"Spectre, may I introduce Ambassador Kamenev, the Scrovengi ambassador," Brigham Clay directs Squad's attention towards an imposing-looking person, who curtly nods at Squad.

In Squad's estimation, the Scrovengi are a two-legged mix of an eagle's nobility with the toughness of a velociraptor. Ambassador Kamenev, which means Man of Stone, is halfway between six and seven feet tall, possesses a sharp, almost beak-like mouth and has several horns on either side of his armoured head. There's an easy toughness to the ambassador, a calmness suggestive of military experience.

"Hello, spectre," says Kamenev. "I hear you've seen some interesting things recently."

If Brigham Clay and Squad weren't so experienced, they might have betrayed a sense of intrusion or alarm at the ambassador's knowledge. "I see many interesting things in my line of work," Squad calmly replies.

"And you'll see many more, no doubt," the ambassador raises his glass in a toast.

"With a bit of luck and skill," says Squad, matching the gesture but feeling as if the ambassador has already moved on.

Sure enough, Kamenev addresses the emperor. "There's rumours factions of the Jiangese military are fighting each other close to our border," he bluntly states. "If the humans venture too close, this will necessitate our intervention."

"The Jade Empire is difficult to fathom. Even though I'm a fellow human and expert on geopolitics, they're still not easy for me to read, but I don't think the Jiangese would ever want to start a war with you."

"Then tell them not to," the ambassador brusquely replies, then walks off.

"Charming," Brigham Clay turns to Squad.

"They're a very ancient, and apparently bad-tempered, people," Squad smiles.

"That's the thing," Brigham Clay replies and, for the first time, there's a genuine look of concern pressed on the emperor's features. "The Scrovengi are actually a very reserved, cultured and honour-bound people, so it's strange to see examples of nationalism or aggression. If they turn their gaze outward, they could become a superpower to rival us."

Squad nods concernedly, but is distracted by Sig's conversation with the Grylex ambassador: the big, floating yellow, almost jellyfish person serenely introduces an aspect of their cuisine. "Time passes more slowly for us. This delicacy is called k'sen, but in order for it to be legitimately called k'sen it must be allowed to mature for twelve centuries."

Sig takes a bite and his face scrunches. "Wow, you can really taste those twelve centuries."

"Yes," the Grylex emotionlessly intones, then floats away.

Sig turns to Squad. "I think he just played a prank on me."

"How can you tell?" Squad asks. "The Grylex don't display emotions like most species."

"It tasted like shit," Sig explains, in the tone of a proud detective explaining how he solved a case.

Resting a hand on Squad's shoulder, Brigham Clay speaks. "Sorry, but I need to discuss some privileged information with the spectre," he tells Sig.

"Of course," Sig nods understandingly. "I'll give you two some privacy." He hides behind his hands, clearly listening to their conversation. The emperor and Squad look at each other, then quietly move away. As they're leaving, Sig still thinks they're there and reassures them. "Don't worry, you can talk about anything. I swear I won't think you guys are perverts."

They move to the other side of the room, far away from Sig, and Brigham Clay waves his daughter over. When Elizabeth joins them, he explains. "We have reports of Scrovengi forces moving south, towards their border with Jiang and any fighting could quickly spill over into a wider conflict."

"Have we shared this information with The Commonwealth or our allies on The Continent?" Elizabeth asks.

"No. We don't want to spark a panic," Brigham Clay replies, turning to Squad. "Until we get new leads on Scipio, I think it's best you investigate this potential Scrovengi-Jade Empire conflict. You can be my eyes and ears."

*

Ambassador Kamenev of the Scrovengi stands on the balcony and evening descends in a pool of quiet. Chatter and merriment are barely audible from the banquet hall, but he detects a sliver of movement closer than that, his warrior's body taut as a drawn bow.

He takes a sip of his drink and calmly turns around. "Who is it?"

From the shadows emerges the human businessman Gelson Musk, owner of Paradigm Research, the biggest private company in the world. Kamenev's government has thoroughly investigated Musk but can never go back beyond a certain point in the man's timeline; it's as if he appeared from nowhere and became an instant success. This makes Kamenev, and the Scrovengi government, suspicious, and there are theories that Musk either works for The Spider, head of the Samarian Intelligence Service, or that he is The Spider. Kamenev isn't sure about those conclusions but he knows the man has an eagle mind.

