Page 30 of Realms of Swords and Storms
Marcus paused, his expression darkening. "You can't fight dragons in the open," he said bluntly. "Your only defines is to stay where they can't effectively target you without destroying valuable Imperial property. Narrow streets. Markets. Places where collateral damage would be unacceptable."
As the debate evolved into practical planning, I felt Tarshi's hand slip into mine, squeezing gently. "He's good at this," he murmured.
"He was a soldier before he was a gladiator," I whispered back. "He rarely talks about it."
The tension in the room gradually transformed into focused energy as the plan evolved from bold but reckless to calculated and strategic. Kalen reorganized the cell leaders, assigning new positions based on Marcus's suggestions.
"We need signals," Antonius contributed, his deep voice carrying easily. "Something subtle that can pass messages across districts when the soldiers start moving."
"Coloured flags," someone suggested.
"Too obvious," Antonius countered. "Street vendors. Different calls for different warnings. The soldiers won't notice what they hear every day."
The idea sparked a flurry of suggestions, and soon a simple code was established—different vendor calls to signal safety, danger, or retreat.
"This might actually work," Marcus murmured as he returned to sit beside me. There was something new in his eyes—a spark I hadn't seen since our days in the ludus. Purpose.
As the meeting continued, detailed plans emerged: the timing of demonstrations, the distribution of pamphlets, the presence of medics disguised as ordinary citizens, ready to treat any injured.
"And what of those who cannot run?" a soft voice asked from the corner. An elderly half-Talfen woman leaned heavily on a cane, her pointed ears prominently displayed despite the risk. "The old, the very young, those of us who would be immediately recognized?"
A sombre silence fell over the room. Not everyone could participate directly without extreme danger.
"You will be our eyes," Mira said after a moment. "Watching from windows, from doorways. Sending signals. And you will be our memory—recording what happens, ensuring the truth spreads no matter the outcome."
The old woman nodded, satisfied.
"There's something else," Darius said, his voice dropping lower. "Something you should all know." He looked around the room, his face grim. "The troops being brought in from the northern border—they're not just soldiers. They're veterans of the Talfen campaigns, men who've been taught that half-bloods are abominations to be purged."
The room grew still, the weight of his words settling like lead.
"Three weeks ago," he continued, "my unit was ordered to cross the border and 'secure' a Talfen settlement. It wasn't a military target—just families. Women, children." His voice grew ragged. "We were ordered to kill everyone. No prisoners, no witnesses."
"Did you?" Antonius asked, his voice like granite.
Darius met his gaze steadily. "I refused. Was beaten and left for dead. But not before I saw what they did to that village. Houses burned with people trapped inside. Children cut down as they ran." His eyes swept the room. "That's who's coming to the capital. Men who've been trained to see anyone with Talfen blood as less than human."
A terrible silence followed his words. I stared at Darius, a chill spreading through me as I recognized the echoes of my own village's destruction in his account.
"It's happening again," Antonius whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just like my village."
"This changes everything," someone said.
"No," Kalen replied firmly. "This confirms why we must act. If these men are brought into the city unchallenged, if the populace accepts their presence without protest, it will only be a matter of time before we face a purge within our own walls."
"Then we don't just demonstrate," Mira added. "We inform. Every pamphlet carries this truth. Every citizen learns what's being done in their name at the border."
As the meeting refocused with renewed determination, I found myself studying Antonius's face. The revelation about the village had struck him deeply—I could see it in the tight lines around his mouth, the distant look in his eyes as he stared unseeing at the floor.
"Are you alright?" I asked softly.
He nodded jerkily but didn't meet my eyes. "I need some air."
Before I could respond, he rose and moved toward the stairs. After a moment's hesitation, I followed, catching Tarshi's eye to let him know where I was going.
I found Antonius in the small courtyard behind the tavern, his back to me as he leaned against a stone wall, head bowed. The night air was cool against my skin, a welcome relief after the stuffy cellar.
"Antonius," I said gently, approaching slowly.
