Autumn winds swept through the Western territories, bringing change more significant than mere fallen leaves. In the month since Julian's imprisonment, Lord Marcus had transformed from a reclusive territorial governor to the center of a growing resistance. His sprawling mountain estate, once known primarily for hunting and timber, now buzzed with military activity disguised as seasonal harvest preparations.

  "Another fifty men arrived from Southbrook st night," Captain Westfield reported, marking positions on the detailed map spread across Lord Marcus's war table. "Lord Harrington sent them with his compliments and a message that three hundred more stand ready."

  Marcus—a barrel-chested man with Julian's eyes and their family's characteristic analytical intensity—studied the map thoughtfully. Though past fifty, he moved with the vigor of a much younger man, decades of mountain living having hardened rather than softened him.

  "The Southern houses commit more openly than I expected," he observed. "Sophia's influence runs deep."

  Lady Sophia, seated across the table, inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. After escaping Augustus's soldiers by mere hours, she had made her way to the Western territories through a series of safe houses established by Lady Emmeline's network.

  "Southern lords have long memories," Sophia replied. "They remember when trade flourished under fair taxation during Valerian's rule. Augustus's new tariffs and 'emergency levies' have alienated even houses that initially supported him."

  "Yet they might have grumbled and paid, had he not also begun executing their peers," added Sir Thaddeus Mercer, the retired Eastern ambassador who had joined their council. "Seventeen noble houses have lost their heads in three months. Fear proves a powerful motivator for rebellion."

  Marcus nodded grimly. "And what of the Northern contingent? Any word from Lord Bckwood?"

  "His messenger arrived this morning," Captain Westfield confirmed. "The Northern mining towns have already risen against Augustus's overseers. Three imperial garrisons overthrown, their commanders imprisoned. The people call it the 'Justice Rising.'"

  "How poetic," Marcus remarked dryly. "And how many Northern lords have committed forces?"

  "Eight houses officially," Westfield reported. "Perhaps a dozen more waiting to see which way the wind blows."

  "And the Central Provinces?" Marcus asked, turning to Lady Emmeline.

  The elderly noblewoman consulted her meticulously maintained records. "Divided, My Lord. Those nearest the capital hesitate, understandably, given Augustus's immediate reach. Those along the frontier between Northern and Western territories have begun quietly moving troops under cover of 'bandit suppression efforts.'"

  Marcus traced a finger along the map's representation of the main Imperial highway. "So we have clear support in the West, substantial backing in the South and North, with Central Provinces wavering." He looked up at the assembled council. "The question remains—do we have enough?"

  Lady Emmeline spoke first. "Augustus holds the capital, the Imperial treasury, and the loyalty of the regur army."

  "Those advantages are not as absolute as they appear," Sophia countered. "My father's sources report growing discontent among career officers. Augustus's reliance on his mercenary forces has created resentment within traditional military ranks."

  "And the treasury may be less full than assumed," added Sir Thaddeus. "His building projects and personal expenses have drained significant resources."

  Marcus considered this information, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts. Finally, he looked at the assembled leaders. "The moment approaches. But we cannot move without addressing our primary weakness."

  "Julian," Sophia stated simply.

  "Precisely." Marcus turned to a messenger waiting by the door. "Bring in our test informant."

  Moments ter, a modestly dressed young woman entered—a pace undress who had fled the capital three days earlier. Though visibly intimidated by the assembled nobility, she straightened her shoulders and reported what she had witnessed.

  "Prince Julian has been moved to the North Tower, Your Lordship. No visitors permitted except by the Emperor's direct order. The official announcement cims he's 'recovering from a nervous episode,' but pace staff whisper that he's been injured."

  "Injured how?" Sophia asked sharply.

  The undress hesitated. "I cannot say for certain, my dy. I glimpsed him once being escorted to the Imperial Physician's chambers. He walked with difficulty and his face..." She swallowed hard. "There was bruising, my dy."

  A heavy silence fell over the room. Marcus's expression hardened to granite.

  "Is he closely guarded?" he asked finally.

  "Day and night, my lord. Eight guards at all times—Augustus's personal men, not regur Imperial Guards. The tower staircase has checkpoints at every nding."

  After dismissing the undress with thanks and a generous purse, Marcus turned back to his council.

  "We cannot wait for ideal circumstances. Augustus clearly intends to break Julian, either to extract a public renunciation of his cims or to render him incapable of leadership."

  "Or to provoke an intemperate rescue attempt," Lady Emmeline warned. "Augustus would welcome an excuse to execute Julian for 'colborating with rebels.'"

  "Then we must give him a different kind of provocation," Marcus decided. "One that divides his attention and forces him to commit resources away from the capital."

  He turned to Captain Westfield. "Send word to the Northern lords. The Justice Rising needs to spread—coordinated uprisings in every major Northern town, beginning three days from now. The Southern houses should simultaneously blockade imperial shipping routes."

  "And the West?" Sophia asked.

  Marcus's smile was cold and determined. "The West will make itself impossible to ignore. We march on Highpoint Fortress in five days."

  Highpoint, the Empire's second-rgest military instaltion, controlled the main western approach to the capital. Taking it would be both strategically valuable and symbolically powerful.

  "Augustus will have to respond," Marcus continued. "He cannot allow such a challenge to stand. When he diverts forces to counter us—"

  "We'll have our opportunity to reach Julian," Sophia finished.

  "Precisely," Marcus agreed. "Though that operation remains our greatest challenge. We need someone inside the pace, someone close enough to Julian to facilitate his escape when the moment comes."

  "We need someone within the pace walls," Lady Emmeline mused, her eyes distant in thought. "Someone positioned close to Julian."

  None of them spoke the obvious name—the loyal attendant who had served the schorly prince for a decade. Though Augustus would certainly view her with suspicion, he might not recognize the true extent of her capabilities or her absolute devotion to Julian.

  In the silence, each contempted the same question: Was Natalie still alive? And if so, could she navigate Augustus's watchful court long enough to help Julian when the rebellion finally broke into open conflict?