Prince Jirdosh had been lounging in the steam room of his countryside estate, enjoying the kiss of cool night air on his skin through the open window, when he heard the sound he’d come to dread.

  Hooves, followed by the tell-tale creek of wheels as a carriage made its way down the path. Here in the remote countryside, visitors were uncommon, especially at this time of night. But this, he knew, was no ordinary visitor.

  Opening his eyes, Jirdosh rose from the water, wrapping a towel around himself.

  “Getting out already, my Prince?” asked one of his sworn concubines, pressing her lips into a pout. “And here I was hoping you’d stay.”

  Jirdosh strode to the open window and looked down. Sure enough, he saw what he’d known he’d would. A black carriage drawn by a black horse with a single swinging lantern set into the door. He’d seen it only once before – on that fateful night half a decade ago when he’d made a choice that had changed his life forever. The carriage made its way down the path towards the estate at a measured pace. Never too fast or slow. And if it was here now… if he was here…

  “Not tonight,” he said, redirecting his attention to his concubine. “I have some business that I have to attend to.”

  “At this hour?” Elia was displeased with him, but she knew better than to argue. Reluctantly, she rose from the water, not bothering to conceal herself as she grabbed the satin bathrobe on the door. Jirdosh watched her go with some regret, then began casting around the floor for the clothes he’d discarded hours earlier. He managed to locate a pair of red linen hose and tug them over his waist before the knock he’d been expecting came at his bedroom door.

  “My prince,” came the voice of his steward. “My apologies for disturbing you at such a late hour, but you have a visitor.”

  Sorry, my royal arse, thought Jirdosh as he tugged on a clean linen shirt. You all dance to his tune the same way I do.

  It had been five years since they’d met… five years since he’d struck that God's cursed deal. And yet there had been part of him that always hoped he’d never see that carriage again.

  “My prince?”

  Jirdosh blinked, his irritation winning out over his reason.

  “Must we do this tonight? tell him I’m indisposed and that I need to retire to bed. If he wants to meet, then let him call on me at a more appropriate hour, or at the very least when the sun is up.”

  There was a pause. There was always a pause.

  “I’m afraid I cannot, my Prince.”

  It was the answer he’d been expecting, but it still somehow filled him with bitter disappointment. Here in this royal prison, it was easy to forget that someone else owned him. That all the decadence, all the finery, the servants, and even the furniture belonged to someone else. The steward's voice was the same lifeless monotone it had always been, but tonight Jirdosh hated the sound.

  “Cannot or will not?” he snarled, snatching at a soft suede over tunic and yanking it on over his head. “I am your prince, after all. By all rights, your lord and authority. When I give you an order, you bloody well follow it.”

  But his defiance went ignored, as it always did. It was true that his household servants followed his commands. They made him food, laundered his clothes, fluffed his pillows, and supplied him with any and everything he requested. But their allegiance and loyalty didn’t lie with him

  The pause stretched on longer this time.

  “Where would you like to receive your visitor, my Prince?”

  Jirdosh clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wanted to shout, to demand that the steward tell his unwanted guest to leave, but he knew it was futile. All his frustration and anger were always ignored or unnoticed. He had tried shouting, tried throwing things and breaking them, and on one memorable occasion, he had even attempted to make a run for it. But all those efforts had amounted to nothing in the end.

  “In the drawing room,” he said, clenching his jaw.

  “Very well, Lord. The room shall be prepared in ten minutes time.”

  The sound of the steward's footsteps receding made his shoulders sag. There was no getting out of this meeting. One way or another, he was going to find out exactly why his strange guest was here. He moved to the closet, throwing on a linen shirt and suede tunic to match his trousers, before pulling on a pair of soft leather shoes.

  His clothes were fine and of quality, as were his meals and furniture. But at times like this, the things he had been given always felt hollow.

  When he emerged from his room, his servants were waiting for him. His steward met him with the same bland expression he always wore, gesturing down the hall.

  “He’ll see you now,” he said simply. And Jirdosh resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

  “Very well,” he said, striding forward with a sense of confidence he didn’t quite feel. His servants followed after him in a solemn line, all dressed in the same simple black and white of the royal household.

  The drawing room was large, with an arched ceiling and marble pillars wreathed with carefully trimmed vines. Two men stood on either side of the archway, arms clasped in front of themselves. They were almost identical, from their short-cropped hair to their large, boulder-sized shoulders. They wore the same uniform, neatly pressed and with a house crest emblazoned on the collar.

  Both stared straight ahead as Jirdosh approached, their stances one of careful discipline. He had seen men like them in only one other place before – the royal palace. The Royal Black Guard didn’t react as he neared, and reluctantly Jirdosh stepped passed them into the room.

