Leonidas stood with his hands still in his pockets when the Dawnguard arrived barely a minute after he’d put a Haelfar and two Terran men face-down into the manastone street upon which he stood. Concern was apparent on the human Archon’s face, but not for the situation at hand—that was, in Leonidas’ eyes, a complete joke of a problem. No, what he was dreading was the reaction his mentor would have when she found out he couldn’t last two hours in the street without being recognized.

  It wasn’t even my fault. The kids resonated with my code. I hardly had a choice.

  He wondered if Ceruviel would accept that as a reason? She might. It was worth a try.

  “{Him!}” a horrible shriek of a voice screeched in his proximity, and pulled Leonidas back from his idle thoughts to see the Neo-Terran-adorned blonde Haelfar pointing at him with rage. “{That’s the one who assaulted my people!}”

  Now she’s outright misrepresenting what happened. Of course she is.

  His eyes scanned the Dagger of Dawnguard as they looked at him, and he spied nothing but Blues among their number—eliciting a heavy sigh from him at the thought of what might happen if he couldn’t talk his way out of the situation. The political distinction between Blues, who supported the Prince-Royal Braedon Eldormer, and the Reds, who supported the Princess-Royal Aylar Eldormer, was the primary source of political dysfunction within Dawnhaven.

  Although the Duke of Morning, Uriel Aventus, headed the Dawnguard as Dawnhaven’s Dawn-Lord—Leonidas smirked at the thought of saying that three times fast—and supported the Princess-Royal, the vast and overwhelming majority of his subordinates were staunch traditionalists. Haelfenn tradition demanded that a strong King was always preferable to a strong Queen, no matter the individual merits.

  The conflict came down to those same traditions, which dictated that because of the implicitly perceived weakness pregnancy impugned upon female Cultivators, males were more suited to rule due to the lack of that enforced eight-to-ten-month state of vulnerability as a matter of course.

  They’re all mad, these Haelfenn, even compared to Elatra, Leonidas mentally grumbled. Just put the smartest of the two on the throne, and when it’s Aylar, swaddle her in so many guards that she can’t get a splinter without two Lances responding instantly.

  The image of the gorgeous Princess trying to navigate past two Lances of the Royal Guard drew a snort from Leonidas, and he glanced over at the two teenagers he’d first interjected to protect, making sure they were still safe before turning his attention to the approaching Dawnguard Dagger-Master. To his credit, the Haelfar seemed to take in the still-kneeling and watching Terrans with rational analysis, before settling his gaze on Leonidas appraisingly.

  After several seconds of careful assessment, his eyes moved to the brooch nestled where a cravat would be, and Leonidas saw the moment he recognized the stylized Haelfennyr sigil for their equivalent of ‘L’, with the Archon Order’s symbol behind it. When the Dagger-Master’s eyes rose to meet Leonidas’ own, the man was not entirely able to disguise the disdain in his eyes. No doubt he was among those who disapproved of the ‘Terran imposter’ not only training as an Archon, but becoming the legal heir to a lineage as storied as House Latherian’s.

  “{I would ask for your name, my lord, but I think that is entirely moot for someone of your reputation.}”

  “{Why, Dagger-Master,}” Leonidas said with genuine amusement, “{that sounds quite near to a compliment.}”

  “{Does it, my lord? I suppose it could be taken that way.}”

  “{Well, you did make note of my fame, did you not?}”

  “{I would be more inclined to call it infamy, Earl Latherian, as opposed to anything else.}”

  “{I will take it, Dagger-Master. It is certainly better than irrelevance,}” he said innocuously, and let his gaze convey the meaning while his hands remained casually, borderline-insolently tucked into his pants. There was a time for the regal, kingly air—but there was also a time to be an absolute brat, and Leonidas was definitely feeling the latter in that moment. Between the bitch of a Highborn and the not-so-subtly-insulting Dagger-Master, his pettiness was ratcheted up to astronomical levels.

  “{I will need a statement, Earl Latherian,}” the Dagger-Master said, while too-obviously ignoring the light vocal jab, and producing a spelled pen and large notebook of pseudo-Terran design, with enchanted paper sheafs in place of the more mutable type used by humans. Paper that could not be burned, stained, or damaged by the elements was surprisingly cheap on the [Aethrium Store].

  “{The Lady Cartellis claims you assaulted her people, my lord, and that you threatened the same to her.}”

  “{I did not, Dagger-Master. I promised the Lady Cartellis, if that is her name, a lesson in manners, and I dissuaded her people from committing suicide,}” Leonidas said evenly, feeling particularly annoyed at the entire situation as the Dagger-Master started writing his words down.

