When I was eight, I saw my sister executed. She stood on the scaffold with her head held high, next to the man she loved and those who believed in their cause. They betrayed the Empire. It is true. Their dream was a new power based on the blood that flowed in their veins, not on the debt that rested on their shoulders.

My name is Arien. Then - just a boy from the slums.

Today - I am the adopted son of the Empress.

This is not a story about revenge.

Or even about betrayal.

This is a story about choice.

About the price paid for ideals.