I knew he was special from the first moment I saw my daughter’s gaze, and the enraptured fascination that filled it. I had seen her scornful, dismissive, haughty, superior, and outright condescending—but I had never seen her so utterly transfixed. It was as if he were a star, and she was a planet caught in his orbit. If I had known what the future held, I might have pleaded with Atreus to slay him there and then. Yet I did not, and as a result, all that we knew as constant has been turned on its head. I wonder what my forefathers would say if they could speak. Somehow I know their spirits are howling while they watch this madness unfold, and the Humanosphere blazes all around us.

  “I am glad you could join us today, Ser Magellan,” Menelaus said while drawing Arthur’s attention from the depths of Circe’s eyes, and back to the Duke of Pallikári himself. “I am very excited for you to tour our facilities. They are something of a point of pride for House Leos.”

  “It’s my honor, your grace. I hope that at the end of this week, I will be able to offer you validation for the hope you are placing upon me,” Arthur replied courteously while simultaneously berating himself mentally for letting the heiress’ psions wiggle past his defenses. He found it hard to extricate himself from her aura when he lost focus on holding it at bay, even with his extensive experience in combating such things.

  His resonance with Circe Leos seemed to undermine his self-control with ease.

  The heiress herself looked away only a few moments after he did, and the faint flush of embarrassment on her cheeks seemed to confirm her own awareness of his attention.

  Making her uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted, and he chided himself mentally while focusing on the platinum-haired patrician observing them both.

  “A week, Ser Magellan?” Menelaus asked curiously.

  “I-It was my idea, father!” Circe spoke up while clearing her throat. “I spoke to Arthur—that is, Ser Magellan—at length and we came to an agreement. He will spend a week learning all he can about our House, our home, and our culture. In return I will learn about him and where he comes from, and by the end of that week, the two of us will duel.”

  “I see…” Menelaus said with a glance toward Atreus, who met his eyes with a grunt.

  Arthur remained quiet while Menelaus seemed to consider Circe’s words, and simply awaited the Duke’s determination. He had thought that perhaps the Patriarch wanted him to demonstrate his skills sooner, given Atreus’ comments on the shuttle in.

  He supposed now was when he found out.

  “A week, then,” Menelaus said instead a moment later, “that seems like an agreeable timetable to me, and it allows us to put preparations in place for your inauguration should you prove worthy of the position being offered, Ser Arthur.”

  Menelaus’ use of his name seemed intentional, as did the small smile that accompanied it. The Lord of Leos seemed to both be acknowledging his daughter’s use of it, while also using the ‘Ser’ moniker as a means of ensuring proper separation between a High Noble and potential vassal.

  It was as close to a welcoming embrace as Arthur might ever receive.

  He felt a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding melt away.

  “You have my gratitude for your understanding, your grace,” he replied sincerely.

  “Not at all. I defer to my daughter’s insight in this case,” Menelaus responded warmly.

  “She has been a very engaging conversationalist,” Arthur agreed with a wry smile.

  Circe glanced over and up at him, and Arthur turned his smile down to her in turn.

  She bit her lip and looked away in embarrassment, and he let his smile fade. Had he misread the friendship they had started cultivating? Or was it a matter of appearances in front of her father? He couldn’t tell, and resonance was not helpful for such specificity.

  “The training machine has been prepared for you as well, Ser Magellan, when you are ready,” the small and rotund man with the impressive mustache commented jovially, and took Arthur’s attention in the act. “Though before that, perhaps introductions are in order? We appear to have all been relieved of our senses by your impressive presence.”

  A chuckle from Menelaus followed, and Arthur inclined his head with exacting politeness. “A fine suggestion, sir. May I ask your name first?”

  “Oho. Turnabout is fair play, I suppose! Very well, my boy. I am Stephanos Stephanopolous, Seneschal of House Leos.”

  “Seneschal? Then you both aid Duke Leos in balancing the accounts, and see to the comforts of all present I assume? I will be sure to endeavor to remain in your good graces, Master Stephanopoulos.”

  “Ha! Smart boy,” Stephanos replied with a grin that Arthur noted never fully reached his eyes. “Keep that attitude about you, my boy, and we shall get along well indeed.”

  Arthur returned the smile with a polite one of his own, and ignored the amused look of the Duke—which was matched by the equally disinterested passive frown of Atreus—while turning to the scarred and armored woman beside Stephanos.

