The Dominus placed his goblet down very slowly, very carefully, forcing himself not to slam it through the table. He felt his jaw beginning to ache as he ground his teeth together.

"Those bastards," he hissed. "Those barbarians. Those animals!"

He had just been informed of what Captain Ectorius learned north of the Barricade.

For the past few weeks, rumours had been swirling regarding Northerner clans contemplating a break in the treaty - which their king had signed with the Valenian Empire. This treaty had put an end to nearly a century of hostility, conquest, and bloody guerilla warfare, ensuring peace for both nations as they learned to exist side by side. But the king - a ghastly and ill-tempered man by the name of Owyn Mòr Dubh - had finally died some months ago, leaving what would appear to be a power vacuum among the clans. Dominus Validuseus would have loved to revel in the death of his arch nemesis, the murderer of his wife, but his death had thus far offered the Dominus no rest.

Gaius and Uncle Rex had met Captain Ectorius as requested, and he recounted to them some very troubling news. The good captain, you see, had recently gone north of the Barricade with a contingent of legionnaires to investigate the then-unfounded rumours. His interrogation of a number of villagers indicated that a sizeable number of clans were confirmed to be openly discussing a break in the treaty - forming new alliances, signing deals, exchanging payments, even discussing the crowning of a new king. Ectorius could not work out the number of clans taking part in the conspiracy, but it numbered no less than five at least - including Clans Caimbeul and Dùghlas, historic enemies who together controlled a significant fighting force, and had dealt some of the bloodiest blows to the Empire in days gone.

"We must prepare again for war, your grace," said Gaius, wielding a sympathetic tone as others might wield a bucket of slime.

The Dominus sneered. "We cannot afford to go to war again! We won't even have two legions by year's end."

"Alexio," added Rex, "we can at least increase the garrison at the Barricade. Make them think twice about assaulting it."

Gaius shook his head. "The barbarians won't care about soldiers on the Barricade. If anything it will embolden them - more troops on the wall means less elsewhere. We know how much they like to hit and run. They haven't attacked in force since the Empire first marched on the Northerlands more than a century ago."

"Then what do you propose, Monitors?" snapped the Dominus, his temper fraying fast. "We have shown force. We have shown kindness. We have been generous. We have been reserved. We have done everything and its opposite. What more can we do to appease these animals and maintain the peace?"

Rex looked down, averting his eyes before the Dominus could meet them.

Gaius raised two hands, an apologetic gesture. "I fear, your grace, that force is the only thing that they really respond to. No more negotiations, no more appeasements. We were too soft during the previous conflicts. Too willing to negotiate. If this is to end, your grace, we must apply the same force to the Northerners as we did to the barbarians who once inhabited the Southerlands."

The Dominus looked visibly very irritated, now, as if he were talking to a fool. "We do not have the troops, Gaius. How many times must I repeat this?"

Gaius cocked his head, fluidly accepting the rebuttal. Flowing around it. "What about conscription, your grace? Many of our people are brave, strong, and I hear distinctly lacking in employment. Perhaps they would be willing to step up to defend their home? Especially if it will feed their families in these ... trying times."

"Gaius!" the Dominus replied, flinging his arms in the air. His mouth dropped open into an incredulous O. "Sweet mercy. I can't gangpress hungry civilians into the legions. The people are already losing their patience. A move like that and I'll be deposed tomorrow! And how will it look if we conscript all of our civilians and then the clans don't end up breaking their end of the treaty?"

"It's all but guaranteed that they will, your grace," noted Gaius. "Ectorius was confident in his assessment."

The Dominus looked as though he would say more, perhaps even shout, but just like that, he seemed to hit the end of his energy again - even a flash of anger unable to keep his tired body moving. He froze for a moment, face fixed in that same incredulity, but then he melted into goop and collapsed into a nearby chair, arms drooped either side of him, furrowing his brow in frantic contemplation. It was some time before he looked up.

"And what say you, Monitor Rex?" he asked. "You've been very quiet."

The big man looked about as comfortable as a celibate magus at an unexpectedly raunchy theatre show. He sighed aloud and stroked his chin, feet shuffling on the spot. "I hate to say it, Alexio, but on this one I'm afraid I might agree with Gaius. Rare as that may be. If the Northerners break the treaty and come for us again, we will need troops. A reserve legion of conscripts could be a good backup for when the 25th leaves us. We don't have to send them into actual battle unless it's absolutely necessary. That might soften the blow of the policy a little."

Gaius' lizardy mouth stretched into a smile. "I concur with Monitor Rex. A reserve legion is the wisest course of action to get us the troops we need without enraging the population."

