Leonidas stood rubbing his head with a scowl for Ceruviel, watching the self-satisfied Haelfar where she stood nearby, looking like a cat with cream. The Duchess’s machinations and threats had paid off beautifully, and while he certainly had a large target on his back—nothing new, in reality—he also had comprehensive protections that would work to mitigate the direct threat he faced from the factions within Dawnhaven that wanted him eliminated.

  “{So, is someone going to tell me what that was all about?}” he asked simply, looking from Ceruviel to Uriel, and then toward Aylar and Synthra. “{Not that I do not appreciate your aid, Your Highness,}” he said to the Princess-Royal, “{but I can say it was certainly unexpected. As was yours, Synthra.}”

  The two younger women offered mixed reactions to his words.

  Aylar smiled at him quietly and inclined her head in a regal nod, while Synthra simply stared at him and then looked away, locking her jaw with something approaching annoyance.

  What a strange girl.

  “{Uriel was never going to condemn you, once he knew your vow,}” Ceruviel said instead, drawing his attention back to the Dusk-Lord, and the still-radiant figure of the Dawn-Lord nearby, who turned to Ceruviel in kind. “{He has quite the burr in his britches about the rule of law, but he recognized your potential the moment you had the tribulation. The only anomalous portion of that debacle was whether or not you were deemed a threat to Dawnhaven, but you managed to navigate his questioning quite aptly.}”

  “{It is not my first—that is to say, not my first time dealing with a figure of authority. We had law enforcement and judges on Terra before the Incursion. This was simply that, but in a more martial forum.}”

  “{You comported yourself well, Black Knight,}” Uriel said in his calm, impassive rumble. “{I regret that I coerced you to expose yourself as you did, but I had to be certain. Ceruviel’s assurances alone would not have assuaged the doubts of the Court—not while your vow remained a mystery. They would have presumed my own words to be an obfuscation out of misguided loyalty, in kind, if I had attempted to deflect them with trust in her alone.}”

  “{They’re all vultures, Uriel,}” Ceruviel said in response, her tone disgusted. “{Worthless vultures, the majority outcast from Altera as the unwanted branches of any number of families. For every three of those rodents, there is one worth consideration. The fact we permit their games at all is—}”

  “{Necessary,}” The Dawn-Lord cut in steadily. “{You have grown more prickly and displeased as the day has progressed, Ceruviel, but your antipathy toward the aristocracy will be of no benefit to anyone, least of all your charge. You must rein in whatever malignant sense of offended pride had occluded your judgment and exercise greater caution. You cannot afford to make an enemy of the Court.}”

  Ceruviel’s eyes narrowed at Uriel’s words, and then flicked over to Aylar, before dancing back to Leonidas.

  He felt her attention like a physical thing, pressing upon him with unspoken force and consideration as she weighed the Dawn-Lord’s words.

  After several moments’ consideration, the iron-spined Dusk-Lord let out a sigh of acceptance and lifted her right hand in concession. “{You are right, Uriel. Today has taxed me. Between the machinations of those vipers and the unexpected appearance of a First Tier Tribulation, my nerves are rattled.}”

  That was quite the admission, and Leonidas’ glance toward Aylar and Synthra, who were still standing in careful observation, showed they registered it as well. The blonde was looking at Ceruviel with empathy, while Synthra watched her with something more akin to familial concern, as if seeing a family member admitting to a wound in real-time.

  There was only one way to spare his mentor the embarrassment he knew she would be feeling.

  “{Well, I suppose we should address the large-tusked-land-mammal in the room,}” he said with a look around at the quartet, using the closest terminology he could for ‘elephant’. The word did not exist in Haelfennyr, after all. “{I am sure you have questions, Dawn-Lord, Princess, Sorceress. I will answer to the best of my ability, as is owed to you all for your assistance, but thereafter, once we are concluded, I must retire to speak with my Mentor.}”

  Aylar and Synthra shared a look at his words, and Leonidas momentarily wondered when the two of them had become friends—they were certainly acting like they were conspiring. In the end, Synthra gestured lightly to Aylar with a more formal bow, and the blonde Princess-Royal graced her with a regal nod before stepping forward.

