Gaius Ferrarius contemplated what he had overheard while listening at the door. But while his thoughts oozed in and out of one another like wringed, soggy hands, his face remained blank. It was as though he had switched off his emotions entirely, something he did whenever he left a room. Whenever he was no longer being watched.

At one point after finally departing, on his way from the bottom of the palace elevator to the guard barracks where he was to meet Captain Ectorius, he passed a small-statured legionnaire wandering in the other direction, presumably to start a particularly boring shift guarding the palace stairs. The man saluted. Gaius, expressionless, pondered the man, who seemed unsettled by the Monitor's empty gaze - his pace quickened with a bit of pep and he vanished into the nearest door. Gaius did not recognise this soldier. Not one of his. There were still so many left in the city who were not his.

That was one of the many items on the list of things Gaius had to arrange. So slowly. So quietly.

Lucilla Validuseus had found her way to the top of this list. She was increasingly becoming the fatty oil slick to his perfect, crystalline spring water. Ever since that wretched mother of hers had passed and her father sent the other child off to die, Lucilla had grown into a more fiery, more forceful presence. She challenged him more, tested him, pushed her boundaries. And yet, she was well liked. Liked like Gaius never could be.

The other Monitors adored her, and most of the people seemed content with her existence. The Dominus was certainly correct on that part - there was no doubt that if he perished, the Monitors would elect her as the new Dominus. That couldn't happen. She was already an interfering little mosquito, constantly nibbling at him and giving him itchy-scratchy spots. She'd be even worse with power.

He had to be rid of that threat somehow. The Dominus' own reputation wasn't tanking fast enough. He had to eliminate the chance that she could be elected. Somehow her constant troubling of the citizens had not ruined her chances, so that wasn't going to work. Assassins were out of the question too. So very messy, so very obvious. So very traceable. And who knew what her death would do to the Dominus. Gaius needed him to remain predictable. No, a bad plan. The Monitors - that's who he'd have to go through. Sort out the elector issue, not the candidate issue.

At this point, Gaius began to pass by the city's Temple of the Arcane, the largest school for magi in the Southerlands. A variety of young students stretched out on its immaculate lawn, soaking in the day's last vestiges of sun while the clouds were still over the horizon. Some hurried around with books and scrolls from room to room around the large square building, which was not unlike the city forum in layout. Gaius saw at least one old magi hobbling his way into the Temple's reliquary.

Suddenly, a torch sprang to life in Gaius' calculating mind. He stopped and focused on the reliquary, expression still blank.

In that building, the Valenians housed all of the most powerful magical relics they had uncovered (or stolen) in the province. The items within that underground vault were of unfathomable power and value, all of which having been crafted an uncountable number of years ago - long before humans or elves or the other races, and certainly before the Valenian Empire. There were very few such items in the Southerlands that the Valenians had found, but the Protectores were always hunting for more. The security threat they posed to the Empire could not be understated. Or so said the emperor's policy on such matters. In part, the Valenians both needed them and were terrified of them.

Staring at the cold marble exterior of this building brought Gaius a memory. Everyone on the Council had heard rumours of a particularly powerful, particularly ancient relic in the Northerlands. Indeed, it was the only lead they had on any such relic in the entire northern region, including all of its little islands. The Protectores had interrogated many Northerners about it, and every clan gave a slightly different answer as to what it was or where it could be found. It was a myth, so they said. Probably not real, but just spoken about enough that maybe it really did exist; an ancient well of power that would bestow upon worthy heroes unparalleled control of the six magical elements. There wasn't a relic like it in the empire.

Gaius didn't believe a word of it, of course. His knowledge of the Ancients and their relics was vast, truly so, but he had never been able to confirm the existence of such a powerful item. The Northerners probably needed their little myth to feel strong in the face of the overwhelming Empire. To feel special.

But Gaius didn't need to believe it.

Because he knew the Dominus would.

And he also knew the Dominus was desperate. Struggling. With every crisis that struck his province, the people grew wearier, hungrier, angrier. His one-time soaring popularity had plummeted, and only continued to drop. Soon the protests would start, then the riots, then he'd be deposed. Things were moving quickly, now. Soon events would be outside of anyone's control. Especially the Dominus's. Perhaps he would be interested in sending someone to find and capture such a powerful relic? To turn its might against the barbarians and save the province from ruin. Gaius felt the man might just be able to be convinced.

But, he was decidedly out of funds. And the province's Protectores had already left to go and hunt relics elsewhere in the ever-expanding Empire. He would not be allowed to dispatch legionnaires.

So, then, a smaller group. Inexpensive. A tiny force, so small as to go unnoticed. Led by someone the Dominus trusted. Protected by a soldier. Guided by a native.

What if Gaius didn't have to deal with the issue of the next Dominus by going only through the other Monitors? What if he could deal with both problems at once? What if he could send the next likely candidate away, so she couldn't bother Gaius any longer?

Finally, an expression broke onto his still face:

A grin.

* * *

"Oi!" shouted Derwen into the darkness. "Where do you think you're goin' again, eh?"

He had noticed the frog in the other cell moving again, towards the cell door. Its rat companion continued to follow it, a loyal pet that by all accounts should have consumed such a small frog by now. Their relationship boggled the mind.

"we're thirsty!" the frog replied cheerfully, reaching up onto its tippy toes to the latch of its cell door. As expected, the latch came loose with little effort and the so-called powerful wizard was able to open the door.

Derwen looked at Jendar, who remained motionless. Had the metal freak gone to sleep? Useless big sod.

He frowned. "Well ... get me some as well, you hear?" he said. "I'm thirsty too."

"ok!"

And the frog slipped out of its cell, back up the stairs, its rat companion just a step behind. Once again it had to use its hands to help it climb each step. It remained oblivious to the utterly surreal nature of its actions.

Derwen settled into a corner of the cell, wincing as his dangling arm knocked against the bricks, and waited to see what would happen next.

To his delight, a few minutes later Grung returned with two cups of water.

Well, half cups.

He'd lost a lot on the way back down.