“{Hello, Jefferies,}” Leonidas said upon returning to Ceruviel’s mansion and extending a hand to give the impressively mustached Butler a firm, echoing palm-to-palm ‘dap up’. Despite being at least in his late forties, Jefferies’ mustache twitched as if it approved, and he gave Leonidas a firm, warm nod.

  “{Welcome home, young master. The Duchess is in her study, if you wish to speak with her.}”

  “{Perfect,}” Leonidas said while sliding his right hand back into his pocket. “{What manner of mood is she in, if you would not mind preparing me?}”

  “{I would use the word ‘intent’, young master. Definitely ‘intent’.}”

  Of course. Two hours. She’s probably fantasizing about throttling me.

  Leonidas gave Jefferies a man-to-man nod and set off deeper into the mansion with comfortable familiarity. In the days following the announcement of his joining Ceruviel’s House on a political basis, Leonidas’ education had deviated from pure history and social knowledge into the specificities of Haelfenn Aristocracy and the expectations of a Duchy’s heir.

  First and most prominently, he was automatically conferred the title of ‘Earl’, and given a considerable stipend for his monthly use, not that he really had anything to spend the money on. Between the resources and staff Ceruviel had in the mansion, anything he wanted was a bell ring away.

  He had asked about [Aetherium] and had been promptly laughed out of the room by his mentor with the words “Earn it!” echoing in his ears.

  His progress through the winding corridors saw little in the way of interruption, and the few staff members he did encounter, along with the various individuals garrisoned for the Duskguard, either offered him functional respect or greeted him with genuine welcome.

  At least among the Duskguard, his reputation was mostly positive.

  It certainly helped that they were almost all Reds.

  When Leonidas reached Ceruviel’s study, in the eastern wing of the Mansion, he paused for a moment to center himself and then raised his fist to knock—only to receive a call of “{Enter!}” just before his knuckles hit the oak of the door.

  Not a psionic invitation, but verbal. She was angry.

  Leonidas depressed the handle and pushed the door open cautiously, eyes darting around to try to find any sign of levitating cutlery, decor, or furniture as he stepped fully into the study.

  “{I take it you heard what happened?}” he asked calmly, in an attempt to soothe her rage preemptively. “{It really was not that big of a—}”

  “{You have been issued an official challenge by Baron Cartellis of the House Cartellis, which has been deferred until you return from your Delve,}” Ceruviel said flatly. “{He appears to want the chance to break the prodigious Terran Archon for the world to see. I impressed upon the messenger the importance of your standing as a Strategic Keystone for the Adventurers’ Guild, and I also expressed that attempts to intercede in the performance of your duties to the Guild would be viewed as hostile actions against both House Latherian and the Guild itself. It seemed to convey the message properly.}”

  “{Well, that is good, I imagine?}” Leonidas asked carefully, while wandering toward where she was seated at her desk, and setting his hands onto the top of one of the two high-backed chairs she kept for guests and petitioners. “{The deferral and all, I mean.}”

  Ceruviel looked up at him on his approach, her pen ceasing its relentless movement, and her lavender eyes appraised him coldly.

  “{Did you really say the words ‘suicide by Archon’, Achilles?}” she asked frostily.

  “{Ah, that,}” he said with a squint. “{Well, you see, before the Integration, there was a term called ‘Suicide by} Cop’ {here on Terra. It speaks to someone trying to get themselves killed by provoking peacekeepers.}”

  Ceruviel did not seem to share his opinion about the wit of the comparison.

  “{Some days, you are the most brilliant child I have ever met, and other days you remind me that you are not even remotely close to your third decade. Divines of Altera, Achilles, can you not exercise some restraint?}”

  Leonidas opened his mouth, closed it, and then scowled.

  “{She was bullying children, Ceruviel.}”

  “{So you thought it would—}” she scowled and waved a hand. “You sound like you’re issuing a proclamation whenever you speak Haelfennyr,” she muttered. “So—” she continued in English, “—you didn’t say ‘I will kill you’, I’ll grant you that, but you know exactly what your reputation is—a reputation you weaponized with clear intent. Were it not for the repercussions, I’d actually be proud of you.”

  “I… suppose,” he responded in English. “I wasn’t even speaking to her, I was aiming it at her hired muscle.”

  “And in the process, intended or not, you managed to incense her brother and father to such a degree that the Count permitted his Heir to issue a formal challenge against you.”

  Leonidas sighed and pulled back the chair to collapse into it, folding his arms and eyeing his mentor carefully.

