Rise Of Empire
Authors: Michael J Sullivan
Royce watched the courier ride out of sight before taking off his imperial uniform. Turning to face Hadrian, he said, “Well, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Will?” Hadrian asked as the two slipped into the forest.
Royce nodded. “Remember yesterday you complained that you’d rather be an actor? I was giving you a part: Will, the Imperial Checkpoint Sentry. I thought you did rather well with the role.”
“You know, you don’t need to mock
all
my ideas.” Hadrian frowned as he pulled his own tabard over his head. “Besides, I still think we should consider it. We could travel from town to town performing in dramatic plays, even a few comedies.” Hadrian gave his smaller partner an appraising look. “Though maybe you should stick to drama—perhaps tragedies.”
Royce glared back.
“What? I think I would make a superb actor. I see myself as a dashing leading man. We could definitely land parts in
The Crown Conspiracy.
I’ll play the handsome swordsman that fights the villain, and you—well, you can be the other one.”
Y
M
ICHAEL
J. S
ULLIVAN
The Riyria Revelations
Theft of Swords
Rise of Empire
Heir of Novron
Published by Hachette Digital
ISBN: 978-0-748-13136-5
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Michael J. Sullivan
(
Nyphron Rising
© 2009 and
The Emerald Storm
© 2010)
Map by Michael J. Sullivan
Excerpt from
Heir of Novron
by Michael J. Sullivan
Copyright © 2011 by Michael J. Sullivan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
To Robin, for breathing life into Amilia,
giving comfort to Modina, and saving
two others from death
To the members of goodreads.com and
the book blogging community, both of which
have supported the series and invited
others to join the adventure
And to the members of the Arlington
Writers Group, for their generous support,
assistance, and feedback
ONTENTS
K
NOWN
R
EGIONS OF THE
W
ORLD OF
E
LAN
Estrendor: Northern wastes
Erivan Empire: Elvenlands
Apeladorn: Nations of man
Ba Ran Archipelago: Islands of goblins
Westerlands: Western wastes
Dacca: Isle of south men
N
ATIONS OF
A
PELADORN
Avryn: Central wealthy kingdoms
Trent: Northern mountainous kingdoms
Calis: Southeastern tropical region ruled by warlords
Delgos: Southern republic
K
INGDOMS OF
A
VRYN
Ghent: Ecclesiastical holding of the Nyphron Church
Melengar: Small but old and respected kingdom
Warric: Most powerful of the kingdoms of Avryn
Dunmore: Youngest and least sophisticated kingdom
Alburn: Forested kingdom
Rhenydd: Poor kingdom
Maranon: Producer of food. Once part of Delgos, which was
lost when Delgos became a republic
Galeannon: Lawless kingdom of barren hills, the site of several great battles
T
HE
G
ODS
Erebus: Father of the gods
Ferrol: Eldest son, god of elves
Drome: Second son, god of dwarves
Maribor: Third son, god of men
Muriel: Only daughter, goddess of nature
Uberlin: Son of Muriel and Erebus, god of darkness
P
OLITICAL
P
ARTIES
Imperialists: Those wishing to unite mankind under a single leader who is the direct descendant of the demigod Novron
Nationalists: Those wishing to be ruled by a leader chosen
by the people
Royalists: Those wishing to continue rule by individual, independent monarchs
YPHRON
R
ISING
HAPTER
1
HE
E
MPRESS
A
milia made the mistake of looking back into Edith Mon’s eyes. She had never meant to—she had never planned on raising her stare from the floor—but Edith startled her and she looked up without thinking. The head maid would consider her action defiance, a sign of rebellion in the ranks of the scullery. Amilia had never looked into Edith’s eyes before, and doing so now, she wondered if a soul lurked behind them. If so, it must be cowering or dead, rotting like a late-autumn apple; that would explain her smell. Edith had a sour scent, vaguely rancid, as if something had gone bad.
“This will be another tenent withheld from yer pay,” the rotund woman said. “Yer digging quite a hole, ain’t you?”
Edith was big and broad and missing any sign of a neck. Her huge anvil of a head sat squarely on her shoulders. By contrast, Amilia barely existed. Small and pear-shaped, with a plain face and long, lifeless hair, she was part of the crowd, one of the faces no one paused to consider—neither pretty nor grotesque enough to warrant a second glance. Unfortunately, her invisibility failed when it came to the palace’s head maid, Edith Mon.
“I didn’t break it.”
Mistake number two,
Amilia thought.
A meaty hand slapped Amilia’s face, ringing ears and
watering eyes. “Go on,” Edith enticed her with a sweet tone, and then whispered, “lie to me again.”
Gripping the washbasin to steady herself, Amilia felt heat blossom on her cheek. Her gaze now followed Edith’s hand, and when it rose again, Amilia flinched. With a snicker, Edith ran her plump fingers through Amilia’s hair.