  The silks of her dress swirled when she did, and Leonidas found himself admiring her grace and poise. She was a Princess out of a fairy tale in every way that mattered: beautiful, tall, and curvaceous without being buxom. For a daughter of Haelfenn blood, she was downright ‘bodacious’ as he once might have described it.

  A moment after he thought it, his experience reared its head once again, and he felt a wave of recollection wash over him. His mind flooded, unbidden, with memories of Lyara: laughing, dancing, spinning in his arms at a Ball in Melredor’s Capital. The memory cut through him like a blade, and doused the moment of genuine attraction he felt to the Princess-Royal like a bucket of ice water.

  He struggled not to frown at her when she approached, and adopted what he hoped was a convincing, polite smile.

  The abrupt tightening of the corners of her eyes told him he had not entirely succeeded, but she seemed content to ignore it, instead of raising the problem or pressing the issue.

  +{We need to find a way to help you past that trauma, boy,}+ Ceruviel said into his mind, and he fought the reflex to glance at her. He could feel her gaze. +{Once again, you squander a perfectly opportune moment for deepening your relationship with the most eligible and suitable maiden in Dawnhaven, due to memories of a false world. This will be the end of your Ambition, Achilles, if you do not find a measure of control over it.}+

  I know, he thought back in unfiltered frustration, but it is not that simple. I will explain later, but Elatra was not fake. It was… engineered, but Lyara was real. They all were. I will explain later.

  A pulse of acceptance filled his mind, and Ceruviel withdrew as Aylar came to a halt.

  “{First, Black Knight, allow me to convey my belated congratulations for achieving your First Temper. I had been uncertain that you would manage to do so, but as always, the Dusk-Lord has managed to prove her impressive claims regarding your potential.}”

  “{The Duchess has been a most attentive teacher, your highness,}” Leonidas responded with a paired, precise bow. Not so low as to show subservience or submission, but not so shallow as to show disrespect. It was a bow for a Queen, not a Princess alone, and he watched Aylar’s expression for recognition when she made it. He may have been unable to filter the painful correlations between her and Lyara, but he could find other ways to show his appreciation for her actions.

  The act had its intended effect.

  The Princess-Royal’s eyes widened fractionally, and he caught Uriel turn sharply to Ceruviel in his peripheral vision, who simply smirked at the Dawn-Lord knowingly.

  “{I—I see,}” Aylar said in a seemingly rare moment of shock, and then cleared her throat. “{Yes, it is most assuring to have your talents at the Crown’s disposal, Black Knight, through the auspices of your honorable mentor. As you can imagine, there is something I wish to ask—though I fear it strains the bounds of propriety to do so.}”

  Leonidas managed a genuine smile at her caution and settled into a respectful parade rest while slightly tilting his head down to look at her. She was tall, even for a Haelfar, but he was still visibly taller. It would not do to look down his nose at a Princess.

  “{I will do what I can to assuage your worries, your highness. It is the least I can offer for your most providential aid.}”

  “{Thank you, Leonidas,}” Aylar said with grace, and reached down to idly smooth her dress as she considered her words. It was a strange affectation, and somehow reassuring. It was something Lyara had never done. Oddly, it helped him separate them just that small, vital amount more.

  “{My question ties into the final line of your [Knight Oath], as I am sure you already guessed,}” Aylar said with a faint, wry smile. “{While I know these matters can be rather uncomfortable to discuss so openly, I was hoping to be able to seek clarity on its meaning. The term ‘Sovereign’ is not one someone uses lightly, and even then, it is certainly not something the System would ordinarily offer legitimacy to for a mere [Knight Oath], as powerful as they can be. The fact that you even have a five-line vow at your cultivation level is, frankly, staggering—but the System’s tacit acceptance of the passage is what weighs on my mind.}”

  Leonidas listened to Aylar when she spoke, and was careful to maintain eye contact, never deviating from his parade rest and never disrespecting her by appearing distracted. He maintained the polite, courteous outward expression while she spoke, and found himself thinking instead toward the differences between her and Lyara.

