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Inside the walls of the Imperial City, daily life was going on much as it always did—peacefully. The huge city, nearly thirty square miles of streets laid out in perfect grids, was a bastion of civilization. In stark contrast to the dusty, loud, and somewhat chaotic nature of the trading garrison, the city looked every bit the cosmopolitan center it had come to be. The citizens who made the Imperial City their home took pride in the markets that bustled with international traders. Temples could be found in nearly every section of the city, their presence a calming reminder of the ancestors who watched over the people and put their trust and power in the Emperor. Boulevards were lined with elegant estates, and city planners had made sure that green parks were prominent, adding to the sense of serenity. Boat-filled canals and harbors broke up the otherwise lush landscape.</p>

In the northwest corner, looking over the city from atop a hill, stood the Imperial Palace. Home to the Emperor, it was the grandest building in the entire city. White and gold, it looked as if it had been freshly painted that very morning. Brightly colored birds flew over its gate, landing to nest in the branches of the many trees that surrounded the building. From a distance or up close, the palace was made to inspire peace and confidence.</p>

And it did both. Usually.</p>

Inside the throne room, the Chancellor looked up at the Emperor, who sat on his throne, his face unreadable. He felt, as he always did in the massive space, dwarfed and a bit insignificant. But he knew that he wasn’t. After decades of working at the Emperor’s side, he was the man’s most trusted advisor. Which meant he knew that the news he was about to deliver was going to upset the Emperor greatly.</p>

Taking a deep breath and bowing his head, the Chancellor stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” he began, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt, “six of our northern garrisons along the Silk Road have fallen in a coordinated attack.” The dozens of official scribes who surrounded the leader kept their heads down, but the Chancellor saw them shift nervously on their feet. The Emperor himself remained silent, his body in shadow. The Chancellor went on. “All trade in the northern region has been disrupted.”</p>

“And my citizens?” the Emperor asked, his voice low.</p>

“Slaughtered,” the Chancellor replied. “This soldier is the only survivor.” He nodded to a young man who was kneeling nearby. Even from a distance, the Chancellor could see the guard’s face was drawn and pale. What he had seen at the garrison had been, in his own words, nightmarish. He had spoken of a winged witch and fierce warriors. Even just thinking about it made the hairs on the Chancellor’s arms rise. “I fear more attacks will follow.”</p>

Standing up, the Emperor stepped out of the shadows. While not a towering figure, the Emperor exuded power nonetheless. His eyes were bright and wise, and only a few age lines could be seen despite the responsibility he carried. Even though the news had clearly pained him, the Emperor remained calm. It was that trait, among many others, that made him such a beloved leader.</p>

“Who is responsible?” he asked.</p>

The answer stuck in the Chancellor’s throat as he felt the Emperor’s gaze on him. It was nearly impossible for him to hide his emotions from the other man. “Rourans, Your Majesty,” he said at last, the words barely a whisper.</p>

But they were loud enough. A wave of shock swept across the room as the scribes began to whisper among themselves.</p>

The Emperor ignored them. “Who leads them?” he asked.</p>

“He calls himself B??0??2ri Khan,” the Chancellor answered.</p>

“I killed B??0??2ri Khan,” the Emperor said, his voice beginning to sound strained.</p>

“His son, Your Majesty.”</p>

The Emperor shook his head. The Chancellor knew what he was thinking. There was no way that was possible. How could a child of the man he had personally killed manage to resurrect an entire army? He had spent years working to make sure the Rouran forces would never rise again. He had nearly lost his life dozens of times and yet now they were back? He shook his head again, struggling to control his breathing, which was starting to grow ragged. “They were destroyed,” he said, his voice loud, the sound echoing off the walls of the throne room. “I ask again: How is it possible?”</p>

Before the Chancellor could respond, a small voice rose up. Looking over in surprise, the Chancellor saw that the lone survivor of the garrison attack had gotten to his feet. “You may speak,” the Chancellor said to the guard.</p>