Musk joins Kamenev at the balcony's edge, looking out over the city. "Beautiful," he remarks. "So many people joined together in one place. Their activities staining the world and exulting it." Kamenev feels Musk's glance taking him apart, like an interesting machine. "Some think that people, all people, are just different expressions of the same being: that the universe breaks itself apart and walks about in measured shares of hope, pain, happiness and suffering."

They can see the garden far below, the moon growing in its flowers. Kamenev's eyes burn beneath his rock-like brows, challenge dripping from his tone. "Does it make it easier, to kill people knowing that they're all part of the same cosmic system, that if one nation falls another will rise to bring order to the system?"

"I wouldn't know," Musk smiles enigmatically. He turns his body to face Kamenev. "Your people fascinate me. An Elder Race that, many times over the millennia, could have used their martial prowess to advance and conquer, but you didn't. What is it you want?"

Unsure whether to be affronted, Kamenev continues to face the cityscape but angles his head towards Musk, meeting his gaze fully. "What do you mean?"

"You're a military people without an enemy."

"We've kept the Kresh contained in The Black Jungle for millennia. I campaigned against them myself in my younger days."

Musk shakes his head and Kamenev, still poker faced, feels tense. Could the human know about their new understanding with the Kresh? Kamenev only discovered the truce when it was at an advanced stage and no one outside of the Scrovengi government, apart from whatever the Kresh have for a ruling body if such a thing exists, knows that it's even being discussed.

"You're no longer fighting the Kresh," Musk states bluntly. "Your ceasefire with them came into effect a short time ago. Negotiating it without informing the international community could be a small mistake."

"A small mistake?" Kamenev thinks to himself. "Give me an example of a big mistake!"

"Letting people find out about it," Musk says out loud.

Kamenev turns sharply. Could the man have read his mind? None of the intelligence reports mention that Musk is a mind-breaker, if he is, and it's considered bad form for a mind-breaker to scan another person's thoughts without permission, either explicit permission from the person themselves or some sort of authority; besides, Kamenev has been trained to detect and counter mind-breaking, and he didn't feel anything.

"I can't trust a man whose motivations I don't understand," he coldly informs Musk.

Another smile breaks the ice of Musk's expression. "Why do you think I opened the conversation by asking what you want?" Musk changes his tact. "What do your reports say about me?"

"We don't study private citizens—" Kamenev begins, then answers honestly. "To sum up, they say, 'He's the sort of person who follows you into a revolving door and comes out first.'"

Laughing a cold laugh, Musk looks up at the stars, their light diffused and deadened by long distance. "That sounds like the things my own people say about me." He suddenly turns and asks a question, and Kamenev is pulled relentlessly into the moment, held there as if an answer is unavoidable. "Are you going to attack the Jade Empire?"

After a herculean effort, Kamenev wrestles out of his response. "I've not been made aware of any such attack."

Musk's nod is good-natured but disbelieving. "Let your forces know that the Jiangese port city of Changlai will be vulnerable to attack. Their southern fleet, which is docked there, will meet with disaster and you'll be able to launch an attack from the sea."

Kamelev, the Man of Stone, is as speechless as his namesake. He doesn't trust this man, but the offer has been made and Changlai, were the Scrovengi to invade the Jade Empire of Jiang, would be one of the first major obstacles to an invasion. "...Putting aside the question of how you know their defences will be down," Kamenev responds, "or, indeed, what gave you the idea that we plan to attack the Jiangese, in what world do you imagine that I would trust you?"

"I'm a businessman," replies Musk, showing his palms in a gesture of openness. "I have a feeling that your people are on the way up and that the Jade Empire could soon be on the way down. Information and investments are my business, and I'm making an investment in you: ex-military, ex-Tiger Force, quickly promoted up the diplomatic ranks, you're a potential future member of the High Command and, if I can make you an ally, so much the better for me." Musk fixes the ambassador with a powerful look. "Tell High Command that Changlai will be exposed and, when the city is taken, your influence will increase exponentially."

"And if it turns out I'm wrong?" Kamenev asks.

