A letter.

Lieutenant Karitas’s hands trembled slightly as he stood outside his tent, looking down at the open scroll that had been delivered to him. The young squire who had given it to him, his cheeks ruddy from the biting cold, watched his expression intently. “Is it news from home, Lieutenant?” he asked expectantly.

“No, Seneca, it isn’t.” Karitas’s voice wavered as he spoke, each word more measured than the last.

Young Seneca was confused. In the last two months of service, he had never seen his superior look quite so nervous. The lieutenant had battled hordes of enemies from the Shaheen Mountains, had braved terrible odds with scarcely-armed cavalry, and had at times never eaten a morsel for days; but Seneca had never seen him so openly tense. He knew better than to ask any more details. “I’ll be polishing the weaponry at the barracks if I’m needed, Lieutenant.”

“You’re dismissed,” Karitas nodded, his gaze still fixed on the letter. He noticed that the penmanship was immaculate, with no unnecessary embellishments.

Prince Karitas of the Palos Territory of the Ravima Empire,

I, Empress Hina of the Ravima Empire, on the sixteenth day of the month of Betiel, request that you appear before the High Court as soon as is convenient to be assessed as a primary candidate for the title of Emperor of Ravima.

In the interest of full transparency, I would like to inform you that you are the most qualified person I could locate for this most crucial role in governance of the empire. You, Prince Karitas, are my final choice after much research and deliberation.

I have sent an entourage to your territory to escort you safely to Ravima’s capital. I look forward to meeting you. I wish you a comfortable journey.

Signed,

HRM Empress Hina of Ravima

As Seneca trudged through the deep snow, Karitas ducked back into his tent. “Brother!” He called out. “I—um.” He cleared his throat. “Something came in from the south.”

“What do you mean, ‘something?’” Karitas’s brother, General Veritas, was leaning over a battle map spread across a large wooden table when he looked up. “Don’t give me hope that we’re getting reinforcements,” he chuckled dryly.

“No, no.” Karitas waved his free hand in the air before bringing it to the bridge of his nose. “It’s…something else.” He hesitantly extended the parchment to Veritas, who took it curiously. Karitas watched his expression change from stiff, to baffled, to incredulous as he scanned its contents. The lieutenant laughed weakly. “This has to be some kind of poor joke, right?”

“This has the Empress’s signature.”

“Signatures can be fabricated,” Karitas suggested.

“It’s got the Empire’s seal.”

“Seals…can be fabricated,” Karitas said in a quieter, more desperate tone.

“What are you complaining about? This is great news!” Veritas’s voice boomed as he laughed heartily, slamming his hand against Karitas’s shoulder in a congratulatory gesture that shoved the slimmer man forwarda step. “You’ve caught the eye of Empress Hina!”

“Brother, I can’t just leave the war right now,” Karitas insisted. “We’re at a critical point in the battle.”

“I admit, your strategic prowess is a great part of what has defended our borders thus far,” Veritas began, “but I’ll figure something out. This isn’t something you can refuse, anyways. And why would you? Marry the empress, and our land will be wealthy forever. We could crush these Urmanian scum in a heartbeat. I don’t know what there is to think about,” he shrugged.

“Brother, I…” Karitas was at a loss for words. “Isn’t this all…too sudden? What, I’m just going to get married off and become—become Emperor?” He drew out the words as if he were saying he was going to transform into a horse. “Are you hearing yourself? This is crazy!”

Veritas paused as he studied his younger brother’s demeanor. Karitas’s shoulders were squared. His arms were stiffer than cured wood. His breath was coming out in short, labored pants, each becoming a puff of warm air that condensed in the cold before disappearing. Karitas’s hazel eyes, which matched his own, were wild and wide with an emotion that Veritas had seen in them before they had departed for the Shaheen Mountains.

“Karitas, sit down. Tell me what’s scaring you.”

The lieutenant dropped into one of the nearby stools at the table, resting his elbows on his knees to put his head in his hands. “Come on, Veritas. What if someone told you, with practically absolute certainty, that you were going to marry the ruler of the nation that had conquered your own? That you didn’t really even have a choice? You’d have mixed feelings, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, firstly, I’m a happily married man.” Veritas grinned proudly.

“If you weren’t,” Karitas grumbled.

“If I weren’t, yes. I’d have some reservations about it. But I’d quickly see how my duty to ensure the welfare of my kingdom is far more important than my nerves,” he replied gently. “Palos became an annexed territory decades ago. We have to think of our future in these unstable times, and this is an opportunity to secure it.”

“I understand that, I do.” Karitas’s hands balled into fists. “I do. I just…don’t feel like I’m ready.”

“No one is ever ready, Karitas,” Veritas shook his head solemnly. “If they think they are, they’re usually wrong. A person can only begin.”

“Begin, huh.” The younger brother sighed bitterly. “I guess that’s all there is to it.”

“Yes. Begin. Think of it this way: the Empress chose you for a reason. Likely more than just one. If she finds you qualified before even meeting you, you’re already halfway there. And I, for one, think you would make for a great ruler. Empress Hina is wise to select you,” Veritas nodded knowingly.

“I still think there’s been some kind of mistake.”

“She wrote your name in the letter, Prince Karitas. Twice.” Veritas smiled teasingly before his expression sobered. “In the end, the choice is yours.”

“But it’s not. There’s only one clear choice, here, if I want the best outcome for Palos: I send a kind letter to the Empress, go wait in Nova until that entourage arrives, and I sail to Ravima to be married to her!” the younger brother spat. He was gesturing madly in all directions at this point.

Veritas sighed pensively as he watched his brother rant. They had never really been apart before. They were raised together, had attended academy together, had argued with their father together, since the start of their lives. Once Karitas departed their encampment for Palos’s capital city, Nova, Veritas wouldn’t know when he would see his brother again. He clenched his jaw before relaxing his shoulders. He hadn’t noticed how tense his posture had become.

“Who knows? You might come to like her,” Veritas smiled gently. In the middle of a wild gesture, Karitas froze and stared at Veritas as if horns had suddenly grown out of his head. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not so impossible, is it?”

Karitas’s expression softened as he pondered Veritas’s words.

Their conversation was cut short by the barking of orders from outside the tent and the scuffling of hurried footsteps through the snow. A silver-haired man clad in leather defensive gear burst through the tent flap. “General! The Umranians have been sighted entering the western corridor!”

“It’s almost nightfall, they’re really going to try a guerilla attack now when it’s already a strategic disadvantage? What’s their General thinking?” Karitas exclaimed.

Suddenly, the group heard the sound of something massive striking the ground with a deafening boom. The scattered lanterns and tables rattled violently from the nearby impact. Karitas shot up from his chair.

“It’s their trebuchets,” he breathed as he stared in the direction of the disturbance. “They’ve somehow made them easily portable…and they can project upwards with this much accuracy?!”

“Our encampment has been spotted. It’s no longer safe here, we’ll have to move base. But, first: we must confront our brazen enemy,” said General Veritas grimly. “I’m sorry, Karitas, but I can’t let you return to Nova just yet. Our Empress will have to understand if there’s some delay.”

“It’s fine, Brother.” Karitas lifted his wool cloak off of the chair and fastened it over his squared shoulders, his features hardening in determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ready the men, Commander Matthias. This is going to be a long night.”