《Dreadborne Harbinger: Ascension of the Black Sword (An Epic Fantasy Gamelit/Litrpg)》


 Chapter 1

    In the dimly lit hospital room, the air carried the sterile scent of antiseptic, mingling with the soft whirl of medical equipment. Klaus lay on the sole bed in the room, surrounded by the hum of life-preserving machines.


    Despite the frailty of his body, a will to defy death itself lingered deep in his sunken eyes. His indomitable will had been almost physical in the first few years Klaus had been in the hospital, suffering from some wasting disease that modern society remained completely unable to cure. To this day doctors and scientists alike had only the barest inkling of what the mysterious disease was that plagued him.


    Where before he had been hopeful despite the pain, these last few days Klaus just felt tired. Tired of how his friends and family had gradually abandoned him to his suffering. Tired of being confined to his bed. Tired, most of all, of the pain that raged unchecked through his body.


    While his will to defy death remained, his hopes were wasted away a little more every time a doctor or nurse came to his room to tell him of the failure of the latest treatment or medicine. Today had been just the latest disappointment. Klaus released a pain-filled grunt of morbid humor, briefly causing the nurse on the way out of his room to glance back at him over her shoulder. Seeing Klaus not descending into another fit, she continued on her way out of the room. Probably to find the next doctor for the next test. The next failure.


    Despite his hopes fading day after day, Klaus continued trying to smile and show good humor through it all. It meant little to him now, but he could tell those attempting to take care of him appreciated it.


    ¡°Water,¡± he softly rasped. ¡°Please.¡±


    The other nurse that had lingered in his room out of his line of sight hurried over with a cup in hand. Lowering the cup in front of his face, she tilted it back slowly. Damn, ice chips again.


    While the cold feeling was refreshing on his parched throat, the meager water that came from the ice chips melting did little to help his thirst. Sadly it was the best he could expect, as he had begun struggling with the ability to swallow a week ago.


    The door to his room opened slowly, and an older doctor whom Klaus did not see very often stepped into the room. Dr. Mountgomery, head Oncologist of Northern Sacred Heart. Shoulders hunched and head bowed over a clipboard, Klaus could immediately tell something was bothering the old man.


    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Klaus asked slowly, as the half-empty cup of ice chips was pulled away from his mouth, the nurse stepping back.


    ¡°Sadly, yes,¡± Dr. Mountgomery said. ¡°As much as it pains me to admit it, I think that test was our last option. The disease afflicting you is just too aggressive. It pushes back against everything we have tried, and every inch of progress we have made so far has been met with a foot of loss.¡±


    ¡°No other options?¡± Klaus asked after a long moment.


    Dr. Mountgomery sighed, but rather than answer Klaus, he stepped past him to the window, eyes taking in the cool mid-Autumn day outside. A light breeze stirred the trees outside the window, pulling the occasional leaf from branches to glide slowly down to the ground. Winter was not long in coming now.


    ¡°Do you remember what you said to me that first day you moved into this room?¡± Dr. Mountgomery finally asked, still looking out the window at the trees, refusing to glance back at the patient he had worked so hard to cure for years now.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klaus softly responded, remembering that day two years ago. ¡°I asked that you never lie to me.¡±


    ¡°Is that still what you want?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klaus said quietly, eyes drifting shut. Just so tired.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Dr. Mountgomery said, turning from the window to look at Klaus. A firm gaze for all that his voice quavered. ¡°We can hope, but at this point, all we can do is try to make you comfortable.¡±


    The doctor¡¯s words almost seemed to echo in the quiet room. Rather than sadness or fear, Klaus was surprised to find all he felt was gratitude and acceptance. It had been years of tests and experimental treatments, and despite this latest failure, he knew that everyone at Northern Sacred Heart had truly done anything and everything to try to cure him.


    His pain spiked and the beeping of his heart rate monitor picked up to a fast clip. Focusing hard until he could barely see the blur of the room around him, Klaus pushed the pain down and away. Taking several more deep breaths, well, as deep as he dared take, the room came back into focus.


    Dr. Mountgomery stood at his side now, having moved as Klaus had struggled to banish his pain. The older man¡¯s face was covered in despair, though he quickly banished it behind a mask of professionalism when he saw Klaus¡¯ eyes focus back on the room.


    ¡°I am sorry, Klaus,¡± Dr. Mountgomery began, ¡°I should not h¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klaus interrupted Dr. Mountgomery. His right hand twitched like he was attempting to raise it, but he quickly gave up when he began to get tired simply trying to get it to move. ¡°I appreciate your honesty. Thank you for never hiding the truth from me, no matter how hard it is to share.¡± With a light grunt of effort, Klaus turned his head to look out the window at the leaves dancing through the wind. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind¡­I¡¯d like to nap for a bit¡­¡±


    After a long moment, Dr. Mountgomery stepped forward to lightly rest his hand on Klaus¡¯ foot. Or at least he thought the doctor did, since he didn¡¯t have much feeling down there anymore. Without another word the doctor stepped out of the room, only pausing to gesture for the nurse to proceed him. Klaus felt a little guilty. She had been his shadow for over a month now, but he still didn¡¯t even know her name.


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    As he began drifting off, his mind turned again to the only thing that mattered to him for so very long now: his family. Unfortunately for him, it was a busy time of year for his family¡¯s manufacturing business. Preorders for the holiday season were likely beginning to pile up, and it would be an all-hands-on-deck situation until mid-January at the earliest. That left almost no time for the fourteen-year-old son who couldn¡¯t do anything to help. Still, while he knew his brothers and sisters, let alone his parents, would be busy for some time to come, Klaus also knew he remained a priority despite his degenerating condition. They would likely do what they did last year, coordinating visits so he did not go too long without a familiar face stopping by to check in on him.


    The pain came again.


    Subtle and persistent, it clawed at his weakened body. A relentless ache, it was a dull but pervasive sensation that gradually seeped into every part of his body. Like a shadow it clung to him, growing worse minute to minute. Over the past several months he had pushed and fought against it every time it sank its claws into him. Today, in the face of the end of his last hope, he tried something different.


    Focusing on the pain to the exclusion of all else, he tried to embrace it. His breath slowing, Klaus pulled it close, sinking his mind into its embrace. Gradually the aching pain blurred first into exhaustion, then descended into slumber.


    It felt¡­nice.


    Finally.


    Klaus¡¯ eyes snapped open. Jerking upright, he became disoriented as the movement he had made continued, dragging his body up and into the air to float over¡­himself?


    Drifting through the air, Klaus stared down at his body, buried under all manner of cables and monitors, almost hidden in the shadows of all the medical equipment that surrounded the bed. He looked so incredibly small.


    Yes, yes. I know gazing upon your own body in this way is disorienting, but we really need to move this along. This Soul Shadow, and your own, only have so much time remaining.


    As the deep, grinding voice echoed around him, Klaus abruptly focused again on what had caused him to stir in the first place. Gazing around the room, he grew confused. Nothing was out of place, though everything had a slightly darkened tint to it.


    To your right. The window.


    Klaus felt compelled to obey the voice, looking in that direction. Where before the window had framed a chilly fall day just outside of Volksturm, now there was only darkness and a figure he could not quite make out hovering just beyond the glass. It had the vague shape of a man, but the shadowed form seemed to bend and warp in his vision to that of some monstrous beast, almost as if it was pressing back against the darkness surrounding him. The air around him grew tense and still, the gaze of the being before him reaching out across the room to grip him tight. No matter how much he struggled, Klaus could not wrench himself free.


    We have little time for questions, bare minutes, so hold your tongue while I explain my offer. Your world rests in the embrace of an existence so unfathomable to you in your current form that to share its description, let alone the context in which it exists, would defy the limits of your merely mortal comprehension. Know only that it spans universes uncharted, weaving through the tapestry of vast realities, the unspeakable words of its presence sharing the barest of glimpses into the Ancient Truths and Essences of Reality to those cursed few who dare to catch the echoes of its echoes.


    Your world is one of untold thousands about to undergo the crucible of suffering and salvation that all such selected must experience to be Integrated. Yet for all its remarkable unremarkableness, there is something here in this world that I wish to possess, and someone to which I owe assistance. You need not concern yourself with this, however. All that you should consider is my offer.


    Klaus felt the barest flicker of the intangible grip that held his form still and silent. Despite his nearly paralyzing fear of what was happening, he spoke quickly into the pause that the speaker had taken, sure that it would be his only chance to ask his question.


    ¡°Why?¡± Klaus ground out, his jaw moving against the still lingering vice, tongue flexing as through through nearly solid molasses.


    Oh? Well, isn¡¯t that interesting. Even on the threshold of your final journey, you possess enough will to utter a single word in the barest sliver of my true presence. Never mind the ¡®why,¡¯ far better that you take my advice to heart and LISTEN!


    The last word struck him in a roiling blast of sound, and it was a wonder that the glass did not break nor was the room itself disturbed in the wave that bore down upon his floating form. Rather than being buffeted in its wake, Klaus felt nearly all his senses shut down. Sight and sensation fled until all he experienced was the lingering stillness of the room. Even then the pressure of the shadow¡¯s presence bore down on him like a looming mountain.


    Better. Now, as I was saying. You do not need to know the what, the why, or even the how. All that our agreement requires is that you know and agree to my offer. In exchange for ushering you away from the void you have begun to fade into by restoring your pitiful body, you will strive your best to serve my as yet unstated interests when they are made clear to you upon this unremarkable world suffering through its Integration some indeterminate time from now.


    Now, do we have an accord? Yes or Yes?


    As soon as the shadow finished speaking the terms of its offer, the darkness in Klaus¡¯ vision warped and flexed until something unyielding as steel pressed down on all sides. Deeper and deeper it went, until it seemed his very soul was being gripped by whatever creature lingered outside his blinded sight.


    Klaus tried his hardest to speak, first to ask more questions, then to simply say yes after he found himself completely unable to do so. Even that word he couldn¡¯t say, but apparently it was enough for the force looming around and within him. His desperate acquiescence was enough, and it quickly faded away after some sort of¡­click?


    Excellent, and with not a moment to spare. I would say I look forward to what comes next, but I really don¡¯t care either way. I can¡¯t guarantee what awaits you, as that is beyond the scope of my power within this opportunity you are so very lucky to have seized. I expect a more fitting expression of thanks in the future, once you are capable of expressing it. A bit of advice before we part ways. Pursue power above all things. It is the only thing you can count on in the new existence you will eventually find yourself in.


    Until we meet again, little human.


    Blackness and dull void turned to blinding light and cutting brilliance. Klaus felt a stretching, then a tearing, and finally, a jerking motion that only accelerated as his entire existence caught prismatic fire. The last thing he saw was his own glowing eyes jerk open as he hurtled back down to his body on the hospital bed.

 Chapter 2

    Klaus cracked the eggs, dropping the yolks into an old ceramic bowl. Adding a splash of cream, he stirred in a mix of herbs and a pinch of salt. He then poured the eggs into the skillet that he had been lucky to find at the discount store last month.


    While the eggs began to cook, Klaus set aside his spatula and pulled out his phone. Pulling up the last text from Bobby, he checked the time for the roleplaying session for the sixth time this morning. It still said one in the afternoon. With how busy everyone had been for the past few months, Klaus hadn¡¯t seen his friends in quite a while. The text from Bobby late last night had been a nice surprise after a hard week studying the medicine textbook Klaus¡¯ boss had let him borrow.


    Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Klaus picked the spatula back up to stir his eggs. A pleasant smell swirled about the kitchen of his small, rundown apartment as he put the finishing touches on the scrambled eggs. A moment later they were just the way he liked them. Skillet in hand, Klaus turned off the stovetop and slid the eggs onto his plate next to the still-warm toast.


    Sitting down at his small table, Klaus pushed his notes and last night¡¯s dirty plates aside to make room for his breakfast. He would be the first to admit he probably should clean his small apartment more, but given how he was living by himself and had few, if any, visitors, Klaus saw little need most nights. Cleaning up a few times a week was just fine.


    After scarfing down his morning meal, Klaus stepped over to the bookcase that held his most prized possessions. Towering from floor to ceiling, the wooden behemoth loomed out of place in his apartment. On its shelves were every book he owned, from dog-eared fantasy novels and RPG manuals to old history books and a biology textbook that had seen better days. He reached out and grabbed the character guide he needed before returning to his seat.


