General Jack's Rebirth

Silk before the blade

Mooresville Palace had not known such feverish activity in years; silk banners unfurled like tongues of flame from the stone balconies, servants scrubbed the courtyard marble until it glimmered like a still lake, and soldiers tightened their formation around the gates in lines so sharp they could cut sunlight.

The peace treaty party, the one that didn't exist in Jack's previous lifetime, was becoming a spectacle vast enough to drown an empire. Behind every peaceful act there's always a hidden problem.

Jack oversaw it all from the high terrace, hands clasped behind his back; the wind was cold against his bloodless knuckles. Kao was gone, the first wrong from his previous life righted, yet the weight in Jack's chest didn't lift, because the next traitor wore his blood: Damian.

Jack's younger brother, his smile was soft, his voice warm, and in Jack's last life, the dagger he drove through Jack's heart was the last warmth he left before dying.

Now Damian walked across the courtyard laughing with the palace staff, arranging the guest reception area with an ease so natural it made Jack's teeth grind. Damian seemed trustworthy; he always did. The perfect brother, the perfect trap, Jack descended the staircase and approached him.

"Brother," Damian greeted, bowing slightly. "We're almost finished preparing the main garden; the queens and nobleman will arrive this evening, Elena will."

"Good," Jack said curtly. "You'll greet the king and generals personally."

Damian blinked, startled. "Personally? That's normally your role."

"I'm preoccupied." Damian studied him. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the rumors, would it?"

Jack's jaw ticked. "Rumors?" He uttered it, his face etched with pretense.

"That you killed Kao in front of half the kingdom." Damian gave a delicate smile, mild but probing. "Some say he attacked you; some say you snapped his neck for sneezing wrong."

"Do you believe I would kill my own lieutenant without cause?" Jack asked quietly.

Damian met his gaze, too calm, too confident. "I believe you're under pressure, and men under pressure do strange things."

Jack almost smiled, yes, and snakes under pressure shed their skin early, but Jack said nothing; he simply clapped Damian's shoulder, firm, heavy, and deliberate.

"Do your job well; I'll be watching." Damian's smile faltered for half a heartbeat. Only half.

****

Elena had always been graceful, but tonight she moved like a queen forged from patience and steel. She oversaw the receiving hall where noblewomen and royal queens would be welcomed before the main treaty feast.

Her hair was pulled into a braided crown, her gown white and edged with gold thread that shimmered when she passed beneath the lanterns. Servants rushed around her like bees around the strongest flower.

"Lady Elena," a servant bowed, breathless. "The queen of Asterrow has arrived early."

Elena nodded and lifted her chin. "Prepare the musicians, and double the guards on the east wing; we cannot afford surprises."

She turned and froze; a handmaid whispered to another, glancing over her shoulder nervously. "Did you hear? General Jack snapped a man's neck with one hand in the middle of a market.

"Is it safe to be here?" The other whispered.

Elena's fingers tightened around her fan. Her husband was changing faster than she expected, more violent, more unpredictable, as though she loved him fiercely. The man preparing this peace treaty wasn't the same man she married.

She stepped into the receiving courtyard just as Queen Lysandra of Asterrow arrived; the monarch's jeweled veil sparkled in the evening light as she swept forward.

"Elena," the queen said warmly. "What a pleasure to see the empire's jewel again."

"Welcome, your majesty," Elena said with a perfect bow. "We hope your stay will be peaceful and prosperous."

Behind her, dozens of noblewomen filed in a river of perfume, silk, and suspicion. Elena kept her smile intact. Her heart kept its questions locked. Jack, what are you planning?

*****

Then dipped low, staining the sky crimson, a color Jack had seen too often on battlefields and on his wife's dying dress.

Fabian approached with reports. "General, the east gate is secure; Lord Ryker arrived. The southern caravans are on schedule; everything proceeds flawlessly."

Jack nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. In his last life, the peace treaty never happened; instead, there was war, Mooresville was burned, Elena was killed, Cara died coughing blood in Jack's arms, and Damian.

Damian held the god-scorched blade, and Jack pressed a hand against his chest where the phantom wound still ached. He would rewrite history even if it required blood.

"General," Fabian said cautiously, "Your brother requested an audience; he says it's important."

Jack exhaled sharply. "Send him to the war room."

*****

Damian's visit: Damian arrived with a folded letter sealed in red wax. "This came from the Northern kingdom," he said. "An urgent update: it contradicts our earlier intelligence."

Jack broke the seal; as he read, the blood drained from his face. A message in jagged script. "THE GOD OF WAR WALKS AGAIN; HE HAS CHOSEN HIS NEW CHAMPION. THE TREATY WILL BE HIS ALTAR."

Jack's breath caught; this wasn't in the old timeline, this was new. Someone was rewriting fate along with him.

Damian watched him carefully. "Brother, is something wrong?" Jack raised his eyes slowly.

"My brother," Jack said softly, "tell me honestly, where were you last night, after midnight?"

Damian stiffened, and Jack saw it, a flicker, a crack, a shadow in his little brother's expression, not guilt, too much knowledge.

"I slept," Damian said smoothly. "You can ask the guards." His voice was laced with suspicion yet serious.

Jack's pulse thudded like war drums; like a liar, he stepped closer, slow, controlled, and deadly. "Damian..." The lantern above them flickered violently. "Who did you meet in the forest two nights ago?"

Damian's face whitened, a thin tremor passed through his hand, and then a panicked servant burst through the doors, screaming.

"GENERAL JACK!!" she cried, collapsing at his feet. "COME QUICK, THE WOMEN'S RECEPTION HALL... IT'S... IT'S."

Jack shoved past him and sprinted; Fabian and several guards followed. They reached the grand hall, and the sight before them froze every breath.