A gentle clasp of the ambassador's shoulder. "I wouldn't want to make you my enemy, ambassador," Musk assures, walking back into the House of Keys and leaving Kamenev on the balcony, watching the stars and being watched by them.

*

The ambassador for the Delphians, a lion-faced people from the Northern Rift, is dressed in the splendid robes and jewellery of his region, while Sig regales him with tales of all the Delphians he's ever met. Before they'd approached, Squad begged Sig not to mention the likeness between the Delphians and lions, which is an association the Delphians are particularly sensitive about.

"Don't worry," Sig had responded. "This is where the well-laid road of my social preparation meets with the spinning wheels of actual human contact."

"...What?" Squad asked, then Sig moved off before explaining anything.

So now here we are, Squad thinks, in the present.

"Hey, ambassador," Sig opens with. "I knew a Delphian girl once: the sex was indescribable."

"Thank god," Squad intercedes. "Let's move on before you think of a description."

"I just thought of one!" Sig beams.

"So, ambassador," Squad swiftly interrupts, "has there been much Rogga activity in the Northern Rift lately?"

With a shake of his mane, the ambassador replies. "They've been keeping to central parts of The Rift. A few tribes have wandered our way but the King of Limbs has led his forces deep into the interior, where we're struggling to track him. He never stops being a danger but we never cease being vigilant."

Sig claps his hands together excitedly. "I like you! You've got spunk and balls; in fact, I'm going to call you old spunky balls—" He spots Squad's disapproval and quickly corrects. "No, I'm not."

Spotting Elizabeth Clay waving him over to a sofa she's occupying alone, Squad reluctantly prepares to leave Sig alone in a room full of diplomats. He leans in and whispers. "Remember, behave yourself. In fact, try not to talk to anyone."

Sig winks and taps Squad on the shoulder reassuringly. "Oh, come on. It's nice to make an effort every once in a while,"

"I disagree," Squad deadpans and walks off. As he's leaving, he hears Sig striking up a new conversation with the Delphian ambassador.

"I haven't been back to The Rift for a few years, though I blame that on a bad experience."

"Nothing too awful, I hope?" the ambassador inquires.

"I was attacked by a gay lion."

There's a pause as the ambassador considers this information. "...How do you know the lion was gay?"

Sig's voice breaks with emotion. "...I don't want to talk about it."

Thankfully, Squad loses track of the conversation as he nears Elizabeth Clay, who directs him to sit beside her on the couch. He settles down, unsure of what to say, and Elizabeth doesn't speak either. "My father likes you," she says, after a few moments.

"That's good news," Squad says, then feels that's a stupid thing to say.

She smiles. "Your friend seems to be enjoying himself."

Still distracted, Squad asks. "Who?"

"The pervert."

"Ah, Sig."

Without context, Squad hears Sig snort with laughter and exclaim. "She had three rows of teeth!" Then, after a brief pause. "Still fucked her, though."

Squad turns back to Elizabeth and meets her gaze. "I don't know how to justify him. In a more stable environment, he could just have been one of those weird guys who cut pictures of women out of magazines."

A laugh softens Elizabeth's face. "I don't know how much you know about politics, but recently I've been taking a more prominent role in the family business," by which she means ruling over the Samarian Empire.

Squad nods. "I saw your work dealing with rate fixing in the financial sector."

A smile from Elizabeth. "From now on the bankers in this town will cheat honestly." They both laugh and Elizabeth continues. "But my main interest is the military." She indicates the sword at her side. "I've always been a bit of a tomboy—" Squad is surprised by her admission, given her obvious beauty, "and growing up I was fascinated by Clay family history: how Julius Clay led us to power six hundred and fifty years ago and diluted the old, aristocratic dominance of the military, selecting officers based on ability and experience, regardless of class, education or upbringing. That's what has propelled us beyond our rivals since that time."

"I agree," Squad replies, meeting the young princess's eyes. She leans in closer, her words only for him.

"I heard about what you saw in the sky over Dunpool. I believe they exist," her finger tentatively points to the sky. "The future is closing in front of us like a fist, our fates held in its trembling hand and we have to decide whether we're going to escape that grasp, be crushed by it, or ourselves become the fist." Squad can see she's hesitant, as if her point hasn't come across, and she sits back, pointing at him. "Have you heard of Magnus the Great?"

