The procession back toward the capital was an absurd, but merry one. Two sleeping boys rode at the front, on the back of an oxcart, while a hundred mounted lords in much finer mounts but in every state of disarray and disrobement clamored for space near the front on trails and onto ferries that were too small to fit all of them.

  It was when the first half of the cavalcade approached the city-side shore of the Blue River that I first got the sense that something was wrong.

  At first, farmers had halted in their work to stop and stare at the strange parade, and then, when word had traveled ahead that the Emperor had been found, villagers began lining the streets, cheering and singing a song I had never heard before. Yet they all seemed to know it by heart, which was strange, because it seemed to mirror the events of the evening, perfectly.

  I cannot remember the words exactly, but it was about how two boys escaped from a serpent, because it drowned in its own ambition. Guiding lights rose up from the river to lead them to good farmers and lords. One ox gave birth, another gave safety, a third ox carried them home.

  “Brothers, brothers, always brothers; I won’t trade my brother for knives,” it ended. I remembered that part perfectly, at least.

  But as the song echoed from the village-side of the river, far behind us now, I realized that those who awaited us outside the capital were not singing. They were grim and dark and, as we drew nearer, I realized they were all dressed in black. Not dressed, no. Armored.

  “Stop the ferry,” I whispered to the man beside me, who just happened to be Noble Lion. His smile faded and he looked confused.

  “Stop the ferry!” I shouted to the ferrymen, pulling on the ropes myself to no avail.

  “Huh?”

  “I said stop the ferry,” I drew my sword and leveled it at the man, whose eyes went immediately wide.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” he said. “It doesn’t work that way. Too much weight on it just now.”

  The ferry ground into the dock of the City of Lanterns and while no one aboard the ferry moved now, I heard hooks clatter to the deck and draw tight.

  I cast a desperate look behind me, far across the wide Blue River, where at least half of the collected lords still waited and sang with the farmers. As the ominous silence around me spread from our side of the river to theirs, the singing died on the wind.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I heard Noble Lion raise his voice, the challenge clear in it.

  I pushed my way to the front of the barge to see a lean, powerful man bedecked in iron armor and shaggy, gray wolf pelts. His hand was on his sword, still sheathed, but the way he prowled forward onto the deck bespoke more danger than any brandished blade. He threw an iron pendant at our feet.

  DREADWOLF

  RANK 108: Imperial Protector of Wolfswood Province

  WORTH: 4,000 dan

  CLAN: Gray Wolf | STAR: Silver

  FATE: Leaf-Iron “Inner Truth”

  MANDATE: Intention Reading

  “I heard,” rumbled Dreadwolf, head of his own Gray Wolf clan and one of the most powerful warlords who had not deigned to appear in court after crushing the rebels, “that the Emperor needs protecting.”

  The thousand gray-clad, iron-plated, crossbow-wielding troops standing at his back agreed with him.

  ***

  Stolen novel; please report.

  We might have drawn swords and charged through them had we been absolutely certain of Dreadwolf’s intentions. We might have even succeeded in breaking through, placing the Emperor back on his own throne, and shutting out the Gray Wolf clan from the city walls, had the hundred or so lords not been split among the two banks of the river.

  One hundred to one thousand? Ten to one? After the initial shredding of crossbow bolts, we might have been enough to cut through and make a desperate fighting retreat, depending upon the Mandates involved. But twenty to one? We’d be shot down before we made it ten steps.

  Any officer worth his salt knew that to engage here and now was tantamount to suicide, and it would be putting the Emperor and heir in danger besides. Any politician worth his grain would know that we had no real reason for attacking Dreadwolf outright. Not at this stage.

  But as the lion stared down the wolf, as the up-and-coming general faced off against the head of a clan and an Imperial Protector of a Province, the lines of right and wrong, rank and power, justified action and warmongering only grew murkier.

  “Is this rebellion then, Wolf?” asked the noble friend by my side, knowing the score as well as I did. “You know the law. Marching an army into the capital is punishable by death.”

