Chapter 151. Scheming Fiend

"We need to kill the emperor."

Both Adom and the Archmage were looking at Professor Kim, eyes wide, shock evident on their faces.

Kim stared back at them, completely unfazed. "What? It's true. You both know it's true."

The silence that followed was heavy. Adom's pulse picked up slightly. He glanced at the Archmage, who looked back at him with the same measured expression. Then they both turned their attention back to Kim.

The Archmage's foot began a quiet rhythm against the floor. Tap tap. Tap tap. Adom had never seen the Archmage do the tap tap thing before. This was serious.

And the thing was, Kim was absolutely right.

Adom had been thinking about it for three days now. Ever since the changeling incident had made it crystal clear that their current approach to the emperor problem wasn't working. The whole mess could have been avoided if they'd dealt with the root cause instead of constantly playing defense against the symptoms.

He suspected the Archmage had been having similar thoughts, based on the way the old man had been staring at his tea during their previous meetings and making noncommittal humming sounds whenever someone mentioned Imperial policy. There was a particular quality to the Archmage's silences lately that suggested he was working through scenarios in his head. Unpleasant scenarios that involved permanent solutions to temporary problems.

But there was a significant difference between thinking something and saying it. Kim had just crossed that line with the casual confidence of someone ordering breakfast. He'd taken the thought they'd all been carefully not voicing and dropped it on the table like an explosive crystal.

The silence stretched on.

Outside the tower windows, Adom could hear the steady rhythm of waves against the rocky shore below. The wind moved through the stone corridors with a low whistle, carrying the salt smell of the sea. Normal sounds of their isolated existence, completely removed from the world where people lived normal lives, unaware that three individuals were sitting in a room discussing regicide over afternoon tea.

Kim shifted in his chair, apparently unbothered by the weight of what he'd just suggested. "Look, we can all pretend I didn't say it, if that makes you more comfortable. We can go back to talking around the issue and using euphemisms like 'removing him from power' or 'neutralizing the threat.' But at some point, someone needs to acknowledge what we're actually discussing here."

Adom glanced at the Archmage again, who was still conducting his thorough examination of his teacup. The old man's face was carefully neutral, but there was something in his posture that suggested Kim's words had hit their mark.

Half-measures weren't going to cut it this time. They'd tried the diplomatic approach, the subtle approach, the wait-and-see approach. None of it had worked.

A warning wouldn't accomplish anything useful. The emperor had been receiving warnings for years, from various sources, about various things. He collected them like some people collected stamps. Official protests from neighboring kingdoms, strongly worded letters from concerned citizens, formal complaints from trade guilds whose members were getting squeezed by new taxes. All of it ended up filed away in some Imperial archive, carefully catalogued and completely ignored.

The emperor would nod politely, thank them for their concern, assure them that their input was valued, and then proceed to do exactly what he'd been planning to do anyway. Another strongly worded letter would just end up in the same filing cabinet as all the others, and next week there would be another incident involving Imperial overreach and poorly thought-out policies.

Economic pressure was a non-starter.

The emperor controlled the treasury, the major trade routes, and most of the significant merchant guilds. Trying to pressure him financially would be like trying to drown a fish. He could raise taxes, impose tariffs, seize assets, or simply debase the currency by mixing cheaper metals into the coins if he felt like it.

Any economic weapon they could bring to bear, he could counter with superior resources and legal authority.

Political maneuvering was equally useless. The Imperial Council was packed with loyalists and yes-men who would agree with the emperor if he declared that water was dry and fire was cold. Half of them owed their positions to Imperial favor, and the other half were too terrified of losing those positions to risk disagreeing with anything the emperor said.

Any attempt to work within the system would get bogged down in bureaucracy, committee meetings, and procedural delays. By the time they managed to navigate the maze of Imperial administration, the emperor would have implemented whatever disastrous policy they were trying to prevent, and they'd be back to dealing with the consequences instead of the cause.

Military action was theoretically possible but practically suicidal. The Imperial Army was large, well-trained, and generally loyal to whoever was signing their paychecks. Even if they could somehow convince a significant portion of the military to switch sides, the resulting civil war would probably kill more people than the emperor's policies ever had. And that was assuming they could win, which was far from guaranteed.