The Dominus remained silent for another moment, staring at nothing. He seemed older now than he did even just five minutes ago, the conversation enough to increase the pressure on his shoulders to near breaking point. To Alexio Validuseus, it really did feel like he was facing down the destruction of all that he had worked for. But it wasn't his career he was worried for, it was his people. He truly believed there would be no mercy for those who could not evacuate in the event that the Valenian Empire retired from the Southerlands. Therefore, it was on him to do whatever he could to prevent that eventuality. Or, at least, soften it as much as possible.

He closed his eyes, realising he had accidentally come to a decision. By his own logic, by his own desire to save his province, he didn't have much choice. His legions were departing, his finances were running dry, his people were hungry. And his emperor was growing impatient.

Conscription...

Sweet mercy.

What had it all come to?

"Fine," he finally said, voice soft. "Rex, write up a decree and I will read it over for signing. How long will it take to get a reserve legion up to standards?"

"Four months, your grace. Perhaps five."

The Dominus rubbed a hand down his face. "OK. I will also need you to convene a meeting between myself and the generals. We must discuss plans to counter potential attacks from the north while we train up more troops. The emperor will not be pleased if we lose too many legionnaires before he has a chance to pull them out of our province."

"It will be done, your grace."

It looked like the conversation was finished - the Dominus certainly was - but Gaius had other plans. He slithered forwards before anyone had a chance to adjourn the meeting, getting nice and close to the Dominus. Cautious, tentative, so very gentle. "Your grace ... I do have another suggestion."

The Dominus looked up from his thoughts.

Gaius narrowed his eyes, clasping his hands together. He had to be careful - this one was a tough sell.

"Have you ever heard of ... the Godswell?"

"Gaius..." Rex cautioned.

Gaius shot the old man a look. "He deserves to know of it."

"It is a myth!"

"All myth comes from somewhere, Monitor Rex."

"What is the Godswell?" asked the Dominus, cutting in before Rex could speak.

The two Monitors met each other's eyes: Rex angry, shaking his head, Gaius determined, ignoring the pleas of the other man.

"It is a relic of the Ancients, your grace, an especially powerful one."

Rex stepped forwards. "Allegedly. No one has ever seen it."

Gaius persisted. "Each of the clans has some kind of tale of the Godswell. It is a myth, yes, but a myth so prevalent that it must come from somewhere. Northerners of all races believe it is an ancient fount of power, bestowing upon worthy heroes truly unparalleled control of the six magical elements. I wonder, your grace, if acquiring such a power would be enough to subdue some of the clans - either by fear of its reputation, or by facing its wrath in battle."

The Dominus sat upright, his face more alert. His eyes searched Gaius, scanning him, testing him. "You know where this Godswell is?"

Gaius bowed his head. Submissive, apologetic. "Not as such, your grace. And the emperor's Protectores never got a chance to truly investigate during the war. But ... in this brief interlude of peace before conflict starts anew, a small party might be able to infiltrate the Northerlands, speak with the clans, and get on the trail of this power. Someone, your grace, will know where it is. We just have to find out who and we'll have it."

Rex clicked his tongue and placed his fists on his hip. "Bah. If anyone in the north knew where it was, do you not think they would have used it against us already?"

"They have never wielded particularly strong magic against us," replied Gaius carefully. "Long have I spoken with our scholars at the Temple about such matters. It is the opinion of our most respected magi that the Northerners are, quite simply, too primitive for real magic. They have the myth, they have the artefact, but they do not have the magical knowledge to wield it. But we do, your grace. If we could only retrieve it."

Gaius, of course, was not lying. He tried very hard never to lie if he did not have to. Lies were so cumbersome, so sticky. One had to wield lies like one would wield a small knife. It could be effective, oh yes. A swift puncture from a narrow blade could wiggle into even the tightest of gaps in a soldier's armour. But such a precise weapon had to be used in precise situations. He could not batter a man with a lie.

No, Gaius was not lying. It was indeed the opinion of the magi that the Northerners were a primitive people incapable of higher-level magics. They were arrogant like that, the magi. Old fools who never got enough sunlight and spent more time grooming their beards than studying the actual world. They probably believed the Northerners were shouty ape creatures that lived in stone huts. Gaius did not agree; in fact Rex's argument was utterly sound - if such a relic existed, why had they not used it against the Empire? They should have been more than capable, however little they deployed magic on the field of battle. But that was not the right opinion to have in this moment.

So Gaius did not lie. But he did not tell the truth either.

He willed himself to believe every unlie that spilled past his tongue.

"And who would you send on such a quest?" the Dominus asked. "When we have so little soldiers to spare."

Ah, now this would be the very tricky part. Gaius had to plant a seed without force. Just a little seed, into the dirt. Splash of water. Nothing more. It would grow.

