Seven

Rosie’s sudden speech had sent chills up Ajax’s spine. For the first time, as he sat through another one of their endless mutual silences, he really considered what she had said. How her Master had somehow taken over many countries, with very little manpower. He could still barely wrap his head around the concept, but someone like Rosie would not be easily fooled.

So Ajax thought about what she had said. If Rosie was right, and Ajax was still not entirely sure she was, it meant that three countries remained. There was Glacia, the land of the proud Queen Siri, was a trading friend of his father’s country. Once Ardor was taken, Ajax doubted it would be long before that was as well, considering the icy land’s need of trade for food. Coera was also left, but its people were known for being peacemakers after their civil war. It would be simple for that to be taken. And the last was Larvatus, the witch country. No one had dared set foot on that place in centuries. He doubted that Master had even considered it in his alleged scheme.

It was disturbing, though, the more he thought. His father didn’t publicize the news of other countries that he received, but Ajax had definitely caught wind of an abnormal number of regime shifts nearby, like in Coera. He remembered the letter he had seen, they are coming, it had said. He shivered involuntarily.

“This Master,” he said out loud then, almost unconsciously. “How did he do what you say he did? Why?”

Rosie pursed her lips. “He just did.”

Ajax stared her down, feeling his frustration swell up in his chest once more. “Give me something. You have to know. You were part of it.”

She kept her lips pursed.

Ajax exploded a little, then, “Then how did you and Hunter or whatever his name is get involved? Who is Master? Why is he doing this? Anything at all! Something.”

Rosie exhaled sharply. “I don’t know, really, how he started. I wasn’t alive, I wasn’t there. Hunter wasn’t even there. He just... he sees things, and he knows how to make them his. He makes everyone I’ve ever known look like a simpleton, and I’ve met kings and strategists, and whole parades of geniuses. I would tell you how, but I don’t know myself. He would tell me to kill a person, or to bribe a person, or even,” she colored a little bit, Ajax noticed, “to seduce a person. And somehow, things would fall into place. And then he would have me teach them things to do to rebels, questioners, people that suspected change was afoot. He was very particular about those things. And then all of a sudden, everything would be his, and his web of spies and his cloud of influence would envelop another country. Sometimes his plans would take years but they would always fall just into place.”

Ajax took a moment to absorb this, to wrap his head around the existence of a person who could strategize that well, who could find the precise weak points to exploit to bring a dynasty crashing down. “But what does he want, in the end?” he asked.

Rosie shrugged. “I don’t know. To be honest I don't think…” she trailed off. “See, he would tell me this story, as I grew up, about a young man who wanted to see the world. So when this man came of age, he sold his family’s farm in Chrysos and became a trader, and he was so good, and so charming, that soon he was selling not just to peasants but also to kings.” Rosie shifted a little uncomfortably. “Then he would tell me about what the man saw: the king of Undulae floundering in his attempts the knit his mountain tribes together. The haughty circle of the Ardor elite taking turns ruling and increasingly ostracized peasantry. The backroom dealings of the politicians in the senate of Chrysos. The broken Coera, still trying to piece itself back together 200 years after its civil war. The frozen wasteland of Glacia, ruled by the icy dynasty of the goddess Lizabet. The trusting and feeble kind of Tellus, more interested in his wine than his subjects. The disconnected Bellua, and its simple peoples. The war-loving, fickle tribes of Lacera, and their constant attempts to sail through the Frozen Sea to take Glacia as their own.” Rosie’s hands were gesturing largely, her eyes wide. She spoke as though she had indeed been hearing this story her entire life. “This man saw all of this and couldn’t help wonder why no one had tried to take advantage of all this weakness and corruption. And the kings, still enamored by his wit and charm, brought him tantalizingly closer into their inner circles,” she said, leaning in a little to Ajax. “And that was when he met Hunter.”

“So he just happened to find some expert assassin?” Ajax interjected.

Rosie shook her head. “Oh no,” she said. “He did find Hunter, but he found him in the streets of Guan, Undulae’s capital, fighting this pack of other urchins in the poorest part of the whole city. Hunter was fifteen but he took six of his peers and he made them scamper off, as he somehow had gotten his hands on his sword. And that impressed Master, so Master dismounted and he went up to him and asked his name. A week later, the king of Undulae was dead.” Rosie watched Ajax, expectant.

            “That is some story,” he said.

            “Undulae was his first,” she replied. She blinked. “In the chaos that followed, he wormed his way into the hearts and minds of the courtiers. He had them choose from their ranks the next king, the next dynasty. He was this new king’s advisor, helped him restore his throne to more than its former glory. He stayed there for two years, experimenting, and training Hunter. And the new king had a daughter, two years old when the old king died, and she would come sit and watch as Master taught Hunter languages and swordplay. And she picked them up fast, Master always said. She was eager to learn, so he started teaching her, too. And when he decided that he wanted to try another country, he took her with him, such was his influence over the king. And then he started using her, me, too. With Hunter.” She was looking at her hands.

            “He seems…” Ajax started, not sure how to end his sentence. There didn’t seem to quite be an adequate word in his vocabulary.

            “Unstoppable,” Rosie finished for him, looking him piercingly in the eyes. “You haven't met him, so maybe you still don’t believe, but take my word for it. He is unstoppable.”