Throughout his reign, the emperor had survived three assassination attempts, one palace coups, and one full-scale rebellion in the past decade. He wasn't staying in power through luck or incompetence. He was genuinely good at the political survival game, which made him all the more dangerous as an opponent.

Which left them with the direct approach: Remove the emperor from the equation entirely, install someone more reasonable in his place, and hope the transition went smoothly enough to avoid complete chaos.

It wasn't a particularly pleasant option. It certainly wasn't the sort of thing any of them had imagined themselves discussing when they'd gotten into their respective fields. But it was the only approach that actually had a realistic chance of working.

Kim was still watching them, waiting to see if either of them would voice what they were all thinking. The Archmage had finally looked up from his teacup, but his expression was unreadable.

Adom realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out slowly, considering the weight of what they were contemplating. Once they started down this path, there would be no going back. No plausible deniability, no middle ground, no room for second thoughts.

And so...

"Yeah," Adom finally said, "the emperor has to go."

The Archmage finally set down his teacup.

"The thought has been haunting me for years," he said quietly. "Ever since the crown prince incident. Then the grain embargo two years ago. Then that business with the mining guilds last year." He paused, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "I find myself lying awake at night, running through scenarios. None of them pleasant."

Adom watched the old man's face. There was something almost relieved about his expression now, as if he'd been carrying a burden and had finally set it down.

"But the succession presents... complications," the Archmage continued. "Significant ones. We're not talking about removing a corrupt official or replacing an incompetent administrator. We're talking about breaking a bloodline that has ruled for centuries. The legitimacy question alone could tear the empire apart."

Kim leaned forward in his chair. "So we don't worry about legitimacy. The Magisterium takes control. Temporary emergency measure, of course. Just until we can establish a more... rational system of governance."

The Archmage's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah. I see where this is going."

"Think about it," Kim said, warming to his theme. "We have the magical expertise, the administrative experience, the respect of the educated classes. We could actually run things properly for once, instead of watching from the sidelines while everything falls apart."

"A technocracy."

"Exactly. Rule by competence instead of accident of birth. We take some time, maybe a few years, design a proper system. Find someone aligned with our goals, someone who actually understands how governance should work—"

"No." The word came out flat and final.

Kim blinked. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no, that's not happening." The Archmage's tone remained mild, but there was steel underneath it. "Do you have any idea how that would be received? The mages staging a coup? We'd have every noble house in the empire declaring war on us within a week."

"They couldn't win—"

"They wouldn't have to win. They'd just have to make the empire ungovernable." The Archmage shook his head. "The moment we take direct control, we become the enemy. Every failed harvest, every bandit raid, every trade dispute becomes our fault. Every ambitious lord with a claim to anything becomes a potential rebel leader. People already fear mages, Kim. Let us not add fuel to that fire."

Kim's jaw tightened. "So we're supposed to just accept the current system? Watch everything burn because we're afraid of political complications?"

"I'm suggesting we be strategic about this. If we want lasting change, we need legitimacy. We need someone with a genuine claim to the throne."

"Like who? Princess Marene?" Kim's voice carried a note of disdain. "She's exactly like her father, only more ambitious. Give her power and she'll be twice as destructive."

"Agreed. Marene would be..." The Archmage paused, searching for the right words. "Problematic."

"And Prince Ghorin's a coward," Kim continued. "Last I heard, he was practically living in Lord Varmond's pocket. Half the court thinks Varmond's already pulling his strings."

Adom shifted slightly in his chair. The name Varmond carried uncomfortable associations. The man had connections to several foreign interests, none of them particularly friendly to the empire's current borders.

"Also true," the Archmage acknowledged. "Ghorin would be a puppet ruler within a year. Possibly less."

"So what's left?" Kim spread his hands. "The ex crown prince is not viable. We're back to the technocracy option. At least we'd be competent puppets."

"The Magisterium has many strengths," the Archmage said patiently. "Governing is not among them. We're scholars, Kim. Researchers. We understand theory, not practice. Put us in charge of the empire and we'd probably have three different committees arguing about the optimal taxation rate while the treasury emptied and the provinces rebelled."

