Friday, July 22, 4 S.E.

  “{You certainly seem prepared, Achilles. How do you feel?}”

  Leonidas glanced at Ceruviel when she spoke, pausing in the process of latching the last of the straps on his [Spatial Backpack]. It had been a gift from the Duchess herself the night prior, after he’d spent the day meditating to better harmonize with the [Manastorm Pinions] he’d grafted to his spine.

  Even then, he could feel the graft, dormant but awaiting his call.

  “{Eager for departure,}” Leonidas said candidly, his lips quirking into a wry smile. “{As much as I enjoy the finery of the new life you have given me, Ceruviel, I cannot say I will be unhappy to be in the wilds for a short time—no nobles, no politics, no worshipful Terrans; just my companions and a clear objective.}”

  Ceruviel smirked at that and walked closer to turn him around—adjusting the silver-banded, red-trimmed black jacket he wore, and nodding in approval. His ensemble had been part of what she’d originally purchased for him during their initial shopping rampage: a pair of all-weather multi-pocket black leggings, a pair of sturdy combat boots, and a red-trimmed black tee. All the items were [Uncommon] quality, enchanted for self-repair, self-cleaning, and resistance to the elements.

  It meant packing extras were mostly for reassurance rather than necessity.

  “{You look ready, certainly,}” his Mentor said with a flicker of consideration, her expression softening. “{I am both proud of you and mildly concerned about this, Achilles. I should be escorting you all there.}”

  “{That would defeat the purpose of developing teamwork, Ceruviel,}” Leonidas pointed out with a smile and patted her arm. “{You trained me well enough. I will keep them safe, and we will return with a Queen-Potentiate. All you need to do is ensure the city is ready to receive its new Queen.}”

  “{Braedon should be gone for another week at least,}” Ceruviel said with a final nod of approval, and idly stepped back to fold her armored arms over her chestplate. Given she’d just returned from the Dusk Watch, her armor remained in place—clanking faintly as she moved. “{I will ensure his faction does nothing drastic after he learns where Aylar went. That said, you still need to return safely, as well, Achilles. I will speak with Sinalthria. The Guild would be more suitable for that task.}”

  “{Politically, you are probably correct,}” Leonidas agreed and turned to snag his backpack, swinging it over his left arm and hitching it to settle the weight. “{Are John and Sonya downstairs?}”

  “{Waiting for you like lost pups, yes, alongside Parnym, Aylar, Synthra, and Bardulf,}” Ceruviel said with a glimmer of amusement in her lavender gaze. “{The boy hero worships you.}”

  “{He will grow out of it after you mentor him long enough,}” Leonidas said wryly. “{I suppose I was easier, in that regard.}”

  “{The challenge you presented was never about maturity, Achilles, barring your issues with the fairer sex. The challenge with you was, and remains, teaching you to forgive yourself.}”

  Leonidas’s good humor faltered at that, and then he shrugged a little and let the truth have its day. There was no point denying her; the Archon was absolutely correct, and they both knew he still had a distance to go in that regard.

  “{You will have plenty of time, Ceruviel. If this mad plan of yours succeeds, you will remain my caustic teacher for some time yet.}”

  “{A glory beyond my wildest hopes,}” the Duchess said in a dry tone, and nodded back toward the door. “{Come. Your companions will be waiting for you as well. Parnym seems quite nervous. Traveling with a Defier of Heavens did not seem to factor into his expectations for the immediate future.}”

  Leonidas snorted and followed her as she led the way out of his apartments in a march, his right hand settling comfortably into the pocket of his leggings.

  “{He seemed fine the first time you introduced him to me,}” he noted as they moved down the corridor he’d come to recognize as his, and nodded idly to the various maids or underbutlers that bowed as they passed. It was strange how quickly he’d adjusted to that treatment, but Elatra had likely helped—the Hero Leonidas had been worshipped to an extent that had made his skin itch.

  By comparison, being merely the First Archon of Terran Blood was far better.

  He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he and Aylar…

  Leonidas grimaced away the thought process and shook his head by habit to clear his thoughts.

