Saturday, July 30, 4 S.E.

  Three hours later, the party was prepared.

  Leonidas stepped into the cave mouth alongside Synthra, Aylar, Parnym, and Bardulf and peered around, eyeing the forbidding entrance to the dungeon with a look of mild consternation. He hadn’t expected it to be so very stereotypical, and his voice was mildly irritated when he spoke.

  “Are we sure the System doesn’t have a sense of humor?”

  Bardulf snorted in reply, and Parnym chuckled nervously.

  “It very well may,” Aylar said as she took the lead and conjured a sphere of light magic to light the way, “but whether it does or not, this is our path.”

  The four of them nodded at that, and together they descended along the winding mouth of the cave, plunging into the darkness beyond as the rock under their feet declined sharply and they strode into the depths of the cave network. Stalactites hung above them like forbidding teeth, and Leonidas glared up at them in annoyance, trying not to remember a different cave from one of his all-time favorite Fantasy series.

  No Dark One here, Ace, just your own sense of melodrama.

  His eyes drifted along the cave walls as they descended, and he took note of the striations and patterns set along them, so akin to images just outside the scope of discernment. It was uncanny, and more than a little unnatural, enough so that he could tell with certainty that they were in the right place. Natural caves didn’t create formations like those within themselves, and that alone was indicative of their goal.

  Their path took them down a slow, curving path that eventually led to a flat layer at its base, opening the relatively narrow passage into a suddenly immense underground expanse filled with a disconcerting vista of ruined marble. Leonidas’ eyes widened at the sight, and he took a moment to absorb what he was seeing.

  Shattered pillars, each a ghost of something once resplendent, marched in equidistant pairs along a cracked-stone highway, leading to an immense, weathered gate at the far end of the cavern, sporting a shattered portcullis and broken doors each inscribed with fantastical golden filigree that evoked ancient glory.

  “Whoa,” he said into the echo of the cavern. “This is nuts.”

  Bardulf nodded in agreement at his side.

  “This is far grander than any Dungeon I have ever heard of,” he said candidly. “We were not taught this in the Guild. We were always under the assumption that entrances would be relatively small.”

  “The Rite of Ascension isn’t an ordinary Delve,” Synthra said from slightly ahead of them, staying close to Aylar. “It’s a specially constructed test. Once we complete it, this Dungeon will probably either change or cease to exist.”

  “The System does not make mistakes,” Aylar called back in kind, her orb of light dispelling the darkness around her. “Nor does it design things without purpose. Whatever this is, it’s intended to test me for Dawnhaven specifically. This could be more challenging than just a few manabeasts. We should stay alert.”

  Her warning drew Leonidas and the others back to their task, and he nodded in tandem with Bardulf and Parnym, moving to join the Princess and Sorceress as the pair strode forward toward the ruined portcullis and the gate beyond. His eyes continued to drink in the sights as he moved, feeling a mix of boyish excitement and giddy disbelief bubbling up within him despite the seriousness of the situation.

  It’s like being in a full-dive VRMMO.

  As the group approached the ruined gate, Leonidas had flashbacks to depictions of great cities from history and fantasy tales, observing the behemoth constructs with awe, despite their ruined state. Each was easily over forty feet tall, with painstakingly beautiful handcrafted murals adorning the marble foundations as they towered toward the cavernous ceiling.

  The group came to a halt thirty seconds later before the gate itself, and Leonidas spotted a faint swirl of mana when they did; a curtain of System energy that seemed to hang down over the gates’ passageway when they approached it. His senses prickled, and he instinctively summoned his [Archon’s Warplate] and [Archon’s Psiblade], adorning himself in both with a flash-crackle of scarlet power.

  His companions glanced at him when he did, but his actions seemed to be a signal for them, and he saw Bardulf draw his swords, Parnym take his staff out of storage, and Synthra manifest her flaming bastard sword as Aylar drew her own blade with a whisper of Alteran steel on leather.

  “Good idea, Leonidas,” the Princess said in approval, looking up at the gates. “We don’t know what we’ll face when we step through.”

  “I had no desire to be surprised,” he affirmed through his helmet, voice faintly distorted to his own ears: deeper, more imperious. “I should go first. I’m probably the most durable person here, right now.”

  “Normally that would be fine, but this isn’t a normal Delve,” Synthra said, stepping closer to Aylar and smiling at the Princess. “Our future Queen has to take the first step. This Rite is hers, and she has to lead the way.”

  Leonidas blinked at that and then sighed.

  “Yeah, that tracks. Alright. We’ll follow her in, then.”

  Aylar flashed Synthra a smile in kind and then turned back to them all.

  “Whatever happens in there, I want to thank you,” she said to them after a moment, her beautiful blue eyes searching them all. “This past week has been a joy for me, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I have true companions. For that kindness alone, you have my gratitude.”

  Bardulf chuckled at her words as Parnym stood ramrod straight, and the Shadowblade tossed one of his daggers up to catch it in a reverse grip at its zenith.

  “I have greatly enjoyed our time, Princess. I look forward to many more such adventures, once you tire of the Palace and its boredom!”