"Of course," says Squad, confused by the obvious question.

"What do you know about him?"

"Magnus Clay: he defeated Kessler's Horde six hundred years ago, ending the largest Orcish insurrection since the Orc Wars thirty odd thousand years before, then founded the city of Dunpool on The Continent. He's the father of modern Samaria's success."

A sad gleam flickers in Elizabeth's eyes as she nods her agreement. "Did you know he had a sister, Margaret Clay?" Squad shakes his head and Elizabeth continues. "And that many people think she was as talented a commander as her brother? He lost no battles, she lost only one – fought against impossible odds, to buy him time for ultimate victory. She had talent and a destiny...the destiny to be someone's sister." Her words take fire, fill with resolution. "I'm not destined to be someone's daughter. I'll make my mark in these turbulent times, whether from the throne or on the frontlines."

A hand touches Squad's and he looks down, surprised by Elizabeth's touch, despite her being the only one sitting beside him. "We're going to be allies, you and me. I love my father, and want him to reign for a long time, but I'm going to be at the front of what we're doing, maybe not leading it, maybe not commanding entire armies, although don't rule that out if I can earn it, but I'll be there, contributing something and I have a feeling you're going to be there too, when the big decisions are made." She points at him again. "I'll show my face and I'll show my worth, regardless of who sees it and who ignores it."

Squad feels certain that's true.

*

Lu runs along the harbour, a quenchless gaze taking in the Jade Empire's entire southern fleet, docked in her home city of Changlai. Her father is an officer aboard one of the ships and she recalls being taken aboard when she was a little girl, perhaps four or five years old – can it really have been eight years ago?

She was so proud and felt so small in her father's strong arms. Her face is loaded with memories, buried and mighty. And now he's back again, her father.

"Be careful, running along the edge like that!" Mrs Liao calls from far behind.

Mrs Liao looks after Lu when her father is away at sea, but Lu's guardian doesn't like the water. She doesn't trust it. For Lu the sea is security and trust and safety; she can't see things the way Mrs Liao does.

"A fetch will come and grab you," the older woman warns her young charge, who's running along the quayside.

"I'll look out for them," Lu giggles.

Almost all of the sailors are still onboard their ships but family members have gathered to welcome natives of Changlai back to their homeport. Lu feels sorry for the sailors from other corners of Jiang. They could live as far away as three thousand miles to the west or two thousand miles to the south and still be citizens of Jiang's Jade Empire.

It's a bright, crisp morning and the sun is being held in the sky like a frozen beetroot with lumps of earth still clinging to it, the day already warming to tropical Jiangese weather. Lu looks up and frowns. A gargantuan black cloud moves swiftly through otherwise clear skies, a kingdom of lighter clouds attached to it like shoulder guards, so that it's one structure, one determined force. No one else seems attracted by the sight but Lu's eyes are drawn into the formation, as if it's impelling her attention and, convinced she's the only one who sees this, she spots the tip of a great black triangle inside the cumulus. Then it's gone, covered by cloud.

The clouds are now above the harbour and Lu wonders if her father is watching this from onboard his ship. She suddenly feels very afraid. Turning, she sees the great tower of the Dragon School, home to the Jade Empire's magic users, as a ray of light shoots from the cloud and cuts the tower from top to bottom like a surgeon's scalpel. The tower collapses and explosions from lower down indicate the rest of the Dragon School has been destroyed.

With ferocious speed, different rays of light cut apart the fleet, the water mirroring flames and pockmarked debris. A few spells fly up from the fleet towards the clouds but disappear ineffectually in the nimbus, and the ships from which they emerged are swiftly destroyed. Rays of light cut through the infrastructure of the harbour, sending rains of rubble down on the quayside; Lu sees Mrs Liao crushed by a pile weighing several tons. Her father's ship has almost certainly been destroyed. They've all been destroyed.

The past, the present and the future are burning before Lu's eyes. Then the ship closest to her explodes and it all fades to black. 

***

Thank you for reading the seventh chapter of A Secret Man of Blood. All feedback and votes are appreciated. I also enjoy reading, so leave a comment and I'll check out your stories.