  “{Duty is never light, Achilles,}” Ceruviel said to him quietly as they walked, “{and yours certainly never shall be. You are a Sovereign, by your own hand at that. You cannot escape your own choices; you can only shape how they impact your future.}”

  “{Please do not try to convince me of this just before we say goodbye,}” he said with a quiet sigh. “{We both know Braedon’s challenge has backed me into a corner. I am considering it, Ceruviel. You need to let me find the path myself.}”

  Ceruviel let out an aggrieved sigh, but blessedly refrained from pressing the point.

  “{I looked into what you reported, as well,}” the Archon said as they turned a corner and made their way toward the main area of the upper floor. “{The Svartfar adventurer seems to have left the city after her encounter with you. When she returns, Sinalthria assured me they would ask her about the lack of mind-glow. I suspect she’s had training in shielding her thoughts, but the matter is worth investigating—especially with the reports of Svartfenn raids farther afield.}”

  “{Do you believe it could be an issue?}” Leonidas asked as they approached the main landing before the stairs.

  “{I am professionally paranoid, Achilles. That is our duty as Archons, and mine especially as Dusk-Lord—but we shall see. It very well could be a random chance encounter, but one can never be too cautious.}”

  Leonidas nodded without reply as they moved forward and stepped down the first staircase, his Tempered body unconsciously distributing his weight and pressure in a way that allowed him to ‘glide’ down the steps, mimicking his Sixth-tier mentor.

  As they reached the first landing of the grand staircase leading from the mansion proper to the residential quarters, Leonidas looked out to see the people awaiting them.

  The Matthersons were first, both Patrick and Elise proudly adorned in the Footman and Scribe uniforms, respectively, that Ceruviel had procured for them. Both had insisted on working while under her roof, despite the Duchess’ emphatic assurances that it was unnecessary, and she had eventually agreed to humor them, so long as it did not impede their learning. Both Terrans seemed more comfortable after finding something to do. Leonidas could understand the sentiment—he’d grown up with people like that.

  Salt of the earth, hard-working souls.

  The essence of humanity writ large.

  Johnathan and Sonya stood in front of the married couple, the boy grinning up at Leonidas while wearing a black suit not unlike his own preferred attire, albeit with far less adornment and a simpler design. A bastard sword was sheathed diagonally on his spine, per Ceruviel’s instruction for his adjustment training, and long blond hair was tied back into a simple foxtail.

  Leonidas smiled back at John fondly and glanced at Sonya.

  The boy’s companion and ostensible girlfriend, so the rumors now went, wore a conservative purple blouse and shin-length charcoal skirt, with a pair of black boots banded in silver. A small cardigan completed the look, emblazoned with the cross-swords-over-eagle of House Latherian’s coat of arms. Sonya had decided to join with Ceruviel after her arrival and had become one of her Ladies-in-Waiting, except when she was needed for her education.

  It was a good way to teach her the necessary skills she’d need to deal with the Haelfenn Court as a Saintess, Leonidas considered.

  Beyond the small family lurked a more amusing sight.

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  A decidedly awkward quartet of people he’d soon be entrusted to keep alive.

  Aylar and Synthra stood with surprising ease side-by-side, watching him with expressions of mixed consideration and cool assessment that made the hairs on his neck stand on end in wariness. Their mind-glows were relatively calm to his [Psionic Focus], but there was an instinctive itch the sight of them standing so comfortably in one another’s company raised in his brain.

  The universal male danger, danger, danger warning blared for him.

  Both the Swordmaiden and Sorceress wore traveling attire.

  The Princess wore a fitted silver-steel plate worked with delicate gold filigree, elegant in craft but built for movement. Her underlayer, Leonidas noticed with an armor enthusiast’s approval, was composed of dark leather and travel straps. A deep red cloak hung from her shoulders, clasped high at the collar to flow out behind her, and a handful of utility pouches rode her hips in place of jewelry.

  Synthra, meanwhile, was not too far from her usual attire, maximizing mobility. The Sorceress had adorned herself in layered silks and supple leathers cut close to the body, worked with deep crimson and shadowed gold hues. The cloth sat like a second skin, clearly able to flow where it needed to while remaining rigid for modesty where it mattered. Her arms and legs were free for casting, dodging, or her patented explosive movement, and every clasp, fold, and slit was deliberate—fashioned for control, balance, and flexibility.