  There was no reason for a statement; the Dagger-Master wasn’t performing due diligence, he was being petty. The whole thing was petty. He was growing immeasurably tired of short-sighted, self-entitled people—elf, human, dwarf, it didn’t matter. Leonidas was ready to start using [Honor Duel] first and waiting for questions afterward. Only Ceruviel’s ironclad order not to do so, barring true emergencies, until after the Rite of Ascension held him at bay.

  “{I was given to understand they were attempting to restrain you for—}”

  “{Suicide by Archon, Dagger-Master,}” Leonidas clarified with a cool, calm certainty that cut through the noise in the area, and caused the nearby Dawnguard to still. Even the Lady Cartellis, who only seconds earlier had been looking rather smug, went corpse-white at the words he announced without bothering to restrict his volume.

  Leonidas paid no attention to the onlookers, and instead, he smiled mirthlessly while looking down at the shorter Haelfar and forcing excess Psi into his [Psionic Focus], catalyzing his eyes to glow openly with psionic bleed. “{Too many souls have been attempting that lately, Dagger-Master. My patience for the pettiness is beginning to grow frayed, and I do recall the Dawn-Lord telling me, directly, that I would not need to worry about biased enforcement from his subordinates, and that if it should happen, he would permit me to handle it how I saw fit—within the scope of the law and my position as an Earl.}”

  Leonidas lowered his gaze to the Haelfar’s notebook, along with the hand holding the pen too still, and his smile turned intentionally borderline-feral. “{Should I investigate that report for bias, Dagger-Master?}”

  The Dawnguard Dagger-Master reached down and promptly tore the page out of the book, scruched it up, and offered it silently to Leonidas, who took it in his right hand and, with a flex of Psi, crushed the paper into a tiny ball for effect, before returning his hand—and the wad of paper—to his right pocket.

  “{I think we have everything we need, Earl Latherian,}” the Haelfar said in a commendably steady voice. “{We will be on our way.}”

  Leonidas retracted his Psi and smiled cheerfully, as if nothing had happened.

  “{Wonderful news. I wish you all the best of fate’s luck, then!}”

  The Dawnguard stared at him after he finished, but at their Dagger-Master’s sharp motion, turned to move out—albeit not without a few murmured words that he was sure they hadn’t expected him to hear.

  His Tribulation had drastically heightened his physical senses far beyond those of a normal Initiate rank.

  “{...completely insane. I heard he took down that Hydra as an Untempered…}”

  “{...mad as each other. Without the Dawn-Lord, how are we meant to handle…}”

  “{...threatened you, Lyon. You can’t just let him get away with…}”

  A wry smile crossed Leonidas’ lips, and he shifted his attention down to Lady Cartellis, who was watching him as still as a statue, and downcast her eyes the moment he looked at her. The psionic display hadn’t rattled her too much that he’d seen, neither had much else—not until he’d mentioned ‘suicide by Archon’ with cold certainty.

  Leonidas lifted his right hand from his pocket once more and simply curled his forefinger, gesturing the noble closer.

  “Hey… mister Achilles? Why’re you calling that bi—mean woman over here?” the teenage boy asked as quietly as he could, catching himself mid-cuss.

  Instead of answering, Leonidas simply glanced at him, winked, and then turned back to level his best ‘Archon’ stare on Lady Catrellis: gaze a bit lidded, expression flat, lips faintly downturned in mild displeasure, and eyes filled with cold rage—in this case because he was remembering the fact he’d never get to enjoy a Derrick’s Dog Cart hotdog again. That was a true travesty.

  The blonde noble approached him slowly and came to a halt several feet away, with her head held remarkably high considering the abject terror evident in her posture.

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  “{Lady Cartellis. I must ask, when did you realize you were flirting with calamity? When the Dagger-Master recognized me, or when I made my statement?}”

  The Haelfar looked from Leonidas to the teenagers, and then toward her still-recovering footmen, before finally turning back to Leonidas himself, who let her go through the motions patiently.

  “{...Archon,}” she said finally, as if the word were being dragged out of her. “{When you talked about ‘suicide by Archon’, it… I remembered something from Altera. I watched Alurien Starsword wipe a goblin warband from existence with a single stroke of his Starmetal Blade. He reshaped the topographic reality of Altera with his will alone, channeled through his weapon.}”

  Leonidas did not react other than to watch her and faintly arch his right eyebrow.

  “{I know you aren’t Alurien, Earl Latherian,}” the Haelfar woman said, using his title with only the loosest definition of respect, not that Leonidas really cared. People like the noble before him were not the ones he would win over with comportment. They would only answer to power itself. “{But I know what the rumors say, and I may be a socialite, but I know how to listen. You survived a first-tier tribulation. You are the only Archon Squire to arise in two centuries. You killed an Adept rank Hydra as a Novice.}”

  Her eyes roved over him, and Leonidas was mildly off-put to see a mix of loathing and, against all common sense, desire in her gaze—not romantic, but covetous, like someone looking at a particularly rare artefact.