  “Rebellion? Death??” Dreadwolf paused long enough to look hurt, before resuming his padding across the deck. “Why no. I was invited by my good friend He Jin. I think I have the letter… somewhere. Ah, here it is. It said something about the Emperor being in danger. Ah, here. ‘Imperial Grand Marshal requesting troops from the Provinces to head off a potential coup within the palace.’ I came as quickly as I could. I even had my minister submit the paperwork. I assure you, young cub, it's all very official.”

  An attendant appeared beside him to hand Dreadwolf a scroll, and he didn’t even bother looking at it as he passed it forward to Lion, who read it with mounting confusion.

  “Forgery!” Noble Lion decreed. “The attack only happened tonight. It would have taken you weeks to march from Wolf’s Hollow.”

  “I don’t know about any attack tonight. After all, I only got here this morning. But when I did arrive, you can imagine my surprise when the ministers told me that supposedly loyal subjects of the Emperor had abducted his majesty and taken him across the river. You wouldn’t happen to be those supposedly loyal subjects turned traitor, would you?”

  Dreadwolf cast a narrowed eye over the assembled lords, still crammed atop the ferry like saltfish in a barrel.

  Lion faltered for a moment, but knew better than to dignify the implicit accusation with a response. “Why would the Imperial Marshal invite you, of all people, to the capital with your armies? You didn’t even care enough to attend his meetings when the last Emperor was ill.”

  “Hmm, I’m trying to remember. It was something about the eunuchs and empresses, perhaps. Something about the Emperor needing a… what was it? Oh yes. Villain.” The wolf smiled a toothy smile.

  I blanched.

  So the Marshal had put things in motion on his own. He had sent the summons to the provinces, even when the lords in his meetings hadn’t supported his plans to slay the Ten Imperial Attendants. Dreadwolf was not lying.

  Only… how could the Imperial Marshal have been so stupid? How could an ox think to invite a wolf into the herd and expect anything other than slaughter and chaos.

  “Now, Lion,” Dreadwolf started as if speaking to a naughty child, “Are you going to release the Emperor into my protection? Or have the petty lords of the land finally turned rebel?” The wolf stopped prowling, and somehow he seemed even more dangerous when motionless.

  There was a cool, earthy smell as Noble Lion reached for his Mandate from his Yellow Star, and the earth beneath the river rumbled. In response I felt… nothing from Dreadwolf. Nothing but a grim smile and the cocking of crossbows behind him. I had seen Noble Lion use his powers on more than one occasion. And his Mandate was powerful, certainly. But was it faster than a crossbow bolt? If he summoned a wave of earthen blocks, could he raise up a wall before he was pincushioned? Even if he were willing to give up his own life, could he kill the wolf in time, or build a guarded path for the Emperor to escape?

  I placed a hand on my friend’s arm and saw the answers to all of those questions in the slumping of his shoulders.

  There was nothing Noble Lion nor I nor any of the assembled lords could do now to stop Dreadwolf from taking custody of the Emperor. The only matters left undecided were how many people were going to die in the process and how far was Dreadwolf going to take it. The provincial warlord’s smile said he knew as much, as my friend’s aura dissipated like so much clay washing down the banks.

  But there was no need to prostrate ourselves at Dreadwolf’s feet. If the villain was maintaining the act, then so would we. It was the only way to save any face now.

  “I’m sure the Emperor would thank you,” I said to Dreadwolf, “if you were to join us in escorting him back to his palace without delay. He has many things to set right, now that we’ve taken care of the traitors.”

  Eh. It was the best I could do given the circumstances. And at least no one else would do any killing without calling it what it was: murder.

  “No need to trouble yourselves, my lords. You all look very tired and in need of a good rest. Feel free to retire. My forces and I will take it from here.”

  The rest of the march back to the palace had turned from a parade to a funeral procession, and in the next few months, we would get well acquainted with funerals.