Free Phoenix Rising by Jason K. Lewis Page A

last when her beauty faded as Glacis’s song soon would.  
    They had met late in life. She a wealthy merchant’s daughter whose father would not allow her to marry for fear of a huge dowry; he a hero of the Empire, freshly returned from the Xandarian hedge wars – which were really just a series of squabbles between the free states – and veteran of the pacification of the hill tribes. At thirty-five years of age, he had been in his prime, and as the oldest son of one of the ancient noble houses of the Empire, he could have had any woman he wished. Instead, after one chance meeting at the theatre, Martius had chased her with the single-minded abandon of a teenager. Finally, her father – realising that, as his daughter’s suitor was staggeringly wealthy he need not fear for his savings – had agreed wholeheartedly to the alliance.
    “Will you still love me when I am a grey?” she said to her reflection, but the beautiful hawk-eyed woman looking back at her gave no reply. Increasingly, Martius would stay up late, working on his ‘plans’ and meeting with his staff and aides even more than was usual... even for a workaholic like him.  
    “A wind of change is rising in the Empire,” he had told her as they lay in each other’s arms just two nights before. “There will come a time when all men will be judged on their merits alone and will be able to reach their true potential. What if the legions were just the start, Ella? What if the men speak to their families, their friends, planting seeds of change…? What if the message spreads like forest fire in summer?”
    “You must be careful.” she had replied, her heart thumping in her chest. “You cannot be associated with the republican movement; it is too dangerous – even for you.”
    He had just smiled his confident little smile. “They know I am not part of it, my love. You must not worry. I believe in freedom and free thought, but I love the Empire, and the Emperor.”
    “You loved the old emperor,” She had replied in a tone she immediately regretted. “Do not be fooled; his son is not cast from the same mould.”
    Arguing voices and loud footsteps from the veranda dragged Ellasand from her reverie.
    “I am telling you it was a valid move!” said a young and vibrant male voice, already deepened by the change.
    “Uncle Metrotis says that he couldn’t find a reference to it anywhere and he looked in Goodlan’s almanac!” said another, very similar voice, just as vibrant but a touch slower, deeper and less clipped.
    “I would listen to him, Accipiter,” said a female, her tone clean and crisp. “Don’t forget what Mama says about Uncle Metrotis: he’s probably a genius; and either way he’s definitely smarter than you are.”
    Ellasand smiled thoughtfully as her children entered the room – without knocking as usual – through the ironbound door that led onto the upper veranda.  
    Ursus did not look at all happy. She thought it likely he had lost a game of steal the king, which was always deeply frustrating to him. She often wondered what it must be like for her twins, almost identical in every way physically, but so clearly different in so many others. They were equally matched in most things, but Accipiter, who constantly reminded Ursus that he was the elder by ‘at least two minutes’, did seem to have gained the upper hand recently when playing their favourite board game.
    “Mama,” said Elissa, at eighteen a woman grown and three years the boys’ senior, “will you please sort these two out? It’s getting dark outside, and do you know what the little clowns were proposing to do?”
    “Ah, shut up, Lissa!” snapped Accipiter.
    “They,” Elissa raised her left hand and pointed at the pair, finger dancing from one to the other, “were proposing to have a duel with real swords , in the dark .”
    Ellasand glowered her disapproval at the boys. “I certainly hope that isn’t true, you two.”  
    “We were just joking around,