Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

Cett said, pounding the table again. "I just want to order scout and spy reports, so that we can have information we need when we invade!"
    "If we do invade," Janarle said. "If the emperor decides to recover Fadrex City, it won't happen until this summer, at the very earliest. We have far more pressing concerns. My armies have been away from the Northern Dominance for too long. It is basic political theory that we should stabilize what we have before we move into new territory."
    "Bah!" Cett said, waving an indifferent hand.
    "You may send your scouts, Lord Cett," Sazed said. "But they are to seek information only. They are to engage in no raids, no matter how tempting the opportunity."
    Cett shook a bearded head. " This is why I never bothered to play political games with the rest of the Final Empire. Nothing gets done because everyone is too busy scheming!"
    "There is much to be said for subtlety, Lord Cett," Penrod said. "Patience brings the greater prize."
    "Greater prize?" Cett asked. "What did the Central Dominance earn itself by waiting? You waited right up until the moment that your city fell! If you hadn't been the ones with the best Mistborn. . ."
    "Best Mistborn, my lord?" Sazed asked quietly. "Did you not see her take command of the koloss? Did you not see her leap across the sky like an arrow in flight? Lady Vin isn't simply the 'best Mistborn.'"
    The group fell silent. I have to keep them focused on her , Sazed thought. Without Vin's leadership—without the threat of her power—this coalition would dissolve in three heartbeats .
    He felt so inadequate. He couldn't keep the men on-topic, and he couldn't do much to help them with their various problems. He could just keep reminding them of Vin's power.
    The trouble was, he didn't really want to. He was feeling something very odd in himself, feelings he usually didn't have. Disconcern. Apathy. Why did anything that these men talked about matter? Why did anything matter, now that Tindwyl was dead?
    He gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to focus.
    "Very well," Cett said, waving a hand. "I'll send the scouts. Has that food arrived from Urteau yet, Janarle?"
    The younger nobleman grew uncomfortable. "We. . .may have trouble with that, my lord. It seems that an unwholesome element has been rabble-rousing in the city."
    "No wonder you want to send troops back to the Northern Dominance!" Cett accused. "You're planning to conquer your kingdom back and leave mine to rot!"
    "Urteau is much closer than your capital, Cett," Janarle said, turning back to his tea. "It only makes sense to set me up there before we turn our attention westward."
    "We will let the empress make that decision," Penrod said. He liked to act the mediator—and by doing so, he made himself seem above the issues. In essence, he put himself in control by putting himself in between the other two.
    Not all that different from what Elend tried to do , Sazed thought, with our armies . The boy had more of a sense of political strategy than Tindwyl had ever credited him with.
    I shouldn't think about her , he told himself, closing his eyes. Yet, it was hard not to. Everything Sazed did, everything he thought, seemed wrong because she was gone. Lights seemed dimmer. Motivations were more difficult to reach. He found that he had trouble even wanting to pay attention to the kings, let alone give them direction.
    It was foolish, he knew. How long had Tindwyl been back in his life? Only a few months. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never be loved—in general—and that he certainly would never have her love. Not only did he lack manhood, but he was a rebel and a dissident—a man well outside of the Terris orthodoxy.
    Surely her love for him had been a miracle. Yet, whom did he thank for that blessing, and whom did he thank for that blessing, and whom did he curse for stealing her away? He knew of hundreds of gods. He would hate them all, if he thought it would do any good.
    For the sake of his own sanity, he forced himself to get distracted by the kings again.
    "Listen," Penrod was saying, leaning forward, arms on the tabletop. "I think we're looking at this the wrong way, gentlemen. We shouldn't be squabbling, we should be happy. We are in a very unique position. In the time since the Lord Ruler's empire fell, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of men have tried to set themselves up as kings in various ways. The one thing they shared, however, was that they all lacked