Emmet, in a small, separate room of their lodge, leaned against a rough wooden table. His focus, however, was miles away. He was communicating with Cliff, code name Gale, using his Rend link. This deep, instantaneous connection was currently only something he could maintain with Gale, a secure line in a world riddled with spies.
"Gale, status update," Emmet’s thoughts commanded through the link.
Gale’s reply was swift and urgent. “We are moving on schedule, Mr. Craft. The rebel forces are all equipped with new machineries, weapons, and even the unique mechanical suits you designed. The Red Empire contingent is now fully committed to Jasper—Skull—as the main vanguard of the rebel forces. Meanwhile, Lenka—Seeri—is securing a General who is willing to head the coup against the current King.”
Emmet felt a brief spike of satisfaction. "Good. I have updated Tierra and Haya—Locks and Echo—on our status. They are safe."
“And the target successor?” Gale pressed. “The General spoke of a candidate: an illegitimate son of royal blood and a kind-hearted noble, name Argel Ran.”
Yes, Emmet thought, a plan already forming. That’s where the outside team begins its real work. "Leave that to me. I will find him." Emmet severed the link.
Emmet’s journey to Harold Vine was a gradual shedding of the capital’s oppressive weight. The landscape slowly transformed from guarded checkpoints and barren, overworked fields to rolling hills, lush green pastures, and distant, shimmering rivers. The air grew cleaner, the sky seemed wider. After passing the last Royal garrison outpost—a dilapidated watchtower manned by bored, underfed guards—the atmosphere lightened perceptibly. Here, the fear seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet industriousness.
Harold Vine itself was an anomaly. Unlike the cramped, squalid settlements closer to the capital, it was a picture of serene functionality. Simple, sturdy wooden houses, regularly painted and well-maintained, lined clean, packed-earth streets. Children, their laughter bright and unrestrained, played games with stick and hoop without a Royal Guard in sight. Farmers tended their fields with a relaxed rhythm, their faces tanned and unburdened by the usual gnawing anxiety. There was a sense of prosperity, a quiet defiance of the kingdom's widespread suffering. It was a good village, flourishing in stark contrast to the rest of the realm.
And all its pleasantries seemed to point to one man.
Emmet spent days observing Argel Ran. He saw the subtle brilliance of the engineer everywhere. A series of elegantly designed windmills—their blades turning lazily in the breeze—powered a sophisticated irrigation system that ensured every field received water and generated local energy. The food supply chain, Emmet noted, was remarkably efficient for a village of this size, a testament to Argel's foresight.
One morning, Emmet watched Argel patiently instruct a group of farmers on mending a broken water pump, his hands stained with grease but his voice calm and clear. He didn't merely supervise; he taught, empowering the villagers with knowledge.
Later, Emmet observed Argel mediate a minor dispute between two quarrelsome neighbors over a shared irrigation ditch. Instead of dictating, Argel listened, offered a fair compromise, and somehow left both parties feeling respected. This wasn't just technical skill; this was the quiet wisdom of a true leader, a king in miniature.
Emmet even stalked Argel to his small, yet tasteful, mansion. He noted the laughable security—a single, half-asleep watchman by the gate. Argel lived openly, vulnerable, trusting the peace he had cultivated. A noble man, indeed, Emmet concluded. But a vulnerable one, too. A saint in a den of wolves.
Miles away, in the grimy tavern district of the capital, Tierra (Locks) and Haya (Echo) were at work. Echo, her blind eyes piercing through the physical world, "saw" a man hunched over a tankard of stale ale. He was a former Royal soldier, dismissed for insubordination, his thoughts a seething torrent of betrayal and resentment against his old commander. Beside him, a young woman, a nurse, worried over her empty coin purse, her mind consumed by the fear of how she would buy dwindling medical supplies for her ailing mother—supplies the King’s tax collectors had seized. Echo could feel the distinct, focused malice radiating from both, like dark beacons in the crowded room.
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"Targets acquired, Locks," Echo whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. "The soldier, his malice is pure fury at his general. The nurse, desperate anger at the King’s cruelty. Both strong, both actionable."
Locks gave a knowing smile, adjusting the silk shawl that draped elegantly over her shoulders. She exuded an almost ethereal beauty that masked the steel beneath. "Perfect, Echo. You never disappoint."
Tierra approached the soldier first, her movements fluid and captivating. She engaged him in conversation, her voice a soft, sympathetic purr that quickly disarmed his gruff exterior. She listened to his complaints, nodding empathetically, her eyes reflecting understanding. Then, a subtle shift. Her gaze intensified, her smile faded slightly, and a hint of something darker, more commanding, flickered beneath the surface. She spoke of a new path, a chance to turn his righteous anger into meaningful action, of a leader who could channel his fury into change. She mentioned a "Commander Skull," who was looking for men of true conviction. The soldier, captivated and vaguely intimidated, found himself agreeing, sensing both the promise of revenge and a veiled threat in her captivating presence.