  “And if I may ask your name in turn, my lady?”

  “I am no lady,” the woman replied in her gruff voice. “I am called Daphne Bladebreaker, but Daphne is what most refer to me as. I stand as First Captain of House Leos’ elite Lion Guard.”

  “First Captain Bladebreaker,” Arthur confirmed with another bow of the head. “As a potential Hetairoi of House Leos, I look forward to your tuition and guidance in matters of war, First Captain.”

  Daphne snorted, but something approaching approval glimmered in her eyes.

  “I doubt I can teach you anything about Eidolon combat, Ser Knight-Errant. Of the more mortal martial forms, well, we shall see.”

  Her eyes raked over him with all the non-existent intimacy of a mechanic looking over an unknown machine, and something approaching interest entered her eyes—though it was the interest of a builder surveying as-of-yet unknown materials. “You will not be the first Eidolon pilot that has sought to learn combat outside of the safety of a cockpit. Perhaps you will be one of the rare few that manages to pass muster, though. Eventually.”

  Arthur responded calmly at her subtle implication of an Eidolon pilot’s failings, and did not rise the bait of her inferring the ‘safety’ of a cockpit. After all, Menelaus was proof that Eidolons were anything but safe—and Arthur could tell almost immediately that the woman was trying to push him for a reaction. He would not be so easily riled, though.

  “I will endeavor to prove your hopes justified, First Captain. I look forward to sparring with you to that end.”

  “Mm…” Daphne responded with a grudging look of surprised approval. “We shall see.”

  “I already know Lord Atreus,” Arthur said with a glance at the dour Myrmidón, “and while his impressive sense of humor and jovial countenance remain a constant boon to me, I shan’t impress upon him to pretend to enjoy senseless formalities.”

  All eyes snapped to Arthur in surprise at his words, and then immediately to the tall Myrmidón with a mix of shock, bewilderment, and anticipation for his reaction.

  Atreus, however, simply snorted.

  “Your confidence will be the end of you one day, Magellan,” the Spartan said in a disaffected manner.

  “Not easily, while I have you and your Kidemónes brothers to defend me, Lord Atreus. It’s only thanks to your volunteering to look after my well-being that I can be so confidently glib, after all,” Arthur responded with a casual smile.

  The Myrmidón snorted again, and Arthur heard laughter from Perseus behind him.

  “Forgive me, my lords,” the Kidemónas said through his helmet after Endymion’s armored gaze swung toward him in an unspoken reprimand. “I couldn’t help it. Arthur—ah, Ser Magellan—has a way of making even these formal situations oddly entertaining.”

  “No apology necessary, Kidemónas Andino,” Menelaus said before anyone else could speak. “I, too, found his comments most amusing. I suppose I am also the last person left from whom you need introductions, Ser Athur, though it seems rather pointless now.”

  Arthur smiled back at the Duke with a feeling of genuine relief at his subtle rescue of Perseus, and inclined his head in recognition of the other man’s point.

  “You are aware of our needs, I take it, from my wife’s explanations?” Menelaus asked with a casual shift of his weight.

  “I am aware of the need for a House Leos Hetairoi to remind the Ascendancy of your bloodline’s honor and capability, your grace,” Arthur confirmed while carefully choosing his words—especially with Circe’s jade eyes fixed on him intently. “And while I understand both you and your lady daughter to be more than capable of filling the role with success and prestige, I also understand the importance your lives hold for the future of House Leos.”

  “Hm. You truly are a careful man, aren’t you?” Menelaus asked with a wry smile. “Managing to dance around my shame while simultaneously building up mine and my daughter’s capability, as if you yourself did not make us look like ungifted mundanes by comparison.”

  “My lord—” Daphne began grimly, only to be silenced by a lift of Menelaus’ hand.

  “No, Daphne. He meant no insult, and I will not have him punished for being honest—especially in a time when such courage is distressingly absent among many who would call themselves Knights,” Menelaus then lowered his hand and stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Arthur’s while he continued. “My failure and arrogance led to my sterilization and invalidity as a pilot of worth, and forced my daughter into an untenable situation. My House, ancient and prestigious as Hellas itself, is encircled by its enemies on all sides.”

  Arthur remained silent and attentive when Menelaus reached out and placed a surprisingly warm palm on his shoulder, and squeezed with a strength that spoke of decades of martial practice. For all his gentle demeanor, the long-haired Lord of Leos truly was as powerful as the lion he emblazoned upon his breast.