  Aylar grinned at Bardulf wryly and dipped her head.

  “Thank you, Bardulf. I look forward to the same,” she said and turned once more to the gate, taking a breath to brace herself.

  “Everyone ready?”

  A round of affirmations came from all of them, including Leonidas, and Aylar squared her shoulders.

  “For Dawnhaven,” she said simply, and marched forward into the portal of energy before she could think twice.

  Synthra chuckled and threw a sly glance at Leonidas, golden eyes bright, before shrugging.

  “You heard her,” she said casually, and then turned to march in after Aylar.

  Leonidas exchanged a helmed glance with Bardulf and Parnym, and with a laugh, the Shadowblade led the way—dragging the squeaking Mender with him to charge into the gate after the women. As the last remaining, Leonidas took only a moment to firm his grip on his bastard sword, ensure his pack was on tight, and then stepped forward—pausing only when he reached the edge of the energy curtain.

  This is it, Ace. No matter what, there’s no going back now.

  He found that he was, despite his earlier doubts, strangely at peace with the thought.

  With a breath, Leonidas stepped forward and confidently entered the System energy.

  A moment later, he emerged, standing inside a circular room with his companions. The room was filled with three different archways, each framed with system energy before them. The ceiling above, when he looked upward, was domed and painted with murals depicting Haelfenn warrior-monarchs in battle with all manner of manabeasts. His eyebrows rose under his helmet, and he turned to ask a question of his friends when a sudden surge of power blanketed his senses, and a humanoid figure emerged from a storm of energy before them all.

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  Leonidas fell into a ready stance immediately and stormed forward, only to halt when Aylar put out an arm.

  “Aylar?”

  “I… I don’t think they’re hostile,” she said with an echo of uncertainty. “Something tells me this is part of it, Leonidas. The beginning.”

  Synthra glanced at them and then shrugged from Aylar’s left, and Leonidas grimaced under his helmet as Bardulf and Parnym joined them, standing in formation with the Mender at the rear.

  Ahead of them, the figure from the energy resolved into a well-dressed, dark-haired Haelfar of middling years, a warm smile on his face and an elegant suit clothing his body. A single monocle sat over his right eye, and he observed them with eyes far too old to belong to what he appeared to be.

  What the hell?

  Before any of them could say a word, the ‘Haelfar’ spoke.

  “Welcome, Princess-Royal Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Eldormer, to your Rite of Ascension. I will be your Proctor for this test. You may call me Primus, if it pleases you.”

  Leonidas blinked at the accent-perfect British voice and kept his sword raised warily.

  “Proctor?” Aylar asked immediately, moving one step forward. “Is this not a Delve?”

  Primus smiled at her question as the others watched, and gestured to the three archways.

  “It is indeed, my dear, but not the kind you may have expected. The Rite of Ascension was created to test the capability of a Monarch, not the killing power of a mere Cultivator.”

  Primus clasped his hands at the base of his spine and smiled at them all.

  “Force of arms is all well and good, but how does that serve a nation, outside of a Saint rank supreme force? This Rite is to ensure you are prepared for the responsibilities that come with your desired mantle, not to test your martial capability alone. Were it merely that, having the [Terran Cataclysm] in your Party would be a certainty of victory by itself.”

  All eyes turned to Leonidas at those words, and he scowled under his helmet.

  It’s a good thing I already spilled the beans, or this would have been super awkward.

  “The bonds of trust the five of you share are already a mark in your favor, Princess, but that is merely a representation of the expectations upon you in a microcosm.”

  “Pardon?” Bardulf asked in confusion. “Micro-huh?”

  “A microcosm, Bardulf,” Primus said congenially. “A small example showing in small form the characteristics of something much larger.”

  “Oh,” the Shadowblade said with a laugh, “thanks.”

  Primus inclined his head politely and then turned back to Aylar.

  This is so fucking weird…

  “As I was saying, Princess: your Rite encompasses far more than a mere example of arms or camaraderie. It will test your wisdom, your duty, and your willingness to choose—to decide what manner of Monarch you wish to be, not merely what you think you should be.”

  Aylar lowered her sword at his words, and her fingers firmed around the hilt as she contemplated the Proctor’s statement. Leonidas felt the need to go to her, and smothered it. This was Aylar’s moment, not his, and she’d ask if she needed help. Synthra seemed to agree, and other than to flash a look of concern at the Princess, she held her ground and waited to hear more.

  “I see,” Aylar said finally, and took a breath. “Is this the same test that my forebears undertook?”

  “It is,” Primus affirmed cordially. “Each one, from the first heir of your line.”

  “The first heir?” Aylar asked immediately, catching the careful wording.

  “Of course. The first King of Eldormer was a [Sovereign], my dear. Sovereigns have no need to undertake the Rite. Their right to rule is intrinsic, like breathing is for living beings.”

  Once again, every set of eyes darted to Leonidas, and he sighed heavily.

  Great. This feels fucking targeted, I swear to God.

