The Empire does not ask you to bleed for it. It simply takes what it is owed.
For untold generations, every subject of the Empire has paid the Founding Levy, a sacred debt, so the old tellings say, drawn from blood and breath in careful, survivable measure, a gift once given freely to secure a throne...
The throne has stood empty for years. That was supposed to be the hard part.
Reynard Ashcarrow buried his daughter on a lonely peninsula and buried his grief in four years of careful, patient conquest. He has told himself, every single day since, that enough force can eventually answer a question legitimacy never could. Now his war has an army, a...
The war is over. The throne is empty. And peace is already beginning to kill people.
Four months after the fighting ends, the empire is coming apart in quieter ways. Old laws remain in force. Border disputes turn bloody. Houses that once stood together are beginning to remember their rivalries, and no one holds enough authority to stop the next...