  “You are hope, Arthur Magellan. Hope sent by my beloved wife under the guard of my oldest friend, and to the aid of my beset family and dwindling allies. You are the vindication of our resilience. I am not so foolish as to presume your loyalty, nor your care for our plight. Not yet, after so many mercenaries have failed us in the past.” the patrician smiled apologetically before he continued.

  “But I recognize your resolve, and the commitment you have made to learn. If nothing else, that and the fact your self-interest aligns with ours is something I trust that more than declaration of fealty absent foundation or basis.”

  Arthur felt himself relax at Menelaus’ words, and inclined his head in acceptance.

  “I can’t deny the unvarnished truth of your words, my lord,” he said while feeling the more elegant speech Zacaris had wielded like a blade coming to the fore. “I will confess to some measure of desire to act on your daughter and wife’s behalf, for the simple fact that both have shown me both a kindness and welcome that has merited my respect and appreciation—and in Circe’s case, my genuine and purely companionable fondness.”

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  He saw Circe’s eyes widen and watched her look up in slight panic at his words, and for all that he worried at her reaction, he couldn’t help but feel amused by the girlish nature of the otherwise indomitable heiress’ reaction. Her reaction, despite him having clarified the acceptably platonic nature of his fondness for her, inspired a surge of further endearment.

  “I believe I will fight for you, my lord,” Arthur continued in a way that felt right, “not because of romantic notions of honor and duty, but because I need you, and you need me—and together, I believe we can achieve a mutual satisfaction that will see both our desires met.”

  He looked over the assembled others, and then refocused on Menelaus.

  “The fact that my admittedly brief exposure to House Leos has already started to reveal a place of true honor, with bonds of loyalty and fidelity between a Duke and his subordinates; only serves to reaffirm my faith in Duchess Cassandra.”

  “So you have made your decision even without my blessing?” Menelaus asked.

  “On a preliminary scale, my lord,” Arthur confirmed boldly. “Whether or not that is an insult enough to turn you away from me, I have. House Leos continues to impress, and I see no reason to obfuscate and pretend otherwise. I will fight for you, I believe, and in the act I will realize my own ambitions in turn.”

  Menelaus regarded him in silence for a moment, and then laughed quietly.

  “Gods of Olympus!” Menelaus declared with a genuine smile. “They truly have no idea what a monster is coming for them. If your skills in an Eidolon are half as prodigious as your charisma and way with words, Arthur Magellan; you are going to bring our enemies, both foreign and domestic, to their knees.”

  Arthur’s reply was given in the form of a genuine smile of his own.

  Menelaus Leos was a man that understood, and that alone was enough.

  “That, my lord Menelaus, is exactly my intention.”

  “Then let us tarry no longer in this fugue of formality,” Menelaus declared with a clap of his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and a turn of his gaze toward Stephanos. “The facilities are indeed ready for viewing?”

  “They are, my lord,” the shrewd-but-jolly Seneschal replied cheerfully.

  “Very well. Let us be off, then. We have a tour to conduct, and if my instincts are correct, the celebratory feast for a newly sworn Hetairoi to plan for in the coming week. Will you see to those arrangements, Stephanos?”

  “It will be my pleasure, my lord,” the Seneschal replied with a bow, and a prompt access of the omni-comp on his wrist.

  “Will you be joining us, Lord Atreus?” Menelaus asked with a glance at the taller man.

  “Of course. It is my duty to ensure Arthur abides by the codices of respect while he is here. If he’s lacking, I’ll have an excuse to end him, and I would hate to miss that.”

  A moment of awkward silence followed the casual pronunciation of potential murder, right up until Circe broke it with a snort.

  “If you suspected him of being a buffoon, nonós, he would already be dead.”

  “She has you there, old friend,” Menelaus said calmly.

  “Hmph,” Atreus grunted, “you’re too cheeky for your own good, girl.”

  “As my godfather, you bear much of the blame for that, I should think.”

  The revelation of the relationship surprised Arthur, though apparently he was the only one. Menelaus simply smiled, Daphne and Stephanos exchanged knowing looks, and the Kidemónes behind him seemed unbothered by the reveal.

  “That makes a few things click together,” Arthur said with a sigh and a wry look at Atreus. “No wonder you were so quick to answer the Duchess’ call.”

  “It is hardly my fault you failed to properly investigate my relationship with House Leos on our trip here, boy,” Atreus said flatly. “Your error was assuming anything at all.”