  The dress-smoothing was indeed one such difference, but there was also a deviation in spoken cadence. Lyara had always spoken with the influence of their Party in her vocal range, using slang and intentionally scandalous pronunciation to ruffle feathers. Bjorn’s dwarven bluntness had rubbed off on her during their years together, and she had maintained a kind of deliberately coarse manner of speech for the sheer fun of it.

  Aylar possessed none of that.

  Each word was meticulously pronounced, spoken with care and consideration, and enunciated with an elegant and refined air that—in a way he couldn’t quite capture—more fully embodied her as a Princess-Royal born into a peacetime Kingdom. Whatever else Melredor had been, it had also been a nation embroiled in, embittered by, and emaciated at the hands of Azrageth’s ruthless legion. It was another distinction between the two, a minor one in kind, but one he clung to.

  If he were to truly do what Ceruviel intended and gain Aylar’s confidence, he needed those separations and distinctions in order to ameliorate the confusing grief that stirred within him whenever he found himself looking at her and seeing someone else.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  When she finally concluded and asked her question, Leonidas paused to consider.

  +{Answer her carefully. You may reveal some things, but your deeper secrets can wait—either for a more permanent alliance, or for her to fall into your bed. There is nothing to be gained by a premature release at this moment.}+

  Leonidas’ right eye twitched at her words.

  You said it that way on purpose.

  Amusement rippled through his mind, accompanied by smugness, and then the intrusion was gone.

  “{I can see that this question is pertinent to more than just you, your highness,}” Leonidas observed as Synthra and Uriel both focused on their discourse; the Sorceress with some attempt at discretion, miserable though it was, and the Dawn-Lord with overt and unruffled attention. “{Yet Ceruviel has made it clear I should trust you, the Dawn-Lord, and even Sinalthria’s daughter. It is neither easy nor advisable for me to blindly put faith in others, but I suppose the extrapolation of reason would lend itself toward the true answer regardless. At least in this medium, I can correct any misassumptions.}”

  Aylar inclined her head to him with a faint, genuine smile of thanks at his words, Synthra narrowed her eyes and muttered something inaudible, and Uriel simply watched in silent, patient expectation.

  “{There are details I will not share, simply for the fact that they are not pertinent and are mine alone, but the immediate response is simple: I could take that [Knight Oath] because of my Ambition, granted by the System: that of a Sovereign,}” he explained without needless qualification.

  There, he paused, while taking note of their various reactions.

  Uriel’s golden eyes brightened faintly, but otherwise the Dawn-Lord remained impassive, only turning to exchange a look with Ceruviel that the Dusk-Lord returned with something approaching undiluted smugness. Aylar, meanwhile, had gone entirely still—watching him with widened blue eyes that made no effort to hide her shock. Perhaps she had thought he would have a lesser Ambition, or that his secret had been something entirely different. He could not discern the source of her exact issue, but he would not press her to answer.

  Synthra, meanwhile, was the most unexpected case.

  Instead of shock, surprise, or disbelief—she simply stared at him as if fitting together pieces that she had been missing to complete a puzzle, and regarded him like a hunter assessing potential prey. The look in her eyes was not threatening, per se, but instead unnerving; like looking into the eyes of a predator as it weighed the worth of hunting a meal, or letting it roam so it could fatten itself for better consumption later.

  It made the hair on his neck faintly stand on end.

  All this because I promised to trounce her in the ring? The woman is relentless.

  “{This reveals the truth behind quite a number of things I had wondered about,}” Aylar murmured finally, while turning slowly to regard Ceruviel with an unreadable expression. “{A great number of things. I believe I have some things to consider, in light of this revelation, but first…}” she turned back to Leonidas, and her eyes settled on him once more—blue warmth replaced by azure steel.

  “{I wish to know truthfully, Leonidas Achilles; are you a threat to my future? I know you have consented to aid my Rite of Ascension, but I would know, on your honor as a Knight, if you intend to pursue more than that alone.}”

  Her hand rose when he opened his mouth instinctively, and then lowered when he closed his lips and gestured for her to continue.

