CHAPTER 1

A mist had rolled off the river Vandas in the early evening. It had thinned since then, but it was still impossible to see the banks of the river from the deck of the small, river-going barge. Slowly it traversed the giant river, propelled by four river Oarsmen with long paddles. As they expertly manoeuvred the small vessel they shot fleeting glances at the fifth man on the boats deck, standing near the prow. However they quickly returned to their work, as though frightened to meet his gaze.

He was tall and thin, but his ropy muscles belied his strength. The thin of a man who worked too hard and ate too little. He had dark black hair cut in an Estorian style, but bright blue eyes, which spoke of his Saelsic father. His face was young but his haunted eyes spoke of experience. This man had seen too much. A longer hand-and-a-half sword and a shorter blade hung at his sides. Both were of exceptional craftsmanship and were half hidden by his cloak, embroidered upon this cloak was an intricate design of a wolf snarling at a white dove. The man was not, though command was in his bearing, the captain of the barge. In his grimy hand he clutched a roll of parchment like it had dealt him some personal injury.

Suddenly, and to the evident surprise of the barge’s mate. A massive castle wall reared up out of the mist. With a curse the barge’s captain leaped from below decks, “Back paddle you slovenly dogs, BACK PADDLE!” He roared, advancing down the deck, “I will not be commander of the third crew to crash into the gates of Castor!” as the crew responded the passenger stared up of the huge portcullis that went right down to the water. One of the many entrances to the largest city in The Saelsican Empire. Normally it would be open, but now it was both too late and too early for any serious trade so the gate was barred and locked. A guard popped up from above the battlements of the wall. It was hard to see from this distance but, from his slumped shoulders, he seemed both tired and irritated.

“Hail barge,” he called down to the vessel, “Why ya’ bothering the gates of Castor in the middle of the night?”

“Transporting a fare,” the captain yelled back, “The vessel is the Mirela”

There was silence for a second then the guard instructed, “Wait till morn, someone will let you through then.”

The captain looked annoyed but was about to roar his affirmative when the passenger at the prow of the boat shouted…

“That’s unacceptable!”
He held up the crumpled roll of parchment and continued, “This is a sealed letter, from the emperor, demanding my immediate audience,” He smiled slightly, “Perhaps you would like to go against the emperor’s word?”

There was silence for a second. Then the guard, uncertain now, called “And who might you be?”

“Caleb, of the Grey Knights” he paused, confident; “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

“Caleb? Yes, you’re expected, dock 19 sir,” Another guard had appeared. This one was wearing the livery of the emperor’s personal men. He yelled something to
someone on the other side of the wall and the gates slowly began to move upwards in measured degrees, each one being accompanied by a loud clunk. Caleb was suddenly uncomfortable. He was expected? One of the emperor’s personal guards had come to let him in the gate? And how had he even known he was here? He had made record time from Grynon.

As the gates cranked up, the captain of the Mirela walked up to the prow where Caleb was standing. Caleb shifted slightly to show he knew the captain was there. “Sir” the Captain barked, slightly too quickly for a man supposedly at ease, “I was wondering whether we should be ready...for anything?” Caleb made no response and the captain chuckled uncomfortably, “It’s just you didn’t seem too happy...’bout being called back”

Caleb sighed. He suddenly seemed tired and older than his years, “I wasn’t... I’m not,” his face became creased by irritation. “To answer your question” he said staring up above portcullis of Castor to the battlements, “I have no idea what’s waiting for me” He glanced at the captain, “But it’s waiting for me, not you”.
The captain nodded slowly. “Thank you sir,” he said quietly, respect in his voice, “I’ll inform the crew.”

He turned and moved away, leaving Caleb to watch the Docks of the Upper Side come into view through the mist. As they did a small gang of street children, startled by the barges emergence, fled from the end of one of the docks. Caleb shook his head and moved back into the barge to retrieve his rucksack. It had already been a long day.



Down a dark alley on the West side of Castor, also known as the poor half, Viviane crept. Hunger gnawed at her, pulling at her mind. This was no ordinary hunger. This was a debilitating, stomach swelling hunger that one only acquires through long term starvation and malnutrition.

Vaguely Valeria remembered when she hadn’t been hungry. But that was a distant memory now. Her family had been driven into poverty by the taxes levied to build the new castle after the old one had begun to sink into Castor’s marshy ground. She caught a glimpse of it now through the fog that was beginning to lift with morning.
But again her hunger distracted her, driving all else from her mind. A rat scurried past and Viviane lunged for it but missed. It sprinted away and she watched it go. Too much effort for too little gain.

Normally Valeria would be with her street gang. Today however she was picking through the alleys of Castor alone. She had survived 16 winters, and with her age came a need for more food. As she had begun to eat more, her gang had come to see her as greedy, and so they fell upon the food early. Rarely if ever leaving anything for her. Today of all days she needed her strength.

A back alley inn was beginning to open in spite of the early hour. An elderly woman was cleaning the front porch with a stiff broom of bound straw. She lifted her head as Valeria walked past, “Whore…” she muttered under her breath. Viviane’s dark hair fell in front of her eyes. A dull rage filled her, a rage with no target. She continued quickly past the woman. Her attitude was not unique. At Valeria’s age few girls still remained as street orphans. No, what stung most was the fact that given another winter. The woman’s words might be true.

