The pyramid crouched at the end of the Way of Prayer, surrounded by the smaller, lesser palaces of the council and of the Singer’s family and confidants. The wide plaza before the pyramid was thronged with more citizens, and it was soon full to capacity as the Melody marched in to accept their cheers. The slave and dog warriors gaped up at the pyramid and their wonder was a tonic to Pilos’s nerves. This is why we do what we do. This is glory. This is Empire.

In a rare show of support, the Singer himself appeared on the flat platform at the pinnacle of the pyramid, surrounded by four tall columns carved with images of the first Singers and Setatmeh. Above the Singer reared the songstone cap, through which his magic and his song poured, spreading across the Empire in a slow, rich tide, like golden honey.

Pilos knelt, the Melody and crowd following suit. Silence, but for the tap of rain on the limestone road and the song, brassy with triumph and loud with power, ringing through them all. Pilos breathed in stone and rain and home and song and triumph. He could have longed for bright sun to show his warriors in their finery, the glint of obsidian and the rich flashes of their feathers and the paint on their arms, but this was somehow more suitable. Within the dull greyness of rain, under a moody, malevolent sky, the Melody was a dark force, ripe with power, rich with violence. No one seeing them could doubt their strength.

The High Feather waited until the song’s pitch changed before looking up; the Singer was gone but in the pyramid’s entrance waited members of the council. Another honour he hadn’t expected. But not just councillors, he noted as he and Atu began the long climb towards them. Singer Xac was surrounding himself with his faithful, men and women who supported him in all things, sycophants who would hang from his every utterance and who would deny him nothing in the hopes of securing his blessing when the time of his ascension was upon him.

Pilos was three years into the eight-year cycle of his other role as Spear of the Singer, the second of the holy lord’s closest advisers, and these days he was increasingly tasked with working for the glory of the Empire and holding together the fractious council, while the Singer’s favourites worked only for the glory of their future selves. As for Enet, the Spear of the City, she was cunning enough to not only appear diligent in her administration while in reality shifting many of her duties to others, but had risen to be the Singer’s primary courtesan. The combination had secured her place in the very heart of the Empire of Songs, and, according to Pilos’s latest information, her power was said to be second only to the Singer’s.