Interlude
Lord General Kerrigan crumpled the missive he’d received just before the attack on Astrad as his squires cleared out the bodies
of the naive attackers. He kicked one of their limp, dead legs out of his way as he strode out of his offices and into the
throne room, King Arthel’s throne empty and coated in a thick layer of dust.
He hoped Sir Rhona was as stupid as she was strong. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be able to decipher the strangeness of what
the Corisian had said. He wasn’t ready for the general members of the Iron Retinue to learn about the Soulless Knights. He
needed a plan, a way to make sure that the soldiers wanted to make the change for the Iron Empire, and Lord General Kerrigan knew that telling them they’d be all but dead wasn’t going
to cut it—no matter how loyal his knights were.
He hadn’t even known that the Soulless Knight had made it to Corisia, and it certainly wasn’t part of the orders it had been
given. He and Dr. Balet had sent out only a few of them.
Two had already been destroyed, and now the Iron Empire’s enemies knew of their secret weapon.
It was only a matter of time before the still small, but growing, rebellion he’d heard rumors of learned about them too.
He shook his head; it was going to take a lot more control to utilize them properly .
. . if Dr. Balet could even perfect the soldiers in the first place.
Lord General Kerrigan scowled at the throne. Those bastards had done everything in their power to ruin his life. Ruin his
business, brainwash his children and try to marry them off as pawns in their political games, let his wife die . . . he’d
been happy when he killed the damned king. Lord General Kerrigan had been making Astra safe ever since, safer than it had
been in Arthel’s useless hands, anyway.
But Hugo . . . Hugo’s betrayal had been unexpected. Lord General Kerrigan launched the paper into the fire burning in the
throne room, watching it turn to ash in front of him.
One of the Iron Retinue’s spies had spotted Hugo in the northeast, and that same someone had heard him discussing Luwha. Kerrigan
had faith in his people, but Hugo, and whoever he was traveling with, was clearly more capable than he had anticipated.
“I’ll do it myself,” he growled, storming out of the throne room in search of his commanders. He was going to need a regiment
and their fastest horses to beat Hugo to Luwha. He allowed himself a tight smile—how wonderful would it be to chop the betrayer
down where he stood himself?