“I know it is,” I said. “But it’s unnecessary. We’re Titans, aren’t we? We should focus on fighting the Changelings.”
I could see the counter arguments on their minds but none of them dared voice them.
Yet another tradition.
No one could argue or disagree with the emperor.
His words were gospel and never, ever wrong.
Except to Hazel.
To her, my words were often wrong. My lips quirked into a smile.
Sensing I was in a good mood, Nus stepped forward.
“Sir, if I may,” she said. “The people need you to be the emperor. They look up to you. They need a symbol of hope to believe in. You’re the best of us. If we take traditions away from them, you become less… important. We need you as the powerful symbol you are. To lead us. It might frustrate you, but it might be bearable if it leads to us winning the battle, don’t you think?”
She bowed once more for emphasis.
I couldn’t help but smile. Nus was the female Titan chief of the smallest local Titan clan. One of the other clans should have conquered them years ago but they had avoided that fate with cunning and deception. It was perhaps no surprise she was the one to come up with this idea.
“Very well, Nus,” I said. “We’ll keep the traditions, so long as they aid our goals. We don’t have much time, so if we’re going to come up with battle plan ideas, we need to be able to criticize each other without causing a fight inside our own ranks. Understood?”
The chieftains eyed each other uncertainly before nodding their acceptance. I was an idiot if I thought just because they agreed that there would be no other issues.
Besides, this wasn’t the first time an emperor encouraged fair discussion of ideas. The emperor heard what his allies had to say and then had many of them executed because they criticized him.
But I was not my great great grandfather.
I was me.
On the large table was a to-scale model of the local area. The local towns were mapped out in detail, along with sprawling forests and deep valleys. The palace—my palace—was perched on a hilltop, overlooking the nearest town, Okem.
“So, what do we know?” I said.
“Very little, unfortunately,” A’nshon said. “The few reports we’ve received come from traders. They report the Changeling army keeps an iron fist around the town of Okem and the majority of their best forces are in the palace.”
“Who’s in charge?” I said.
The chieftains exchanged a look. None of them wanted to pass on the information.
“Chief adviser Slak,” M’rar Thres said, his armor bright and shimmering. “The rumor is he’s working in alliance with the Changelings. He’s overseen by Changeling officers but they’re only there to support him. He knows the area, town, and locals better than the Changelings ever will. He’s likely the one responsible for the attack on your life, Sire.”
It was as I had suspected. Slak was the member who could most effectively control the information I received about the Changelings’ aggressive behavior toward our people.
He was also the only person who could have made decisions in my stead and handed me the paperwork to sign.
I was his puppet.
I buried the anger deep down and focused on the model before us.
“Strategy plans?” I said. “How do we take back the palace and Okem?”
“We hit them with a head-on attack,” Qi said with a growl. “It will be a glorious death.”
“How about something with a little less ‘glory’?” I said. “I almost died for no good reason and I have no intention of doing it again.”
Qi blinked, awakening from his daydream of martyrdom.
“The weapons cache is in the palace,” A’nshon said. “If we can get inside, we can take it and use it to mount an effective attack on the defense systems. Then we can take them down and take the town. We’ll never overpower the Changelings otherwise.”
“Slip inside like a common thief?” Qi said with a sneer. “I expect such a cowardly plan from M’rar Thres but from you, A’nshon? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
A’nshon’s eye glinted menacingly.
“The only shame is in using a strategy that would hand us over to the Changelings so easily,” he said. “Tell me, Qi, which side are you really fighting for?”
“Why, you…”
Qi scooped up the blade at his hip and closed on A’nshon, who did not move to defend himself.
“Qi!” I said, voice booming even in the broad space. “You will remove your weapons and hand them to the guards now!”
Qi opened his mouth to argue before recalling who he was addressing.
“Yes, your majesty,” he said without a hint of malice.
He moved to the two honor guard members inside the room. One belonged to Qi’s tribe, the other to M’rar Thres. If he needed his weapons, there was no doubt in my mind the guard would obey his chief before he did his emperor.
“Hand the weapons to M’rar Thres’ warrior,” I said.
Qi glared at me before muttering under his breath and doing as I asked. Then he marched back to the table. I didn’t like the way Qi’s warrior eyed his chieftain’s weapons now in his enemy’s possession, so I issued another order.
“Stand guard outside,” I said.
The warrior seemed put out. He glanced at Qi, who nodded, before saluting and heading outside. Nus’s warrior entered and took position beside M’rar Thres’s.
I massaged my temples, already feeling a headache coming on.
“So,” I said, “as the plan currently stands, we sneak inside the palace, access the weapons, and use them to power down the defense systems.”
“How do we get past the Changeling army?” Nus said. “There are thousands of them. We would all die before we even reached the palace walls. Especially with the defense turrets firing on us.”
“There are a number of secret entrances into the palace,” I said. “We can use those.”
“There are secret tunnels?” M’rar Thres said. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve used them many times over the years,” I said. “I could find them with my eyes closed.”
Qi
