The Palace Guard was jumpy. And that was saying something.

For a thousand years and more, the Palace Guard had held the Palace Grounds secure. Even during the Wassar Rebellions, when the entire land had been under the control of the Rebel Lords, the Palace Grounds had remained unconquered. The Palace Guard had held out for six years before they allowed Gaiba, the rebel chief, inside, along with his commanders. And that was to kneel before the new Emperor, all of thirteen years old, and kiss the hem of his robe, swearing fealty to him and begging forgiveness for their treason.

Exhibiting remarkable wisdom for one so young, Emperor Wasa had not only spared his life, but also given him an appointment in his service. Gaiba was appointed Lord of the Eastern Farlands, where even before the Rebellion the Emperor's sway was weak. And it was a wise decision, perhaps taken due to the six years spent at his father's knee, learning all there was to know about Imperialdom, perhaps from an inborn ability to judge people and their worth, or perhaps from a combination of both.

Gaiba was successful in his role, leading several punitive campaigns against Farland Lords who thought they could get away with not paying their tributes. And he stuck unwavering to his oath to his Emperor. With the Eastern borders secure and integrated, Gaiba volunteered and was sent to secure the Southern borders, where he played a great role in allying the Great Tribes with the Empire. As soldier and statesman he served his Emperor well, fully vindicating the young Wasa's decision.

And today, twenty years hence, there seemed to be a lot amiss.

It had all begun two weeks ago, when an emissary from the Great Tribes had staggered into the Palace Grounds, evidently having ridden hard and without rest for the entire forty days it took from the Southern Borders to the capital. He had been stopped by the Palace Guard, but had been immediately whisked inside the Palace when the Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard had seen him. They seemed to be expecting him.

Three days later, another emissary, this time from the Temple of Rud, ten days hard riding from the capital, arrived. This time the Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard was at the Gates to meet him and take him away into the Imperial apartments.

Since then, the Palace Doors had been shut. The Palace Guard had been given strict instructions to guard the grounds and make sure no one passed in or out. All men in the Palace Guard were to stay in the grounds, even when off duty. The three Marshals of the Palace Guards were to be available at all times within hailing distance of the Palace Doors. What happened within, the Palace Guard did not know.

Since then, every hour of the day or night, messenger falcons and owls were entering and leaving the message tower.

Two days ago, the Palace Doors had opened and the Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard had come out. He was looking haggard and drawn. He had not spoken to anyone and had just stood glowering at the Gates. A few minutes later, a convoy of six horse-drawn carriages had appeared at the Gates and driven right up to the Palace Doors. Groups of priests and astrologers had got out from them and were taken into the Palace, whereupon the carriages had driven away, as quickly as they had come. Before the Doors closed, the Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard had drawn the three Marshals aside and asked them to get sixty horses ready.

The Palace Guard understood nothing of what was happening, but knew it was nothing good that kept their Emperor locked up and calling for help from the most unlikely of sources. Any external enemy they could handle, and they had done so for the past thousand years. An enemy that they did not know, and more importantly, their swords, spears, maces and arrows were useless against, they could not even accept. They were on the edge, weapons polished and ready. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do. And the inaction was making them jumpy.

Thus, when they saw a cloud of dust in the horizon, the men of the Palace Guard were almost elated. Here was something they could handle, an enemy they could see. The tall watchtowers on the corners had powerful spyglasses, and eager eyes watched for signs that would tell them whether the approaching cloud brought friend or foe.

A guard came out of the northwest tower and ran up to the Marshals.

"The flag, it's Lord Gaiba!" he gasped.