  “{I don’t know you, Earl Latherian, but I know about Archons. Your warning to the Dawnguard just helped fit the pieces together. One day, you’ll be as powerful as Alurien, if rumors are to be believed. No victory today, without your death to follow, is worth the vengeance to come tomorrow. I’m no political savant, but even I know that.}”

  Leonidas couldn’t help but find himself impressed by her logic.

  It was simplistic, but there was a reflective acuity in that simplicity that he admired. It was a distinctly Haelfenn trait, too: something that their culture and species were raised to have naturally, and biologically inclined toward. It was why humans often found themselves at a marked disadvantage during attempts to integrate into Haelfenn politics: humans were used to politics being a brawl, followed by a sway of public opinion and borderline lies in how they presented the facts.

  Haelfenn weren’t like that. They played the game as if they’d been perfecting cutthroat aristocratic politics since before humanity had formed nations.

  In reality, they probably had.

  “{I understand your position, Lady Cartellis,}” Leonidas said mildly after she was done, his gaze still locked on her, “{now you will understand mine.}”

  The Haelfar’s expression flickered with fear at his words, and Leonidas pressed on.

  “{No matter how much you look down on the natives of this world, Lady Cartellis, they are still residents of Dawnhaven—in some cases, full Citizens. If you treat them as animals to be harassed for your sick amusement, you are directly fomenting dissidence and discord within the Crown’s realm, and if you are doing so, you are an agent of unrest within Dawnhaven.}”

  Leonidas finally stepped forward and bent slightly, looking the woman in her eyes unblinkingly.

  “{As I am sure you are aware, it is the Dusk-Lord that usually handles matters of treason and covert destabilization. Would you like me to point my guardian toward your home, Lady Cartellis?}”

  If she had grown pale before, she turned faint at that threat, and one of her footmen stepped forward to hold her as she swayed uncertainly.

  “{You’re a monster,}” she croaked in fear, staring at Leonidas in horror. “{My family is loyal. You can’t, you wouldn’t—}”

  “{They are children,}” Leonidas said to her in something approaching a snarl, and caused the footmen and the noble Haelfar to freeze in their places. “{At least attempt to muster some modicum of self-respect when choosing your targets, you thinblooded fool of a woman.}”

  Lady Cartellis’ expression turned into open-mouth disbelief at the vicious dressing down he gave her, and before she could say anything, Leonidas pointed to the teenagers.

  “{Now apologize and get out of my sight, before I decide to investigate your home personally.}”

  The Haelfar noble looked between the teenagers and Leonidas once, twice, three times, and then finally stepped forward, bowing stiffly and speaking in accented English.

  “I apologize for my unbecoming actions. Please forgive my rudeness.”

  Both the boy and girl stared at the Haelfar with mouths agape, and could only nod in disbelief. The crowd still gathered, however, started jeering—shouting insults and booing at the elven woman as she turned, cast one last hateful, fearful, and strangely covetous glance at Leonidas, and then stormed off with her footmen, elf and human both, hurrying in her wake—though the latter three seemed regretful.

  They probably had System contracts, the poor bastards.

  Unlike a human, the elven noble seemed to ignore the jeering humans as if they didn’t exist, and Leonidas knew it was just one of the key differences between the species that meant his own people were at a marked disadvantage. She didn’t ignore them because she didn’t notice; she ignored them because she probably knew how little real power the humans of Dawnhaven actually held.

  “Are you two alright?” Leonidas asked the teenagers after the woman left, looking between them with careful assessment. “You seem a bit shaken.”

  “Those three thugs were talking about beating Sonya,” the boy said, glancing at the girl, who reached down to take his hand with a fragile smile and squeezed.

  “John protected me,” Sonya said in response, her voice soft and feminine, in the way Leonidas associated with introverted or shy girls from his youth. “He always protects me, even though I keep getting him into trouble.”

  “That’s what friends are for, kid,” Leonidas said, and reached out to pat them both on the head. Both were largely full-grown, but they were still relatively small compared to his own towering stature. “Have either of you gained any levels yet? I know some people have been starting earlier than others.”

  “No,” John said, and Sonya just shook her head. “We got our Alphas, but—”

  Leonidas’ eyes narrowed at that, and he put a finger to his lips.

  “HEY!” he called, turning to the crowd still lingering nearby to watch. “I appreciate the support, my, er, fellow Terrans, but can we get a bit of privacy? These kids have been through enough, yeah?”