    Idly flipping through the pages, Klaus couldn¡¯t help smiling. It would be nice to start a new campaign. Finding the pages he was looking for, he set the open book on the table and pulled out a blank character sheet along with a few of his dice. It had been a long time since he had played a Paladin, but taking a break from playing a Rogue or a Sorcerer might be a fun change of pace.


    With a few rolls of his dice, the stats of his new character were set, and now he got to have a bit of fun creating the background. Better to go as stereotypical as possible. Lawful Good alignment, a selfless mission to protect the innocent and defeat evil, and a tragic backstory. As he wrote down the story of a child left abandoned in a remote town by his uncaring parents, who then turned to becoming a Paladin to find a purpose in life, Klaus couldn¡¯t help but make a soft laugh. His smile got wider at the imagined looks on the faces of his friends.


    Fred and Bobby were murder hobos at heart, and their girls, Allison and Sara, were consummate anarchists. Having to deal with a diehard goody-two-shoes for the session today would let him have a lot of fun in his roleplaying.


    The character sheet and background complete, Klaus packed up his backpack and made to leave his apartment. Before he could grasp the handle, his pocket began to buzz. Pulling out his phone, he checked the caller ID. Mom.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Good morning, sweetie!¡±


    ¡°Good morning, mom. How¡ª¡± Klause began to respond before his mom cut him off.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Klaus, but we¡¯re going to need some help after all.¡± His mom sounded mournful, but the fact she was asking in the first place meant she had already tried other options and now really needed his help.


    His mind went back to the months and months of physical therapy he had to go through once he had made what the doctors had called a miraculous recovery from the mystery illness that had plagued him. His family¡¯s insurance had been enough to cover the lion¡¯s share of the medical costs of his treatments, but through a cruel twist of fate, his parents had to pay out of pocket for the physical therapy that followed. Even his siblings had helped, but it had almost not been enough even then. As things were, they were still paying off the debt, even though Klaus had gotten a job in construction for several years to try to help, which he had continued through college.


    ¡°Klaus?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I was just thinking,¡± Klaus responded. ¡°I can get you the money by Sunday. Does that work?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s perfect!¡± Klaus heard his dad asking for some help in the kitchen. ¡°Sorry, sweetie, I have to go help your father with breakfast. Promise you will stop by tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°I will. Love you.¡±


    ¡°We love you too.¡±


    Ending the call, Klaus pulled up his banking app. Glancing through his balance and pending bills made it quickly clear he had enough to help his parents, but the next week was going to be a bit tight. Looks like it was cheap ramen for the next few nights.


    Stepping outside his apartment and closing the door behind him, Klaus again considered his financial situation. His second chance at life had pushed him to pursue his dream with an almost fanatical intensity. Or at least that is how his family had seen it. Klaus preferred diligent.


    They had convinced him to do an internship first, however, just to make sure that he knew what he was getting into. While he didn¡¯t have the background to do anything truly medical-based, he had been lucky enough to get a position as a temporary secretary to a doctor. In exchange for doing some clerical work and other administrative tasks, Dr. Halter had been willing to let Klaus shadow his practice. While not very well-paying, it had been very educational, as Dr. Halter had taken the time to begin teaching Klaus about his profession from the first day.


    If he was being honest with himself, Klaus had grown comfortable in the position. He had been hesitating leaving to start his own path towards becoming a doctor. But the call from his mom, again reminding him of all the debt he had caused for his family, was what made up his mind. On Monday, he would talk with Dr. Halter about a letter of recommendation and he would apply to start medical school in the coming fall.


    Mind made up, he locked his apartment and turned his thoughts back to the fun he would soon be having. Making his way down the pitted sidewalk, Klaus put aside his worries and plans for the coming week and just focused on the fact he would be spending time with his friends again. Bobby and his wife, Allison, were hosting at their place downtown. Klaus¡¯ friends Fred and Sara were likely there already. Probably already coming up with crazy plans for the session. They really did like throwing Bobby through a loop. Klaus smiled at past memories. Tonight was going to be just like old times.


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    Before he could make it that far down the sidewalk, the sound of trashbags being tossed around reached him from the alley behind his apartment building. Eyes glancing toward the source of the rustling, Klaus saw an older man dressed in rags riffling through the garbage cans.


    Klaus sighed in regret. He had seen the man several times before, but each time he had offered help, even if just a hot meal, the man had run off in fear.


    Stepping slowly in the direction of the man, making a bit of noise with his steps, Klaus tried to not startle him. Much like the times before, however, it was almost like he triggered some six sense, as before he took more than a few steps, the homeless man dropped the bags he was attempting to open and dashed back down the alley and out the other side.


    Klaus sighed in regret. As much as he wished he might do something, he decided to leave him in peace for now. Perhaps he could bring some leftover snacks from his game night and leave them for the man later.


    Putting thoughts of the man behind him for now, Klaus made his way down his apartment¡¯s side street to one of the larger roads that ran through the city of Volksturm. His eyes turned to the buildings around him, again lamenting how he hadn¡¯t been able to see the buildings when they had been new. A younger city in the United States, it had been built by the surge of German refugees that came to his country following the outbreak of World War III about thirty years ago.


    From what he remembered from his history classes, China and Russia had formed a secret alliance that sought to exploit how thinly spread the United States and its allies had been in the face of the multiple wars going on at the time. No one was sure exactly why the war broke out when it did, but after the initial invasions had settled into stalemates that continued to today, a good portion of Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Eastern Asia were wartorn wastelands.


    What followed on the heels of that initial fighting was a tacit agreement on the part of both sides that the fighting would not end, but instead be controlled. Nuclear weapons and long-range bombers were set aside with soldiers, tanks, and unmanned drones, which had increased in popularity following the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, instead taking prominence. Inevitably, or at least that is how his teacher had presented it, the fighting had turned into mostly frozen conflicts characterized by trenches and other fortifications that continued to expand year after year until neither side saw anything to gain by doing anything other but chipping away at their opponents. The last five years had continued that pattern, and while Klaus had registered for the draft like everyone else his age, so far it looked like that was as far as he would have to go.


    Shaking his head, he turned his thoughts back to the city itself. The draining nature of the war had led many to get as far away from the frontlines as possible in those early days, his own grandparents among them. Klaus¡¯ eyes again strayed to the buildings around him. The once-grand buildings were designed to mimic those of Hamburg back in Germany, but now they stood but a shadow of their former glory. Weathered and worn, their facades were marred by time and neglect. Brickwork was crumbling, and as Klaus turned around the corner of an apartment near his own, a new batch of graffiti traced its way in indescribable gibberish up the pitted wall next to him.


    While Klaus recognized the whole city wasn¡¯t quite as bad as the area he lived in, and that many of the interior apartments themselves were still nice and taken care of, it still seemed like each passing year showed the city to be getting just the slightest bit worse. Like the soul of Volksturm was rusting away.


    Indeed, everywhere one looked in the country, it seemed crime and corruption were on the rise. The news was always filled with stories of violence and injustice, to the point that Klaus refused to watch any of those kinds of programs anymore. Doing so had only made him feel more powerless.


    An epiphany struck him, one that he had been dancing around for a while now, but only emerged all at once in this moment. Becoming a doctor was his way of pushing back against the darkness, of working to heal a small pocket of light in a world increasingly consumed by shadows. For Klaus, the prospect of being able to heal the sick and mend the broken was a way to make a difference, however small, in the lives of those who needed it most. Even if, at the end of the day, things would likely continue getting worse in Volksturm.


    Klaus shook the depressing thoughts away. Yes, the city was in rough shape. Yes, there were also homeless people here and there as well as a surge in crime lately.


    But there was more than that.


    People still went about their lives doing the best they could. For every homeless person or criminal there was another handful of people doing their best to help others as much as they could. Klaus himself included himself among that latter group. Apart from his work with Dr. Halter, he volunteered where and when he could. His parents did the same, despite the debt.


    He would be doing more too once he became a doctor. But that was a thought for next week. Right now was a time for fun and catching up with friends.


    Mind now a blur with fond memories, Klaus moved to step off the curb at a crosswalk, only to have a vicelike grip seize his shoulder to pull him back. Barely were his feet back underneath him when a rusted car with both headlights out went screeching around the corner, heavy metal body flying through the space he had been but a moment away from walking through.A truck from the other side of the intersection slammed its brakes and let out an indignant honk as the other vehicle went barreling past, not hesitating even a moment in its breakneck pace. Klaus¡¯ almost death disappeared down the road.


    ¡°You alright, boy?¡±


    Klaus turned to the man whose hand still rested on his shoulder. No sooner did his eyes glance down to that firm grip than his savior released him, hand going back down to his side. Ragged hair crowned a gaunt face, and his large body was obscured by a heavy trenchcoat. Brown eyes stared into his own green ones as Klaus responded.


    ¡°Yes, I think so,¡± Klaus said with a nod. ¡°Thank you for that. I guess I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I completely missed how fast that car was moving.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem.¡± The man nodded, his expression one of concern mixed with just a hint of curiosity. It looked strange on such a severe face, marred as it was by the hint of a scar down one stark cheekbone. ¡°Mind if I ask what had you so preoccupied?¡±


    Klaus hesitated for a long moment, weighing whether he wanted to divulge his thoughts to a stranger. But there was something about the man¡¯s eyes, and his expression of interest, that put Klaus at ease. His gut told him to trust the man.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated¡­¡± Klaus said, his voice trailing off as he realized he didn¡¯t want to get much more personal than that. ¡°Just some personal issues I¡¯ve been trying to sort through.¡±


    The man nodded again, his brows furrowing slightly in apparent understanding. ¡°Life can be like that sometimes, throwing unexpected challenges our way when we least expect them.¡±


    Klaus grunted an agreement, grateful for the stranger¡¯s empathy. ¡°It¡¯s been a rough patch lately, but I¡¯m working on getting through it.¡±


    ¡°That is the spirit,¡± the man said, an encouraging smile lighting up his face, revealing slightly pointed teeth. ¡°Remember, no matter how dark things may seem, or how difficult our changing circumstances might be, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel so long as we keep walking.¡±


    Klaus found himself in silent agreement with the stranger¡¯s words, a small sense of comfort washing over him. ¡°Thank you,¡± he sincerely replied. ¡°I¡¯ll remember that.¡±


    The man clasped Klaus¡¯ shoulder once more, albeit this time in a more gentle manner. ¡°You do that. And remember: you are never alone. There will always be people willing to lend you a helping hand. Sometimes you just have to ask.¡±


    With those words lingering in the air behind him, Klaus watched the man step away, quickly disappearing beyond a crowd of people coming down the sidewalk. A bit strange, but Klaus would remember his words all the same.


    The crosswalk chimed again, though this time Klaus made sure to glance both ways down the street before stepping off the curb. Not a handful of minutes later he was finally in front of Bobby¡¯s apartment.

 Chapter 3

    As Klaus stood outside Bobby¡¯s apartment door, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervousness. He raised his fist and sharply knocked three times. It had been far too long since they all had been together, and he was eager to catch up with his friends over a session of Dungeons and Dragons. One that would likely start overly serious before quickly morphing into a medieval slapstick comedy. He was still smiling when the door was jerked open, Bobby standing in the doorway, a wide, matching grin spreading across his face.


    ¡°Klaus, my man! It¡¯s so good to see you!¡± Bobby exclaimed, pulling Klaus into a massive bear hug. While Klaus himself wasn¡¯t a small man, looming as he did a bit of six feet tall, Bobby himself was a titan among men, being just a hair under seven feet in height. Though Klaus could have easily resisted his friend¡¯s pull, he¡¯d always been the stronger after all, he willingly went with it. It really had been too long.


    ¡°It¡¯s great to see you too, Bobby!¡± Klaus replied, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm.


    Klaus stepped into the apartment. Just beyond the entry was the living room where all of his other friends were already gathered around the dining table. Allison waved from her seat, one hand still reaching for her dice. Fred and Sara flashed smiles of their own, hands full of character sheets and what were likely pages of backstories.