She moved to the nurse next, her approach gentler, more maternal. Tierra listened to her fears, then spoke of a brighter future where healers were valued, where supplies were abundant, where a new King cared for his people. The nurse, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of hope and Locks’s almost hypnotic charisma, readily agreed to join a growing movement that promised a better tomorrow, feeling compelled to seek out "Commander Skull" and his nascent army.
As instructed, Locks and Echo secured their recruits, discreetly directing them toward Jasper’s hidden mobilization points. They knew their recruits were now part of Skull's growing vanguard.
Later that day, back at the lodge, Emmet emerged from his room and encountered a young boy in the corridor, who quickly and discreetly handed him a folded piece of paper before scampering away.
Emmet unfolded the small note, recognizing the careful script of his young sister, Echo.
Mr. Craft,
Our part is progressing smoothly. Locks and I have successfully recruited many—farmers, soldiers, nurses, and laborers. The malice is focused; they are loyal to the cause.
As instructed, we are sending all viable recruits toward Skull's location for mobilization.
— Echo
Emmet paused, impressed. He mentally reviewed their status. With Echo's ability to precisely identify those with deep, actionable grievances, and Locks's formidable charm, they are already forging a significant fighting force and funneling it directly to Skull's vanguard. He briefly considered just how effective, and potentially manipulative, the combination was.
"Excellent work, both of you," Emmet murmured to himself, knowing the message had been delivered precisely when they knew he would be available. Now I need to do my part.
That same day, Emmet approached Argel. Argel, stripped to the waist from helping the village fix their street lighting, drank cold water from his mug. "Ahh, that feels good," he sighed.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" Emmet asked.
"Sure thing, brother, there's plenty of space," Argel replied. "If you like, we can share my drink too."
"Oh, great, thanks. I have food to share too." Emmet opened his bag and offered an unleavened bread topped with sweet fruits.
"Oh, that looks yummy," Argel said.
"It sure is," Emmet confirmed, offering him a slice.
"That tastes good. So, where did you come from, stranger? I'm sure you didn’t accidentally bump into me."
"Ah, you're a smart one. Why don’t you take a guess?" Emmet challenged.
"Did my father send you?" Argel replied, his tone immediately wary.
Emmet didn't answer but sipped his cold drink instead.
"I'm fully aware my father did terrible things," Argel said, his gaze fixed on the distance. "It's not my fault I was born with their blood. I don’t want to be part of his kingdom, but I take advantage of whatever money he sends me to help this little village. At least I can think that this is his way of doing something good for the village."
"Do you like how the kingdom is being run right now?" Emmet asked.
Argel almost spit out his drink. "Now where did that come from?" he said.
"Well, I'm just curious. I’ve seen how you care about the people here. Their lives have changed dramatically with you, and you're not even a village chief."
"Is that why you keep following me?" Argel asked.
Emmet nodded.
"Well, you made it obvious," Argel continued. "I thought you were some errand guy from my father here to watch my every move. Are you some kind of assassin? Did my father finally decide to get rid of me? Look, you are not the first to come for me; even General Gon’s men came."
"If I was, are you not afraid?" Emmet asked.
"I can’t run away from my father even if I wanted to. I'm not sure if he cares, but one thing I know: he's not a good king. So it’s a possibility that an assassin may come for me."
"Well, unfortunately, I’m neither of those," Emmet stated, leaning in. "I am someone who will bring the kingdom down. It won't be long. Your father might die by the hands of my friends."
Argel once again spat his drink, genuinely shocked. "You're serious?"
"I’ll go straight to the point. You will sit on the throne after that. I don’t take no for an answer. The kingdom needs a better ruler. I’ve seen what you can do. You see, if you don’t agree, I will burn the whole kingdom down. I have arranged it already. So say yes now."
Argel's eyes bulged, instantly understanding that Emmet's statement was both a terrifying threat and an irresistible proposal. Argel had no reason to refuse.
Emmet activated the Rend link to Gale. “The successor is secured.”
Emmet’s part in securing the figurehead was complete. The ground had been tilled, and the seed of rebellion planted. Now, the next phase of the plan was ready to commence.
Miles away, the Vanguard Base hummed with quiet, efficient activity. Here, a hidden army was assembled, led by Skull (Jasper) and supported by the five powerful figures from the Red Empire contingent. The forces were fully equipped with advanced weaponry and mechanical suits, ready for a moment's notice.
The specialized network created by Gale (Cliff) was fully operational. Their communication channels worked so smoothly that the ingress of inventory, the movements of incoming weapons, and the distribution of supplies to supporters were all flawlessly coordinated. The rebel forces, united by malice and armed with advanced technology, were in place. The foundation of the coup was solidified.
AUTHOR NOTE: Hiatus time for Emmet's Dawn. The readers have spoken—by not speaking. So I’m embracing the void and finishing this thing in private, where the only critic is me and my questionable life choices.
"Pulse" is updating weekly—a supernatural comedy about a guy with a weird heart and the assassin who won’t take “I’m not a vampire” for an answer.
be honest do you think i should continue posting this story?