In the dark, a cold gleam flashed. Two heads rolled, then vanished into the shadowed alley. The bandage-wrapped bladesman flicked blood from his weapons. Two crescent-like curved blades rested in his hands, hungry for more.

Iduchi slid his blades back into the sheath on his back. His eyelidless eyes stared toward the alley’s depths. A few bandits hiding here had thought they’d found easy prey. In a blink, they became headless corpses.

“Your blade work’s still sharp, Iduchi.”

A hollow voice rose from the dark. A cloaked figure appeared at the alley’s end. His low hood hid his face. Only a pair of blood-red eyes glinted in the shadows.

“Samilian,” Iduchi turned toward him. “It was you, huh?”

“Heh, heh, heh, heh.” The man called Samilian let out a strange chuckle. “By the revered deity, you look like you got worked over, ‘Mad Blade’ Iduchi.”

Iduchi let thick killing intent seep out. Among the Death Servants, the one he hated most was this creep who always hid under a cloak. Iduchi was a noble warrior of a desert nation. He had fought for his country to his last breath. Samilian was nothing like that. He was a vile sorcerer. Chasing the truth of death, he flattered Yao Ye and, by some means, took a seat among the Death Servants.

“That’s none of your business.” In the end, Iduchi chose to honor the pact. No infighting among Death Servants.

“If you want to blow off some steam, help me.” Samilian extended a withered, stick-like hand. “I feel like making a big splash in the Imperial Capital as a coronation gift for the new Emperor. If you help, this unconventional death feast will be much more fun. Hahahaha.”

“I have no interest in slaughtering the weak.” Iduchi turned to leave. “Play by yourself.”

“What if ‘she’ is there?”

“She?” Rage flared in his chest. Iduchi stopped and turned back. “So that woman is in the Imperial Capital too?”

Samilian’s red eyes narrowed, as if he were smiling.

“Mad Blade Iduchi,” he said, “you’re a pure warrior. Because you’re too pure, you can’t see other things. You don’t even have wide-area detection. But everything you lack, I have. This time, I won’t hesitate to share intel. The current Sword Saint has beast-like instincts. I’m not confident I can evade her search. If the Sword Saint finds me, I probably can’t beat her.”

“So you need me as your bodyguard.”

“Exactly, Iduchi,” Samilian said. “I need you, just as you need me. Before the feast begins, sit tight and watch. I’ll draw out the Sword Saint. The child you’re looking for is with her.”

“Got it.” Iduchi let out a cold smile. “I’ll work with you for now, you despicable necromancer.”

Morning settled over the Imperial Capital as usual. As dawn lit the high city walls, streets and alleys filled with people. Early risers bustled about their trades. Peddlers cried their wares nonstop. Lines of slaves walked to their worksites. Their skins and faces varied widely. Beastkin slaves were mixed in too—variety of every kind.

Mio opened the window. The morning wind scattered her silver hair and carried out the stale air. She finished washing by the well in the yard, then slipped into clothes made for easy movement. Yesterday’s look had been stunning, but it wasn’t practical. With no big events for a few days, she’d keep a low profile as an observer. Aimee was still asleep, drool trailing from her mouth onto the pillow. Mio, a little helpless, tucked the blanket up over her. She felt like she had plenty of nanny experience, yet couldn’t recall who she’d ever cared for.

Yao Ye had erased everything about her, name included.

“Good morning, Lady Mio.”

Mio turned. Talasha had already woken and knelt on the bed, bowing to her. It was Beastkin etiquette, used by the lower to the higher. Amber, who slept beside her, stirred awake too. The young girl shook her cat ears, rubbed her eyes with two small hands, absurdly cute.

Seeing Amber, Mio felt her heart heal.

“It’s a hearing today,” she said. “I can go alone. Please watch the house.”

“As you command.” Talasha lowered her head again.

After giving essential instructions, Mio went downstairs and told the restaurant’s old slave to send breakfast to the room. The Senate had booked the entire inn for the emperor selection, so the kitchen was hectic. The gray horse was tied in the yard, chewing hay with a disgruntled face. Seeing Mio come out the gate, it snorted sharply.

“Alright, alright. Sorry to make you put up with this.” Mio walked over and stroked its nose. “Once we hit the road, I’ll buy you carrots. Deal?”

The gray horse nodded obediently and huffed.

The Elector Palace was a fair distance from the inn. With no carriage, Mio chose to walk. She pulled up her hood, patterned with tiny triangles, hiding her beautiful face and silver-threaded hair. She became just another travel-stained wanderer. A copper badge hung on her chest, marking her as a freeman. With that badge, she’d get basic protection in the Empire—at least she wouldn’t be snatched into slavery.

High over the Imperial Capital, a small gray drone cruised. The high-precision camera below scanned the choked streets and flowing traffic, then piped images through a high-speed link to Mio as she walked. In her right eye, the drone feed refreshed nonstop. Armed personnel were marked clearly. A pair of pickpockets who’d just scored were highlighted in red. They’d probably eyed her backpack and were tailing her.

Find an alley and take them out.