    ¡°Klaus, you made it!¡± Fred exclaimed, rising from his seat to give Klaus a fist bump. The smallest, most bookish of the group, Fred made up for his lack of height with nearly boundless energy, especially when it came to his hobbies.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t miss it for anything,¡± Klaus responded, returning Fred¡¯s fist bump with a grin.


    Sara chimed in, her voice filled with warmth. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking forward to this game night all morning! It¡¯s been too long since we have all hung out together.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, seriously,¡± Allison added, putting the finishing touches on her own character. ¡°We really shouldn¡¯t let life get so busy we aren¡¯t able to see each other.¡±


    As he took his place at the table, Klaus felt a pang of guilt for letting so much time pace since their last get-together. ¡°I know what you mean. But I¡¯m really glad we could all get together today.¡±


    ¡°Alright everyone, now that we are all here, let¡¯s get started,¡± said Bobby. He moved to his spot at the head of the table, and as he sat down his face went stern. His was now in Dungeon Master mode. He cleared his throat and began.


    ¡°Welcome to the first session of our new campaign,¡± Bobby began, his serious expression not enough to distract from the excitement in his voice. ¡°Now, let¡¯s introduce our characters. Klaus, since you were the last to arrive, why don¡¯t you start us off?¡±


    Klaus pulled out his character sheet and cleared his throat. His eyes darted between Fred and Sara, a smirk on his face as he described his character. ¡°I¡¯ll be playing Sir Trombun, a noble human paladin on a quest to uphold justice and protect the innocent. He wields a sword that belonged to his mentor, and he wears plate armor adorned with the symbol of his order.¡±


    Fred and Sara make eye contact them promptly boo Klaus at the same time. Bobby and Allison break out into laughter, having known this was coming as soon as Klaus had said he was playing a paladin.


    ¡°Come on, Klaus. A quest to uphold justice? More like a quest to be boring. Where is the fun in justice?¡± asked Fred plaintively.


    ¡°Yeah, Klaus, I¡¯m not sure how fun this will be if you are constantly shaking your head in disapproval every time we find some piece of treasure or decide to skirt the law a little.¡±


    ¡°You mean steal and engage in crime?¡± Klaus asked.


    ¡°Tomato, Tomato.¡±


    ¡°Tomato, Tomato?¡±


    Sara blew a raspberry, ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Klaus said with a laugh, ¡°I will try to be more of a voice of reason instead of outright preventing your fun. Deal?¡±


    Getting a considering nod from Sara, Fred responded with a grin of his own. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t be surprised if we tie up Sir Trombun and leave him behind if he starts preaching about taking a more righteous path.¡±


    The whole group laughed again.


    ¡°Alright. Allison, you are up next,¡± said Bobby.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be playing Lyra, a skilled elf ranger who roams the wilderness in search of adventure and treasure,¡± Allison bared her teeth in the crude approximation of a wolf. ¡°Her wolf companion Dreena accompanies her on her journeys.¡±


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    ¡°Excellent. Fred?¡±


    Fred spoke up next at Bobby¡¯s prompting. ¡°I¡¯ll be playing Brother Alaric, a devout human cleric devoted to a god of healing and compassion.¡± His face then took on a shifty look. ¡°He also isn¡¯t above soliciting donations with his trusty mace.¡±


    Before Klaus could get a dig in at Fred for his character, Sara introduced her own with a mischievous smile. ¡°And I will be playing Sylvia, a cunning elf rogue with a knack for stealth and for liberating precious items from their unworthy owners. She¡¯s quick with a dagger and even quicker with her wits.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful, then I welcome you all to the world of Urgix!¡± Bobby then launched into a five-minute-long opening narrative of the campaign, setting the stage for how the characters all meet through chance in a city marketplace as a riot breaks out over an unpopular tax levied by the new lord. With each minute fleshing out the world the campaign was set in, Klaus found himself leaning further forward in his chair, his imagination ignited by the promise of discovery, danger, and glory to be won.


    The hours passed in more fun than Klaus had experienced in a long time, what with his endless work and the constant pressure of his family¡¯s debt looming over his head. Loosing himself in the roleplaying, Klaus had urged his new companions to stick together as they navigated the chaos, using his paladin¡¯s strength and better armor to shield his friends from harm. Allison and Fred had kept their characters close behind him, striking down any of the agitators that had tried to attack them. Sara herself had sent her rogue running ahead, scouting a route through the riot. The session ended up concluding at around eight in the evening as their whole group was deputized by the city guard to track down the ringleaders of the right, that they might be brought to justice for defying the city¡¯s new ruler.


    ¡°Wow, I really have missed this,¡± Bobby said as the finished the session. ¡°We need to pick this up again next weekend.¡±


    Looking around, Klaus saw everyone was looking at him. He knew that he was the weak link when it came to hanging out. Klaus resolved that there would be another session soon and that he wouldn¡¯t be the last to arrive.


    ¡°Actually, before we get to that,¡± Fred said, ¡°Sara and I wanted to share something with you all. Sara?¡±


    Sara lifted her left hand from her pocket. Where her hand was bare before, now a very respectable-sized diamond ring graced her ring finer.


    ¡°Fred and I¡­ we¡¯re engaged!¡±


    A collective gasp of surprise and delight rippled through the group as Fred looked at Klaus and Bobby. ¡°And we couldn¡¯t imagine getting married without our closest friends at our side. Klaus, Bobby, would you do us the honor of standing with me as groomsmen?¡±


    Klaus¡¯ eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly stepped to Fred¡¯s side of the table to clap him on the back, only barely beating Bobby there to do the same.


    ¡°Of course, Fred! I¡¯d be honored.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what Klaus said, Fred. I would be honored as well.¡±


    While Klaus and Bobby pulled Fred into a group hug, Sara stepped around the celebrating friends to stand by Allison.


    ¡°And you, Allison, will you be my Matron of Honor?¡± asked Sara.


    Tears welled up in Allison¡¯s eyes as she nodded. ¡°Oh, Sara, I¡¯d be thrilled to. I can¡¯t wait to be there by your side on your wedding day.¡±


    ¡±Excellent!¡° Fred cheered at hearing Allison¡¯s response to his fiancee. ¡°This calls for a drink! Bobby, do you still have that bottle in the kitchen? You know the one.¡±


    While Bobby darted off to the kitchen, saying as he did that there should still be some of it left, Klaus felt his pocket vibrate. Checking his phone, he saw Dr. Halter was calling him. Immediately concerned, since his boss generally did not work this late, Klaus excused himself from the celebration, and then made his way to the bathroom before he answered.


    ¡°Dr. Halter?¡±


    ¡°Klaus,¡± Dr. Halter greeted, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯m glad you were able to take my call. Listen, I need you to come to the office right away.¡±


    Klaus frowned, a sense of unease creeping over him at the terse urgency in Dr. Halter¡¯s voice. ¡°Is everything okay, doctor? You sound a bit¡­ off.¡±


    There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Dr. Halter responded, his voice tight with restraint. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Klaus. But we have a situation here, and I need your help to resolve it.¡±


    Klaus¡¯ heart sank at the ominous tone in Dr. Halter¡¯s voice. ¡°What kind of situation?¡± he pressed.


    ¡°Just a small issue with some paperwork,¡± Dr. Halter laughed. It wasn¡¯t his usual jovial one either. Mixed in with it was barely hidden stress. ¡°It is urgent but with your help, I think it can be fixed pretty quickly.¡±


    ¡°Can it wait until Monday? I¡¯m with some good friends and¡ª¡±


    ¡±No, it must be now,¡° Dr. Halter interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but it really can¡¯t wait.¡±


    Something must really be wrong if Dr. Halter was insisting on Klaus coming right this instant. Frowning at the fact that he wouldn¡¯t be here to properly celebrate with his friends, Klaus knew he had already made up his mind as to what he would do.


    ¡°Alright. Just let me tell my friends and I¡¯ll be on my way to the office.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Klaus. See you soon.¡± The call disconnected.


    Staring at the phone in his hand, still not able to set aside his unease, Klaus after several long seconds put it back in his pocket. Stepping back into the living room, Bobby was pouring whiskey from an expensive looking bottle into glasses for a toast. At his return to the room, everyone looked in his direction. Smiles began to dim at the frown on his face, but before they could ask what was going on, Klaus spoke.


    ¡°Sorry everyone, Dr. Halter called with a work emergency. He says he needs me right now, and that it can¡¯t wait.¡± He grimaced. ¡°So, raincheck on the toast for me?¡±


    Fred set his glass down and stepped over to Klaus, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°Of course, man. Just do what you need to do. We can make it a night this coming weekend?¡±


    ¡°Count me in.¡± Klaus pulled his friend into another congratulatory hug.


    Klaus gathered his things, then stepped around the room, giving hugs and goodbyes to everyone. With each of his friends, he said out loud he would be seeing them soon, hoping that the act of voicing it out loud would make it that much more likely to happen.


    The door closed loudly behind him as he made his way down the street to Dr. Halter¡¯s office. A drop of water hit his hand. A storm was coming.

 Chapter 4

    The scattered drops turned to a light mist as Klaus made his way through the Old City. Though the streets were lined on either side with two-story brick buildings adorned with wrought-iron balconies meant to evoke a sense of a homeland left behind, he was not lulled by the nostalgic atmosphere of the evening.


    Here and there loomed those more dilapidated than their neighbors, boarded-up windows and peeling paint looming out of the gathering darkness. The haphazard graffiti from close to his apartment gave way to the symbols and tags of rival German gangs vying for influence in this part of the city.


    Dr. Halter¡¯s office was near here, otherwise he would have done his best to avoid the area. As it was, Klaus had interacted with a number of gang members during the daytime, and for the most part were people like everyone else. That is, so long as you did not engage in the darker side of human nature. Drugs; prostitution; illegal gambling; all of these and more were available in the area if you knew where to look. But Klaus never went looking.


    Much like his other trips to work, Klaus kept as close to the center of the beaten-down sidewalk as possible. Moving as quickly as he could from streetlight to infrequent streetlight, Klaus couldn¡¯t help but feel the tension ease from his shoulders as he finally saw the front door of Dr. Halter¡¯s office in front of him.


    He hesitated.


    A figure cloaked in red leaned against the building next to the door, cigarette in hand, idly puffing away and completely ignoring the rain beginning to come down. Klaus kicked himself for hesitating, for no sooner had he paused than the gang member, for that is what he almost surely was given his colors but of what gang he did not know, casually flicked the cigarette into the street.


    ¡°Well?¡± The man asked in a growl that sent ice down Klaus¡¯ spine. Despite the gang member being a bit smaller than himself, Klaus still got the sense of barely controlled violence emanating from the man. ¡°Dr. Halter said that you were on your way here, freund. We thought that you would have come quicker.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no friend of yours,¡± Klaus spat back before he could help himself.


    ¡°Freund oder der Dummkopf, I don¡¯t care. The good Doktor assured us you would be able to fix a problem with der papierkrieg, and that is all I care about. Now come, inside, it is getting wet out.¡± So saying the man pulled the door open and disappeared up the stairs into Dr. Halter¡¯s office.


    Klaus hesitated again. The German words the man used indicated he was either fresh from the homeland or higher up in one of the gangs in the city. Perhaps both.


    No. Klaus gathered himself and stepped with sure strides towards the door himself. If there was one thing all the people of Volksturm knew it was that the gangs might be cruel and violent, but they did not go out of the way to harm those not involved in their activities. That way only lay folly as, despite the decaying nature of the city around them, the police of the Inner City would descend on them with the wrath of God if they started coloring outside the lines, so to speak.


    Those thoughts gave him a small measure of confidence and buoyed Klaus as he stepped through the door and up the short flight of stairs to the office beyond. The receptionist¡¯s desk in the small waiting room was empty, which he should have expected as it was now going on nine o¡¯clock in the evening. Elke had likely left some time ago, and for that he was glad. If he was wrong about the gang tonight, Klaus preferred that the nice older woman, who often brought him an extra coffee, was nowhere near the office tonight.


    Klaus stepped through the next door and moved along the corridor to Dr. Halter¡¯s own office space. Pushing it open, Klaus immediately cursed everything that he had ever learned about the so-called proper behavior of the gangs of this city.


    Dr. Halter was dead.


