The Fool The Emperor And The Hanged Man Novels & Stories

"Remember the rules. You are deaf. You are dumb. You are furniture." He stepped back, his face settling into the loose, drunken smile of the Fool Prince. "Shall we go, mouse? I hear the cook makes excellent poisoned eggs." The Obsidian Hall was designed to make everyone in it feel small. The ceiling was lost in shadows, supported by pillars of black stone carved to look like twisting vines—a mockery of the forests the Empire destroyed. At the center of the cavernous room sat a long table made of polished weirwood, the sacred timber of Aethelgard.

If there was no history, then the world at large would be in danger; never able to learn from the past which would leave the future uncertain and prone to destruction. "I will forgive that tone of yours," Emperor Vulcan said in warning; Daegal caught the message and held his tongue. "There was something strange about the deaths of all the emperors. Nobody was able to understand it except Emperor Iqbar. He suspected some kind of conspiracy but could not pinpoint what it was. Do you know why I chose Chief Topher as my Royal Minister, my son?" "Because they are wealthy and the third most powerful kingdom on the continent?" Prince Daegal replied.