  A ripple passed through the crowd, followed by a few more shouts of “HAIL TO ACHILLES!” and “FORWARD THE BLACK KNIGHT!”, but the humans of Dawnhaven seemed to understand the feeling of being overwhelmed all too well, and dispersed in short order.

  “Christ, that’s better…” he muttered, and looked back toward the teens, who were staring at him again. “What?”

  “You’re… you’re kind of really important, aren’t you?” John asked with genuine interest, then looked down at his clothes. “Your clothes look like they cost more than a house…”

  Leonidas cleared his throat at John’s words and drew a small laugh from Sonya. “He’s right, Mister Achilles. You do look really important.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I guess,” he said to them, and felt suddenly awkward. Facing down entitled nobles? Easy. Fighting a seven-headed Hydra? No sweat, easy loot. Dealing with his Venerate rank mentor when she was ranting about his boneheadedness? Walk in the park, just dodge the cutlery.

  Dealing with teenagers? Not his forte.

  “Hey John,” he said more quietly, while motioning the two aside closer to the fountain and glancing around to make sure they weren’t immediately overhead. “I gotta ask, kid; what are your Alphas? I’m trying to figure something out.”

  “Oh! Uh—we were told we aren’t meant to say easily, but I guess it’s fine if it’s you,” he said, glancing at Sonya for confirmation, who smiled and gave him a single nod of affirmation.

  John seemed reassured and turned back to Leonidas, who observed the interaction with faint amusement.

  “My Alphas are Psi, Knight, Courtier, and Duelist. I dunno what ‘Courtier’ means, but—”

  “Holy shit,” Leonidas interjected, and abruptly started laughing when he realized what had happened. He hadn’t heard John by accident or some miracle of breakthrough; he’d resonated with him. The boy had all the Alphas needed to become an Archon! The Courtier Ambition was, strictly speaking, a tier or two too low. Still, he already knew from his studies with Ceruviel that it was something easily rectified with the proper education and opportunities. Ambitions like Courtier were very malleable, because they remained non-specific.

  “Achilles?” John asked, using his name without the title in a sign of courage. “What’s so funny?”

  “John,” Leonidas said a moment later, looking between him and Sonya. “You two have no idea how lucky you really are. Your lives are about to get a whole lot better. When do you two need to get home?”

  “Um, toward the change of Watch,” John said uncertainly.

  “Great!” Leonidas said and looked around, thoughtful. “Do me a favor, and tell me where I can find you both later? I know someone who’s going to want to speak to your parents, John.”

  John’s eyes widened.

  “Wh-why? What did I do?” he asked with a stammer while Sonya gripped his hand more tightly.

  “Huh? Oh, Christ! No, nothing! You just have a really unique set of Alphas,” Leonidas explained, realizing the error of his conveyance due to excitement. “Sorry, it’s a good thing, a really good thing. Lots of money involved, prestige, that sort of thing—only good things!”

  “I… okay, Achilles,” he said, seemingly choosing to trust Leonidas. “I live at 17 Chevalier Lane. Sonya lives opposite me on the other side of the street. What about her, though?”

  Leonidas turned to the girl at John’s words and peered at her. “What are your Alphas, Sonya?”

  Sonya peered up at him in response, and then slowly smiled when she seemed to see something she approved of, and spoke in her quiet voice—not lacking confidence, he realized, just lacking self-awareness of her own right to that confidence.

  “My Alphas are Light, Cleric, Magistrix, and Confessor,” she said quietly, peering up at him as if nervous. “I don’t know what Magistrix and Confessor mean, and my parents don’t—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Leonidas said quietly, and reached out to pat them both on the head again. “You two are absolute gems. Aylar is going to love you, Sonya.”

  “Aylar?” Sonya asked in quiet confusion. “The only Aylar I know of is the Princess up in the pal—” she froze when she said the words, and gaped up at Leonidas in silence.

  “Yeah. That one,” he said to her with a grin. “So as I said, both of you, tell your parents you’re gonna have some visitors—but don’t tell them who, okay? It’ll be a quiet affair, I’m pretty sure. Neither of the people coming likes spectacles if they can avoid them.”

  The teenagers nodded to him, open-mouthed, and he smiled warmly.

  “Alright, now get out of here,” he said, while pulling out some gold and giving them two coins apiece—akin to two hundred dollars, pre-Apocalypse. “Go get yourselves something nice, and something nice for your parents too. Go on.”

  The pair grinned up at him in the universal gratitude any minor showed for what they saw as ‘lots of money’, bowed clumsily, and then raced off with shared laughs of glee.

  Yeah, Leonidas thought while tucking his hands back into his pockets, and turning toward the Peacock District in the far distance, a smile on his lips. I bet I can get out of her hitting me, now.

  I. Am. Bulletproof!

  It was the little things in life, he reflected, that truly mattered.

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