    Tied tightly to his office chair, his body slumped over thick rope in the middle of the room. His hands and feet had been duct-taped tightly, but not so covered that he couldn¡¯t see where the nails had been wrenched free. Blood dripped down his mentor¡¯s face from where his right eye had been removed, the gaping socket staring down vacantly at the floor. Shirt torn asunder, long cuts traced themselves up and down his chest and side. Even now the blood still seeped from them. He likely had died right after the phonecall.


    The door shut slowly, almost gently behind him. Jerked from the macabre examination of his friend¡¯s corpse, Klaus steps without thought deeper into the room. His eyes landed on the two men revealed to have been standing by either side of the door. Shaggy hair and dressed in red with feathered tattoos tracing their way up their arms, they smirked at Klaus. The smirk was nothing though. It was those dead eyes that screamed Klaus was in trouble and that every night after this, if he was lucky to experience any, would be completely changed by the events that were about to unfold in this room.


    A hand came from behind him, almost gently grasping his wrists as a short length of still red-stained rope was wrapped around them, restraining him. It was tight, but not so much that he still couldn¡¯t work his fingers, which is what Klaus assumed was the point, as the man that had been outside led him to Dr. Halter¡¯s computer, pressing him down into the chair behind the desk. Dark eyes just as dead as those possessed by the men at the door gazed down into Klaus¡¯ own.


    ¡°I told you, Anselm, Christoph, some times der honig lockt den Dummkopf.¡±


    ¡°Right, Albrecht,¡± responded the man on the left. ¡°Hope he can get us what the good, Doktor was unable to give us.¡±


    ¡°Er wird es tun, wenn er leben will.¡± Albrecht said, his gaze not leaving Klaus¡¯ face. ¡°Now, mein Dummkopf, before Dr. Halter left us so suddenly, he assured us that you, as his assistent would be able to access the information on his computer that you had so inconveniently locked away.¡±


    So that was what they wanted. Patient records. It couldn¡¯t be anything else, as only Dr. Halter had access to the payment information his clients provided. But why would they care about simple records?


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    ¡°Well?¡± Albrecht said with a frown, jarring Klaus to the fact he had been sitting silent, starring into the gang member¡¯s face.


    ¡°Ah, right. The records. Sure, just give me a few minutes and I can get you anything you need.¡± Klaus was almost surprised at how calmly he spoke. Never before had he been in a situation anywhere near as threatening to his safety as what he now found himself in. Well, perhaps that wasn¡¯t true. Half-remembered dreams of floating over a hospital bed in the presence of a monstrous shadow that spoke with all the authority of an emperor briefly appeared in his mind before just as swiftly being pushed aside. He had to focus. Turning his attention to his task, Klaus awkwardly typed in his passwords to the computer.


    ¡°Is the binding really necessary?¡± Klaus asked as he began pulling up files on the desktop.


    ¡°With how pliant you are being, maybe not,¡± Albrecht responded, coming to stand behind him to look at the computer screen, eyes flicking over names and dates. ¡°But they will stay on until you get us what we need.¡±


    ¡°And what is it you need?¡±


    ¡°That,¡± Albrecht said reaching over Klaus to tap the screen.


    ¡°Gisela Wagner?¡± Klaus asked, reading the name aloud.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Albrecht acknowledged Klaus¡¯ question, but then gestured vaguely at the screen, ¡°but I meant all of it. Each name and the personal information that comes with it. That is what we are here for tonight, and what you will give us.¡±


    Albrecht bent over the desk, reaching for a pen and notepad. For a single, insane moment, Klaus considered tackling the man from a seated position. After all, he had at least thirty pounds and several inches on him. But as he felt his muscles begin to tense, he caught the sideways glance and the barest hint of a smirk on the other man¡¯s face while his other hand lingered over a letter opener lying forgotten on the desk. He was baiting him. Albrecht was hoping that Klaus would make a move. Well, he would have to be disappointed.


    Albrecht¡¯s hint of a smirk turned into a full-fledged frown when Klaus made no move against his feigned vulnerability. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Albrecht wrote down an email address and handed it over to Klaus.


    ¡°Send everything there.¡±


    Klaus nodded in understanding. It took several minutes, as Dr. Halter had a lot of clients. Times were tough in the city, and the man hadn¡¯t the heart to turn away those who couldn¡¯t afford checkups. It had been one of the things Klaus had liked most about the man. He hoped to be able to help others in a similar capacity one day.


    That thought hit him hard as his fingers moved over the keyboard. Looking up, Albrecht had moved over to the other men near the door. Engaged in some whispered conversation, Klaus didn¡¯t take a moment to wonder what they were talking about, instead, his fingers were already moving faster. Selecting all the files, Klaus put the same password he always used for the computer on them as well.


    While this might lead to trouble, for now, Klaus felt compelled to do something. The Blood Eagles were the worst of the worst. Everyone in the city knew that. Anything they were going to do with that information could only be a bad thing for a lot of innocent people.


    Right as he was finishing sending the last files, Klaus picked up muttering by the men near the door. Most of it was indistinct, though he did pick out a single sentence in German that sent a wave of utter revulsion and horror roiling through him.


    ¡°Die W?lfe w¨¹rden kapitulieren, wenn ihre H¨¹ndinnen und Jungen gefangen w¨¹rden.¡±


    He strained his wrists so hard that the binding around them creaked, but the rope held firm. He¡¯d heard the rumors, as anyone living in the city might have, that tensions had been increasing between two of the city¡¯s most prominent gangs. The Storm Wolves and the Blood Eagles had been at odds for years now, but supposedly there had been a marked uptick in the fighting between them lately. While the clinic had been well within the boundaries of where fighting might happen, Dr. Halter had said just to keep his head down and avoid getting involved. A lot of good that had done for the doctor. Clearly the Blood Eagles here tonight hadn¡¯t cared about the doctor¡¯s desire to remain uninvolved.


    He tugged on the restraint once more, as hard as he could, but even his respectable strength was not enough to rip his wrists free. He set his hands, now burning from the friction of the rope, back down on the desk. Perhaps sensing that Klaus was done, Albrecht gestured his fellow Blood Eagles to the door, where they nodded and left the room on some errand.


    Albrecht stepped back over to the desk, looking down at Klaus. ¡°Well, if you are all done sending the files we can part ways here, mein Dummkopf.¡± The man reached down and began to untie the knots holding Klaus¡¯ wrists restrained.


    Klaus found himself nodding in agreement, but, almost as if he was standing looking down at his body, he felt words come dripping from his mouth.


    ¡°What was that you said about kids?¡±


    Albrecht paused, fingers still gripping the final knot holding Klaus¡¯ bound wrists. Lifting his hands free, Albrecht gently patted Kalus¡¯ hands then looked into his face. The tension that had just been about to leave his shoulders came back with a vengeance at the look Albrecht was giving him. Dead eyes over an expressionless face.


    ¡°Now, mein Dummkopf, why did you have to go asking that question? I had wondered how much of the old language you spoke. Clearly the answer is too much.¡±


    Barely had the Blood Eagle uttered that last word when the first strike of his fist came blurring out of nowhere, knocking Klaus to the floor, chair coming down in a clatter next to him. Rough hands grabbed him, still dazed from the blow, and dragged Klaus to the other side of the late doctor¡¯s desk. A kick, casual with its contempt, pushed the corpse in the rolling chair to the far wall. The next blow came down hard and fast, a fist to the other side of his head. Stars shown in his eyes, but they were already whirling away following the kick that slammed into his groin.


    At first Klaus tried to fight back, but even with his legs still free, Albrecht was a virtuoso with his fists and feet. No sooner did Klaus attempt to stand up than he had his legs taken out from underneath him. Each double-handed blow he swung at his weaving adversary was either a too-slow miss or, worse, it was smacked aside with almost palpable contempt. Klaus felt like weeping from the helplessness, but after the dozenth blow any tears he was crying were of blood for the abuse to his face and body.


    Finally, after who knew how many blows, Albrecht let Klaus¡¯ barely conscious body cure up in a ball on the floor.


    ¡°Ist er tot?¡±


    ¡°No, though I am sure he wishes he was at this point,¡± Albrecht responded. ¡°Now, Anselm, help me with his legs. Christoph, you get the doctor.¡±


    Knowing nothing good was going to happen if he was taken by the men, Klaus found he couldn¡¯t put up any more of a struggle even if Albrecht had said they would be killing him here and now.


    Firm hands grasped him under his already bruising arms, while another larger set grabbed his ankles. As one they hoisted him off the floor into the air. The last sight he had of the room as the two men carried him out was Christoph cutting the corpse of Dr. Halter Free, then tossing the body up and over his shoulder in a fireman¡¯s lift, heedless of the blood now splattered across his clothes and face. Shifting the body to make sure he had its weight right, Christoph then followed on the heels of the Blood Eagles carrying Klaus.


    The hallway passed in a blur and the next thing the barely conscious Klaus knew he was outside. Frigid rain, now coming down a bit harder than earlier, roused him enough to see the opened trunk of a car backed up close to the sidewalk in front of Dr. Halter¡¯s clinic. Unceremoniously, Klaus was tossed in first. Landing hard, he let out an involuntary hiss of pain. That hiss turned into a long groan as he felt the corpse tossed in on top of him. With a slam, the trunk was closed and moments later the car was moving.

 Chapter 5

    Klaus had no idea when he had fallen asleep on the drive, but he sure as hell knew when he woke back up. The driver had slammed on the breaks and an elbow as cold as death had ground uncomfortably into the bruises forming on his back. What he assumed to be several minutes later, given his addled state, the trunk was pulled open and two sets of hands again grabbed him.


    While the grip hurt, all Klaus could think about was how similar the hunk of crap car that had carried him here bore such a striking resemblance to the one that had almost hit him early that evening. Or was it yesterday now? Idly Klaus wondered what had happened to the man that saved him. Nausea from the pain forced the stranger from his mind.


    The rain was still coming down, but now the frigid cool of the droplets felt good on his skin. Eyes closed, he soaked in the feeling. He wasn¡¯t able to enjoy the sensation for long, however, as almost before he knew it the rain stopped coming down as his captors brought him inside a warehouse of some sort. Heavy machinery, slightly gone to rust, stood in silence along both walls stretching into the distance. A large factory then. One of the abandoned ones if the rust was to be believed.


    Klaus felt himself being set down into a metal chair, one far less comfortable than the one he had been sitting in the office back at the clinic. A hand smacked him fully back into some rude semblance of awareness. Standing over him was Albrecht, though this time he had that now almost familiar smirk back on his face. Behind him, Klaus could just make out the other two Blood Eagles stuffing Dr. Halter into an empty steel drum. They weren¡¯t being too gentle about it, and Klaus clearly heard the sound of an arm breaking before the rest of the corpse was pushed inside. Albrecht followed the direction of his gaze.


    ¡°Ah, yes, we talked it over and felt that this would be the best way to cover up our meeting tonight.¡± Klaus gestured over at the steel drum, which Anselm and Christoph were using rags to wipe away their fingerprints from the outside. ¡°Anger, over what we leave it to the police to determine, drove you to kill der gute Doktor and attempt to hide his body in a nearby abandoned factory,¡± his eyes came back to Klaus. ¡°Tragically, before you could leave, you had an accident and died yourself.¡±


    ¡°How¡­how are you¡­going to make that stick?¡± Klaus gasped in pain, then nodded down at his purpling arms and the bloody rags that had previously been clothes. ¡°Clearly¡­I did not¡­ do this to myself.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± Albrecht said, looking down at Klaus distastefully. ¡°I did, perhaps, let my anger have a bit too much free rein in the clinic.¡± He turned back to his fellow Blood Eagles. ¡°Luckily I already have an idea on how to cover up those wounds of yours. Anselm, Christoph? Bring the barrels of scrap over here.¡±


    The two Blood Eagles nodded in sync and stepped over behind one of the rusted monstrosities to lift small barrels loaded with jagged metal and other pieces of scrap. While not sure what was happening, Klaus knew that he was quickly coming on his last opportunity to get out of here alive. His eyes darted around the floor near his feet, and then from there to the nearby walls, looking for something, anything that he could use to escape.


