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Tyrant Luciano Zarkov The council chamber overlooking the northern side of the estate had once belonged to the rulers of Moonfall before I tore the kingdom from their bloodline and renamed it Vagabond. Most people found that detail intimidating. The ceilings were high enough to prevent claustrophobia during extended political meetings, the walls were reinforced against both physical and magical attacks, and the windows overlooked nearly half the capital city. At this hour, Vagabond glowed beneath the night sky in endless waves of gold and silver light while government traffic continued moving through the lower districts like veins carrying blood through the empire. The city never truly slept. Neither did its ruler. I sat behind the massive black desk reviewing tax reports from Gravef