  A few feet away from the pair of stunning women stood Bardulf, engaged in animated discourse with a skinny elf of average height, bedecked in Duskguard-grey robes trimmed in red, and bearing the adopted red cross that Terrans associated with healers and menders—an affectation that the Alterans had taken upon themselves to better deal with the locals’ initial suspicion of healing magic.

  Parnym. He looks nervous. I’ll have to smooth that out. It can’t be easy knowing you’re travelling with the Princess, the Guildmistress’ daughter, and the Dusk-Lord’s Squire—poor guy.

  Thankfully, Bardulf, wearing rugged dark leathers with a black travel cloak across his shoulders, and bearing armored plates to protect parts of his body that did not rely on mobility like his forearms, shins, and torso; was doing a fine job of easing the young Duskguard Mender in—applying his patented friendly, cheerfully relaxed nature to set the man at ease.

  When Leonidas and Ceruviel reached the ground level, John and Sonya separated from Elise and Patrick, the former racing forward while the latter attempted to glide in the way noble daughters were taught—her face faintly focused on the effort.

  “Hello, Ace!” John said a little loudly, in a way Leonidas knew meant he was trying to show off their familiarity. It was endearing, if a little silly, but he remembered the excitement a teenager could hold. “You know, I was talking to my parents, and if you need a sixth—”

  “No,” Ceruviel cut in curtly, eyeing John critically as she did. “You have training, Johnathan.”

  John’s eyes slid to the Duchess at her words, and he swallowed at her imperious stare, while Leonidas spotted his parents looking both amused and mildly embarrassed at his daring.

  “Her Grace is correct, John,” Sonya said as she finally met them, speaking in a way that sounded like she was remembering phrases and trying to convey them naturally. “You would only get in Achilles’ way. You need to focus on your training.”

  John looked between Ceruviel and Sonya, then turned to Leonidas as if he could help, to which the boy received only a wry smile and a ruffle of his hair. “Focus on your training, Junior Brother. I’ll try to bring you back something nice from the Delve.”

  John’s mouth twisted at the first words, and then transitioned to a grin at the second, and Sonya glanced from him to Leonidas with a glimmer of hope.

  “Yeah, Sonya, you too,” Leonidas said warmly, and patted her on the head in turn. “You kids be good, listen to your parents, and don’t piss off Ceruviel. She once beat me with psionic poles for three hours after I got mouthy.”

  John and Sonya’s eyes widened, and the boy stared at Ceruviel in fearful awe, while Sonya seemed more interested, even curious.

  Oh man. John is in trouble with that one.

  Ceruviel glanced at him with a look of amusement at the anecdote, and then nodded to Elise and Patrick. “I will come see you both and your guardians after I see off Achilles. There are matters I must discuss with his Party before they depart.”

  The teenagers deflated a little at that, but John bowed in an awkward demonstration of courtly conduct, and Sonya curtsied in a way that seemed far more practiced, before the pair retreated to the two Terran adults.

  When Leonidas and Ceruviel walked past a moment later, both Patrick and Elise gave him supportive nods, and the man offered him a Terran military salute, which Leonidas grinned at and offered an Alteran fist-to-heart salute to in return. He wasn’t about to use a serviceman’s salute, no matter his station in Dawnhaven. He respected the people who had defended his homeland’s freedom too much for that.

  Besides, his grandfather had always hated stolen valor.

  When he and Ceruviel arrived near Aylar and Synthra, Parnym and Bardulf peeled off to join them—the latter snatching up a weathered brown backpack from the wall and walking over jovially.

  “{Duchess Latherian, Earl Latherian,}” Aylar greeted them both in a courtly manner, her azure gaze shifting from Ceruviel to Leonidas, and settling there with intent. “{Is all prepared?}”

  Ceruviel simply glanced at Leonidas, and he took her cue while trying to ignore that Synthra was also watching him with intensity in her golden eyes.