    ¡°Go on, have a look around,¡± Albrecht said, voice filled with cruel delight. He gestured at the factory around them. ¡°It¡¯s going to be the last place you ever see, might as well enjoy it, mein Dummkopf. Here. Let me help you get a better view.¡±


    Before Klaus could offer a response, the Blood Eagle kicked him high in the chest, sending Klaus flying backward to slide down a ramp he hadn¡¯t seen. He hit hard, but so badly was he hurt from the earlier beating that only a slightly louder groan escaped him. Sliding to a halt, he rolled over on his side.


    Once the room stopped spinning, he looked back up the ramp at Albrecht. Anselm and Christoph now stood at his side, barrels raised high. Even through eyes blurry with tears and pain, Klaus could see how rusty and jagged the metal was. As one they both raised their barrels high, but Christoph was the first to throw. Halfway down the ramp, it bounced, metal shards and shavings flying everywhere. It had been a hard toss, and while some went sliding across the floor, a good amount only slammed to a halt as it pieced into his flesh.


    Agony worse than he had ever felt before rushed through him from every cut and gash in his already abused body. Thoughts scattered at the pain. Hope for survival and escape gave way to determination that he would breathe just one more breath, then one more after that.


    He blinked away the blood running down his face, the one small scrape of sanity not roaring at the pain and injustice absently noted how the second barrel had not yet come flying in his direction.


    Klaus fixed his gaze back up towards his tormentors, and likely his upcoming death, only to be surprised down to his core. That was when he saw something he had not expected to see.


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    A man in a familiar, heavy trenchcoat stood tall between the three Blood Eagles and Klaus¡¯ own fallen form at the bottom of the ramp. More startling than the stranger who had saved him from being hit by the car earlier was the fact that he stood now with a sword embedded deep in the chest of Anselm, who had dropped his own barrel full of scrap to the floor. Barely did that fact sink in before his savior thrust out his other hand, a long knife firmly in his grip, to dart like lighting for the face of Christoph. A loud crack rang out as the blade vanished between the eyes of the Blood Eagle to become lodged in his skull.


    Adrenaline at witnessing such an unexpected, one-sided fight roars through Klaus to the point he can now focus more fully through the pain to witness his savior deftly weaving aside from the blow of a makeshift club wielded by Albrecht. Stepping back, the man wielding the sword and long knife pulled his weapons free, letting the bodies of Klaus¡¯ would-be executioners fall to the ground.


    With an inarticulate scream of rage, Albrecht raises his metal spar high one more time, only for his opponent to dart in close, faster than he might react. The sword swings down, almost delicately removing the hand that holds the club. A second slash by the long knife took the Blood Eagle¡¯s left leg at the knee. As Albrecht fell backward, screaming in pain, a final thrust down with the sword took his falling body high in the chest. A sure heart strike if there ever was one.


    It was the most beautiful, the most violent thing Klaus had ever seen.


    The pain came flooding back, adrenaline only able to do so much in the face of so many wounds. The cold was beginning to set in, the vast room around him beginning to fade into vague shapes and shadows. One of those shapes moves with a speed that, even dying on the floor, Klaus has a hard time believing.


    Rough hands set blades beside his body as the killer of the Blood Eagles reached out to lift Klaus¡¯ head from the floor. Klaus¡¯ vision continued to darker as he felt a glass vial press to his lips.


    ¡°Drink.¡±


    That simple word uttered in the tone of command demanded that Klaus not give in to the darkness. Before he knew it, Klaus was gulping down the contents of the vial. A warmth descended down his throat to settle briefly in his chest. It then quickly made its way down his limbs, an itching sensation bumbling up behind it.


    ¡°This is going to hurt, boy,¡± his savior spoke again, one of his hands coming to rest on a large piece of metal that had pierced Klaus¡¯ side, ¡°but it¡¯s necessary if you want to live.¡±


    He yanked the scrap metal free.


    The pain of the shard coming out was almost as bad as it had been going in, but to Klaus¡¯ renewed surprise the itching rose to meet it and the wound began to visibly close in front of his eyes. What in the hell was happening here?


    After several more bouts of gutwrenching pain, the majority of the large pieces of scrap that had pierced his body were pulled free. The itching sensation had begun to fade, however, and the wounds were visibly closing slower. Before Klaus could say a word, another vial was pressed to his lips and he greedily gulped the contents.


    The next several minutes passed quickly, and almost before he knew it the itching had faded with the last pieces of metal pulled free from his body. The wounds that covered him from head to toe were closed, already scars, and though he was still covered in blood, Klaus felt remarkable considering what he had just been through. But what the hell was going on?!


    Healing potions? Such things of magic were only in legends or modern games. There was no way they could exist in the real world. Except, apparently they did. He shifted on the ground, but while he felt sore and tired, the pain itself was gone.


    Klaus¡¯ breaths came in shallow gasps as he fought off a rising tide of panic. He had questions for the man who had saved him, but given everything that had happened to him, now was probably not the best time for the answers. Several deep breaths and turning his focus on the cold concrete under him was enough to push the panic down. For now at least.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Klaus said at last, looking up at the face of his savior. ¡°But who are you? Why are you here, and what the hell just happened?¡±


    ¡°All good questions. But first¡ª¡± the man¡¯s hand darted down to smack Klaus full across the face. If he hadn¡¯t already been sure he was near fully recovered, that blow would have set his worries to rest. His ears were ringing, but that was all that he felt. ¡°You, Klaus, are a fucking idiot.¡±


    Klaus winced, the words hurting more than the blow.


    ¡°I was¡­I was taken hostage,¡± Klaus began, his voice trembling as the events of the past day really sank in. ¡°By the Blood Eagles. They found out about me from my boss, Dr. Halter, and they used me to access his practice¡¯s accounts for the information they contained. There¡¯s a war between gangs¡­¡±


    His hands shook as he mentally recounted the whole ordeal, the memories clawing deep into his mind. ¡°They tortured me¡­ for hours,¡± he continued, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. ¡°And then¡­ they tried to dispose of me here¡­¡±


    The man¡¯s harsh features softened, true sympathy crossing his features. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Klaus.¡± He bowed his head. ¡°I¡¯m thankful I was able to get here in time.¡±


    Klaus wiped the tears from his face, then looked up at the man again. ¡°Thank you for saving me. But, who are you, and why have we met before now? You were the one who saved me from being hit by the car, right?¡±


    ¡°I am, but I hadn¡¯t planned for that. But that is not important at the moment. What is important, is that there is a lot you need to know,¡± the man responded. He stood upright, flicking his blades sending the remaining blood on them across the floor, leaving his weapons pristine. Returning them to the sheaths previously hidden under his trenchcoat, he continued. ¡°But you are ignorant of much, so there is only so much I can share with you right now,¡± he pulled himself up to his full height. ¡°I am Franz Moritz, an Imperatoria Venator. In your language, an Imperial Hunter. You, Klaus, are who I have been hunting for. I have been tracking you for quite some time, across a distance I am not sure you¡¯d be able to truly comprehend.¡±

 Chapter 6

    ¡°Why have you been hunting for me?¡± Klaus asked, struggling back to his feat. ¡°And what the hell is an Imperial Hunter? How the hell am I alive?¡±


    Franz reached out to steady Klaus, but when his help was shrugged off, Franz nodded and continued his explanation. ¡°Like I said, there is a limited amount to what I can tell you at the moment. Several oaths I have sworn bind me. But, I will share what I can. Distant people with a connection to you sent me here to first observe you and then, should you meet certain criteria, retrieve you for a purpose that will be made clear.¡± Franz paused and waited for Klaus to respond.


    Klaus stepped back, opening the distance between himself and Franz. Not that it mattered, given how quickly Franz could move with those blades of his. Klaus shook his head, banishing the idle musing to focus on what was important.


    ¡°So, according to you, a man who has just saved my life, you have been following me for weeks. Moreover, now, that you are here in front of me, you say you cannot go into any details as to why. Worse, you state outright the end of your mission regarding me, is abduction? Do I have that all right?¡±


    Franz cocked his head and shrugged.¡±Pretty much, since you have met the criteria I was sent to assess.¡±


    Seeing Klaus growing stiff and moving to step further back, the swordsman lifted his hands to rest them on the hilts of his weapons. Whether it was a comfortable motion he did without thinking, or a subtle threat, Klaus was not sure. All the same, it caused Klaus to stop his movements.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say anything more on the criteria itself, and as to the latter questions, it is much the same, I am afraid.¡± Franz¡¯s tone even seemed somewhat regretful. ¡°You will have to console yourself with the knowledge that you will know the answers to your questions when you are meant to. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, you will have to come with me.¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡±


    ¡°A promise.¡±


    Klaus¡¯ eyes glanced down to Franz¡¯s hands, which tightened ever so slightly on the hilts he had been holding. No, not a promise; definitely a threat. As Klaus tensed and Franz¡¯s eyes narrowed, a sound came from behind the swordsman that pulled them out of their almost confrontation.


    A weak laugh.


    As one, Klaus and Franz turned to look at the body of Anselm who, as chance would have it, was not yet dead. At some point, the Blood Eagle had pulled himself up to a sitting position. Hands pressed tight to the sword wound low on his chest, Anselm struggled to staunch the flow. He was not having much luck, but his efforts seemed to be at least enough to offer a parting jab at Klaus.


    ¡°As much¡­as I would love¡­to see you kill yourselves¡­I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll¡­last that long,¡± Anselm said slowly, gasping for breath between his words.


    ¡°Then why the laugh?¡± asks Klaus.


    The bloody grin Anselm directs their way sends a chill down Klaus¡¯ spine. The Blood Eagle visibly pushes some of the pain away to answer while he still can. ¡°Well, it¡¯s because we¡¯ll still be getting our revenge. You see,¡± his eyes flick to Klaus, ¡°the Blood Eagles know all about you and your family. When those emails show up¡­but we don¡¯t¡­it will be your family¡­that pays¡­the¡­¡± Anslem slumps to the side.


    Heedless of the potential mistake he is making, Klaus staggers on still-sore legs over to the Blood Eagle, grabbing for his shoulders to haul him back upright.


    ¡°Where did you make me send that information? Where?!¡±


    A firm hand came down on Klaus¡¯ shoulder, causing him to flinch. Franz stood next to him, but Klaus had never even heard him move.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Klaus, he cannot answer you. He is dead.¡± Franz¡¯s hand tightened on Klaus shoulder. ¡°And we have to be going.¡±


    While Klaus was being pulled upright he frantically tried to think of a solution. Only one came to mind. Standing the rest of the way on his own, he faced Franz.


    ¡°If I promise to go with you without resisting, will you help me save my family?¡±


    Franz paused. One hand still on Klaus shoulder, the other tapping on the hilt of his sword. The Imperial Hunter took his time before responding.


    ¡°Though dead now, Anselm was right. If none of them show up by the morning, the Blood Eagles will go after my family.¡± Seizing every advantage he could, Klaus pressed on with his plea, hoping it would be enough to convince the man. ¡°If you help me get to who received the emails, I can delete them and my family will be saved. Please.¡±


    Klaus put all the hope he had in the plea, but his heart dropped at Franz¡¯s response.


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    ¡°Why?¡±


    That single word, while full of curiosity, also had the sound of ambivalence to it. Like Franz did not care either way.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®why¡¯? I want your help to save my family. I am willing to sacrifice everything for that.¡± He shuddered. ¡°The Blood Eagles are among the worst of the gangs in this city. They can and will kill my father and brothers. Worse is what they will likely do to my mother and sisters.¡± Klaus pled one more time, ¡°So please, if you help me now, I swear I will go with you willingly after. Just save them.¡±


    Rather than respond, Franz stepped back and began to circle Klaus at a slow pace. Quiet steps gave way to squishing as Franz did not alter his stride around the blood of the dead Blood Eagles.