  “Wasn’t this the plan, anyway? You wanted me to find idiots to duel, idiots that would assume the tier difference would give them an advantage.”

  “Not before you completed Aylar’s Rite of Ascension and at least found a way to broach the idea of an engagement, Achilles,” Ceruviel said while leaning back in her own chair, and reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Boy, we’ve been over this repeatedly: Braedon’s loss will not defang him. It will come down to a confrontation, political or martial, and Uriel and I may not be able to intercede—not if he plays it right. Aylar’s Rite of Ascension will cement her as the lawful monarch, but before her Coronation, Braedon can challenge her for the title.”

  “Still sounds kind of batshit to me, honestly…” he muttered while looking at her.

  “The point is to ensure the most suitable Monarch sits on the Throne. It’s an ancient tradition, and while it hasn’t been invoked for generations, Braedon knows it exists. Individually, he is markedly stronger than Aylar—he is already in his Contender rank, as you well know. The only hope we’ll have is to have you face him in her stead.”

  “You still think it’ll work?” he asked dubiously.

  “It will if you are her intended, as I’ve stressed repeatedly” Ceruviel said pointedly. “It also means that once that card is played, you two will be inevitably married. If she did not follow through after that kind of action, she’d be seen as a coward and charlatan, and her reign would be fractured before it began.”

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  Leonidas reached up to rub his hands over his face and sighed deeply.

  “And Aylar won’t do that unless—”

  “She genuinely believes in the marriage, yes,” Ceruviel finished for him, tapping her fingers together. Some of her anger seemed to have cooled, but not all of it.

  “I don’t like this, Ceruviel. It forces me into too narrow of a lane”

  “Welcome to life, Archilles,” Ceruviel said pitilessly. “You may think I’m leading you by the nose, and I’m sure anyone watching us from the outside would as well, but I’m trying to guide you around the traps. The more you learn, it seems, the more you stubbornly try to influence things your way, and inevitably make a fucking mess of the whole thing.”

  “I’m not that bad,” he protested.

  “‘Suicide by Archon’,” Ceruviel quoted sardonically.

  To that, Leonidas could only grimace and gesture in concession. She made a fair point.

  “I did find something you’ll be interested in, though,” Leonidas said while eyeing his mentor, who watched him with skeptical expectation. “I heard someone’s thoughts with [Psionic Focus], and before you get excited, it wasn’t because I unlocked anything. I managed to find a kid with, and you won’t believe this, Archon Alphas. Psi, Knight, Courtier, Duelist.”

  Ceruviel’s eyebrows rose at his words, and then she did something unexpected; she frowned and seemed faintly troubled.

  “Ceruviel? What’s wrong?” Leonidas asked with genuine surprise. That was not the reaction he’d expected.

  “This is good news, Achilles,” his Mentor said thoughtfully, all sense of cold displeasure erased in the face of thoughtful inflection. “However, it also troubles me. The odds of this happening are extremely low.”

  “So we got lucky, so wh—”

  “Luck is not a factor in this reality, Achilles. It is not a factor of the System. It is not a factor of the laws that govern our existence. The System does not quantify some things; it quantifies everything. Luck isn’t a force,” Ceruviel explained grimly. “It’s a label for probabilities we don’t understand. The System understands them. So if you found an Archon-aligned Terran child by ‘chance’… it wasn’t chance, Achilles.”

  “Okay, so what, I’m being manipulated?” Leonidas asked with a frown of his own.

  Talk about a buzzkill.

  “Yes, it is a buzzkill,” Ceruviel said shamelessly, and reached up to rub her forehead. In times like that, she actually did look like the three-plus-century-old legendary warrior she actually was. “But providence is still providence, within the scope of the looser definition. I have a feeling I know which variables have come together to create this oddity, but I will need to consult with Sinalthria and others before I am certain. In the interim, I suppose you will want to bring the boy here for training?”

  “No,” Leonidas said while shaking his head. “I wanted to go to them, or at least, have you go to see his parents. They’ll be scared of this, Ceruviel, and won’t have any knowledge or concept of what it means. If you tell them he has a chance to become an Archon and explain it all, they’ll just get more confused. Your best bet is to say to them he has a chance to join something like the Knights Templar, but as one who serves the good of the people, not the Church. That’ll get their attention.”

  “The Knights Templar, hm?” Ceruviel asked idly. “I’ve read about them in the few historical texts that remained here when we settled. It is a good idea, Achilles. An excellent idea.”

  “You should also look into the girl that the boy, John, had as a companion. Sonya. Her Alphas are interesting, but not useful to us directly.”