Thinking that, Mio quickened her pace. Just then, a fast horse closed from behind. It stopped beside her with a sharp whinny. Mio looked up and lifted her hood a little. The rider met her gaze. Moura, the Imperial Marshal, smiled down and reached out his right hand.

“Want a lift?”

“Much obliged.”

Mio took Moura’s hand. He pulled her up, then settled her in front of the saddle. A warhorse’s saddle was cramped for two, but Mio’s small frame saved space. Moura wrapped his arms around her as he held the reins, pinning her between his forearms.

“Are we a bit too close?” Mio felt awkward. “Marshal Murat?”

“I’d be troubled if you fell,” Moura said. “Publicly murdering other Electors on the avenues of the Imperial Capital gets you hauled before the Senate.”

Mio couldn’t help a wry smile. Last night’s long talk had brought them closer, enough that she almost forgot the emperor selection. She truly hoped Moura would become Emperor. But Moura was a thorough militarist. His eyes saw only foreign wars. The Empire was exhausted. Internal reform was the real path to strength.

Compared to the soldier Moura, Charlesman fit a ruler better. He was a merchant, versed in economics. Half his speech had been fluff, yet he did propose a few internal strategies to enrich the nation. Still far from enough. Mio’s serf system neatly complemented Charlesman’s economic framework. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to like that pot-bellied fat man. Image matters, after all.

The morning session was report after report. Mio sat hooded in her seat. Twice, Lukias shot her questioning glances, afraid she’d nod off. In truth, Mio kept the drone scanning the entire Imperial Capital and found plenty of interesting spots. In her mind, she drew a travel route. After the selection, she planned to drag Aimee and the girls around for fun. It wasn’t easy to visit the Imperial Capital. Who knew if she’d ever come again? Best not to leave regrets.

At last, the reports ended. Mio exited with the senators, slipping out the western door to avoid Moura’s overly warm gaze. She could feel the prime-of-life Imperial Marshal’s faint affection for her. That was the one thing she absolutely couldn’t accept. Even if she occupied Teresa’s body, her mental wiring was still that of an adult male. Dating other men… it just felt way too gay, kind of gross.

An elderly gentleman dressed with taste had been waiting at the exit for some time.

“Lady Mio,” he bowed slightly, “my master, Lord Charlesman, asks you to join him in the carriage.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time,” Mio said with a shake of her head. “I have other matters.”

“If you don’t go,” the old slave pleaded, “Lord Charlesman will whip this old servant mercilessly. Please… show mercy.”

From the tears in his eyes, Mio judged his words half true, half theatrics. Rather than let an old man be whipped, she might as well talk to the fat man and make him give up.

A carriage so luxurious it bordered on tacky waited at the west gate of the Elector Palace.

Gold leaf covered the body. Gemstones and pearls studded the door handles. Crystal panes shone spotless. Even the window frames glimmered with gem and pearl. Two dark-skinned slaves served as coachmen, glittering with expensive gold jewelry, rings through nose and ears. One slave opened the door, then prostrated himself to act as a human step. Mio had no habit of using living people as footstools. She pushed lightly off the ground, leapt into the carriage, and turned with grace to sit on the red velvet seat opposite the pot-bellied merchant, Charlesman.

“Welcome, Lady Mio.” Charlesman spread his arms and let the concubine under his arm slip away. The woman wore hardly anything, but heavy gold adorned her neck and wrists. “Drink something?” he asked. “Red wine chilled with snow from the ice mountain. The finest vintage from my own vineyard. Please, have a taste.”

A slave girl brought a crystal glass of wine. Mio lifted it and took a light sniff. It was excellent. Among the Imperial Army soldiers she had devoured at Frostwind Fortress, one had been a connoisseur. With his knowledge, she’d naturally learned wine tasting.

“Seven-year vintage,” she said, swirling the crystal. “Top-tier.”

“I’m glad it pleases you.” Charlesman lifted a thick hand. “Another glass?”

“Sorry,” Mio said politely. “I don’t hold liquor well.”

“What a shame.” Charlesman gazed at Mio, appraising her like an item and weighing her value. Mio accepted his eyes calmly and leaned back into the velvet cushion.

“Lord Charlesman,” she said, “what do you want from me?”

“You yourself are a priceless treasure,” Charlesman said. “Even so, I hope you’ll name a price.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not for sale.” Mio smiled slightly and placed a hand on her chest. “I still have things I must do. I can’t become yours.”

“That is unfortunate.” Charlesman shook his head. “I’ve prepared a fitting position for you.”

“A pleasure slave?”

“No.” Charlesman smiled and shook his head. “Being addicted only to your body would be a waste. What I truly want are your knowledge and wisdom. If you join me, my wealth plus your knowledge and wisdom will remake the Empire in ten years.”

“Sadly, the Empire’s prosperity has nothing to do with me.” Mio shook her head. “Please don’t forget. The Empire destroyed my homeland.”

“Indeed. To lay down hatred takes time and sincerity,” Charlesman said. “If the day comes you change your mind, come to me. The Director’s seat of my consortium is already reserved for you.”

“I’ll consider it.” Mio opened the door. “Farewell.”

She jumped down, pulled up her hood, and slipped into the flow of the street.