  “{I ask this not out of accusation or presumption of duplicity, but for simple clarity. Your Ambition is not simply an esoteric aim; it is a potential and a guidestone for your path, validated by the System itself—two-fold, in truth, when your [Knight Oath] is considered in the equation. I know you are not my enemy, that is not what I am asking. I am wondering if you are my rival, not today perhaps, but in the future.}”

  “{I do not think he is,}” Synthra said before Leonidas could answer, and drew both his and Aylar’s gazes. “{While I know he has to respond, your highness, I can speak to one thing about Achilles: he does not have a covetous bone in his body. He may be bold, forward, and assertive—but that also comes with sincerity, honesty, and directness.}”

  The Sorceress narrowed her eyes, and they flared faintly with some unknown ability.

  “{This Terran is not like other cultivators with similar power ceilings. His abilities sing to my blood in a way I am still trying to understand, my draconic blood that is, with a resonance that is hard to put into words. I tell you this because we draconics are gifted with certain instincts. If he wanted your Throne, Princess, there would be no point in aiding your Rite of Ascension,}” Synthra said while folding her arms under her bust, and forcing Leonidas to very carefully keep focused on her eyes, and try not to blush. Whatever he thought of Synthra, she was a dangerously intelligent creature—he had no desire to disrespect her by leering. He had been raised better than that.

  “{The more logical resolution would be for Achilles to stand aside until your brother succeeded, then wait until his power accumulated to a sufficient degree. After that, the most logical recourse would be to murder him in an honor duel of some description at a later date after securing the support of the Terrans, Alteran Nyrfenn, and enough influential Haelfenn aristocrats to confirm his ascent to the throne.}”

  When she finished, the Sorceress unfolded her arms and stepped forward, offering a curtsy to Aylar, and then a shallower one for Uriel and Ceruviel.

  “{Now, with that stated, I have to report to my mother—before she comes here and drags me home by the horns. By your leave, your highness.}”

  Aylar had the wherewithal to flash a smile and permissive nod to Synthra, and then, with a final, cool glance at Leonidas, the redheaded Sorceress departed—silks swishing around her toned legs as she stepped elegantly through the far door leading back out toward the Arena proper.

  “{...that girl can hold a grudge,}” Leonidas muttered despite himself. “{You challenge someone to one rematch…}”

  Ceruviel snorted loudly at his words but did not elaborate, and waved off Uriel’s enquiring glance.

  Aylar, meanwhile, seemed to be mulling seriously over Synthra’s words.

  Leonidas knew he needed to reassure her before she reached any terrible conclusions.

  “{Your Highness, I cannot change my Ambition, any more than you could change your bloodline,}” he said to her, his voice calmer and more measured than it had any right to be. “{I can only tell you that I do not desire to usurp your position, nor do I have any desire to impede your ascension. An ally on the Throne only works to my benefit. As I promised the Dawn-Lord, I will be an obedient subject of the city’s laws until such time as I depart or something else occurs to force us to reconsider our circumstances.}”

  Aylar observed him silently when he finished, and then glanced back at Ceruviel in silent question.

  The Dusk-Lord glanced at Leonidas and then turned back to Aylar, nodding to her once.

  “{He may be a fool in many things, Aylar, but my Squire is no Blackguard. He will honor his alliance with you and any future agreements you two decide upon. I have thoroughly scoured the recesses of his mind, and I can say with utmost certainty that you may trust his word as well as you would a sworn ally, lover, or husband of your own.}”

  Leonidas’ eyes momentarily bulged at Ceruviel’s words, and he barely managed to master himself before Aylar turned back to him with, of all things, a thoughtful look on her features. The Dusk-Lord’s words seem to have been perfectly sensible to Aylar, while Leonidas himself was still trying to figure out why in the hell his mentor was being so absolutely overt in her approach.