  “What are they?” Ceruviel asked idly, while clearly still mulling his idea.

  “Light, Cleric, Magistrix, Confessor. Weird, right?”

  Ceruviel went very still when he spoke, and her gaze refocused on him intently.

  “You are quite positive that is what she said?”

  “I am,” Leonidas confirmed.

  “Did you find out where these children live?”

  “Yeah, 17 and I presume 18 or 16 Chevalier Lane, why?”

  “That girl has the potential to be a Saintess, Achilles,” Ceruviel said while all but leaping to her feet. “It’s the first time I’ve heard of such in over a century.”

  “A Saintess? What is that, in this context?” Leonidas asked as he pushed himself up in unspoken support of his mentor.

  “A Saintess is a Priestess, Battlemage, and Oracle in one. They’re exceedingly rare, and they can validate, reshape, and even author quests! Even Divine Quests!”

  “Quests from Gods?” he asked in bewilderment. “Why didn’t you mention—”

  “Because the idea of a Saintess appearing here, now, was fucking absurd, Achilles. Think! Why would I tell you something so horribly outside the scope of reality? What would be the point? You have enough to be focusing on. Divines above, this is becoming a joke. You seem to draw providence and calamity to you like a magnet!”

  “Yeah, no, it’s just awesome,” Leonidas said with naked sarcasm, and stuck his hands into his pockets again as he stood up. “So what now? We’re off to see the kids?”

  “No, not immediately,” Ceruviel said with a shake of her head. “We’re going to collect Aylar first. A Saintess is a national asset, and the Princess-Royal has to be involved. If we go without her, it looks like an overreach, and it weakens Aylar politically as well—it signifies we think she’s incapable of handling it.”

  “Politics,” Leonidas muttered in annoyance.

  “Politics,” Ceruviel agreed. “And more than that, did anyone hear her tell you her Alphas?”

  “I… don’t think so?”

  “Did you create a bubble with [Psionic Force]?”

  “No. I should’ve,” he admitted, jaw tightening. “I didn’t think anyone would care about a frightened teenage girl’s Alphas.”

  “This is why you need to practice, Achilles. This is why you need to be aware,” Ceruviel said mercilessly. “That girl, and the boy as well, may already be in danger. We’re going to have to split up. You go to their homes, and I will go to the Palace. I’ll also send a message to Uriel to be on alert for disturbances in the Residential Quarter. Do not engage any Blues unless they try to seize the girl for Braedon, and you’ll know if they do. Do everything you can to avoid that before I arrive with Aylar. Our best hope is that Uriel shows up personally, but it’s a slim chance.”

  “Why not just tell him to go there?” Leonidas asked with a frown.

  “Because he can’t trust his own subordinates, Achilles,” Ceruviel said bluntly. “The Duskguard are different—as I’ve told you repeatedly: they are mainly from non-elevated or politically irrelevant families. I also scour their minds with gusto when they’re recruited. I am very sure of my subordinates, but the Dawnguard is filled with those who either failed my test, or never wanted to be outside of the limelight. The Dawnguard is the easiest path to higher power because of its exposure to the daily life of Dawnhaven.”

  “So the Dawnguard are filled with social climbers, hence the rampancy of the Blues, and the Duskguard is filled with people you mind-scoured to assure yourself they’d be loyal to your wishes. I remember.”

  “That’s the advantage of being an Archon, Achilles. Hurry up and awaken the talent yourself.”

  “You can’t help me?”

  “I already did, boy,” Ceruviel said, and smacked him upside the head to drew forth a grunt. “It’s not my duty to make you use your head properly.”

  Leonidas scowled at his Mentor without true ire and reached up to rub his head. “Yeah, okay, point taken. So you’ll meet me at the Residential Quarter?”

  “As soon as I have Aylar and a Dagger of Reds from the Royal Guard,” Ceruviel affirmed.

  “What about the Duskguard?”

  “It’s a bad look for the Duskguard to be out in force before the Watch change. This isn’t a big enough crisis for that. Not yet.”

  “Alright,” Leonidas said and stepped toward the door to open it. “How long do I need to give you?”

  “An hour, two at most,” Ceruviel assured him and made for the door with a flashed smile of thanks. “Remember: don’t engage the Dawnguard unless they leave you no choice. If it’s someone else, though…”

  “Yeah?”

  “...maybe that ‘Suicide by Archon’ line can show some teeth.”

  Leonidas blinked and then laughed at her words as he followed her out.

  Yeah. He could work with those parameters.

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