Reylor remained alone after his plans to retrieve the Empress were thwarted. He was furious, ashamed, and above all, embarrassed that his brother had gotten the better of him yet again. His emotions could no longer take it, and rather than unleashing his violent outbursts upon the useless minions around him, he stayed within his quarters while he figured out the best way to cope with his failure.

Rumor of the Empress residing within the palace had made its way beyond the Borderlands sometime after Reylor retreated to his quarters. The knowledge that Alexstrayna was so close, yet so unattainable, pierced him through his core to his soul. His depression had become evident as he refused visitors, returned his meals, and avoided all acknowledgement of anything beyond his room.

It was during one such bout of self-doubt that Master allowed himself entry into Reylor's quarters unannounced and undeterred. The former Lord Steward sat in a chair that faced the large glass doors that led to the room's outside balcony. Reylor wore only leather breeches, and his hair hung loose below his shoulders in a mass of blond hysteria. He didn't move upon Master's arrival, and the mentor began to wonder if he had even heard him enter at all.

"I did not ask to see you," Reylor growled without greeting his intruder.

"No, you did not," Master confirmed. "But I have news from the Empire that I believe you should hear."

"I want to know nothing of what occurs beyond the Borderlands," Reylor hissed and he quickly glared over his shoulder. "I was under the impression I had made that abundantly clear."

"It was clear, but I'm choosing to ignore it. You need to stop acting like a selfish child and remember your purpose."

"A child?" Reylor scoffed. "How dare you?"

Master brushed his complaints aside with a wave of his hand and continued, ignoring the interruption.

"The Empire has begun its preparations for the Empress's coronation."

"What does that have to do with me?" Reylor interrupted.

Master sighed. "As such, the Empress' Mistresses have been chosen and are due to report to the palace any day now."

Reylor knew of the Mistresses. As he and the Councillor were supposed to assist his brother in his duties, so were the Mistresses supposed to assist the Empress. Handpicked by the Councillor, the women would serve the Empress for life—hers or theirs.

Why any of that should matter to him now was still shrouded in mystery.

"The Empress is being coronated, as foretold by the Annals. What happens within the Empire is no longer my concern."

"I had a feeling you would say that," Master replied as he tossed a scroll into Reylor's lap.

He picked up the parchment and looked it over before unrolling it to reveal an unknown text.

"What is this?" he asked Master skeptically.

"That is your invitation to the coronation."

The dark gleam in Master's eyes told him there was more to this scroll than first appeared. Reylor looked it over a second time and again could not decipher a single word.

"What mockery is this? You come here to laugh at my pain? Torment me further with delusions?"

"The only delusions are the ones in your head." Master reached around and took the scroll from his hands. "This is the answer to your demands, and we now have the means to set the wheels of change in motion."

"What part of 'I have failed' are you unable to retain within your skull?" Reylor yelled as he stood, fists clenched as he squared to face Master. "That paper is no more an invitation than the fibers used to wipe your ass!"

"That is where you are wrong!" Master countered. "This paper you refer to is one of the most powerful spells known within the Empire, and it is in our possession!"

"Spells? What are you talking about?"

Master's informant alerted him that one of the chosen Mistresses lived just beyond the tree line- an easy ride that could remain inconspicuous under the right cover.

"This will not work," he repeated to the older man as he readied his horse during his final preparations. "They will know the moment I have left the Borderlands."

"It will, because you will make sure it does," Master reassured him. "Your mages will see to it that you're hidden in their cover of darkness, and the Empire's rangers will be none the wiser."

"This Mistress—"

"Her name is Bria."

"Bria. She will know who I am. She will scream, or flee, or alert any nearby authorities the moment she sees me."

"I highly doubt that." Master gave him a knowing smile. "She is young, Reylor—young, and easily manipulated."

Reylor perked a brow at Master, as though there was something the older man refused to tell him, but Reylor had followed along with his plan thus far—it would be a waste to question him now.

The plan was simple. Reylor would convince the Mistress, by any means necessary, to be his eyes and ears beyond the palace's walls. The information she brought him would determine the timing of their next step. Master still seemed somewhat aloof in telling Reylor exactly what that step would be, but he assured him he would share in good time.

First things first...he needed Bria on his side.

Master was convinced she would be easily persuaded to side with his cause. As he rode with a pair of mages through the Borderlands while the suns set towards the tree line, Reylor considered exactly how easy that persuasion would be. Would he be able to be diplomatic in his request, or would he need violence to convey his threat?