  “I’ll be sure to learn from that,” Arthur responded with a grimace.

  “Good,” Atreus said with a nod. “Now let us be off in truth, before we get bogged down by another pointless conversation that none of us wish to have. This tour has been put off enough, and the watching gods are likely as frustrated by the lack as I am. Lead the way, Menelaus.”

  “As you wish, my lord Myrmidón,” the Duke said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

  Circe’s gaze shifted to meet Arthur’s, and the smile she sent him was approving.

  Without even thinking, he sent a matching one right back.

  Arthur fell into step behind the group as they set off through the gardens toward the western edge of the palace, his Kidemónes escorts behind him while Menelaus and Atreus came together to speak quietly at the very front of their group.

  Daphne and Stephanos had gathered around Circe, and Arthur allowed some respectful distance while the trio conversed—though the Seneschal did so with half his attention on the holographic screen he was even then manipulating with rapid and intentional movements.

  “You handled yourself well,” Endymion muttered quietly from behind and to his left as they walked, and were able to find some privacy of their own with which to chat.

  “Thank you,” Arthur responded with a glance back and genuine smile. “I felt at ease, though I suspect that’s as much to do with the Duke’s psions as it is my own confidence.”

  “He was a gifted pilot,” Endymion confirmed, “though his daughter reportedly outstrips him by the same capacity you outstrip her. It is… Mm.”

  “Hm?”

  “What Endymion means,” Perseus elaborated from his right flank, “is that you baffle us all still, Arthur. The sheer density of your aura is alarming. It’s almost like it’s growing in effect the longer we’re around you. When we first met you, it was a more subtle thing. You also seemed somehow more subtle. More, ah…”

  “Simple. Veiled.” Endymion supplied quietly.

  “Yes. Thank you, brother,” Perseus said in agreement. “More simple. It’s almost as if you’ve subtly become more complex the longer we’ve known you, and not in the way of revelation, but more so as if you’ve been waking up, in a way. It’s difficult to explain. It’s also markedly suspicious, if I’m being honest.”

  “Suspicious? I suppose I can understand that,” Arthur said with an honest nod. It was true, after all, in more ways than the Kidemónes could likely ever understand without first hand experience. His returned fragments of memory had changed him, and he felt almost as if his psions had somehow been muted prior.

  It seemed as if Nataliya had not only wrapped his psyche in layers, but had also managed to somehow alter the nature of his psions’ aura.

  Only now that he had started regaining his memories was that web unraveling, likely by design. The fact he did not remember whether or not he was currently at the true level of his natural psion density was in and of itself another cause for concern.

  It was like walking into a room armed with a sword he could neither see, nor feel the true shape of.

  “It is only because Lord Atreus seems perfectly at ease with the changes that we have deferred our concern,” Endymion explained bluntly. “Were it not for the Myrmidón’s confidence in what was happening, we may have reassessed your threat factor.”

  “Well that’s not worrying at all,” Arthur said with mild, but companionable sarcasm.

  “It isn’t meant to be a threat, Arthur,” Perseus said reassuringly. “It’s just the truth. You’re strange. Very strange. We don’t really have a precedent for this, and if not for Lord Atreus, we’d have already probably spirited you off to the Fortress of Ares for the Myrmidónes Strategos to interrogate. Truthfully, that may still be a possibility.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Atreus may send for him of his own volition, or another House might intervene and demand you be examined by the Strategos instead,” Perseus elaborated while the group stepped through another wide, open archway and into a long and spacious marble-lined hallway. “I suspect the reason that Lord Atreus and Lord Menelaus are so intent on having you swear fealty is that it gives them some manner of legal avenue to oppose your subordination by the Kings.”

  “And that doesn’t bother either of you?” Arthur asked with genuine surprise.

  “We serve the Kings, Arthur, but we serve the Ascendancy before any individual. Even them,” Perseus explained while they progressed through the corridor, and turned left at an intersection. “House Leos is one of the oldest, and most fundamentally honorable Houses in the Ascendancy. They aren’t without their own controversies and secrets, of course, but no Eupatridae family is.”

  “But of the Great Houses, Leos is one of the few that has been truly good throughout the centuries,” Endymion added firmly.

  “Which is why you took me to them.”

  Endymion grunted in response.

  “They claim descent from Leonidas himself, actually,” Perseus continued when Endymion didn’t. “The original one. From Terra.”