  Past the upholstered furniture near a large, rounded window stood Sir Cryrus Cole. The Imperial Knight was tall, his athletic frame stark beneath his carefully pressed black uniform. His hands were clasped behind his back, head bowed as if in prayer. Even with the distance between them, Jirdosh could feel the power of the aura radiating from him. A true diamond ranker. Sir Cole turned towards him, and Jirdosh instantly felt the weight of his power as the man pinned him with his gaze.

  “Prince Jirdsoh,” said the Imperial Knight, his voice practically echoing through the room. “It has been too long. I trust I didn’t disturb you?”

  As if you’d give a damn.

  “No, not at all,” he lied smoothly, plastering a fake smile on his face as he bowed his head. “You simply caught me in the bath as I was preparing for bed.”

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  “Ah,” Sir Cole’s smile was mocking. “Yes. It must be so tiring living the life of luxury. How ever can you stand it?”

  Jirdosh’s fake smile didn’t waver. “I manage.”

  Sir Cole crossed to an upholstered couch and sank into it, propping one gold-spurred boot over a knee.

  “Well, don’t stand on ceremony on my account,” said the man, waving a hand. “Sit. We have an important matter to discuss.

  “I think I’ll stand,” said Jirdosh stubbornly. The Knight only shrugged.

  “Have it your way then.” He reached down, picking up a goblet of Jirdosh’s best wine and taking a casual swig.

  “Where were you three days ago during the waning moon?”

  The question caught him off guard. He kept his face neutral as he pretended to consider the question.

  “I suppose I was here,” he said. “Taking a late dinner in my rooms.”

  “Is that so?” The Knight gazed at him over the rim of the goblet, his expression unreadable. Jirdosh licked his lips.

  “Yes. I was indisposed from my training that morning, so I decided to retire early. That’s hardly a crime, is it?”

  Sir Cole was silent for a moment. Long enough that the prince began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Then the Knight drained his goblet and set it down on the low table with a soft thunk.

  “Why must they always lie?” he muttered. The word’s barely had time to register in Jirdosh’s mind before Sir Cole moved. He closed the distance so quickly that Jirdosh didn’t even have time to react. Strong fingers wrapped around his neck, and he felt the crushing weight of the Imperial Knight’s power slam into him moments later.

  “Do you take me for a fool, young Prince?” Asked the Knight as the hand tightened around his throat. Jirdosh felt his airway begin to constrict as he fought for air. At the same time a powerful force seemed to press in on him, pinning his arms to his sides.

  “No,” Jirdosh managed to grate out.

  “No?” Sir Cole’e eyes glinted with Danger as he tilted his head to one side. “Then you would have the presence of mind to realize lying to me is as stupid as it is fruitless. You think your servants don’t report your every mood? Did you assume I didn’t know about your little nightly escapades? All those drunken nights spent partying away any last shred of royal dignity you possessed?”

  Tiny spots appeared in Jirdosh’s vision. Once, he might have tried to fight back, but long and painful experience had taught him just how foolish that was. Divine blood or not, Jirdosh hadn’t inherited an ounce of his father's power. His struggles slowed, his vision growing dim as he struggled for oxygen.

  “You are,” snarled the Imperial Knight in his ear. “The same vein and useless lay about you’ve always been.”

  The hand around his throat slackened, and Jirdosh dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Sir Cole’s leather boots creaked as he crouched beside him.

  “But,” he said with a sigh. “At least you’re predictable. No, boy you weren’t at home training as you should have been. You were out on the town with friends, drunk out of your mind. Because if you had been sober, then you would have felt it and you would have known exactly why I’m here.”

  Jirdosh was still wheezing through his swollen throat as the words hit him.

  Felt it? He had thought he had felt something that night, through the haze and the drinks. It had been too minimal to tell, and afterwards, he assumed that he must have imagined it. But now..

  “An irregularity?” he asked, his voice coming out hoarse.

  “Yes.” Sir Cole’s eyes flashed with triumph, and he rose to his feet, turning to pace the room.

  Jirdosh took the opportunity to scramble to his feet, wiping away the trickle of blood that now ran from his nose. In the Imperial palace, A Knight wouldn’t have dared to treat him this way. But Jirdosh wasn’t in the divine city anymore. He had lost the protection of the imperial name the day his father had disinherited him five years ago.

  “It was more than an irregularity. This time, I sensed a full-on disturbance. One powerful enough to be felt through the foundation of essence itself. Of course, I doubt most that had the ability to feel it would understand its significance.”

  Jirdosh’s eyebrows drew together in confurion.

  “And what do I have to do with this?”

  Sir Cole rubbed at a scar on his hand, his lips curving upwards.

