Page 100 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
Tarshi and Taveth emerged from the crowd, walking close together but not quite touching. Taveth still looked gaunt, thecrystal's poison having taken a terrible toll on his body, but his eyes were clear and alive in a way they hadn't been for months. He had found that he alone still possessed the dark abilities to manipulate the shadows, but the voices were gone, and he was in complete control. I had even heard him laugh on occasion, a sound that still shocked us all. Tarshi hovered near him with the careful attention of someone who had almost lost everything and wasn't taking any chances.
"Well," Marcus said, his voice gruff with emotion, "I suppose that's it then. The Republic is born."
"Fragile as a newborn," Antonius added, but there was warmth in his tone. "But alive."
I looked around at these people who had become my family in the crucible of war and revolution, and felt something shift in my chest. A loosening, perhaps, of the tight knot of responsibility that had lived there for so long.
"I have something to tell you all," I said. "Something I've been thinking about for a while."
Livia pulled away from Septimus to take my hand, and I could see the concern in her eyes. She had watched me drive myself to exhaustion these past months, had seen me struggle with the weight of rebuilding a world.
"I'm stepping back," I said simply. "Not abandoning the Republic, but... stepping back. The council is strong enough to govern without me hovering over every decision. The people have their voice, the Talfen have their representative, the military answers to civilian authority. My job was to build the bridge from Empire to Republic, and that bridge is built."
"Jalend," Livia started, but I shook my head gently.
"I promised you I never wanted a throne," I said, meeting her eyes. "I meant it. My duty was to give the world a chance to be free. Now I need to remember how to live. And I think you do too."
Marcus nodded slowly, understanding in his weathered features. "The boy's got the right of it," he said. "Revolution's one thing, but healing's another. And we all need some healing."
"What are you thinking?" Septimus asked, speaking for the first time since the ceremony ended.
I took a breath, tasting the possibility of a future that wasn't defined by duty and blood and the weight of crowns.
"My mother had an estate," I said. "Up north, near the Talfen borders. It's been abandoned for over a decade, since she died, but it's still there. Quiet fields, empty halls, a place where no one would look for the son of an emperor or the heroes of a revolution. A place where we could just be... ourselves."
I could see it in my mind as clearly as if I were standing there—rolling fields of wildflowers, ancient oak trees that had sheltered my childhood games, the old manor house with its wide windows that caught the morning light. I remembered my mother's laughter echoing through those halls, the way she used to gather flowers for the dinner table, the cool northern air that carried the scent of pine and possibility.
"It sounds like paradise," Taveth said quietly, and Tarshi's face softened with something that might have been tears.
"It sounds like work," Marcus grumbled, but he was smiling. "Old estate probably needs everything fixed. Roof, walls, the whole lot."
"Good thing we know how to work," Antonius replied, elbowing his old friend in the ribs.
“Fields though? If we took supplies with us, we could maybe get some crops in this season…” Marcus mused, and I smiled.
Livia was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "You mean it? We can just... go? Leave all this behind?"
"Not behind," I said, squeezing her hand. "But we can step away from it for a while. Let the Republic find its feet. Letourselves remember who we are when we're not fighting for our lives."
She nodded, and I could see the weight lifting from her shoulders the way it was lifting from mine. My heart lifted at the thought of her sitting in the drawing room, her feet curled up under her as I read to her, the afternoon sunlight playing across her face. At peace. Happy. It was all I had ever wanted for her and now I could give her it. My father had destroyed her home and her family. It hadn't been me, but I still felt responsible somehow. I couldn't bring them back, but now I could give her another home, and a place where she could build a family of her own, surrounded by men who adored her.
We walked out of the arena together, past the banners of the new Republic and the citizens who were already beginning to imagine what their new world might look like. The late afternoon sun slanted through the great archways, casting long shadows that spoke of endings and beginnings in equal measure.
Outside, the capital bustled with the energy of rebuilding. Imperial symbols had been torn down and replaced with new ones—the simple but elegant designs that spoke of unity rather than domination. In the markets, Talfen crafters worked alongside Imperial artisans, their different traditions blending in ways that created something entirely new. I saw a blacksmith—clearly Imperial by his build—taking instruction from a slight Talfen woman on how to work their distinctive blue steel. Nearby, a group of children played a game that seemed to mix Imperial and Talfen rules, their laughter carrying over the noise of commerce.
As we passed through the crowd, people noticed us. A former gladiator—I could tell by the scars on his arms—bowed deeply to Livia, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She stopped to clasp his hands, speaking quietly to him in words I couldn't hear but that made him stand straighter with something like pride.
A Talfen child, no more than seven or eight, approached Marcus with a carved wooden figure in her small hands. It was clearly meant to be him—the grey beard was unmistakable—and she offered it with the shy smile of someone giving a gift to a hero. Marcus knelt to accept it with all the solemnity the moment deserved, and I saw him slip something from his own pocket into her hands in return.
Overhead, Sirrax's shadow swept across the street, a living symbol of freedom fulfilled. Other dragons had joined him, flying in loose formation over the city—not as weapons or tools, but as citizens of this new world we had built. People stopped to point and wave, children calling out greetings that some of the dragons actually seemed to acknowledge with tilted heads or gentle rumbles.
I felt both fragile and hopeful as we made our way through the crowds, my wound aching but my heart lighter than it had been in months. The Empire was gone, truly gone, buried in the ashes of its own cruelty. The Republic was newborn, fragile and uncertain but alive with possibility. And for the first time since I had learned my true name, I could imagine a future that belonged to us rather than to duty and blood and the endless weight of crowns.
The Empire was gone. The Republic was newborn. And for the first time, I dared to imagine a brighter future for all of us.
33
Jalend’s mother’s estate looked nothing like a palace, and that was exactly why I loved it.
