They sat still for a moment. Shadows danced around them, flung by the brazier at the centre of the room. The blood-red glare from the burning coals coated the blades of bronze weapons hanging on the walls as if they were freshly dipped in the blood of the Empire’s enemies. Sweet-smelling smoke rose from the brazier and coiled lazily around the room, as if seeking something. That this was a soldier’s room was further evidenced by pieces of armour hanging on a rack next to a campaign chest covered in neatly stacked maps and intelligence reports.
The seemingly frozen tableau was jarred into life when an area of deeper shadow stirred and a soft, high voice spoke. The older man hunched down further in his seat, the voice making his stomach turn. He feared little, but most of what he did fear happened to be in this room. ‘Colonel Silvanthus, please be so kind as to leave us’. Gratefully, Silvanthus levered himself from his seat, nodded to the silver-haired woman and tried not to appear to hurry from the room; he failed.
As the heavy wooden door closed behind the old soldier, the voice came from the shadow once more. “Lady Andrega, never forget that you are here at the sufferance of the Great Sister, and that your future rests on her good will, as expressed through me”. Whilst speaking the shadow moved partially into the light. A red robe covered the emerging figure from head to foot. Weird designs covered the robe, seeming to move of their own volition in the flickering light. The voice issued once more from within the deep hood of the robe, this time with more of an edge. “Not only your future, but also your present”.
Andrega, she of the silver hair, started in her chair. Never one to hold her temper, a vein bulged in her temple and her eyes narrowed. Those under her command had learned that such a look often led to bloody retribution, and she seemed ready to make good on that reputation. But anger warred with hesitation within her as an unfamiliar emotion rose unbidden from deep within her soul: fear.
“Is a lesson in etiquette required here?” The robed figure spoke again, its voice seeming both female and male and yet neither, the softness of the voice merely serving to magnify the harsh threat beneath. Andrega made to stand, and then sank back in her seat “No lesson is needed here. The Silver Flames serve the Talon of the Great Sister, as do I”.
“Good”. The robed shape moved back into the shadows, which seemed to open and enfold it in welcome. After a moment, it spoke again. “The terrorist Gringle is an enemy of the Empire, truly, and Governor Wideread has done well to tarnish his name before the Barbarian tribes. But still he plots against the Moonson and thus his death is deserved. However, news has reached me that Tatius the Bright wishes his death. What Tatius wishes, whatever the reason, must be prevented. His strength grows, and Great Sister sees trouble for Moonson in Tatius’ strength. Therefore, we must act from the shadows to stand between Gringle and Tatius, bitter though that tastes”
Andrega shifted in her chair, her fingers tapping on her knee in thought. “Those Barbarians who bought back my foolish nephew, the ones you had me spare from crucifixion; did you see some role for them in this?”. The soft voice spoke again. “The voice of the Red Goddess is not always clear, Lady. I saw them as a way to rid us of Gringle and foment more distrust between the Tribes, but their role may be more subtle than that. There is something about that rabble that raises them above the herd; the eyes of many Gods are upon them, and their choices are open in a way not available to most mortals.” The voice seemed to recede into the shadows even further. “Leave the Barbarians to me, Lady; I will determine their role in this matter, and their fate”.
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