn you there is nothing you can say that will make me go against the way of my people,” Six said, his tone firm.

“What of him? Could your beloved Liam convince you?” Trickster asked mockingly. Six gave a single glance to Liam, already questioning his own words.

“Your Emperor speaks highly of you. He tells me you’re the most resilient soldier he’s ever met, a man whose loyalty he would trust until the end of time. He also says you are a man who finds it difficult to control his rage, but that you manage it with remarkable discipline and minimal outbursts. Is this an accurate assessment?” Trickster asked, his tone probing. Six examined the creature, searching his words for deception, but found none. Reluctantly, he gave a single nod.

“Then I believe you will be perfect to secure us victory in this war—at whatever cost.”

“You’re ignoring what I’m saying,” Six replied, narrowing his eyes. “You speak as though I’m going to be a human sacrifice. If that’s the case, can you get to the point? You’re boring me with your snake talk.”

Trickster chuckled softly, leaning forward. “I do not intend to sacrifice you, though I can promise that if you agree to what I am about to propose, you will die. You will just not stay dead in the traditional sense.”

The words sent a chill down Six’s spine, though he didn’t flinch. Trickster continued, his green eyes burning with an unsettling intensity.

“I cannot tell you the full details of what will happen if you agree to the ritual. It is too dangerous; I will not risk anyone else figuring it out. Only my mind shall hold this knowledge—no one else can be trusted to protect it. What I can tell you is this: you will become a being of living death, with the capacity to cause destruction on a level not seen since the rise of mankind. The ritual I would perform on you has not been used since the First Age of this world. Afterward, it was intentionally wiped from history because the repercussions were beyond compare.”

“You speak in riddles,” Six growled. “What exactly are you saying?”

Trickster’s lips curled into a grin. “You would be the cause of more death and destruction than anything you have witnessed. The power, however, will drive you mad if you let it. A hunger will be embedded in you—a disease that will spread as your ageless body lingers in this world, unable to die through anything except the blade. Every day, the hunger will claw at you, begging you to kill and consume every creature you see, even those you love. The only thing stopping you from succumbing to this madness will be your anger, which is why Liam believes you are the perfect choice for this curse.”

Six’s mind reeled. The words sounded like madness, but the weight of Liam’s silence told him it was all true. His eyes shifted to his Emperor, seeking clarity.

“He is right,” Liam admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. “I know what he intends to do. He has explained what you will become. I am sorry, my friend, but you will find no peace along this path. I will not order you to do this. But I do order you not to take it out of duty. Consider this truthfully. I will hold no ill will toward you if you refuse. In truth, I do not think I would be strong enough to do this myself.”

Liam’s words struck like a hammer. Six no longer saw Trickster as the threat but instead felt the weight of the decision pressing down on his shoulders. His whole life, he had been a soldier, trained to die for humanity. Yet, this was something far worse than death.

“I don’t know,” Six muttered after a long silence. “I’m not against the idea. But I’m not sure if this falls in line with The Way. ‘A man of the Black Legion does not look for the coward’s way but instead fights with honour alongside his brothers, no matter the threat.’ What you’re asking of me sounds like the coward’s way.”

“Does The Way not also say that ‘no price is too high to pay’? Does The Way not preach sacrificing yourself for the greater good of humanity, against whatever attempts to cut you down?” Trickster countered, his tone sharp and cutting.

Six clenched his fists, his thoughts spiralling. The Way was his anchor, the code that defined his life. But this? This was something beyond anything he had been prepared for.

“I do not know if I am the best choice,” Six argued, his voice shaking slightly. “While you are right—I suffer from anger more than most—I am by far one of the weakest fighters in the Legion.”

“We do not need the greatest fighter,” Liam said softly. “What we require is someone strong of will. A man who can control his flaring emotions. A man fuelled by rage. This ritual will not turn you into the greatest fighter that ever lived. It will instead make you the perfect General.”

The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around Six’s neck. He searched his mind for another excuse, another way out. But every path led him back to the same conclusion. He was a soldier. Soldiers followed orders. And men of the Black Legion followed The Way.

Finally, Six sighed heavily. “If I’m going to do this, I would ask that Chris be present for the ritual. Afterward, I would ask that you order him to kill me if I should fall to this hunger you speak of.”

“I will remove him from my guard and have him placed as your direct right hand,” Liam said, his voice thick with sorrow. “I will order him to do as you have requested. Is there anything else that would make you feel comfortable with what is to come?”

Six shook his head. The decision was already made. There was no comfort to be found in it.

“I will do it,” Six said finally, his voice steady. “I will be your monster.”