    ¡°You know what your asking will take you into danger, correct? For I will not go by myself, at the chance you might take your family and flee. Even with all my strengths, and they are many, you would be risking your life going with me. At that is the only way I would do this for you. No,¡± he paused, looking intently into Klaus¡¯ eyes, which had been following Franz in his circuitous route, ¡°you already know this. But you ask anyway.¡± Franz came to a halt back where he had started, hand leaving the hilt of his sword to rub idly at the long scar down his cheek. ¡°You really are quite interesting.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean we have a deal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we have a deal.¡± Franz raised his other hand into the air, a finger extended. ¡°But it will be up to you how we find their hideout. I am a bit out of my element here.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem,¡± Klaus said, feeling nothing but relief despite the knowledge he might soon be facing again. ¡°I¡¯m sure one of their phones has the information we need.¡±


    In point of fact, all three had the same address listed under a contact called Underboss Junger. Klaus was not sure if Underboss was a title, or just what they called him, but with the lack of any other significant names across all three phones, Klaus was hoping that he had found the address of their target.


    ¡°I have the information we need.¡± Klaus pointed to the western portion of the factory. ¡°Six blocks that way should be the address.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Franz nodded. ¡°If we head there now, we should be able to get there in full darkness.¡± So saying the swordsman began walking towards the entrance of the factory that Klaus had been brought in through.


    ¡°What about the bodies?¡± Klaus asked. ¡°And what about Dr. Halter?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we are in a tight schedule now,¡± Franz called over his shoulder, still walking, ¡°but your police will eventually find it, and your friend will receive proper last rites then. Now come, we have to go.¡±


    Knowing he had already used up more than his fair share of luck tonight already, Klaus didn¡¯t argue, though he did cast a sad, regretful glance back at the barrel that held Dr. Halter¡¯s body. The man had been a mentor and a friend. Klaus felt guilty not doing more for him but knew that the doctor himself would have pushed for him to save those still living.


    Klaus stepped out of the factory back into the darkened streets of the city. No one was out this time of night, and the only car near him was the one the now-dead Blood Eagles had used to get here. Already Franz was opening the passenger door.


    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll drive then.¡± Klaus hurried to the car, got into the driver seat, and turned the keys that still sat in the ignition. A slight stutter and then it was running. Klaus typed in the address to the car¡¯s GPS. Pulling into the street, he then drove east.


    ¡°I have to admit, you have impressed me,¡± Franz said, breaking the silence. ¡°It¡¯s a rare man that can be dropped into the unknown, almost die, and race off the violence against someone else a heartbeat later.¡± The man grinned from the seat next to Klaus. ¡°And to think I thought you a simple civilian over these past few weeks.¡±


    Since Franz brought it up, Klaus asked a question that had been bugging him since Franz had saved his life. ¡°That¡¯s another time you have mentioned weeks, but I have only seen you today that I can remember. Where have you been observing me from?¡±


    ¡°Why the alley beyond your apartment, of course,¡± Franz said with a chuckle. Leaning back in his seat, blades awkwardly positioned for him to be as comfortable as possible, he continued. ¡°Why do you think a homeless man would keep visiting only the alley behind your apartment looking for food, yet always run away whenever you offered him any? It was because I couldn¡¯t have you catch sight of who I was until after I was ready to make contact.¡± Franz sighed. ¡°Sadly I had to move up the timeline after you were taken.¡±


    Coming to a stoplight, Klaus glanced sideways at Franz. The trenchcoat was more than a bit cleaner than what the homeless man had been wearing, but it would be similar enough if Franz coated it with enough mud and garbage. Klaus snorted. Not like he would be lying about something like that, given everything else he had told Klaus so far. Which still wasn¡¯t enough for his taste.


    The light turned green. As he gripped the wheel to turn it, a nearby streetlight put the new scars across his hands in stark relief. Given all the injuries he had suffered, Klaus knew similar scars would be covering a good chunk of his body.


    ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    The apology from Franz broke Klaus¡¯ examination of his hands. ¡°Why are you sorry?¡±


    ¡°The healing potions I gave you were of a lesser quality than I usually have. Normally you wouldn¡¯t even have a scar from the wounds you suffered.¡±


    Klaus shrugged, strangely uncaring. Scars were the least of his worries right now, and given the unknown looming ahead in his future, not something he could concern himself with at the moment.


    ¡°At least I¡¯m still alive,¡± Klaus finally responded after a few minutes of silent driving, ¡°no matter what else happens, the fact that you saved my life, and are helping me to save the lives of my family, puts me in your debt. One that I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to repay.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Franz shook his head, interrupting Klaus before he could say more. ¡°So long as you keep your promise to willingly come with me when I say it is time to leave, there will be no debt between us.¡±


    ¡°Alright. But if you do think of something else, just ask.¡±


    Klaus could feel Franz¡¯s eyes on him as he made the final turn. The massage parlor they were looking for loomed ahead despite its seemingly small size. In rough shape, the paint on the exterior sign was fading, and the bars that covered the windows showed signs of rust. The low profile was probably why they had chosen it.


    Coming to a halt out front, Klaus put it into park and turned off the engine. Opening the door, Klaus could have sworn Franz muttered how things were getting even more interesting.


    There was no time to consider the swordsman further, however. The night was almost half over and the lives of his family still hung in the balance. Klaus took fast strides to the front door of the massage parlor, Franz but a step behind.

 Chapter 7

    Franz quickly overtook Klaus, coming to a halt outside the door. Reaching out, Franz blocked Klaus before he could reach for the door.


    ¡°I need you to stay close behind me and follow my lead. Until I say the danger is passed, you will do everything I tell you to. If you can¡¯t do that, we leave now and your family will be left to fate. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I promise to do what you tell me to do.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Franze said, turning back to the door, hands drifting down to his weapons. ¡°Give me a few seconds, then follow me in.¡±


    Drawing his sword in a swift motion Klaus could barely even see, Franz swung hard and fast for the door. While Klaus thought it was likely that the entrance to the massage parlour was locked, the force of the blow by Franz¡¯s sword made that a moot point. The door did not so much as fall apart as burst into splinters that went flying into the room beyond. As Franz took a step into the entryway, his other hand flung his long knife at a target Klaus could not see in the room beyond. Franz plunged into the room.


    After two seconds, Franz had only asked for a few after all, Klaus stepped cautiously into the building. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the first thing he saw was the remains of the door lying next to a Blood Eagle on the floor. Garbed in the same kinds of clothes that Albrecht and the others had worn, the man was lying dead on the ground with Franz¡¯s knife embedded in his forehead.


    A scream came from Klaus¡¯ right, a bit deeper into the building. Stepping over to the desk that stood by the back wall, Klaus saw Franz standing over another Blood Eagle, this one still very much alive. Franz had embedded his sword into the floor through both wrists of the criminal. Seeing Klaus enter behind him, Franz beckoned Klaus over.


    ¡°The scream probably alerted everyone else in the building, but he refuses to tell me anything I can understand.¡±


    ¡°Fick dich, ich werde dich t?ten!¡± the Blood Eagle snarled in pain.


    While Klaus hadn¡¯t mastered German, much like everyone else in the city he was at least conversational in it for the most part. ¡°He said he is going to kill you.¡±


    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t have that, then.¡± Franz twisted the blade that had the Blood Eagle pinned to the floor. It brought a high-pitched screech from the man, as the blade began grinding against the bones in his forearms.


    More than a bit nauseous at what Franz was doing, Klaus kept himself from throwing up by focusing on the fact that the Blood Eagles would likely do so much worse to his own family if they did not succeed tonight.


    ¡°Wo ist dein Anf¨¹hrer? Sag es mir und er wird aufh?ren.¡± Klaus tried to reason with the man, promising an end to the pain if the Blood Eagle tells them where his leader is in the massage parlour.


    ¡°Fick dich!¡± the man swore, until Franz twisted his blade again, causing him to scream. After several long seconds, the Blood Eagle could not take the pain anymore and gasped, ¡°Zimmer im erdgschoss! Eingang hinter Schrank!¡±


    ¡°Danke.¡± Klaus thanked him for telling them what they needed. ¡°He says that there is a cabinet that concerns an entrance to a secret downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Good work.¡± Franz pulled his blade free, and in a sharp motion beheaded the Blood Eagle on the floor. So swift was the strike that he probably had no idea what happened.


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Klaus asked appalled, as Franz stepped away from the corpse to begin looking around for the cabinet. Nothing like that was in the room with them.


    ¡°Do what?¡± Franz asked mildly, eyes taking in the only two doors of the room.


    ¡°Kill him. He wasn¡¯t a threat anymore.¡±


    Franz eyes fixed on one of the doors longer than the other. Nodding to himself, he seemed to make up his mind as to which room he would be going into next. ¡°Klaus, he was an enemy, and you never leave a live enemy behind you.¡±


    ¡°But he wasn¡¯t a threat anymore.¡±


    Franz turned back to face him. ¡°Boy, an enemy is always a threat. Mercy is a luxury of the strong, and while I would likely survive an ambush, the chances of you coming out the other side in one piece is not something I¡¯d be willing to risk. You should not risk it either when it comes to your enemies.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any enemies.¡± Seeing the scar stretch across Franz¡¯s face as the swordsman arched an eyebrow, Klaus continued, ¡°Point. After tonight, then, I won¡¯t have any enemies. ¡±


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    ¡°Trust me, Klaus.¡± Franz¡¯s expression hardened before he turned back to the door he had chosen. ¡°Where I come from, everyone has enemies. When others learn of you, Klaus, you will likely have more than you can imagine.¡±


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    Franz did not respond, perhaps because he might have already said too much. Instead, he moved quickly to the door he had selected, hand pausing on the handle as he paused to listen. Jerking the door open, he then darted inside, sword in a ready position at his side.


    Klaus waiting another few moments, but when no sound of violence came from the room, he stepped inside. Past the doorway, he realized that it was not actually a room, but a long hallway with labeled doors on either side. Likely the massage rooms. At the far end was a display cabinet full of documentation and certificates of inspection by the city. Knowing what he now knew, Klaus was sure they were fakes or the result of bribes to a city official. Just another example of how the city was sinking further into corruption and crime.


    Franz had not hesitated upon entering the hallway. Moving with quick efficiency, he was checking each massage room for concealed enemies as he made his way to the end of the hall. All the rooms were empty, and Klaus came to stand next to him in front of the cabinet.


    ¡°A latch you think?¡±


    ¡°Likely,¡± Franz responded as he started moving his hands around the sides of the cabinet. ¡°Should be easy to find, given how often they would need to open this during the day.¡±


    A soft click came from the back as Franz¡¯s fingers depressed the hidden latch. Not saying a word, Franz jerked his head to indicate Klaus should again stand back. While Klaus moved a few feet backward, Franz slowly pushed the cabinet aside, revealing steps that spiraled downwards. Just wide enough for one of them to go at a time.


    ¡°Wait here a little longer,¡± Franz directed. ¡°If they heard what happened earlier, they are likely ready for me to come down the stairs. I¡¯ll call up when you can join me.¡±


    ¡°If that is the case, wouldn¡¯t it be better to have me help you?¡±


    Franz pulled his gaze from the descending steps to look at Klaus. His scar flexed across his face as he gave Klaus a grin followed by a soft chuckle. ¡°The day I need your help with something like this is the day I retire as an Imperial Hunter.¡±


    Motioning for Klaus to wait, he darted down the stairs, again seeming to move faster than what should be possible. Within moments the sound of wood shattering came echoing up the stairwell. Brief yelling was followed by a scream that was quickly cut off by what sounded like a gunshot. Klaus was starting to get worried when he heard Franz call up that he could come down.


    Rushing down the stairs as fast as was safe, Klaus again prepared himself for a scene of violence. The door, much as he expected, had burst inwards from the strength of Franz¡¯s blow. Splinters, some as long as a foot or more, lay scattered around a room that looked like a bomb had gone off inside it. The bodies of two Blood Eagles lay just beyond the doorway. Lying in pieces, it looked like they had been slammed to the floor under the force of Franz¡¯s sword blows. Past the remains of an impromptu wooden barricade of tables and chairs was another man dead against the wall, Franz¡¯s long knife through his neck. A shotgun lay discarded nearby on the floor. So it had been a gunshot that Klaus had heard.


    Franz himself was standing over one of the fattest men Klaus had ever seen. Sword extended in front of the man¡¯s face, Franz had cowed him into silence by the time Klaus had come into the room. Based on the gaudy jewelry the fat man was wearing, really some people had no taste, this was likely the leader of this branch of the Blood Eagles. The man¡¯s hands were buried in the pockets of his jacket as he fidgeted under Franz¡¯s attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand the situation, Hans,¡± Franz was saying to the fat man, likely in response to what had been said before Klaus had come into the room. ¡°As soon as we have what we came for, this can all be over. Now, answer his questions.¡±


    ¡°Where do you access your email?¡± Klaus asked, coming to stand over the gang leader.


