Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 53: The Wheel

Despite no immediate effect, I noticed a fresh surge of alertness. Drevolan offered a grateful smile. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“I should have suggested it earlier.”

“I should have remembered, boss. It’s my responsibility. My apologies.”

“We’re all tired. Would you like another leaf?”

“No, thank you. I’ll manage.”

Our attention was drawn to a distant, large rectangle on our right. As we approached, the form morphed into a massive wall standing about forty feet high and spanning sixty feet across. A large circular structure was embedded on its facade. My heartbeat raced as we drew closer.

Before long, we found ourselves standing in front of the Cycle of the Imperion Empire.

*****

The following day, Vernon headed straight to his Mistress’s residence from the Imperial Palace in a carriage. Accompanied by a Dragonlord inside the carriage, another next to the driver, and a third on horseback escorting the carriage, with Opal soaring above—an arrangement not part of the plan.

Through Opal’s vision, I watched their operation, appreciating their meticulousness despite its ultimate futility. The Dragonlord atop the carriage disembarked first, scanning the vicinity before proceeding into the second floor of the three-story brick building.

To an onlooker, it would seem like a well-choreographed scene—the rider dismounting with finesse as the driver opened the door for the carriage’s occupants. Vernon and the two Dragonlords entered the building together. Once inside the flat, Vernon’s Mistress, named lsa, busied herself with arranging chilled wine, though her increasing nervousness was palpable.

The Dragonlords then completed their safety sweep, and Vernon was ushered inside. lsa served the wine in the bedroom. Vernon confided to a Dragonlord, “I think she’s getting weary of all this.”

The Dragonlord probably responded nonchalantly. His duty was to protect a Vorgan, not to necessarily like him. Vernon retreated to the bedroom and closed the door. lsa followed suit and seemed to cast a spell on the door.

“What’s that, darling?”

“A soundproofing spell. I just bought it.”

His chuckle broke the silence. “The Dragonlords unnerving you?”

She nodded in agreement.

“I can see it’s starting to wear on you.”

She confirmed with another nod before pouring them glasses of wine.

After the usual hours passed without Vernon’s appearance, the Dragonlords knocked on the door. When there was no response, they forced the door open, only to find Vernon’s lifeless body on the bed, a Norsanti knife embedded in his chest. They wondered why they hadn’t heard any outcry or the window opening. lsa was found unconscious beside him, seemingly drugged. They couldn’t explain how the drugs ended up in the wine, and lsa was too out of it to provide any answers.

Naturally, suspicion fell on her, but they were unable to prove that lsa had accepted money to stage this. She vanished a few months later and is thriving somewhere to this day, under a different name, living in a place I choose not to disclose.

* * * *

The widely accepted notion is that if someone could muster the strength to physically move the colossal wheel known as the Cycle, the current House’s reign would end, ushering in the next. However, it is also believed that this would demand the power to overcome the immense forces of history, tradition, and will, which sustain the Cycle’s rotation. Consequently, it seems like a moot point. As I observed it, even imagining someone with the strength to shift this gigantic wheel seemed far-fetched.

That’s essentially what it was—a huge wheel affixed to a wall in the middle of nowhere. Engraved on the wheel were symbolic representations of all seventeen Houses. The Fenghuang held the superior position, with the Dragon set to follow, and the Lurivox just having completed its turn. It would be a profound moment to witness the transition, signaling the passing of another epoch in Imperion’s history. At that juncture, the Empress may choose to abdicate, or she might have done so already, or plan to do so, or she could even resist, resulting in bloodshed in the Empire until the political and mystical realms reconciled. When could this happen? Tomorrow? Or a thousand years from now?

Everyone I consulted affirmed that this object represents the Cycle in its entirety, not merely its physical aspect. I couldn’t comprehend that, but if you can, well, kudos to you.

Casting a glance at Drevolan and Thaleia, I noticed their faces mirroring my awe as they studied the Cycle.

“Boss, the Tivn won’t last indefinitely,” Opal reminded me.

“Thanks, Opal,” I responded. “Okay, everyone, we need to get started on whatever we’re going to do.”

They shifted their gaze between me, each other, the ground, and then back to the Cycle. None of us had a clue about the next step. With a sigh, I turned my back on them and resumed my contemplation of the endless sea.

* * * *

I can’t say that the final look in Vernon’s eyes—when the Norsanti dagger pierced him—or his death cry as his soul perished, haunts me. He got what he deserved, plain and simple.

However, handling that weapon never grew less unnerving for me. It was the epitome of a predator, detesting everything, and would have been as content to obliterate me as it was Vernon. Norsanti weapons instill a deep-seated fear in me, and dealing with them will never be a comfortable task. I suppose it’s all part and parcel of the job.

This incident did lead to a few days of internal conflict, though. Not for Vernon, but it forced me to confront a fact I had been sidelining for over a year: I was being compensated to assassinate people.

No, to be precise, I was being paid to exterminate Imperions; Imperions who had tormented me for over seventeen years. Why shouldn’t I allow them to bring some joy to my life instead? Opal’s input was no help at all in this, given his predatory and scavenging nature.

I was uncertain whether I was fabricating justifications that would eventually crumble. However, I could only tolerate a couple of days of this doubt. I managed to suppress these thoughts, and, honestly, they haven’t troubled me since.

Maybe they will resurface someday, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

* * * *