  “That’s a pretty bold claim,” Arthur admitted.

  “And backed by genealogy, thanks to the colonists,” Perseus confirmed.

  “It explains their prestige at least,” Arthur said thoughtfully.

  “That and the Lion symbol makes them heavily scrutinized, given its importance to our culture. It’s resulted in an unapologetically honor-driven culture within the House.”

  “Which makes them worth bending the rules for,” Arthur surmised while listening.

  “Only to a point...” Endymion muttered.

  “It helps that House Leos has birthed three Spartan Kings,” Perseus added enthusiastically, “and in every major conflict we’ve faced, they've reliably sent out heroes when Graecia needed them most.”

  “That explains your deference, at least,” Arthur said while the pieces started clicking together. “I’d read that House Leos had strong ties to the Spartan throne, but I hadn’t realized they’d actually produced Kings—more than one, at that.”

  “Our Kings are selected differently based on which of the two capitals they represent. In Athenai it’s all about intellect, debate, philosophy, and economic capability.”

  “In Sparta, it’s martial skill and proven honorable conduct,” Endymion cut in when Perseus finished. “Spartan Kings are decided by duels. Always, these are to the death—either between the incumbent and the reigning monarch, or between the two most qualified candidates if the King announces a retirement prior to being legally challenged.”

  “But Kings from both cities can only be challenged thirty years after their inauguration, right?” Arthur asked.

  “Correct,” Perseus said with a nod. “It stops things from being too chaotic. Every new King is granted thirty years to rule unopposed, as long as they don’t violate the tenets of rule. In addition to that, every time a Spartan or Athenian King is installed their counterpart receives a ten year grace from challenges, so the more senior of the two can help the new Monarch find their feet and learn the proper balance between their roles.”

  “That’s both extremely complicated, and extremely simple at the same time,” Arthur said with a shake of the head. “I can only imagine what your elections are like.”

  “Don’t get him started,” Endymion warned. “Andino is far too obsessed with our legislature.”

  “Spoilsport,” Perseus said good-naturedly.

  Arthur opened his mouth to poke the can of worms just as Menelaus’ voice carried back to him and drew their attention.

  “Here we are,” the silver-haired patrician said with his gaze focused on Arthur, while standing before what looked to be a reinforced pair of starship-grade blast doors. “The private hangar of House Leos. If you choose to swear fealty to me, ser Magellan—” the fact that the patriarch was acting as if it were not a given spoke positively of his respect for procedure, if nothing else “—and become a member of my House, this will likely be where you spend most of your time. If you are at all like most of us who pilot Eidolons, you’ll probably make more use of the quarters here than the ones in the residence.”

  “I’d deny that possibility, your grace, but I fear it would make me a liar,” Arthur said with an agreeing smile.

  Chuckles from Menelaus, Circe, and even Stephanos filled the quiet corridor at that.

  “Normally we would have members of the Lion Guard stationed here, but for this, I have asked my First Captain to give us privacy. Once your inauguration is concluded, they will be installed here to defend you while you work. My understanding is that you will be building your own machine from the ground up?”

  “That is correct, my lord. Yponávarchos Leos’ offer to that effect is a large part of why I am here, after all.”

  “Good. Then Daphne shall ensure you are given all the security possible while you commence your work.”

  The First Captain bowed her head at her liege’s words, and fixed Arthur with another assessing stare in the same moment as both Circe and Stephanos did as well.

  It seemed that Menelaus had not until that moment made that part of the deal open knowledge.

  Judging from the hungry look in Circe’s eyes, she was already thinking about the technological advancements a Fringe-born pilot might bring, and the unvarnished desire for the upgrades that filled her gaze almost made Arthur blush.

  “If you are ready, Ser Magellan, we shall enter the hangar for the tour. In a week, this is where you and my daughter will prepare for your duel.”

  “Will it be simulated, my lord, or live?” Arthur asked curiously.

  This time when Menelaus laughed, amusement appeared on the faces of everyone.

  Even dour Atreus and reserved Daphne.

  “My dear Knight-Errant,” the Patriarch said with a sly grin. “This is House Leos. We are the bloodline of Leonidas the Lion.”

  As if for effect, the massive blast doors started to rumble open while Menelaus spoke, and Arthur looked toward them with a heart-palpitating spike of anticipation.

  Menelaus’ grin remained when he continued.

  “We always do it live.”