She had barely survived last winter. Barely! And now her gang had begun the process of throwing her out, she would have even less chance. Today was Dalnoch’Bar, the day in which merchants and craftsman came to the city in order to find willing apprentices. It was also the exact middle of autumn. Soon the first snows would begin to fall and then Viviane would have little option but to find shelter in one of the cities brothels.

She stepped out onto one of the main roads of Castor, there were twelve in total. All named after ancient deities and creatures. This one was the street of the Goddess, deity of death. Already there were people around. A priest walked past and looked down his nose at her. She glared right back; he was one of the newer additions to the city. A priest of the largest religion in the Saelsican Empire. It had had a big boost in popularity recently when the Emperor had begun to worship with them. Viviane, and all the street orphans, hated them. They preached everlasting peace and love then took what little money the poor of this city had.
She didn’t stay to hear his chastisement or insult but instead stepped into a side alley. Her hunger once again growled in her stomach. Suddenly she saw something at the end of the alley and leaped instinctively. Half a loaf of bread, very stale, but almost no mould. As she ate it she considered her situation. Today was her last chance. No chance at all.




Caleb sat in a horse drawn carriage stewing slightly. On either side two Emperors Guards loomed. Caleb didn’t recognise either of them. A familiar anger was building inside him. He had been met at Dock 19 by a large company of emperor’s guards. They had said that that Lenencio, the king’s advisor, requested his presence. Requested … with a company of guards ... Emperor’s Guards. They were only supposed to follow the direct orders of the king himself. So what was Lenencio doing ordering them around like his chamber maids?

Caleb ground his teeth together as they passed one of the cities new churches. The Church of Angelic Divinity, Lenencio was a member. And an important one too. The emperor had always leaned towards the teachings of the Church but had never directly supported them until a few years ago. He had been sick and had called for a spiritual advisor from the church. Lenencio had come and when the king recovered, he attributed his recovery to Lenencio. The Emperor had then made Lenencio his advisor. Recently Caleb had heard rumours that the emperor had been granting him more and more power. He had dismissed those rumours. Now he found them hard to ignore.

The carriage began to clatter over the draw bridge and Caleb glanced out at the huge castle. As he always did he both marvelled at its architectural brilliance and flinched at its exorbitant cost. It had been the previous emperor, Bernic XI, whom had ordered its construction after the old one had begun to sink into the marshy ground. The castle was actually suspended above the delta where the river split in two. One branch continued to the sea and the port city Grynon. The other split to the marshland which covered most of the coast of The Saelsican Empire. Huge stone pillars were apparently sunk into the bedrock beneath the river, though Caleb had no idea how that had been done. The Castle itself was gigantic. Huge stone walls rose high above the rest of the city. Turrets and parapets could be seen rising even higher than those. The castle’s design meant that siege engines could hit almost any target within 10 leagues. Its superlative design combined with the river Vandas forming a natural moat meant that this castle was the most defensible in the world.

Caleb started as the carriage ground to a sudden halt.“We’re here.” grunted a guard. He seized Caleb’s arm in order to haul him out of the carriage. The anger that Caleb had felt since he had entered this Goddess forsaken carriage suddenly flared.

With lightning speed he reached down and seized the guard’s wrist with both hands. He twisted and the guard’s wrist broke nastily at the joint. Caleb then pushed him out of the carriage. Caleb stepped calmly out, as the guard rolled on the floor clutching his ruined wrist, only to find a pikestaff levelled at his face. He was surrounded by imperial guards all holding their long weapons with the blades pointed at him.

“And what,” hissed Caleb, his voice silky and dangerous, “do you think you’re doing?”

The guards shuffled uncomfortably. One spoke up, “Sir, you attacked a emperor’s guard…”

Caleb took a step forward, pushing the guards Pikestaff out of the way, “He lay a hand on a Grey Knight” tutored Caleb as though talking to the very stupid, “by law he should be dead.”

Caleb glanced back at the guard. He was now curled in the foetal position around his broken wrist. “I’ll let him off with a warning this time.”

Caleb pushed past the guards. He began to walk through the huge iron gates of the castle. He had made it twenty feet when a voice hailed him. “Sir, SIR!” Caleb paused as an out of breath courtier arrived next to him breathlessly, from where he had been waiting near the carriage. “I’m supposed to lead you to the Chancellor…”
“Chancellor!?” shock immediately wiped away Caleb’s anger, “When was Lenencio made Chancellor?”

“Only yesterday!” the courtier seemed pleased, “First to be elected to that position in…”

“…150 years, yes…” Caleb was subdued as he considered the implications. Being Chancellor meant that Lenencio had the full powers of the emperor, there was no other heir to the throne! If that remained the case… He could also give orders to the king’s guards, which explained the welcome he had received. Suddenly Caleb halted mid-step.

As Chancellor, Lenencio could also give orders to him.

Orders which could only be counteracted by the Emperor himself.