Kim opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair in a rapid, irregular pattern.

"Besides," the Archmage continued, "the moment we take power, we stop being neutral arbiters. We become political actors. Every decision we make becomes suspect. Every magical innovation gets viewed through the lens of political advantage. The trust we've built up over centuries disappears overnight."

"So we do nothing?" Kim's voice rose slightly. "We sit here discussing the problem while the emperor burns down everything we've spent our lives building?"

"I didn't say we do nothing. I said we need legitimacy."

"From where?" Kim demanded. "The emperor's children are disasters. The noble houses are either corrupt or compromised. The military's loyal to whoever pays them. Where exactly are we supposed to find this magical legitimate ruler who'll solve all our problems?"

The argument was starting to heat up.

Adom could see the signs—Kim's increasingly rapid gestures, the way the Archmage's voice was getting quieter and more precise. They were approaching the point where reasonable discussion would give way to entrenched positions and hurt feelings.

Which was unfortunate, because they were both missing something important.

Adom had been thinking about this for three days now. Not just about whether they should remove the emperor, but about what came next. The succession question. The legitimacy problem. The political complications.

And there was something they weren't considering. Someone they weren't considering.

He'd been hesitating to bring it up because it would change everything. Once he said it, they'd be committed to a very specific path forward. No more theoretical discussions about whether action was necessary. They'd be talking about who to approach, when to act, how to manage the transition.

But watching Kim and the Archmage argue in circles, he realized they weren't going to reach a solution on their own. They were both too focused on the obstacles to see the opportunity.

"Morgana Vi Savarnis is still alive," he said quietly.

The argument stopped mid-sentence. Both Kim and the Archmage turned to look at him, their expressions shifting from heated debate to sudden, intense focus.

The silence that followed was complete.

They didn't ask questions. They didn't demand explanations. They just waited, staring at him.

Adom settled back in his chair. "About six years ago, I freed a puma in the Dregs."

He paused, considering how much detail to include. The whole story would take time, and most of it wasn't relevant to their current problem.

"I saw her in a cage during some gang conflict. People shooting at each other, general chaos. I freed her during all that mess." He shrugged, very happy to skip the details. "She followed me afterward without me knowing. Took me days to realize I had a shadow."

The Archmage's eyebrows rose slightly. "A puma following you through the city seems like something you'd notice immediately."

"Well, that's the thing. She wasn't always a puma. Turned out she was cursed and could shift between a regular black house cat and her full puma form."

Kim's eyes started to widen. "You mean to tell me that cat from back then was—"

"Yes." Adom nodded. "It was Morgana."

"By Law's beard." Kim sat back in his chair as if he'd been physically pushed.

The Archmage leaned forward slightly. "How?"

"How what?"

"How did the emperor's niece, presumed dead for fifteen years, find herself in such a situation?"

"She didn't want to explain it to me. Still doesn't, as far as I know. I only figured out who she was about five years ago, when I was reading a journal paper saw a photograph of the imperial family from when she was a child. Same face, just older."

The Archmage's fingers drummed once against the table. "And you said nothing."

"What was I supposed to say?" Adom shook his head. "Besides, it wasn't my secret to tell."

Kim was still processing. "The people that had her caged—"

"A sort of criminal merchant group called the Silver Circle. They no longer exist."

"So what happened after you freed her?" the Archmage asked.

"I brought her to the Veyshari. They agreed to examine the curse and managed to lift it."

Kim whistled low. "And after they broke it?"

"She stayed for a few more weeks to recover, then left. Said she wanted to see the world after all this time."

"Where is she now?" Gaius asked.

"I don't know."

Kim looked like he wanted to shake Adom until more information fell out.

"She took to the sea," Adom continued. "With the Veyshari."

"But you stayed in contact?" the Archmage pressed.

"For a while. She used to send me and Sam letters fairly regularly. Nothing political, just travel stories. Descriptions of places she'd been, people she'd met. She seemed to be enjoying herself." Adom's expression darkened slightly. "But the letters stopped coming about a year ago."

