Page 1 of Ironhold, Trial Three

Prologue

“Can someone explain to me why the unrest has not been brought under control?” Tiberius bellowed to his advisors, his anger rippling out around the room.

Emperor Tiberius VI of the Aetherian Empire was not happy. He so rarely was these days in his councils of advisors. He stood at the head of the table, because he preferred to stand rather than sit in the carved ivory throne that had belonged to his ancestors. He passed in front of the table, which showed a model of the city, maps of the wider empire set out around it almost as an afterthought.

Aetheria was the center of the world; everything else was secondary. A dozen or more of his advisors were seated around it. Most of them looked nervous. They were right to.

“We quell each piece as it arises, but the issue is that somanypeople are discontented. Some of them hate you, Tiberius.”

If anyone other than the arch magistrate, Selene Ravencroft, had said that, Tiberius might have lashed out without thinking. But he knew to be careful with her. She was an unassuming-looking woman in her thirties with strange white hair, but her eyes were filled with power.

Like Tiberius' own. He was older than Selene by a few years, into his forties now, his dark hair receding slightly, his frame lean and tall. He wore the purple toga of the emperors, where the others had to make do with whatever finery they could manage. Somehow, all their gold and embroidery wasn't nearly as impressive as the purple. It didn't embody the same power over the world.

Not that Tiberius lacked gold. A golden circle of laurel leaves sat atop his brow, proclaiming his status as the ruler of the empire. On days like this, it felt more like a chore than an honor.

“Whyare they discontented?” Tiberius demanded. “They have broken windows, burned houses, shouted for my death! Why?”

He gestured to the map. “They live in the greatest city in the world. They have wonders in their lives thanks to magic that others can only dream of. Most of them have minor magics of their own. They live at the heart of the empire. And yet they complain?”

"They do more than complain," Lord Darius said. He was a former gladiator, now Tiberius' right-hand man when it came to the Colosseum at the heart of the city. He and Selene organized the games between them. He also handled whatever Tiberius needed in Ironhold, the great fortress that trained the gladiators. "Some of them have been attacking guards."

“Then have those ones impaled, or thrown to the beasts in the arena,” Tiberius said. Did he have to think of everything? His anger was only rising.

"And yet the more you kill, the more there are," Lady Elara said. She was Tiberius' age, with dark hair and features that had retained their beauty despite the years. She wore a gown of white, trimmed with gold.

“You would suggest something else?” Tiberius demanded.

"The more you try to crush a man, the more he rises up," Elara said. "And violence doesn't take away problems like hunger. The grain ships have been late. Aetheria has magic and steel, but food matters more than either."

“You’re just presenting me with more problems!” Tiberius snapped. “Release grain from our stores. That will help pacify them.”

“The emperor is wise,” Lady Elara said. “There has also been some discontent over the issue of beast whisperers.”

“Why?” Flavius, the master of the guards, asked. “Because you have been spreading rumors about them?”

“My lord Flavius, I am not one to spread unfounded rumors,” Lady Elara insisted.

"No," Lord Darius said. "You prefer your parties and your illusions. Endless things that don't add to the city. And it's not hard to see why you're so interested in beast whisperers, given that you're consorting with one. She's meant to be a gladiator, Elara, not your plaything."

Tiberius knew who they were talking about. How could he not when he'd seen her fighting in the colosseum?

“I still don't see why you don't just have the gladiator Lyra killed,” Flavius said.

"Because that is not how the Colosseumworks,” Tiberius said. “It will be viewed as an offence to the gods, and even I will not risk their wrath.”

The truth was more complicated than that. Everyone had heard about Tiberius' prophecy that a beast whisperer would lead to his fall. Yet that was not exactly what he'd seen. It wasn't quite how his power worked.

Magic was so common in Aetheria that it was easy to believe it was understood, yet that was far from the case. Magic flowed outwards from the stone deep beneath the city. It was fed by violence and power. It meant that many of the citizens were born with minor magical talents, and a few had considerable power.

Tiberius was one of the strongest, born to a line noted for their unique gifts. His talent was the controlling time: chronomancy. He got flashes of the future, glimpses of the weave of possibilities. He had seen that there were threats to the empire, but also opportunities for it to build its strength still further. He knew that a beast whisperer would be the catalyst for all of it.

For a long time, he had focused on the danger to himself. He had made sure that beast whisperers were persecuted, that they would never be in positions to be a threat to him. But now therewas the gladiator, Lyra, brought to the city from some small town on the coast.

She should have died. The policy when it came to beast whisperers in the arena was clear. They were thrown in against the most difficult challenges, and they were killed quickly for the entertainment of the crowd. Yet Lyra had survived two seasons of games on the holy days. She had shown her strength.

Did that make her dangerous or interesting? Did it mean she was something to be destroyed or something that might be beneficial to the empire? In this, even Tiberius couldn't see for sure.

He had to rely on his instincts, where some of his ancestors might have been able to see perfectly. They had built their empire by picking through the possibilities, judging what would be best for their family, and for the city. Not that there had been any real difference in those days. Tiberius couldn't see the end of every thread. He had to judge the meaning for himself, and he wasn't quite sure how to judge Lyra Thornwind.

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