Augustus held his glass aloft, watching the amber liquid sparkle within the cut crystal. There was a look of triumph on his face. Of hope so pure and powerful there was almost a boyish quality to it. He thought of Emilian, of Coraline, of his niece and his family. These were not just times of darkness, he thought, but times of opportunity. Augustus had no doubt that his kingdom would emerge from present strife stronger and more unified than ever before.

“To Lorendale,” Augustus said, as if the name were that of his beloved, “May those who serve her prosper, and those who oppose her perish.” He would drink heartily from his glass, a fire in his chest.