"Stopped how?" Kim asked. "Did she say she was ending correspondence, or did they just—"

"They just stopped. Either she moved on without leaving a word, or..." He left the sentence hanging.

The implications settled over the room. There wasn't really a need to elaborate.

"Have you tried to locate her?" Gaius asked.

"I have some contacts in the merchant marine. They've been asking around, but discreetly. So far, nothing concrete. A few possible sightings in various port cities, but nothing we could confirm."

Kim was leaning forward now, his earlier agitation replaced by intense focus. "But she's definitely alive? As of a year ago?"

"As far as we know. The last letter was dated about thirteen months back. She was in Veridian at the time, working as a translator for some trading company." Adom paused, his expression thoughtful. "Though I think she might be building an army."

Kim's eyebrows shot up. "An army?"

"It's just... there's been talk. For the past year or so, merchants have been reporting strange things. Mercenary companies going quiet, private armies just disappearing. And it's always in the same places she was writing from." Adom rubbed his jaw. "Could be coincidence, but the timing matches up too well."

"What kind of talk?" the Archmage asked.

"Stories about a woman gathering forces. Buying out entire mercenary outfits, recruiting from disbanded military units, that sort of thing. Nobody's gotten a good look at her, but wherever she goes, sellswords start vanishing from the usual hiring markets."

Kim leaned forward. "And you think it's her?"

"I don't know for certain. Her letters were all perfectly normal. Complaints about the weather, descriptions of local food, stories about interesting people she'd met. Nothing that would suggest she was doing anything more dangerous than sightseeing." Adom shrugged. "But the pattern's there. She writes from a port city, and a few weeks later, half the mercenaries in the area have found new employment with some mysterious benefactor."

The Archmage went very still. "Her father's death was shrouded in mystery."

"What?" Adom looked at him sharply.

"Morgana disappeared seventeen years ago now, on the night her father, General Soren died. The emperor's younger brother."

"I thought she was just... lost. During some accident or something." Adom said, not liking where this was going.

"General Soren had been gathering support among the military houses. Too much support, according to some. Apparently, the night everything went wrong, his compound was surrounded by his own men, armed and ready to march on the capital." The Archmage paused. "Then a young diplomat arrived under a flag of truce. Smooth talker, very persuasive. He convinced the rebels to lay down their weapons, promised them pardons and gold if they abandoned their general."

"The current Chancellor," Kim said quietly.

"The very same. Back then he was just an ambitious young man with a talent for words." The Archmage's expression darkened. "The rebels left. Every last one of them. The general found himself alone in his compound with nothing but his family and a handful of household guards."

"And then?" Adom prompted.

"Then he went mad. At least, that's the official story. When the Star Knights arrived hours later, they found him standing in the main hall, covered in blood. His wife's body was sprawled across the dining table, stabbed so many times the wood beneath was soaked through. His two sons were on the floor nearby, throats cut so deep their heads hung at wrong angles." The Archmage's fingers had gone completely still. "The general was screaming, ranting about traitors and conspiracies. He attacked the knights with his bare hands when they tried to approach. They had to cut him down."

Kim had gone pale. "I remember when the news reached us. Thought it was tragic at the time, but now that I have a child of my own..." He shook his head. "The idea of a father doing that to his family. It's monstrous."

"They say he lost his mind when he realized he'd been abandoned. Couldn't bear the shame of it, so he took his rage out on the people closest to him before the madness consumed him entirely." The Archmage paused. "A child's burned body was found in the ruins of the family quarters. Presumed to be princess Morgana."

The room had gotten very quiet.

"But if she is alive..." The Archmage's eyes focused on something in the distance. "If she somehow escaped that night and saw what really happened... then perhaps the general wasn't mad at all. Perhaps he was defending his family against assassins who came after the rebels conveniently left. Perhaps the blood on his hands wasn't from murdering his wife and children, but from trying to save them."

The implications settled over them like a heavy blanket.

"So she's seeking revenge on the perpetrators maybe?" Adom asked, though he was starting to suspect he already knew the answer.

"The emperor gave the order. The Chancellor cleared the way. The Star Knights arrived just in time to find a convenient madman to blame." The Archmage's voice was flat. "Very tidy. Very believable."