    ¡°In¡­in the side room.¡± Hans nodded at a doorway deeper into the room, on the right, ¡°A phone. Just¡­just there.¡±


    As Franz shifted to look at the indicated door, the local leader of the Blood Eagles ripped his hands free from his pockets and, in one swift motion, flicked a pin at Franz¡¯s face. Klaus barely paid attention to the flicking motion, as his eyes remained fixed on what else the fat man held.


    A grenade.


    Reacting faster than conscious thought should allow, Klaus darted down at the Blood Eagle leader, hands reaching out to take a vice-like grip around the grenade and the man¡¯s fingers. Hissing in pain at Klaus¡¯ grip, the man looked up in horror at the look Franz now had on his face.


    ¡°Well isn¡¯t that interesting,¡± Franz said, though whether he was referencing the grenade or Klaus¡¯ action was unclear. ¡°May I assume that our friend here tried to use a weapon of some kind just now?¡±


    ¡°Grenade,¡± Klaus said, but when Franz looked confused, he continued. ¡°If you hand me the pin he flicked at you, I can put it back in and disarm it.¡±


    Bending down, Franz reached for the pin. It was strange he had never heard of what a grenade was. But, then again, there were a lot of strange things going on with the man.


    Taking the pin from Franz, Klaus forced it back into the grenade, despite the leader of the Blood Eagle trying to jerk his hands out of his grip. Once set, Klaus forcefully took the grenade in hand, then pocketed it once he was sure the pin was properly locked in place.


    ¡°Can I ask you a question, Klaus?¡± Franz asked, completely ignoring the now begging man at his feet, except to bring his sword dangerously close to his ear. When Klaus nodded, Franz asked, ¡°That grenade? It would have killed you had it gone off?¡±


    ¡°Most likely,¡± Klaus nodded. ¡°It probably would have put you at risk as well.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Franz starred into Klaus¡¯ face, eyes searching for something. Apparently finding what he sought, he nodded. Reaching into his coat with his free hand, Franz pulled out another blade, this one a dagger. Flipping it in his hand to grasp the blade, Franz held out the hilt for Klaus to take. ¡°Here, take this. Point it at our friend while I check for his phone in the other room.¡±


    Nodding, Klaus took the dagger and pointed it down at the Blood Eagle¡¯s face. Inwardly, Klaus felt nauseous to be directly threatening the life of another person, but given who this man was, and what the Blood Eagles would likely do to his family, he kept the blade steady.

 Chapter 8

    Franz soon came back into the room, a fancy phone with a gold case held in his hand. Handing it over to Klaus, he refused the return of his weapon. ¡°Keep it for now. I¡¯d feel better if you had something to defend yourself, should I miss a threat again.¡±


    Not wanting to argue, Klaus thrust the phone into the face of the Blood Eagle. ¡°Open it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Hans. He thrust his hands back into his pockets. ¡°I know as soon as I do, that will be it for me. I want to make a deal.¡±


    Klaus made eye contact with Franz, who gave a nod. ¡°We¡¯re listening,¡± Klaus responded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you access to my email if you let me leave here unharmed,¡± seeing the unchanging looks on his captors¡¯ faces, he hurriedly offered to sweeten the deal. ¡°In addition, you can have the merchandise and money in the other room. I¡¯ll tell the Blood Eagles that we were attacked by a rival gang, the Storm Wolves. Do we have a deal?¡± He held out his hand to Klaus, but his eyes stayed locked on the more dangerous Franz.


    Reaching out, Klaus took advantage of Hans¡¯ distraction to press the screen his phone against his forefinger. The phone unlocked with a click. Hans¡¯ eyes snapped to Klaus in horror.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Klaus said, his voice quiet but full of anger, ¡°but as soon as you said ¡®merchandise¡¯ I knew there was no way we could let you out of here. Franz?¡±


    At Klaus¡¯ rejection of the deal, Hans surged upright, hands extended out in front of himself to ward off Franz¡¯s descending blade. He had begun his attack as soon as Klaus had said Hans couldn¡¯t be allowed to leave. Hans¡¯ upthrust arms slowed the sword but a moment before it carved deep into his chest. The Blood Eagle collapsed to the floor, and after several gurgling breaths was dead.


    ¡°By merchandise, he meant women, didn¡¯t he?¡± asked Franz while he wiped his blade clean.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klaus agreed, feeling sick looking down at the latest death he had witnessed. He put up with the feeling, however. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of rumors that the Blood Eagles have been engaging in sex trafficking, and a massage parlor would be an ideal front for activities like that. As soon as he said ¡®merchandise¡¯ the way he did, I knew exactly what kind of man he was.¡±


    Putting Hans from his thoughts, Klaus swiped through the dead man¡¯s phone. Coming to his email app, he opened it up and scrolled through the messages until he got to the one coming from Dr. Halter¡¯s office email. It took a minute to get down to it. Hans¡¯ email account was a cesspit of spam and pornography subscriptions.


    Selecting the email, he deleted it, and then emptied the trash right afterward. ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Good, then we have just one more thing to do.¡± Franz began moving in the direction of the only other door off the room. He sheathed his blade, but kept his hand near it on the chance he had to draw it again. ¡°The women must be terrified right now.¡±


    When Franz opened the last door, Klaus was standing right behind him. As soon as the light from behind them penetrated the room, Franz let out a loud curse in a language Klaus did not know. Rushing into the room, he darted over to the first of two ragged mats on the floor. On each lay a semi-conscious young woman covered in bruises and garbed in little more than rags. Tilting her head back, he pulled a vial from an inner pocket and held it to her lips to drink.


    As soon as the vial was empty, he handed another to Klaus. ¡°Here. Give this one to the other girl.¡±


    Klaus took the vial with a nod, and quickly gave it to the other injured woman. His suspicions were confirmed, for barely had he gotten the woman to drink when her eyes began to stir and the bruises across her arms and legs began to fade. Blue eyes slowly opened to meet his own.


    Upon seeing a man so close, she jerked back. ¡°Kto vy? Who are you?¡± A sound of crying came from the other mat, and not waiting for a response, the woman pushed herself up and moved over to the other captive. ¡°Kira!¡±


    Seeing the woman Klaus had help rushing over, Franz shifted aside to make room.


    ¡°Eva!¡± Kira cried, reaching out her arms. The other woman dived right into her, tears already dripping down her face. Klaus could not tell if they were the result of fear or joy that the other woman was still here. Klaus felt a boiling pit of rage open within him at the now-dead Hans.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± asked Klaus of the women, both of whom were now crying in each others arms.


    ¡°Now or earlier?¡± the one named Eva responded. ¡°If you meant earlier¡­well you can imagine.¡± She shuddered at memories only she could see. ¡°As to the state you found us in, Hans came in to beat us into silence earlier. Said something about expecting guests.¡±


    Kira froze in fear at those words. ¡°Guests?¡±


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    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Franz said softly, hands in clear view and sitting back from both women. ¡±Hans has hosted the last guests he will ever have.¡±


    Rather than be reassured, both women tensed at Franz¡¯s words. Thinking he might understand what was going on, Klaus hurried to add, ¡°To be clear, Franz killed Hans and his men for what the Blood Eagles threatened to do to my family and others. We have no interest in his line of work or¡­ you in that way. You won¡¯t ever have to suffer anything like this again. We are getting you out of here.¡±


    Finally understanding, both women began a new round of sobbing, but this time more clearly in relief. Klaus could not even begin to imagine what they had gone through. Not sure how to help in this situation, Klaus and Franz simply gave them their space while looking over the rest of the room. Though the liquid in the vials had helped the women, they were still clearly in some pain from their time here. Looking down at the vial still in his hand, Klaus knew without a doubt in his mind that, as crazy as it seemed, it had recently held what could only be a healing potion of some sort. Once again he banished the thoughts that threatened to run through his mind to instead focus on the here and now. There would be time for everything else later.


    The rest of the basement was grim to say the least. Neglect and decay had taken over everything. The walls, once painted in a now unrecognizable hue, were marred by cracks and patches of the now faded paint that showed crumbling concrete underneath. Against one wall sat a rickety wooden table, surface warped and legs no longer settled evenly, even though several bags sat on it. A sealed trunk, battered and in rough shape but solid for all that, was set against the far wall. There must have been a leak somewhere too, as a musty odor assaulted his senses, being some disgusting amalgamation of mold, mildew, and dampness.


    Trying to ignore the smell and dampness as much as he could, Klaus watched as Franz moved over to the bags. Pulling them open, it was immediately clear that the dead Blood Eagle hadn¡¯t been lying. There was quite a bit of money on the table.


    ¡°What are we going to do with this?¡± asked Klaus.


    ¡°I think you should decide,¡± Franz said as he tied the bags back shut. ¡°After all, we wouldn¡¯t even be here if it were not for you.¡±


    Klaus glanced over at Kira and Eva, who were now quietly paying attention to the strangers in their midst, still holding each other tightly. ¡°I think they deserve half of whatever is there. They have been through a lot.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± responded Franz with a smile, apparently pleased at how Klaus was giving some of the money to the young women. ¡°But what about the rest? Will you spend it yourself somewhere?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klaus shook his head immediately. He couldn¡¯t take the rest of the money for himself, not when his first thoughts were of how much his parents still had to pay off from his time in the hospital. ¡°If you are fine with it, the rest goes to my parents. This money would go a long way against the debts they have.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± said Franz, smile turning into a full grin. ¡°You are a good son. I am sure they will appreciate it.¡± He grabbed the bags, tucking them under one arm, easily carrying them despite what should be a considerable weight. ¡°Now come, I think you have had enough excitement for one night.¡±


    ¡°What about us?¡± Eva said. ¡°Where are we supposed to go?¡±


    ¡°Do either of you have any family in the city?¡± Klaus asked, already half-expecting the likely answer.


    ¡°No,¡± Eva said while Kira shook her head, staring at the floor. ¡°We were transported here from the east coast. Not sure how to get back either.¡±


    Like he had expected, the young women didn¡¯t have any real options. Even with the money Klaus wanted to give them, all that would do without knowing anyone in the city was make them targets for any one of the other gangs in the area. No, their best bet was to come with Klaus or Franz. But where to take them?


    ¡°There is some extra room at the place I have been staying,¡± Franz said. ¡°They should be safe to stay there until they can sort out their situation.¡±


    Eva looked at Kira. At the slight shrug the shy woman gave, Eva nodded and turned to address Franz. ¡°We¡¯ll take you up on your offer.¡±


    Franz gestured towards the main room of the basement. ¡°Alright, that is settled.¡± Then to Klaus he said, ¡°Let¡¯s get you home. We can save our conversation until tomorrow, what with the long night you have had.¡±


    Nodding, Klaus agreed with the man. He could honestly say that tonight had been the worst night of his life in more ways than one. Taken hostage, tortured, and then saved from being killed by a complete stranger who apparently knew him very well. Leading a man who preferred swords and knives to attack a hideout of one of the most notorious gangs in Volksturm. Saving two young women and taking possession of more money than he had seen in his life to this point, all why being party to a number of violent deaths. A long night undersold it a bit.


    They walked back into the other room, Franz leading, Klaus following, and the two young women bringing up the rear. As the bodies of the Blood Eagles came back into view, Klaus turned to block their view from Eva and Kira, only to see each was staring hard at the dead faces of their captors. Taking only a few moments to make sure they were truly dead, they both then followed Franz as the swordsman made his way up the stairs.


    In short order, they made their way through the carnage of the massage parlor and emerged outside where Klaus came to a stop in shock.


    The car was gone.


    Someone, either brave or foolish, had stolen the car.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Klaus,¡± Franz said, his stride not faltering. He walked down the sidewalk in the general direction of Klaus¡¯ apartment. ¡°I¡¯ll walk you home.¡±


    The walk itself was¡­ not bad actually. Sure, the city still had the same gritty, rough buildings looming around him. And yes, the risk of other gangs being out and about this hour was higher. But for some reason, Klaus actually felt the tiniest bit of the tension in his shoulders start to loosen.


