The Emperor had retired to a small office adjacent to the great hall. He did not wear his crown and royal robes, but was dressed instead in a gray coat and a tunic. He sat behind a large stone desk and was writing something on a parchment with a quill pen.

There was a sudden knock at the door. One of Emperor’s guards, a man dressed in gold and black, opened the door and peered inside. “Your Highness,” he said, “there is someone to see you.”

The Emperor looked up from his writing. “I’m not aware of any meetings this afternoon,” said the Emperor. “Send him away.”

“My Emperor,” said the guard, “he tells me it is important. He says he is an emissary of Duke Mortimer with a message from the Duke himself.”

The Emperor frowned. “Hurry up then,” he said. “Let him in.”

The guard opened the door. Standing outside was Trik disguised as Mortimer’s emissary with Durben beside him. They stepped inside, and the guard closed the door behind them.

The Emperor’s expression hardened. “Who are you?” he asked. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Emperor Rodorick,” said Trik. “I don’t have much time to explain.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” said the Emepror. “What does Mortimer want now?”

Trik took a few steps forward. “More than you know,” said Trik.

“Is that so,” said the Emperor. He dropped his quill pen on the desk. “I’m not one for riddles. I have much work to do, and you are wasting my time. Either give me Mortimer’s message, or be on your way.”

“The message is this,” said Trik. His elven eyes shined in the candlelight of the room. “Your Highness, his throne and palace, and his Empire are all in peril.”

“That is not news,” said the Emperor. “I know of King Orodrin and his army. The Imperial Legions are already deployed to counter his forces in the south of my Empire.”

“What if I told you that Mortimer is close with King Orodrin,” said Trik. “That his defense of your realm is only a feint, and that even now he is in league with King Orodrin.”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed on Trik. “That is a grave accusation,” said the Emperor. “Why would the Duke betray his Lord and Empire?”

“Because Mortimer wishes to be Emperor,” said Trik, “and King Orodrin has promised him that he will be. After you are deposed.”

The Emperor studied the soldier who stood before him. “You are a captain in Mortimer’s army,” said the Emperor. “How have you learned this information?”

“I am not one of Mortimer’s,” said Trik. “I am in disguise, with the son of Baron Linden, who brings you this message.”

“And where is this son you speak of?” asked the Emperor, glancing at Durben. “I don’t see him.”

Trik turned to Durben. “Step forward, Lord Durben,” he said.

Durben stepped forward. “It is true, My Emperor,” said Durben. “I was sent to deliver this message from my father, but Mortimer arrested me when I reached the city gates.”

“You do not look like Durben,” said the Emperor. “I know the boy. I have seen him at his father’s castle.”

“I am him,” said Durben. “Mage Nob put this spell on me. Hear my words. I am the son of Baron Linden. My father sent me to warn Your Highness.”

Trik placed the Baron’s scroll on the Emperor’s desk. The Emperor unbound the scroll and read from it. His eyes widened.

“My father,” said Durben, “warns you of Mortimer’s treason.”

“If what you have told me is true,” said the Emperor, “then I have many things to do.” He looked down at the scroll on his desk.

“There is not much time,” said Trik. “Even as we speak, King Orodrin’s army is marching west across the Frozen North.”

“Mortimer tells me King Orodrin is marching south,” said the Emperor.

“That is a lie,” said Trik. “Mortimer knows that with your legions in the south there will be nothing to stop King Orodrin from attacking the capital.”

The Emperor picked up a glass of ink from his desk and hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered against the stone. “Curses,” he shouted. “I have opened the city to a traitor.”

“It is not too late,” said Trik. “Have your Garrison retake the city and arrest Mortimer.”

“My Garrison is stationed in the barracks outside the city,” said the Emperor. “They have been ordered to await deployment with the Legions.” The Emperor looked at Trik. “You will need a letter,” he said. He took his quill and a new piece of parchment from his desk and began to write. When he was done, he stamped the parchment with candle wax and the signet from his ring. “Take this,” he said, holding out the rolled parchment.

Trik stepped forward and took the parchment. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing.

“Take these orders to the Captain of the Garrison,” said the Emperor. “Make sure that none other than he sees it. Do not tarry, even for a moment.”

“We will do as you command, Your Highness,” said Trik. He and Durben bowed before the Emperor.

“Go now,” said the Emperor. “The fate of the Empire is in your hands.”

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