... the courtroom of a palace. The palace of the Khan. He- no, you- have seen many come here through the years. Courtiers, dignitaries, ambassadors. Even the ones that take their names in emulation of the Khan, that live in the Bazaar. Here is a safe haven from the war that has engulfed the streets of the Fourth City. The Rosers, in their thorned armor, do not even have the mirrors to enter this place. The moths of the Copper are shot on sight. Spiders as well, for the Motherlings train them to spy. But you are aware of treasonous whispers in the royal houses.

You are afraid that their knives are aimed for the heart of the Khan.

It is at last when an Emissary from the Rosers appears. The Khan offers all diplomats his protection, no matter how despised by his court.

She stood tall and proud as she entered the court with her entourage. The Khan was careful to not meet her eyes, for he knew what lay behind them, and how it may influence him.

It is against the rules of the Khan’s Court to look at the Rosers’ Emissaries for that reason. But while none would meet her eyes, you did. You would take the respect the Khan deserved, even if the man himself would not. She nodded, as one did to a respected opponent, and turned back to the Khan.

A Masked Functionary looked at you from behind her metal mask, as the Emissary spoke of creating a zone of truce between the Khan and the Rosers.

As the palace moved into sleep, your dreams are fitful. You run from something in the dense jungle. Your dream ends as you meet the eyes of the Emissary, her eyes hard, the body of a crimson serpent coiled around her. You have been marked by your defiant act.

The next night, a servant brings you airag. You drink it, before you note the bitterness. As you fall unconscious, you realize you have been drugged. You do not dream. But when you wake in your room, there is a mirror in front of you.

You watch as the serpent rises from the underbrush. Its eyes meet your own, and you feel yourself uncoil. The Fingerking takes the space left behind. Your thoughts turn to that of the Khan. You know of the securities he keeps on himself, and how to undo them. And how this serpent may use them to its advantage. As it moves your body upright, you beg it to protect the Khan. "And so you shall. I am a creature of my word." A Masked Functionary moves to take the mirror, and assassins wrapped in the cloth of the Leopard clan stand behind you.

You lead them to where the Khan sleeps, undo the locks he trusted to protect him. No matter how hard you try, your body is no longer your own.

The assassins draw their knives, and softly move towards the sleeping Khan. Then, by no will of your own, you throw yourself over the Khan as they stab him. The Crimson Serpent laughs. "You protected the Khan, indeed." The Leopard throw you aside. Your vision darkens, as the poisons on their blades ensure your final death, and soon, that of the Khan.

You see the results of their bloody work, of the web woven around you. The Taimen and the Leopard take the Rosers' offer of truce. They leave those loyal to the Khan in the palace, ripe for the slaughter. They sail, across the sunless sea, to an island of metal and electricity. The White and Golds police the streets, and as closely as they can, the thoughts of the people. The death of the Khan is venerated from assassination to the event that created an empire. The empire outlives the war of the Fourth City, and its death of fire and lacre. In time, their enemies, the Motherlings and the Rosers, strip away their old loyalties and their armor, and join their old enemies.

You are standing on a lighthouse above the Khanate. This is one place the Rosers went, across the sea. You see a glint of light. A mirror shard.

It is then you hear scales scrape against metal. You turn to look, and see the Crimson Serpent, eyes glowing in the darkness. There is nowhere to run, but to the ground below. It meets your eyes. Your muscles move, turning you back to your vigil over the city. A fang rests inches away from your head, but you cannot move.

"You found a memory of one of my finest snares. But I have greater ones still. And in one, you have a part to play. That shard... the bait. I merely need you to take the Confessor's candle, when the time comes. She reaches to end something she barely understands. She reaches beyond her station."