“I owe you much,” he said. “And I will repay it as best I can. What would you ask of me? Is it to use my family name? My status?”

The older man crossed his arms and stared at Cyrus with those red eyes for an uncomfortably long time. What was he searching for? Or was he measuring him up, and judging him? Cyrus refused to break before that stare, and he waited until Thorda suddenly resumed speaking.

“I have partaken in seven different resistance movements over the past twenty-five years. The empire dreads my influence, though they know me only by lies and pseudonyms. Their soldiers have learned to fear the arrival of my daughters, the bloody Ax of Lahareed and whatever new form Mari assumes with the land’s slain deities. We fight, we kill, and we make the empire suffer. And even when we lose, the seeds of rebellion are sown, and they will sprout again, and again, until Everlorn crumbles underneath the weight of an entire continent.”

“Has any nation won their freedom?” Cyrus asked, daring to feel hope that Thanet may be the next. Thorda’s face darkened briefly.

“No, Cyrus. Not completely. Eventually the furious empire sends its armies and paragons to overwhelm my rebellions. Every single time, I make them regret the sheer blood and cost it requires. The Everlorn Empire is a tremendous monster, and it will not die to a single blow, but instead bleed out from a dozen gashes. Given the current circumstances, I am hoping Thanet will draw out that fatal drop.”

“Us?” Cyrus asked. “What’s so special about Thanet?”

“Thanet is months from the nearest mainland port of Garlea,” Thorda explained. “Reinforcements will take obscene amounts of time to arrive. Communications from Everlorn and with the Uplifted Church shall carry tremendous delays. Above all, feeding an army is expensive, and vastly more so when forced onto ships for months. All this will strain at the imperial presence. By outmaneuvering the distant, lumbering empire, I do believe we can reestablish your seat upon the throne.”

The older man hesitated.

“But all that said, there is no way to overstate the catastrophic damage we suffered yesterday. There are three key losses that are irrevocably linked together. They will wound the hearts and minds of Thanet, and unless we heal them, our chances of recovery are nonexistent.”

Thorda held up a fist, and he raised a finger for each of his three points.

“Lycaena’s execution, the resistance’s defeat, and the end of the Lythan family line. If we are to inspire a populace to war, we must undo this defeat, but how?”

Down went one finger.

“I cannot convince the people a defeat was not a defeat. So instead, we must heal the other two wounds in hopes of overcoming this damning one.”

Down went the second finger.