  “{I am provisioned and prepared for a three-month journey, if needed,}” he confirmed with a slight jostle of his [Spatial Backpack] indicatively. “{Between the five of us, we should have all that we require to see the Dungeon Delve succeed.}”

  “{I have packed cooking utensils as well!}” Bardulf declared happily as he and Parnym joined them, his pronounced Lycanus-blooded canines flashing. “{Lance-Mender Parnym here was just telling me about his love for Terran-Alteran fusion cuisine! It should mean satisfied stomachs for all of us during the journey.}”

  Parnym’s pale face turned red at Bardulf’s words, and the Mender coughed as he choked on what Leonidas suspected was his own spit, embarrassed by the praise.

  “{Mother ensured I was provisioned, and Aylar and I have taken an accounting of what we have brought,}” Synthra said with a shared look of administrative respect for Aylar. “{Once we are on the road, we will ensure that the distribution of necessities is appropriately rationed.}”

  “{It sounds like everyone is prepared, then,}” Leonidas said as casually as he could, and turned to Ceruviel, if only to break the intense stares both women were giving him. “{Anything final, Ceruviel, or can we set off?}”

  The Duchess looked at him when he spoke, glanced at the group, and then resettled her gaze on Leonidas. Her eyes searched him for a moment, and then she stepped forward and took his face in her armored gauntlets, bending his head down with immutable strength to press a kiss to his forehead.

  “{Live with Honor, die with Courage, Archon.}”

  Leonidas’ eyes widened faintly at the ceremonial address, and he quickly moved to reciprocate, sliding his feet together and slamming his fist to his chest while bowing.

  “{For the Honor of the Order and by the Justice of my Heart, I shall, Grandmaster.}”

  Leonidas’ companions' mind-glows rippled with a mix of shock, awe, and envy at the exchange, and he straightened after a moment to smile wryly at Ceruviel.

  “{Good luck with the city,}” he said more casually.

  “{You should be wishing the vipers luck with me,}” Ceruviel responded mildly, and turned to the others. “{Princess Aylar will be your Party Leader for this Delve,}” she informed them in an ironclad tone. “{A Party is only as strong as its cohesion, and this is no time for selfish heroics. Trust one another, fight together, and set aside all juvenile idiocy until you are safe enough to entertain it. You go with the hopes of our futures riding on your shoulders—try not to} fuck {it up}.”

  Leonidas suppressed a grin at the inserted Terran invective and peered at his companions. “{Any questions?}”

  “{The Dusk-Lord’s advice was rather complete, I think,}” Bardulf said with amusement, and a look of naked awe for Ceruviel.

  “{No, my lord,}” Parnym said more diligently, while trying his best to stand with the pride a member of the Duskguard should embody, especially under his Dusk-Lord’s stern gaze.

  “{I am prepared,}” Synthra said simply, and eyed Leonidas speculatively.

  “{We are all ready,}” Aylar agreed. “{I will extend you the Party Invitation, Earl Latherian. We should be on our way.}”

  Leonidas nodded and, with a final wave back at the Matthersons, exchanged nods with Ceruviel and smiled at the staff waiting nearby in patient attendance, gestured to the doors. “{Ladies first,}” he said politely.

  Aylar and Synthra exchanged looks at his words, and spun in sync, striding for the doors while the Princess idly lifted her hand to tap something invisible.

  A moment later, as Leonidas, Bardulf, and Parnym followed them, a System Window appeared in Leonidas’ vision.

  PARTY INTERFACE

  You have received a [Party Invitation] from Aylar Eldormer.

  Warning: While in a [Party], all experience will be split based on contribution and net income, with 50% split evenly, and 50% divided based on contribution.

  Do you wish to accept the [Party Invitation]?

  [Y] | [N]

  Leonidas reached out and tapped the [Y] without hesitation, grinning quietly to himself as Bardulf began animatedly chatting with Parnym again, while the Mender looked at his new Party with a mix of trepidation, disbelief, and determination.

  Together, the five of them departed Ceruviel’s mansion and turned to make their way to Dawnhaven’s gates, with Aylar pulling a cloak and hood over herself to avoid unwanted attention.

  Finally, Leonidas thought as his [Cataclysm Core] revved in anticipation, I can see a Dungeon for myself.

  The gamer in him couldn’t have been happier.

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