Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 26: Treachery

{In the darkest of places, the best thing a man can bring is his own light.}

-Captain Dux, an excerpt from "Chapter Twenty Seven: The Virtue of Heroes. Archived."

"And that, it seems, would be that."

Raylein smiled as he lowered his spyglass, a look of smug triumph well worn over his aging features. He held the device out to his side, offering it to Brand. "Go on, my boy. See for yourself. Watch as the imperial dogs run with their tails tucked beneath their legs. It's quite the show."

Indeed, even from so great a distance, Brand could just make out the black and gold shapes boiling out of the city. Some were trying to drag out the wounded while others were busy hemming up their forces and securing a retreat. Further back in the city courtyard, the Warhost was just beginning to knit itself back together, forming a jagged line of chained slaves and towering Iron Knights.

"To think they're considered the Empire's finest!" Raylein said, his voice bubbling with sarcastic mirth. "The best of the best. What an absolute farce."

"They still fought bravely," Brand muttered, much to his own surprise.

"Hmm?" Raylein asked.

"The Imperials would have broken through had Lady Denbar's knights not intervened."

Raylein's eyebrows beetled curiously together as he turned back towards the city, his eyes narrowing ever so gently. "Yes, quite possibly so. That's a keen eye you have there, my dear nephew, but be warned. There's a clear difference between simple observation and misguided admiration."

Brand felt the heat creep into his cheeks. "Of course, uncle. I just...," and he paused, a stake of worry suddenly wedging into his heart.

"Yes? Go on then. Speak your mind, lad. I'm not your father for Forgefather's sake."

"Right," Brand nodded his head furiously. "Of course. I would have never dreamed of comparing you to—,"

Raylein held up a hand. "I know you wouldn't." Gingerly, he reached down and ruffled Brand's mop of brown hair. "You're a good boy. An honest boy. Now, go on then. Say what you will."

Brand sucked in a tight breath and blew it out. "I just don't understand why they're here in the first place. What does the Empire want from Middengard? Why are they even attacking us?"

Raylein sighed and leaned out over the balcony, his breath smoking out into the chill air. "It is envy, my boy. Plain and simple."

"Envy?"

"Indeed. Since Middengard first rose into power in this little valley, the Empire has constantly nipped at our heels. They covet our weapons, our armor; they covet the magicks that you and I and the other Stelecasters possess. They covet the things that we can create with such magicks."

"Like the Golden Heart?" Brand asked.

"Exactly. So much so that The Empire sent their own Magi as a spy to steal it from us." Raylein shrugged. "Or at the very least to steal the knowledge of its making."

Brand blinked. "But, father said you stole the plans from Magnus. Not the other way around."

Raylein gave a contentious snort. "And you believed that lying snake? After everything he's done to you and your mother, my own sister, might I add, and you would trust his word over mine?"

Brand's eyes went terribly wide. "No!" He gasped. "Never!"

"Good," Raylein rapped his knuckles against the stone boundary of the balcony. "Your father would tell the world I was the Great Ender personified if it would put him in a better light. No, the truth is that Magnus stole from me after offering to assist in the Golden Hearts creation. I was younger back then. More trusting. I let myself believe that he had come as a colleague of the magickal arts, not as an Imperial spy. We spent nearly five years pouring over each other's notes, combining his Talent with my own." He paused, the corners of his eyes wet and shimmering. "All that work. All that time. Gone."