Page 91 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"I trusted you," I said, staring at Kalen as the terrible truth began to dawn. "We all did. The entire resistance."
"And that trust was not misplaced," Kalen replied, his voice still infuriatingly calm. "I am doing what needs to be done. What no one else has the courage to do."
"Murdering children isn't courage," I spat. "It's cowardice."
Something flickered in Kalen's eyes then—a cold, hard glint that I had never seen before. "It's necessary," he said again. "With the hundreds of deaths today, the people of the Empire will finally understand the consequences of their indifference. They will know fear. They will know loss. And they will know that the resistance is to be taken seriously."
A new, more terrible suspicion took root in my mind. "Or is that even what you want?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Hundreds of deaths—imperial citizens, innocents, children—at the hands of the 'resistance.' What does that accomplish, Kalen? Who does that serve?"
He didn't answer, but something in his expression—a subtle shift, a tightening around the eyes—told me I had struck closer to the truth than he liked.
"You're not resistance at all, are you?" The words felt like acid on my tongue. "You're Imperial. This whole thing—the bombs, the civilians—it's a setup. A way to turn public opinion against the Talfen, against anyone who opposes the Empire."
"Very good, Tarshi," Kalen said softly, a new note in his voice—respect, perhaps, or simply resignation. "I wondered if you'd figure it out."
The world seemed to tilt beneath me, reality itself rearranging into a nightmare configuration. "All this time... you've been working for the Emperor?"
"For the Empire," he corrected. "For order. For the greater good." He paused, studying me with what seemed like genuine regret. "The resistance was becoming too popular, gaining too much sympathy. That had to change."
"So you'll murder children," I said, bile rising in my throat. "Use their deaths to justify what? A purge? Martial law?"
"Whatever is necessary to restore order." He straightened, suddenly looking every inch the Imperial agent he truly was. "With today's tragedy—the brutal targeting of innocent familiesby Talfen terrorists—the public will demand action. They will support whatever measures are required to eliminate the threat. And all this tiresome sympathy for the Talfen will evaporate overnight."
I lunged against my bonds, hatred burning through me like wildfire. "I'll kill you for this," I promised, the words torn from some primal place deep within me. "I swear by all the gods, I will tear you apart with my bare hands."
Kalen regarded me with something like pity. "You won't have the chance, I'm afraid. This building is on the detonation list. Not one of yours, of course—we couldn't risk you having second thoughts about that particular target." He checked a small timepiece from his pocket. "In approximately two hours, it will collapse entirely. A regrettable casualty of the day's events."
My blood ran cold. "The others—Mira, the resistance members who aren't here today—they don't know, do they? They're innocent in this."
"Most of them," Kalen agreed. "Useful idiots, as my superiors would say. Though a few key figures have been... compromised for some time. Enough to ensure the plans proceeded as needed."
He turned to go, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "For what it's worth, I am sorry it came to this. You had potential, Tarshi. In another life, you might have been a valuable asset to the Empire."
I stared at him, hatred and despair warring within me. "In another life," I said, my voice a low growl, "you would never have been able to use me as your puppet."
Something like regret flickered across his face. Then he nodded to the men who had bound me. "Make sure he's secure. Then take your positions. We have less than an hour until the first detonation."
The two men gave my ropes a final, vicious tug before heading up the stairs, leaving me along with Kalen in the suffocating gloom.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you do something like this? Why would you do this to your own citizens, Kalen?”
He sighed, a sound of weary patience, as if explaining a simple truth to a slow-witted child. "Because the Empire is bleeding, Tarshi. Not from a swift, clean wound, but from a thousand small cuts. It’s infected with the cancer of dissent, of misplaced sympathy for our enemies. A cancer that, if left unchecked, will consume us all in the fires of civil war. Sympathizers, dissenters, idealists who have forgotten that our peace was built on a foundation of iron and blood. They weaken us from within, making us vulnerable. This... this is a necessary amputation. We cut off the gangrenous limb to save the body. The citizens who die today are a sacrifice—a tragic but essential sacrifice—to ensure the Empire's survival for another thousand years."
He gave a small, sad shake of his head. "You see, that's what you and your kind will never understand. You think in terms of individuals. Of feelings. We think in terms of history. Of legacy. Today, we forge a new legacy of Imperial unity, consecrated in blood and fear."
He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A surgeon must sometimes cut away healthy flesh to stop the spread of gangrene. Today, we perform that surgery. We remind them of the enemy at their gates. We remind them that their safety is not a right, but a privilege granted by a strong hand. By the time the sun sets on this city, they will be begging for the very chains they sought to cast off.”
He gave a final, almost gentle pat to my shoulder. “Do not despair. Your death, and the deaths of hundreds more, will serve a noble purpose. It will save the Empire from itself. Today, you die. Tomorrow the Emperor will have the backing of every nobleand peasant in the Empire to invade the Talfen homeland and wipe every one of you demons from the earth.”
His words hit me like physical blows, each one driving home the enormity of what was about to happen. I stared at him, this man I had trusted, had believed in, trying to reconcile the passionate resistance leader with the cold-eyed Imperial agent who stood before me now.
"You won't succeed," I said, my voice raw with desperation and rage. "There are good people in the Empire. They'll see through this. They'll know the truth."
Kalen smiled—a small, pitying expression that chilled my blood. "Will they? The same good people who have stood by for generations while the Talfen were hunted and enslaved? The same good people who cheer at executions and toast the Emperor's health?" He shook his head. "No, Tarshi. They will see what we want them to see. They will believe what is easier to believe—that monsters struck at the heart of their civilization, and only the Empire's firm hand can protect them."
I lunged against my bonds again, feeling the ropes cut deeper into my wrists. Blood trickled down my forearms, hot and slick. "I won't let you do this," I snarled, abandoning reason for pure, animal fury. "I'll stop you. Somehow, I'll stop you."
"You already helped me do it," he reminded me, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Your anger, your pain, your desire for revenge—they made you the perfect tool. Just as the resistance itself was the perfect tool to justify what comes next."
