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station, and several pulley systems with rope vines, bell weights, and—”

“Leonard,” I interrupt, hypocritically. “You are giving me a fantastic description of the primitive mechanics involved, but you are not answering my question. What is the power source? The ropes and pulleys don’t churn themselves.”

His eyes look down at his intertwined fidgeting hands. “Slaves, sir,” he says under his breath. The rest of the men of Parliament squirm in their seats at the sound of his words. “We have procured a group of Sprhowts to generate the growth and retraction of the pulley system. We intend to open the position to the public as soon as we have the, uh, ironrail fully functional. We simply needed somebody to work it while we are performing tests. That is all.”

I calmly plant open palms on the table and rise to my feet. I lift my hands, massaging my knuckles, and notice a splotch of black rot on the surface. The others see it too. They stiffen in their seats. “So, you decided to take a forbidden route?” I inquire, a bit more intensely than typical. They all know my stance with slavery. “You are aware you could have procured an honest labor force?”

“Nigel, sir…” The wiry man sneers at Leonard. “Nigel ran the numbers. The amount of labor we required to perform the tests and keep the project on schedule was going to cripple the treasury. It couldn’t handle it, sir, so we—”

“Leonard…” Ugh…these men constantly cause me to stray from what I value most. “…suspend the project immediately until you find the proper crew to fill your positions. I don’t care what compensation they get, but they will not be forced to do your bidding while under my rule.”

I doubt he realizes it, but Leonard sends me a glance of absolute disgust and disapproval. However, he acknowledges my demand and accepts it. I look to Nigel with the same disgust and disapproval. Nigel knew of this and he did not share the information with me. I no longer have his full trust, and he no longer has mine. Then, I look to Chancellor Cromarte with the same silent lecture. His taciturnity through all of this is his confession.

It’s happening again. I’ve fended it off for too long. I’ve lost the trust. I’ve lost the obedience. And war is at our gates. I don’t wish it to be so, but I will not ignore or avoid the signs. The destruction is inevitable if we continue down this path, and I’m not sure if I can stomach it again in my lifetime. Life… Time… the words are hollow compared to how I perceived them in the distant past. I am the queen ant.

“Shambrock,” I continue and notice I’m pacing at the head of the table. “The additional guard you dispatch to the Broken Forest…” I send a sharp glance at him. “Their first directive is to escort Architect Lumen and Magistrate Whitewater to the first station where they will personally dissolve the use of the slaves and ensure each one of them is housed, fed, and obtains a proper place in society.”

“But, sir, there are hundreds of them!” he admits.

I halt and lean over the table, my fingers planted wide. “And you knew each one of those hundreds of offenses was forbidden.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Nigel squabbles. “I didn’t partake in the procurement—”

I stop his excuses with a raised hand. “Don’t bother. I know whatever escapes your tongue will be manipulative and deceitful. Yes, Nigel, the punishment is just as much yours as it is Leonard’s. If you do not understand the malice in these acts, you will be punished for ignorance. Knowing is your responsibility, and you have failed me either way.” The disappointment. How I wish I could have The First Four sitting around this table with me. They were a blessing despite their eccentricities.

“Shambrock, once your guard is done enforcing the punishment of these two, they are to flush out the slavers who felt it within their power to sell these men. They are to flush them out and execute each one of them. Is that clear, Shogun? Noose and flame.”

“Yes, sir, Taoiseach,” he replies dutifully.

I believe the guard remains mine, but only time will tell. I start pacing again.

“Next topic,” I command without allowing any more word on the previous discussion. “We have appointed a new general to rally the troops. I chose not to promote from within, but rather reinstate a former member of the Crimson Guard. He is a man capable, determined, and respected amongst all the guard, including the Nox Elite. I have persuaded the Master of Combat to join our cause against the increasing threats down south. Mycal Stormwood will be formally reinstated in the coming days.”

“Master Stormwood?” grumbles Chancellor Cromarte. He looks around the room for others to join him in questioning my decision.

“Aye, Master Stormwood is an honorable man, but can he lead the entire guard?” Shambrock agrees.

“Do you not trust in our ability to promote our own general, sir? It is uncharacteristic for you to step into our roles and perform our duties,” the Chancellor adds, a bit more respectfully this time.

I raise a pointed hand at the two imbeciles at the table who have plainly abused that trust. The Chancellor looks away from me and glares at Leonard and Nigel.

“Trust is certainly lacking in this chamber,” I admit. “But trust has nothing to do with it, Chancellor.” I halt my pacing and give him an incisive glare. “The four of you have been so fixed on who was responsible for the disappearance of the last general you forgot to appoint a new one. I took the liberty of finding a suitable candidate. Next time, focus on what is important, and you’ll have the opportunity to do so yourself.” As if there will be a next time. “To put it plainly, we

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