Oathbreaker: The Knight's Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

Empire deserved existence more than their own House did, and though I suspected at least three of our compatriots of passing information to their superiors, my suspicions were entirely unfounded. I was grateful to be proven wrong.
    “I will see you all rewarded,” Prince Fannon told us. We believed in his confidence, and we believed in his right to rule.
    “Seek others loyal to me,” he said. “Turn them against their brethren if you must. Remind them of their duty.” And so we did. We traveled among the House armies, speaking to the lesser officers, to the enlisted men, promising them riches, rank, forgiveness. Some came with us. Some denied us. Some sought to betray us, and these we slew. Slowly our numbers swelled, even as the High Houses tore one another apart with their vicious battles and assassins and poisons.
    The prince, for his part, went to the Knights Elite. They remained above it, guarding the Imperial Palace, watching, impassive. When the prince, muffled and disguised, managed at last to win through to their commander, his answer was brief: “Show us that you can command men, and we shall be yours to command.”
    “Watch me,” Prince Fannon said, “and you shall see.”
    When the prince returned to us, his inexperienced general staff, his command to us was to pick a battle that we might win. Our numbers were less than half those of any of the Lesser Houses—as far as we could tell, none of the High Houses even knew we existed. I realize now that of course they did; their spy networks covered and still cover the spheres of influence that the Houses think matter. They were watching us as a matter of keeping their eyes on the prince during this rite of fire. I just don’t think they believed he could manage it. After all, who did he have on his side? A handful of officers, each with a small troop of men, some minor House backing (purely as a political gambit), and the royal name. Fannon, who grew up in the intrigues of the Houses, knew their capabilities, and he guided our hands as we laid the groundwork for his assumption of the throne. We faced three assassins, and we were surprised we did not see more.
    The apparatus of Empire turned ever onward as our drama played out.
    Prince Fannon saw something in me. Perhaps it was the kinship born of arms. Whatever the reason, he and I plotted and planned his resumption of the throne most intently. We laid traps for the High Houses, building their suspicions and their enmities, setting snares for them from their old histories. We played on the insults and slights they had dealt one another for centuries, and through our few contacts in the court, we amplified their grievances. We fought them in the words of aristocrats, through propaganda, through small acts of generosity to the common man—and most of all, through their rivals.
    The details are unimportant now, though our small victories were glorious. I still admire our scheme to turn the proud Cronens against the money-loving Dengs. With a little coin and the hint of more to come to the DeTrellzis (one of the Cronen's Lesser Houses), a few judiciously placed words to the knight-aspirants of their House, and some careful research into their past histories, we set off a feud between the two that lasted for a week and took the hottest of their heads to the grave. By the time it and half a dozen other feuds like it had ended, we had made our move for the throne.
    These feuds were not without cost to us. My father, that ambitious and naïve soul, tried to play peacemaker in the middle of one of them. His involvement was not our doing. I don’t think he knew he was being played by one of our enemies. I am sure they told him the truth before they slit his throat and left his body in the street for the dogs. Though he and I had had our differences, I burned to take revenge. The prince had different ideas.
    “Our plans are too close to fruition,” he said, “and I need your attention here.”
    “But my