his staff—were settling into their roles.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    man. He was young, certainly. Perhaps a touch too idealistic. But there was steel beneath the surface, something waiting to be tempered. He had seen it in the way Klarion had spoken to him, neither dismissive nor deferential, simply weighing him as one might weigh a blade in hand. There had been no false pleasantries, no wasted words.


    lack of cruelty.


    claimed them, in the way a man might claim valuable tools he intended to use well.


    Trust was not a currency he spent lightly.


    meant something. He had not expected to be saved. If anything, he had expected to die fighting, taking as many of those Academy whelps with him as possible. Instead, he had been given another chance, another game to play. And Klarion… Klarion was a piece worth betting on.


    sharpening.


    click and rested his elbows on his knees, while Lilian simply watched, sharp-eyed and waiting.


    already started making enemies. The human was from an ancient, formerly powerful Archducal House. One with many enemies. Solivair would be surprised if there were less than a dozen other scions arrayed against Klarion already.


    rule—then he would need more than a noble’s education and a sharp blade. He would need someone who understood both the laws written in ink and those carved in blood. Someone who could navigate the Empire’s treacherous courts as easily as its back alleys. Someone who knew when to bow and when to slit a throat.


    hungry.


    empire. Not from the shadows this time. No, this time, he would stand in the light, at the right hand of a young lord who just might have the vision—and the ruthlessness—to reshape the Empire itself.


    Blacksword again.