Through the hour that passed since Lyn finished breakfast (though by then most of the city had already had lunch), a curtained litter borne by four servants stopped outside his residence.

“Off you go,” Antipater said. Casting another critical glance at Lyn, he remarked: “Frankly, I expected better.”

"Frankly, I don't give a shit what you expected," Lyn retorted. The advice to "dress properly" had been carried out at the absolute minimum. He had no intention of impressing the Council — if anything, quite the opposite. However, he had at least washed with cold water, and the pounding in his head had receded significantly.

Lyn climbed reluctantly into the palanquin sent for him. As it rocked along the city streets, he frowned at the jostling and thought about why the Council might want to see him. He knew only one member personally: Xenophon, the head of the Church of the One God — at least, he had been at the time of the Red Emperor. Since the Emperor’s death, the country had descended into such chaos that even the Church hierarchy might have changed. Still, Lyn hadn’t heard of any shifts in the clergy, and old Antipater remained in charge of Lyn’s household. It was Xenophon who had appointed him there (the other servants were probably also recruited by at his behest), so Xenophon probably managed to hold on to his position even after the change of power.

Xenophon and Lyn had crossed paths only a handful of times, briefly and formally. Yet, by virtue of Lyn’s position, they were somewhat rivals, though Lyn had never wanted it that way. He suspected that the head of the Church didn’t particularly like him and would gladly rid of the Archon of This World if given the chance.

As for the new ruler of Bizanth, Empress Valeria, Lyn knew little. Some grumbled that power should not have fallen to a woman, but this had been the will of the Red Emperor himself. He had named his daughter as his heir when she was still a child, and who would dare question him?

Most likely, the Empress wanted to discuss with Lyn the same things her father had. It was unlikely to be a pleasant conversation. Lyn suspected that after meeting with the Council, he would need another drink — or several.

Even as these thoughts swirled, Lyn absentmindedly watched through the palanquin’s curtains as life in the city unfolded. The kettle of urban existence boiled as usual, digesting merchants, beggars, officials, and prostitutes.

One sight, however, caught his attention. He pulled aside the curtains when he spotted a large inscription painted in bold strokes across a wall: "GAIA". The letters were smeared in dark red. Nearby, several constables were wrapping something human-sized in fabric. A puddle on the cobblestones, the same dark hue as the writing, left no doubt as to what substance had been used as ink.

Beneath "GAIA" was a smaller inscription, written with the same macabre material:

"Winged and seeing children of mine! You suffer while our oppressors rule this land. I promise you: soon their false god will fall, and your torment will end. Extend a hand to your brothers and sisters. Unite and slay your tormentors without mercy, just as they show none when they break our wings and blind our eyes. But they cannot strip us of freedom or the truth we see. Remember: they fear us because they know we are stronger..."

Lyn could read no more before the litter moved on.

A small crowd of onlookers had gathered around the wall and the body, but not too many; killings on the streets of the Great City rarely raised eyebrows, and there had never been a shortage of lunatics of all kinds. Except that before, under the Red Emperor, the supporters of the Other Side and the old gods would hardly have dared to call for rebellion so openly. Clearly, the new ruler of Bizanth inspired far less fear.

Lyn didn’t linger on the city’s growing unrest for long. The palanquin soon arrived at the palace gates.

Once Lyn set foot on solid ground, one of the bearers bowed and said:

“I will inform the lord that you have arrived. Please wait here; someone will come to escort you shortly.”

The bearers departed, leaving Lyn unexpectedly alone. The sensation was unfamiliar after the past few years, and his first impulse was to run. To flee down the nearest alley, vanish into the city’s hidden corners, disappear...

But how far could he get? Sure, the mark on his forehead could be covered. Even so, the search for him would be relentless, and anyone harboring him would be dealt with harshly. Flee to another land? That could work — his ornate clothes would fetch a decent price and pay for the journey. But to where? And then what? You can't hide from yourself.  

Or maybe he had simply grown used to his cage, like a bird that wouldn’t fly away even if its door were left open...? 

Lyn stood near the gates for a moment longer, but patience wasn’t his strong suit.

He remembered the way to the Council Chamber well. Making his way through a series of halls and corridors, he wondered if anyone would try to stop him — but no one dared. Most of the people he encountered — nobles and servants alike — lingered on his forehead mark. Some gazes were awestruck, others skeptical, a few openly hostile. Lyn ignored them, walking through the palace with an air of cold indifference.

When the heavy double doors of dark wood loomed at the end of the corridor, Lyn instinctively slowed his steps. His tread became near-silent. Just practical, he thought irritably, catching himself. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that the sight of those doors stirred unpleasant memories.

"...There are nine chairs at this table for a reason," said the Red Emperor, placing a firm hand on Lyn’s shoulder. "One of them has always belonged to the Archon of This World..." 

Lyn glanced around to ensure no one was watching — no, the corridor was empty except for him — and pressed his ear to the door.