“You mock, but you’re not entirely wrong. It is about sacrifice, Meffrit. The greatest any one of us can do is give of ourselves to another. We teach children this through sharing. We teach the commonfolk by their time spent in churches and their offerings given as alms and charity. But the sacrifice goes on and on. Soldiers, spilling their blood on the battlefield. Magistrates and paragons, dedicating years in service to the divine. Through sacrifice, this sinful, chaotic world is forced into a better way. Sacrifice is the splint that will allow the broken bone to mend. If everyone in Gadir engaged in such selflessness and humility, the strife of our world would end in a day.”

“Yeah?” Arn asked. “And what great sacrifice have you done? Given up a few meals to pray instead? Read some books in a warm, comfy library while others were busy breaking their backs in fields or sweating away in shops?”

Jarvis pulled back his shoulders and tilted his chin. For all his talk of humility, there was no hiding the pride dripping from his every word.

“Everything, Meffrit. I will one day give everything, all so another might lift their sword high as a loyal paragon of the empire.”

The realization hit Arn’s gut harder than the waves. He pretended to have another bout of sickness. He didn’t dare risk giving away his true shock. Someone on the island was preparing to break all the rules of the Uplifted Church. The acolytes… He should have realized it sooner, given the fervor of their devotion, or how there were ten of them in total. Ten, the exact number for the sacrifice required to create a paragon. They weren’t just acolytes. They were the ultimate faithful, the men and women who would cut their own throats with a smile on their faces and a song on their lips.

They were Seeds, come to shed their blood on Thanese soil.

Someone’s playing games in the shadows, he wondered as he stared into the distance. But who?

Too many questions, to which he could only offer guesses. He would have to wait until arriving at Vallessau for answers.

“Be well,” Jarvis said, and he patted a pitying hand on Arn’s shoulder. “I shall pray for your health.”

“Joy,” he muttered.

One month, he thought. One bloody more month…

CHAPTER 16

CYRUS