  “Quite astute, yes. The Cataclysm in your midst was a forged [Sovereign] long before he selected the Ambition, and so for him, this Rite is wholly meaningless. I trust that assuages that kernel of worry in your heart? Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag—” his friends started at the full name, and both Bardulf and Synthra mouthed it with looks of incredulity “—has no need for this Rite. It seems he is here solely to support you. How noble.”

  Aylar fixed her eyes on Leonidas at that, and then after a moment, she smiled at him warmly.

  “Yes. He is a noble [Knight],” she said with implicit trust, earning a hidden smile of thanks from Leonidas, and then turned back to Primus.

  “You’ll give him a bigger head…” Synthra muttered, causing Bardulf to laugh and then clap his hand over his mouth.

  Primus, thankfully, seemed unruffled.

  “What does the test consist of, Primus?” Aylar asked, not reprimanding Synthra or Bardulf, but not engaging with them either. “What must be done?”

  Primus smiled at her question and turned, gesturing to the first of the archways.

  “Each archway represents a choice you must make, Princess—from the most innocuous to the most destructive. Each one will test your mettle, not just as a ruler, but as a person; for the heart of a Monarch, as decreed by your founding [Sovereign], is as imperative to their rule as their desire to ascend. There is no failure, per se, other than to refuse the choice—but whether or not you meet the final approval of your Sovereign’s lasting will, well, that is entirely up to your choices.”

  Aylar straightened at Primus’ words, and her eyes shifted to the first archway.

  “Is this a test I must take alone?” she asked simply.

  “No, my dear. You will need your companions—though whether they remain so after all is said and done, well, that depends on you. Sacrifice, Princess, is the essence of rule, as decreed by your founding [Sovereign].”

  So this test was set up by her ancestor, huh?

  Leonidas put those pieces together quickly enough; it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, and he assumed Primus to be some sort of System-wrought custodian for the Rite itself. Would that mean his children with Aylar would have to endure the same Rite, or would his [Sovereign] Ambition impact that as well?

  The thought brought him up short, and his cheeks flared with heat.

  Now I’m thinking about kids with her as if it’s certain? Christ, Ace, get your head in the game.

  “What is the first test?” Aylar asked while he wrestled with his own traitorous thoughts, and pulled his attention back. Bless her.

  “That is for you to discover, Princess,” Primus said with a faint smile. “Whenever you are ready. Your lockout has begun, and you have exactly thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-nine minutes until you automatically fail the Rite. In that time, you must complete all three tests in order to successfully qualify for final judgment.”

  Aylar nodded at Primus when he finished, and turned to the rest of them, sweeping her piercing blue gaze across them all.

  “I won’t apologize for the choices I make here,” she said without preamble, her words bearing all the force of her [Princess-Royal] Title. “What we do here, we do for Dawnhaven, and a future bereft of the tyranny and despotism my younger brother would introduce. I ask only that you keep faith in me, and trust that my choices will be for the good of all our people—not the select few.”

  Silence followed her words, and Leonidas looked across his companions, until Parnym—quiet, nervous Parnym—spoke up first.

  “Whatever your choices, Princess, I came here to support your ascension. To do any less than trust you, now, would be a betrayal. You have my loyalty, now and forever.”

  Aylar blinked at the Mender and then smiled at him warmly, raising a blush in his cheeks.

  “Ha! Parnym speaks true,” Bardulf said while clapping the frail Haelfar on the shoulder and rocking his body forward. “I agree! This will be a wonderful saga no matter what, Aylar. You have my faith.”

  The Princess dipped her head to Bardulf, and then glanced at Synthra, who stepped forward and put her hand on her arm.

  “You were the first Haelfar Noble that saw me for who I was, Aylar,” the Sorceress said without preamble, and smiled tightly at Aylar. “You’re the first one who cared enough to even try. I’m with you, through all of it, especially our future plans.”

  At the Sorceress’ words, the Princess’ smile deepened, and she reached up to brush back Synthra’s hair.

  “Thank you, my friend,” she said to her with quiet warmth, and then finally turned to Leonidas with Synthra. The Princess seemed to be waiting for judgment, or some sort of shoe to drop, and Leonidas simply sighed—walking forward and bracing his [Archon’s Psiblade] on his pauldron as he looked down at her.

  “Honestly, Aylar,” he said without ceremony, “do you even have to ask? I already said I’d decide if we were going to marry after we finish the Delve, so let’s get it done. No point worrying about things we can’t control.”

  The words were brusque, lacking in poetry or eloquence, but they felt right.

  Judging by Synthra’s ghost of a smile and eyeroll, and Aylar’s grin, he had chosen correctly.

  “Then it’s settled,” the Princess-Royal said, and turned to Primus, who was watching them all in calm silence. “We will begin immediately, Proctor.”

  Primus’ expression split into an approving smile, and he gestured to the first archway.

  “By your will, Princess Aylar," the man said genially.

  Aylar turned where the man gestured, paused to squeeze Synthra’s hand, and then squared her shoulders and faced the first archway to the left.

  “Very well,” she said with calm certainty. “Onward.”

  The Princess marched forward, and as one, they followed her into the jaws of whatever lay beyond.

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