  “Ah,” he said. “Yes, I was wondering when you’d put that wine-laden brain to work. On that night three days ago, the disturbance of the essence was felt not just by me, but by other powerful essence users – including your father. At first we assumed it was a fluke. After all, the very live nature of essence itself means it’s prone to shift from time to time, never truly static. But this…. This was different. This disturbance had a source. One that was, at least by my approximation, external.”

  Jirdosh’s blood ran cold.

  “You mean to say that it came from outside of our world?”

  Ser Cole merely nodded.

  It means, my dear prince, that someone is interfering in our world. And it is the will of the imperial crown that I investigate this matter. That is where you come in.”

  He paused in his pacing, golden spurs rattling to a halt. Jirdosh fought the urge to take a step backwards as Cole turned to face him.

  “There is trouble in the West. The ancient forest has stirred with unrest. There have been.. rumors.” He growled. “Talk of the Elven High Lords reconsidering their position of peace in favor of more aggressive terms to the accord. If they are unwilling to negotiate..”

  The Knight trailed off but Jirdosh had no doubt what he meant.

  “It could mean war with the elves again.” He whispered. It had been many years since that time, but Jirdosh would never forget the look in his father's eyes when he’d told the stories. Many adventurers and soldiers from both sides had perished in that pointless dispute. And if war were to return to the kingdom at a time like this, the Numerian Empire would be more than vulnerable.

  “So you want me to look into it,” he guessed, rubbing at his throat. Sir Cole nodded, his eyes cold.

  “For once young prince, I want you to make yourself useful. I will leave one of my men with you to ensure that you employ your best efforts. Consider his presence as a.. motivation of sorts. Hire who you need and begin a search for the origin of this anomaly. It shouldn’t be hard. These types always leave some sort of trace. Leave no rock unturned and when you find what you are looking for,”

  He raised his scared hand and made a fist, clenching it until the knuckles turned white.

  “Snuff it out.”

  Jirdosh licked his lips as his mind raced ahead.

  “So it’s true then?” he asked. “The rumors that others have the ability to interfere with our world? I thought it was just a fantasy. Paranoia of the Divine family spawned from hundreds of years of brutal politics. But you’re saying that the threat is real?”

  Sir Cole narrowed his eyes.

  “Real enough. The details are none of your concern boy, only the task at hand. Do this and report back to me and I might yet be able to speak to your father on your behalf. End this exile and restore the dregs of your honor. You could have it all back, you know. Your power, your reputation, and your place in the capital. All for the simple price of a job well done.”

  The Imperial Knight stepped forward then, and all the light from the lanterns across the room seemed to dim. The diamond rankers power swelled from him, pressing down on the room with the force of pure aura.

  “But,” he said, his voice icy. “If you fail to preform your duty, then perhaps I’ll consider removing the stain of your dishonor by selling you to the highest bidder. Now,” he tapped his chin. “Who do you think that might pay top coin for imperial blood? Your fathers enemies perhaps? Or the Night Elves? I’ve heard their High Lady has a habit of keeping her victims alive for months and sometimes years.”

  Jirdosh’s stomach tightened.

  “My father would never allow it.”

  Sir Cole only grinned, flashing perfectly straight teeth.

  “Your father stopped caring whether you lived of died the day you disgraced your family. In front of him, in front of the Kingdom, before the very world: You made this empire look weak.”

  Jirdosh flinched as the memories he’d long suppressed threatened to surface once more. Remnants of shame, disgrace, and crushing failure. But that had been five years ago. Now he was being given something he’d never thought he’d have again. A second chance.

  “Do you understand?” asked Sir Cole in a low voice that seemed to resonate. Jirdosh only nodded and the Imperial Knight patted his cheek roughly.

  “Good, good. Kale, Pax, we’re leaving,” he said, turning towards the archway. The servants rushed about, retrieving his coat and preparing a gift box for him. The two giant Black Guard left their positions by the archway, moving towards him with steady grace that belied their size.

  “Oh,” said Sir Cole, turning to face him. “I almost forgot. I’ll leave Kale with you to better monitor your progress. He will of course, report directly to me. Six months, mmm? That’s when I expect results. Locate the anomaly, find the imposter, and then kill him.”

  A servant helped him into his coat as Kale stalked to the edge of the room. The bodyguard didn’t look pleased at the idea of babysitting Jirdosh any more than the Prince was pleased with having a babysitter. The two glared at each other. Or more accurately, the scar-ridden giant glared at Jirdosh, who quickly looked away.

  “I understand.” He said as his steward pulled open the front door, bowing the the Imperial Knight as he stepped through.

  “Good. I look forward to hearing of your success. I will return in six months time. Until then, mind you don’t draw too much attention to yourself. The less the masses know about what’s going on, the better.”

  And he stepped out into the night towards the carriage, leaving Jirdosh staring into the darkness after him.