  +{Fool boy, I told you this already: Haelfenn are not Terrans. All that time on Elatra, and you still did not learn what was right before you. For a female like Aylar, there is nobody she should trust more than a husband or lover. The vulnerability she must put upon herself to share that level of intimacy is unparalleled,}+ Ceruviel reminded him with a scathing mental rebuke. +{The comparison may further my goals for your union, yes, but it also drives home her willingness to trust you. You need to learn these things, Achilles, before you end up hanging yourself out of puritanical ignorance. This is not the Terra you left, and we are not humans. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you will thrive in truth.}+

  Leonidas gave no outward sign of Ceruviel’s harsh lecture, but the less stubborn part of him knew she was right. He’d heard much the same from Lyara, though he’d been too busy falling in love with her and murdering Demons to think deeply on it. Ceruviel’s lessons on Haelfenn culture, and Alteran culture at large, had not been ignored—but resolving them against what he had been raised with was a greater challenge.

  It was something he knew he had to be better about, but it wasn’t something that would happen overnight.

  “{Given the Dusk-Lord’s words, I will accept your profession of friendship, Black Knight of Dawnhaven,}” Aylar said with a faint smile. “{Additionally, I will look forward to travelling with you to complete the Rite of Ascension, as allies in arms. Until then, however, or at least for the immediate moment, I must depart. My Royal Guard has been waiting for some time now, and not even Ceruviel’s displeasure will keep them in abeyance for long. I thank you for your candor, and I assure you, I will not betray your trust.}”

  Aylar offered him the slightest of curtsies, and Leonidas offered another Queen-level bow in response, earning another, warmer smile from Aylar as she accepted the gesture with another slight nod.

  “{Be well, your highness,}” he said to her with as confident a tone as he could achieve. “{Until I have the pleasure of your company again.}”

  Aylar regarded him a moment longer after he finished, and then with a faint twinkle in her eye, turned to nod to Uriel and Ceruviel—both of whom offered her more formal salutes and nods—before heading out the door Leonidas had arrived through, her silken dress making it appear as if she were gliding as she exited with all the grace of a Swordmaiden combined with the courtly elegance of a Princess.

  Only when Aylar had fully departed did Leonidas turn fully toward Ceruviel and Uriel, the latter of whom looked to Ceruviel almost immediately.

  “{It is time we dove into the meat of matters, Ceruviel,}” the Dawn-Lord said, his tone markedly different. Warmer. More at ease. He seemed to be dropping the ‘stoic’ face and embracing a more personal, normal one. “{We can retreat to the Duskguard’s chamber beneath, or transition to your Manse, if that would be preferable. Either way, I will have the answers you promised me. I cannot continue to aid this undertaking of yours if I am not duly informed.}”

  Ceruviel pursed her lips and then turned to Leonidas instead of answering.

  “{It is your choice, Achilles,}” she said bluntly. “{Uriel has been my friend for centuries, and I trust him with my life, but if I am to trust him with yours, he must know everything, whether it is uncomfortable or not.}”

  Leonidas sighed at Ceruviel’s words and then looked down as he unfolded his armored hands from parade rest, flexing his fingers in thought.

  There really wasn’t much to consider, in truth.

  “{Very well, Ceruviel,}” he said after a moment, and looked up at them. “{But the Dawn-Lord cannot read my mind. Are you certain he will even believe me?}”

  “{I will, Black Knight,}” Uriel said in place of Ceruviel, his spear vanishing as he assumed his own parade rest. “{For the simple fact that I trust your mentor, now your House Matriarch, to not deceive me. Whatever tale you tell, I will give you the benefit of my trust. I believe I do not need to underscore the importance of sincerity.}”

  “{You do not, my lord,}” Leonidas responded truthfully, and smiled mirthlessly. “{I just hope you have a very active imagination.}”

  “{Oh, I think I can say I do,}” Uriel said mildly as he started for the door, clearly intending to lead the way, and likely pre-empt any disruptions from the Dawnguard. “{After all, I managed to imagine Ceruviel being reasonable, once upon a time.}”

  Behind them both, Ceruviel let out an annoyed snort, and Leonidas grinned.

  Okay, he thought to himself in amusement, maybe Uriel isn’t so bad after all.

  The annoyed ‘tsk’ upon Ceruviel’s hearing his thoughts only made him grin harder.

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