"Not soldiers, your grace. As you say, we cannot afford to send away any troops at such a time as this. We need a small party to blend in. No more than, say, three individuals. No uniforms, just casual clothes. Traders, wanderers, it need not matter their cover story."

The Dominus frowned. "So then, who?"

Gaius twirled his finger, raising his brows. Here was a man only thinking of this for the first time. Thinking aloud. Just thinking aloud. "Well it will have to be someone highly trained, but not a soldier. They'll spot a soldier from a mile away. Someone else, not of the legions but who has had similar training. And they'll need a bodyguard, that can be a soldier. Wanderers are surely allowed their mercenaries, even in the north. I imagine we will also wish to send a guide - someone with knowledge of the Northerlands and its people. There will be a lot of investigating to be done to find where the Godswell sleeps."

Just a few feet away, Rex narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his barrel chest. He seemed to have sensed what might be coming. The general always was a shrewd one. He was next on Gaius' list.

And Gaius continued. "It would help, I think, if the guide and bodyguard were ... expendable. Our agent is vital, but the others? We'll send them with the sole duty of protecting our investigator. To ensure their safety."

"Gaius..." said the Dominus. "You clearly have names in mind. Don't play your games with me and out with it!" His temper was returning.

Gaius bowed his head. Too much force. This was going to be ... explosive. But it was a seed. Just a seed. Gaius required no outcome today. Only the seed.

"My apologies, your grace. I do have names in mind."

Rex openly scowled now. Yes - he'd sensed it. Sharp old tack.

"We have two prisoners, in fact, who fit the bill. A soldier and an elf, both of whom perfectly suit our purposes. We can offer them freedom from their inevitable sentences for their assistance with this quest. The soldier may even be once of the Protectores, for he wears their style of armour. He'll have skills we need."

"And the agent?"

Gaius paused a moment, examining the Dominus. Yes, there was no easy way to put this next part. He'd just have to pull the arrow out all at once. It was a seed, he reminded himself. Only a seed.

"Your daughter."

Kaboom.

And so came the explosion.

The Dominus went from sitting defeated to upright, hands lashing out, yelling in a flash. If Gaius were standing any closer he'd probably have been slapped across the room. The man was supposed to be dead on his feet, too weary to be angry, but here he was pulling rage from the crevices of his soul. He'd pay for it later. But Gaius would pay now.

"Gaius Ferrarius you are taking me for a fool!" he roared. "A damn fool! Do you think me an idiot? A simpleton?"

"Of course not, your grace, I-"

"And yet you suggest I send my last remaining child on a wild goose chase into hostile lands to search for a myth!" His face was turning red. "Do you hate her so that you would have me banish her to die like her brother?"

"I assure you, your grace, she will be quite safe. The knight I propose to send her with has already shown he is capable of defending her life."

"And the elf you want to send was one of the men trying to take it," noted Rex. He too looked furious, big fists ready to strike, feet apart, but he did not act on it. Unlike the Dominus, whose ears were one step away from smoking like a damp bonfire.

Gaius had to concede that point. "Yes, that is very true. But, all elves have a price. I'm sure we can negotiate his allegiance."

The Dominus, spitting fire, turned his fury on Uncle Rex. "You knew of this plan?"

"No, your grace," the man replied. "It's as new to me as to you."

"Gentlemen, please," said Gaius. "It is a bold suggestion, I know. Terrifying, even, for a father to think of sending his daughter away. But I implore you both, talk to the magi. Learn of the Godswell. Consider my suggestion, and the situation we're in. If we can acquire that kind of power, we might prevent the war entirely. Is that not worth the risk? She is the only individual we could trust with such a mission. She has the training. She has the trust. She has the protection."

"Risk?" the Dominus said. Had he grown taller? "You simplify the potential death of my only remaining child as a mere risk?"

Now the world began to bend around Dominus Validuseus. His rage must have been activating some of his enchantments, or else he was deliberately calling on spells hidden about his person. Light warped in an egg around him, growing darker. His voice grew in volume, and a fog began to seep through the floorboards beneath his feet. The man's eyes were two fiery jewels, finger outstretched pointing at Gaius. Electricity crackled under his fingernails.

"Be gone, Gaius Ferrarius!" he bellowed. "Leave my sight at once before I remove you myself! Take your insolence and return to the shadows! I will hear no more of this madness."

Gaius swallowed back his words and bowed again, the lowest of the day yet. "At once, your grace."

Without further attempts to defend his suggestion, he spun on the spot and slid out of the room, robes flowing behind him like drunken waves. Gaius knew better than to keep pushing. Pushing would go nowhere. Pushing was the sword, the hammer, the mace. Especially in this moment.

But the seed.

Now, the seed had been planted.

He would wait. He would let them calm down, mull it over, discuss it, talk to the magi from the Temple. He had planted the seed.

Now he would watch it grow.