"Oh."

The Archmage rose from his chair. The movement was deliberate, measured, and it changed the entire atmosphere of the room. Kim straightened automatically. Adom found himself doing the same without quite knowing why.

"We find ourselves in a rather precarious position," the Archmage said, his voice taking on a different quality. "We need to remove an emperor who has proven himself unfit to rule. The circumstances surrounding General Soren's death may not be as straightforward as the history books would have us believe."

He walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. There was a storm brewing outside now, rain lashing against the glass.

Adom watched him move and felt his pulse quicken. He'd seen this before. The formal posture, the careful words, the way the Archmage's entire demeanor shifted when he was about to hand out an assignment that would ruin someone's comfortable life.

Usually it happened to other people.

"If the emperor orchestrated his brother's murder, if he used the Chancellor to clear the field and then had his own family butchered to cover his tracks..." The Archmage turned back to face them. "The laws of the empire are quite clear on fratricide. Particularly when committed without just cause."

He's about to say it... Adom thought.

The Archmage's eyes fixed on him. "Magus Adom Sylla."

There it was.

Adom looked at the old man.

"By the authority vested in me as Archmage of the Imperial Magisterium, by the ancient laws of the empire, and by the sacred duty we bear to preserve truth and justice as decreed by Magus Law Borealis himself, I hereby charge you with a mission of the utmost importance."

Kim had gone very still.

"You are to travel beyond our borders. You are to search wherever necessary. You are to find princess Morgana Vi Savarnis, daughter of the late General Soren, and you are to bring her back alive." The Archmage paused. "You may assemble a team if you deem it necessary. Choose wisely."

Adom's mouth had gone dry, but not from surprise. He'd known this was coming the moment the Archmage had started connecting dots. "What's my cover story?"

"You're already registered as a candidate for the Archmageship. This will count as an official mission for the Empire. Substantial credit value, assuming you succeed." The Archmage's tone was almost conversational now. "Your cover is researching ancient magical artifacts and lost magical traditions in foreign lands. Close enough to the truth that you won't trip yourself up, and it gives you reason to travel extensively and ask unusual questions."

Clever. Academic research missions were common enough that nobody would question his presence in most places, and the credit incentive meant he had official backing for whatever resources he needed.

"If the princess escaped that night seventeen years ago, she's the only witness to what truly happened. The only person who can testify to whether her father died a kinslayer or a victim." The Archmage stepped closer. "The only person who can tell us if our emperor is a murderer."

"And what happens then?" Adom already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it said.

"Our ultimate goal, should circumstances permit, is to install princess Morgana Vi Savarnis as the 438th Ruler of the great Sundarian Empire." The Archmage replied. "To restore the proper order as intended by the founders."

There it was. Treason, laid out as casually as a dinner invitation.

"You're asking me to start a civil war."

"I'm asking you to prevent one. The current emperor's reign grows more unstable by the month. Better to replace him with someone who has legitimate claim than wait for the empire to tear itself apart." The Archmage moved back to his desk. "You'll have access to imperial funds and transportation. Maintain your scholarly cover, but understand that once you leave our borders, you'll be operating entirely on your own judgment."

Adom looked at Kim, who was staring at him with something that might have been pity. Or terror. Probably both.

"How long do I have?"

"As long as it takes. Though I'd suggest you move quickly. Other candidates for the Archmageship won't be idle while you're gone." The Archmage sat back down, already reaching for other papers. "Find her, Magus Sylla. Bring her home. And hope that when you do, she's willing to help us fix what her uncle broke."

Adom stood there for a moment, processing the weight of what had just been placed on his shoulders. The irony wasn't lost on him. A few years ago, he'd helped stop the crown prince from staging a coup against this very same emperor. He'd been one of the people who'd kept the current ruler in power, convinced at the time that stability was more important than change.

Now here he was, being officially tasked with overthrowing the man he'd once protected.

Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

When this was all over, he'd either be sitting in the Archmage's chair with more political influence than he'd ever imagined, or he'd be remembered in the history books as just another scheming fiend who'd tried to topple an empire and failed spectacularly.

There really wasn't much middle ground.