Soon the mages reined in as the trees began to part ways. The mage to Reylor's right raised his hand, and the mage on the left soon fell in line. Reylor was hesitant and remained behind, awaiting further instruction. The first mage nodded to the second, and the latter dismounted, handed his horse's reins to the first, and slowly walked through the trees before them. After a few moments, the mage returned and nodded to the first, who in turn looked towards Reylor and nodded his own confirmation.

Taking it as a sign to dismount, Reylor jumped from his own saddle and walked his horse to the edge of the tree line. He knew they watched him, awaiting instructions, but he kept his gaze on the cabin before him.

The plan was simple. Or at least it should be.

"You do remember your instructions?" Reylor asked of the mage closest to him.

"Yes, my lord." The mage nodded. "We will remain here and protect you in your trek."

"And you will stay here until I return," Reylor added. "Regardless of how long it takes."

"Of course, my lord."

With the mages under the cover of the trees, Reylor approached the cabin. In the day's dying light, the cabin's windows were ablaze from the fire burning within its hearth, it would be an easy beacon to follow in the dead of night. He should be able to walk unseen until he made his presence known to the future Mistress.

As expected, he was able to approach the small cabin undetected, which allowed him additional time to survey the area. It was the closest to the Borderlands in either direction, which made him wonder why it was inhabited at all. The common people of the Empire were a superstitious lot, and many assumed the lands were cursed to the point where traveling too close would make one grow fangs and develop a palate for blood.

The less they knew, the better.

The cabin itself was simple, with a small garden growing in the back and flowering vines climbing its walls. Peering through the window, he spied the young woman sitting near the fire, her nose in a book. Her dark brown hair was up in a neat bun as her eyes focused on the pages before her, it wasn't that she was unattractive, but she wasn't...

She wasn't the Empress.

Reylor looked to the sky. True, it was the dark of night, but the suns would be rising soon enough. Taking a deep breath, he walked around the cabin towards the rear entrance and quietly entered though the unlocked door, closing it silently behind him once he was inside.

She didn't move. Consumed by her novel, she had no knowledge that the former Lord Steward had allowed himself to enter her abode uninvited. Taking advantage of having the upper hand, he quickly surveyed the cabin. It contained a table and two chairs near the fire, and a simple bed to one side. It seemed sparse, and he noticed the bags piled by the door where he stood. Of course, the Mistress was planning her relocation to the palace. He had arrived just in time.

"Bria."

She jumped from her chair, dropping the book on the floor, and turned in a whirl of skirts until she found the source of the interruption. Her green eyes enlarged with recognition once she saw him standing there.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked to confirm her reaction.

She nodded slowly. His reputation preceded him, it seemed.

What he noticed, however, was that she didn't seem frightened by him. She didn't scream for help, or try to defend herself, or run away. She merely stood there, eyes wide, staring at him.

It seemed, perhaps, Master wasn't wrong in his insinuations.

"I have a request of you—more of a demand."

He expected a challenge to his command, but instead she continued to stand there, biting her lip, looking him over.

"I understand you are to become one of the Empress' Mistresses."

Bria nodded again. "I'm to report to the palace first thing tomorrow morning."

"Then it appears I've arrived just in time," he said, forcing a smile. It would seem neither violence nor threats would be needed to win this one over. All he would need to supply her with was a heavy dose of charm.

"I would have you assist me in a certain matter, while you're there."

She swallowed slightly. "And what would that be...?"

He looked at her with his red eyes and wondered if anything would convince this girl what he was about to need from her was more than any intelligent being should consider. But here she was, asking for more information, and he began to believe this plan might work.

Reylor took a step closer to the young Mistress, making a point to maintain eye contact as he spoke. "I need eyes and ears within the palace, as it's obvious enough I cannot be there myself."

"Why?"

Reylor shook her head. "You are not allowed to ask questions. You are to simply report on the comings and goings of the Empress, and if possible, the prince. I want to know their plans, their agendas, as much as you can tell me of where they're going and where they've been."

"How...how am I supposed to do this?"

Reylor smirked as he reached into the pouch at his belt, holding out a small red orb in his hand for her to see. "I will supply you with this, and you are to report to me nightly."

Bria looked from the orb to him, and he could sense she was attempting to put it all together. Good, there might be hope for her after all. He walked to the center of the cabin, standing above her, looking down to match her stare. No, she was not the Empress, nor would she ever be, but he needed to look beyond the current situation and focus on the bigger picture.

The greater good.

"If you assist me, Bria," he assured her, raising a finger to her cheek, running it down slowly, "and if you assist me well, I will make everything worth your while."

