This is the sort of fiction that will be lost utterly if the orders are shuffled. I have a detailed and elaborate notion of the aristocracy and power structures of this world in my head.
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Gower smiled. It was not the smile of fresh-faced young Marauder who had been conscripted into that band many months ago. It was a practiced smile, a smile that betrayed nothing. He did not know why he, a bard and scholar, had been passed over by the Sages and the Architects, more natural fits for his talents.
But Endmaster (Immortal and Exemplar) has his reasons. And so, for months, he smiled and served.
The Marauders' inner circle, the Twenty, seemed to hold a good deal of power. Perhaps that the route. The route to seize the mantle for himself. No one would expect it. But the Inner Circle was strong and secretive and--wait a second. Serpent? Shouja? Zikara? Who is Zikara? Huh.
After a bit of thought, Gower realized that the Twenty seemed--penetrable. In a matter of months, with commendable behavior, Gower had assassinated his way up the ranks. Had he been a Warden, he would nearly have been Sovereign. He wiped his eyes as he considered this amusing and pointless prospect. "Sovereign of what?" he wondered, not for the first time.
Before long, Gower had achieved something of a reputation, while still keeping as low a profile as possible, taking his place among Endmaster's Notorious Four. The exiled gladiator Avery; the ravishing Wibn. Sabley, marital artist, known for her death blows. And now Gower, mild-mannered, but no less notorious.
Soon, sooner than he could have expected, he became Endmaster's second. No words were spoken. No words needed to be spoken. Closest to the throne. One heartbeat away from power, if Endmaster's withered heart ever beat, which it did not.
Gower considered. At his current rate of power gain, in only four--five--perhaps six months, he might--no, he *would* have enough strength to topple the dark god from his throne and become Immortal himself. And then--well, immortality was its own reward, wasn't it? Already he had helped the Marauders overtake the Architects. Gower fondly thought of the day those smarmy Sages would be overtaken as well.
Yes, soon. So soon, he...
Oh. What? Oh, now Endmaster had just doubled in power. Just--instantly. Just like that. He didn't appear to lift a finger. It just--happened. As if all of Endmaster's past creations had suddenly empowered him more, surrounding him with a further miasma of black lightning and ashen veil. Ten times more powerful than the Notorious Gower, and with every chance of being further empowered, Gower gnashed his teeth and wailed into the storm.
And then, as if to rub in the blow, like a crab apple falling off a tree and hitting a dying soldier on the head, Endmaster plucked forth for himself the noble title "Of Avon" and appended it to his own long list of titles. It was meaningless to him.
"That should...have been mine," Gower said. "I earned it...I earned...that pointless title."
Endmaster looked around. He thought he heard something, shrugged, and went about his day. The world had changed for many that day, but not for him.