She licked her lips slightly at his touch, her stare never wavering. "And if I do not?"

His hand suddenly went to her throat, and she let out a shriek as her nails began to claw at his grasp. He lowered his lips to hers, hovering just above them as he glared into her panicked expression.

"You will regret ever asking that question," he whispered harshly before his lips devoured hers in a kiss that could convince anyone of his intent.

Keeping his hand on her neck and his lips on hers, he dragged her backwards to her bed and pushed her down upon it. He expected her to scream or fight him off, but he received neither. She lay there, watching him, with a new look in her eyes.

She wanted him.

Whatever he was about to do to her, she was going to welcome it.

Reylor hesitated. If he showed her any sign of weakness, this struggle for power over her would be a wasted effort. He couldn't think about betraying his heart, or how he was about to manipulate the Mistress below him into betraying hers. He was about to damn her into a life of a traitor, and for what? Nighttime trysts with the Betrayer himself? He was no romantic. The only chance he had was with the Empress, and even so those sessions were only in his dreams. What position did he have to violate the body of a young innocent?

He had power.

The control he had over the Mistress flowed through him as he took her to bed. Reylor never felt such a rush before in his life. He had complete control over the comings and goings of this woman, and all she wanted from him in return was his body.

As for what he gained from this, the sexual urges of loneliness were now reconciled. At the same time, he would know exactly what Treyan and Alexstrayna were doing within the Empire, and through Bria, he would know exactly when to make his next move against them.

The Mistress need not know otherwise.

Reylor left Bria with the promise of his physical affections the next time she returned to her cabin, so long as she continued to report to him, nightly, as ordered.

"You're leaving already?" the girl, naked and disheveled after their exertions, asked as she sat up in bed. "The night is still young—"

"Don't beg," Reylor muttered as he redressed. "You have your own journey to begin now, don't you think?"

"Now?" she sputtered, pathetic in her attempts to hide her confusion.

"Now, for the sooner you report back to me, the better."

She didn't protest after that.

While Reylor returned to his waiting mages, all he could think of was the Empress, and the feel of her touch upon his body. Where Bria was a physical form to use, nothing could touch his mental images of the Empress. He knew using the girl was wrong, but didn't the ends justify the means? What would one Mistress matter for the good of the Empire? Little did Bria know, she was doing them all a great service—the sooner he could revisit her, the stronger those images would become and the longer they would stay. Using Bria was a stepping stone towards the goal. Reminding himself that she was merely a pawn in this as he had been for the sake of the Prophecy would make everything worth it in the end.

Already on their horses, the two mages waited just within the tree line. Upon his arrival, he simply nodded to the pair as he mounted his own horse. They wouldn't ask questions, and he would not answer them if they did. Kicking his horse into a gallop, he led them back to the castle, where he was anxious to report to Master with his progress.

There was something that felt off the moment he crossed the drawbridge into the main entrance. Leaving the horse with the mages, he ran up the main stairway to the great hall, expecting Master to be waiting for him. Instead, he came upon unlit sconces and an eerie silence. He found the same in Master's quarters, the library, and Reylor's own rooms.

Crossing the paths of two mages on patrol within the castle's foyer, he stopped them in their watch to inquire regarding Master's whereabouts.

"We haven't seen him, my lord," one said rather uneasily.

"We assumed he was within his quarters," the other added while he moved shiftily as if ready to run if given the proper motivation.

"The ones near his quarters informed me they assumed he was within the great hall, and the guard around the great hall told me they thought he was awaiting my arrival near the main doors," Reylor sneered.

Both mages visibly swallowed, and he sent them on another lap through the castle. Upon their return, however, the assumption remained the same.

Master was gone.

Bewildered, Reylor returned to his quarters, trying to play out the last confrontation with him to decipher any hidden message in their exchange. Master seemed quite anxious for Reylor to begin on this new quest, but he had assumed it was out of sheer excitement.

Exhaustion soon took over the former Lord Steward, and as he sat on his bed to remove his boots, something on the nearby table caught his attention.

The scroll in the unknown language Master had shown him before was pierced to a book by a very elaborate dagger. Reylor had never seen the book before, and he had thoroughly rummaged through the castle's library since his arrival. It was bound in black leather but there was nothing telling upon the cover of the text beyond that. Even so, Reylor sensed a power emanating from it like none he had felt since the Annals of the Empire.

Upon the scroll was a handwritten note. Reylor ripped it from the dagger's clutches and peered at the inky scratches.

Give my regards to the Empress.