    Eventually, who knew how many minutes later, the group was standing in front of Klaus¡¯ apartment building. Not exactly sure what to say after everything that happened, Klaus awkwardly thanked Franz, and said goodnight to Eva and Kira. Waving an acknowledgment, Franz said he would be by in the morning then led the two young women off, thankfully not down the alley where he apparently spent most of his time.


    Klaus did not remember climbing the stairs or, for that matter opening his door. Pausing only close and lock the door again, Klaus kicked off his shoes, and set the previously forgotten dagger that Franz had let him borrow on his kitchen table. It looked remarkably out of place amongst his player character notes.


    Without taking his dirty, bloody clothes off, Klaus fell into his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 Chapter 9

    The fist slammed down into Klaus¡¯ face, knocking him back down. Lying crumpled on the concrete floor of the abandoned factory, his vision swimming from the pain. The darkness around him bore down from all sides, broken only by the few beams of light sneaking in through the cracks of the ceiling.


    Albrecht stood over him with a menacing leer on his face. ¡°You thought you could hide from me, Klaus? Thought I wouldn¡¯t find you?¡± Albrecht¡¯s voice was a low growl, laced with mockery. ¡°There is no possible way that this ends in anything else than your death.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Klaus gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. ¡°Please, stop.¡±


    Albrecht chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed through the empty factory. ¡°Stop? Oh no, Klaus, the fun is only just beginning. You should not have put a password on the files you sent. Until you unlock those files, this beating will continue.¡±


    Albrecht¡¯s fists descended again, and no matter how Klaus moved they continued to strike his body sending fresh jolts of agony through his battered body. Time seemed to blur, the blows merging into a single, unending torment. But even as he struggled to protect himself, Klaus couldn¡¯t help but feel something was not quite right.


    Finally, Albrecht paused, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°You¡¯re a stubborn one, aren¡¯t you, mein dummkopf?¡± He reached into his coat and pulled out a sword, its blade catching the weak light from above.


    If Klaus had been terrified before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. Frantically thrusting his arms up to block Albrecht¡¯s swing downwards. The blade barely slowed as it cut through the ropes binding his arms together. Scrambling backward, Klaus¡¯ eyes darted, searching the darkness for anything that he could use as a weapon. Finally, he found a rusted metal spar, and he gasped for it.


    Klaus¡¯ relief at finally being armed turned to confusion as he saw a familiar figure step from the darkness behind Albrecht.


    ¡°Here, let me see that,¡± Franz said, his voice calm and steady.


    Albrecht handed the sword over without hesitation, a triumphant sneer on his lips. As soon as the hilt left his hands, Franz moved with lightning speed, turning the blade back on the German gangster. The sneer froze on Albrecht¡¯s face, transforming into a mask of shock and pain as the sword plunged down into his chest.


    Franz twisted the blade, then pulled it free, Albrecht¡¯s body crumpling to the floor. Blood pooled around the fallen man, and Franz wiped the blade clean with a rag he seemed to pull from nowhere. His expression not changing, Franz turned to Klaus, who was still half-sprawled across the floor, too stunned to move.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Klaus. You have a long, long journey ahead of you yet.¡± Franz¡¯s voice was almost gentle. ¡°And with a little training, you¡¯ll be killing with the best of them in no time.¡± He handed the sword to Klaus, gesturing for him to drop the makeshift weapon he had to take the hilt.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Franze urged. ¡°Give it a try.¡±


    Klaus stared down at Albrecht¡¯s lifeless body, his mind a blur. The sword strained in his grip. When he could resist the pull no further, he plunged it down into Albrecht¡¯s chest. The flesh parted with sickening ease, and Klaus felt a grim satisfaction as he raised the sword and drove it down again. Each blow let the next come faster, smoother, and without the hesitation of the one before. Gradually Albrecht¡¯s corpse became only so much meat.


    Klaus stepped back, breathing heavily, his eyes seeking Franz. The older man nodded approvingly. ¡°Good. Very good. Now you understand.¡±


    As if being granted permission, Klaus dropped the sword. The clang of metal against concrete echoed through the empty factory. Reality came rushing back to him, as first the sword, then Franz, and finally, the factory itself dissolved into so much red smoke. He had already lived this. While he hadn¡¯t killed Albrecht himself, it had been Franz¡¯s seeking to protect him that had led to the death of Albrecht and the others. Red smoke swirled away in a breeze that he could not feel, leaving only darkness and the realization that Klaus would not be able to go back to the life he had been living the night before last. Though he did not yet know what was in store next, Klaus had a feeling that, deep down, his life now would be one of far more violence and no guarantee of survival.


    And he would do whatever it took to endure.


    Klaus woke up in a sweat, blankets somehow having become tangled around him in the middle of the night. Still in the clothes of last night, his sheets and pillows were smeared with dirt and dried blood. Wiping his forehead caused some of it to flake away from his face. Rolling onto his side, Klaus felt a hard lump jabbing into his hip. Shifting the other way, he groggily reached down into his pocket.


    The grenade from last night.


    Instantly awake, Klaus gently pulled the explosive out from under the sheets to set it on the side table next to his bed. Breathing out, he sat up and again rubbed his face while his heart gradually stopped trying to escape his chest. What the hell was he going to do with a grenade?


    It was at that point that the smell hit him. Surging upright out of the bed, he rushed to the bathroom. Flinging the toilet-seat open, Klaus thrust his head down towards the bowl as vomit came bursting out of his mouth. He heaved several times over the next few minutes.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Finally when it seemed like his stomach was truly empty, Klaus slumped back down on the floor to lean against his bathroom sink. So many people had died last night. Even most people he knew would agree that they had been some of the worst of what humanity had to offer in this city, they were still men. Men who were now dead. And Klaus had been a part of that.


    Pushing morbid memories aside for the moment, he began turning over the strangeness of last night. The whirlwind of his capture, torture, and almost death. The stranger Franz; how he moved and killed so easily, and with a sword at that. Most of all, the apparently real healing potions. He only had to glance at the small mirror that hung alongside the doorway to see how starkly his new scars stood out against his still-pale face and arms. The events of last night could not possibly have been real, yet they had happened all the same.


    Eventually, Klaus made his way out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. He stripped his bed, tossing the sheets into a pile on his floor. Frowning at seeing the red and brown stained pillows, he resolved to throw them out and get new ones.


    Once he was done with his bed, Klaus pulled his own shredded clothes off, adding them to the pile on the floor. Naked for the first time since the violence of last night, Klaus was dismayed to see the scars that now were on his face and arms traced themselves in jagged lines over his entire body. While not a vain man by any stretch, the fact was that he now looked like he had lost a fight with a drunken wood-chipper wielding steak knives.


    Much like the memories from last night, he pushed the thoughts about his body away as best he could. Striding over to his shower, he set it as hot as he could. Checking with his hand several times, it finally reached the uncomfortable scalding that he felt would be needed to wash the blood and dirt from his body.


    While he would much rather take his time getting clean, Klaus knew that he could not. Franz had said that he would be coming by in the morning and, based on the sun beginning to appear beyond his window, he could be arriving at any time.


    Scrubbing as hard as he could, Klaus removed every bit of blood and dirt that he could see on his body. When he stepped from the shower, his skin glowed pink from the heat, making the white scars stand out that much more.


    After getting dressed in some of his more comfortable clothes, Klaus made his way to the kitchen. The table was still cluttered with his player character notes and dirty plates, but the thing that immediately seized his attention was the dagger lying off to the side. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. While he remembered the brutal simplicity of the blade, the steel itself seemed a bit different from the cooking implements he had used in the past. Perhaps it was simply that this was designed to be a weapon first and foremost.


    A heavy knock came on his door.


    Before he knew what he was doing, Klaus was gripping the dagger close and moving a quietly as he could to look through the eyehole of his door into the hallway. Franz looked much as he had last night, though he was standing back and with both hands open and empty in clear view.


    Disengaging the lock he did not remember setting last night, Klaus opened the door to let Franz inside.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Franz said in greeting, eyes staring into Klaus¡¯ face before locking onto the dagger still gripped firmly in his fist. He nodded in approval. ¡°Those instincts will serve you well. You never know when someone might be a threat. Luckly for you,¡± he grinned, ¡°I am quite the opposite. You mind setting that down so we can talk?¡±


    ¡°Right. Sure.¡± Klaus loosened his grip and gestured Franz over to his kitchen table. Pushing things aside to make room, he set the dagger down and motioned for Franz to sit. As he sat down himself, Klaus rubbed his eyes again.


    ¡°The dreams will be the worst over the next few days,¡± said Franz before Klaus could ask any of the many questions on his mind. ¡°Then they will gradually get better.¡±


    ¡°Will they ever go away altogether?¡±


    Franz shook his head sadly. ¡°No, they likely won¡¯t. But if they ever do, you will have another problem.¡±


    The strange man went silent. Eyes looking around Klaus¡¯ apartment, he seemed to be taking in as much as he could, yet was also seeming to be avoiding talking about what had happened the previous night. Unfortunately for Franz, Klaus had long ago grown used to silence. The quiet hours and days in the hospital bed had helped instill in him a patience for conversation that he had yet to see equaled by anyone else.


    Finally Franz himself could take the silence no longer.


    ¡°Your patience reminds me a bit of him.¡± Before Klaus could interject to ask who, Franz was already shaking his head. ¡°Later. We have a few things to address first, then we will have a good breakfast and talk the rest of it out. Well, I will talk. You will listen.¡± He paused, eyes going down to the dirty plates. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you haven¡¯t eaten yet, boy?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klaus shook his head at the dirty plates, ¡°I just haven¡¯t cleaned up from yesterday yet.¡±


    ¡°That is fine. I know a delightful place nearby, we will go there in a minute. But first, I wanted to put your mind at ease. The women that we saved last night? They are safe and sound at the place I have been staying. I also,¡± he continued before Klaus could ask a question, ¡°checked in on your family before I came here. They are safe and unharmed. Whatever you did last night seemed to have done the trick to keep them from coming to the attention of the Blood Eagles. Now, that brings us to the question you have to answer before we go any further. Do you want the answers to all your questions, or do you want to go back to your life from before last night?¡±


    ¡°Is that really an option?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Franz nodded, ¡°though you will keep the memories of what happened, we will go our separate ways and I will not bother you again.¡±


    After Franz¡¯s response, Klaus took a long minute to consider. What did he want? A not-so-insignificant part of him yearned to return to his life of yesterday. A life were he worked a job that he enjoyed, with a man he respected, and was making strides toward becoming a doctor that would be able to help the people that needed it most. A life where he spent weekends with his friends playing games and pretending to be heroes, but never having to deal with the darker sides of Volksturm.


    But that really wasn¡¯t possible anymore.


    Dr. Halter was dead, and his future as a doctor had likely died with him. And though he still had his friends, Klaus did not think he could return to those weekends of fun and games after what he had experienced last night. At the very least it would take him a long time to do so. Before he gave his answer, he had one last thing to ask.


    ¡°A question, before I give my answer?¡± With Franz¡¯s nod to continue, Klaus asked, ¡°What would you do if you were in my situation?¡±


    ¡°Knowing what I know now?¡± Franz asked.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Boy,¡± Franz said with a large grin on his face, ¡°I would have already said yes and been out the door and on my way to that breakfast I told you about.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Klaus said, making up his mind. ¡°Where is this breakfast place you keep mentioning?¡±


    If it was possible, Franz¡¯s grin got even wider.


    ¡°Boy, you are going to love it.¡±

 Chapter 10

    ¡°You have got to be kidding me,¡± said Klaus with some disbelief. ¡°I thought this place had gone out of business.¡±


    Before them jutted the slightly faded, but still brightly colored, sign for ¡®Der Zauberhafte Fr¨¹st¨¹ckswald.¡¯ While Klaus had heard of the breakfast and coffee shop when he had been younger, given the state of the city he would not have expected it to be the place Franz had been talking about. Honestly, given how capable the man was in the arts of violence, he had been expected a more subdued Moonbucks.


    ¡°Whatever for? I assure you the food is quite good,¡± said Franz as they made their way down the street to a restaurant that could charitably be called eccentric. From the outside, the caf¨¦ looked like a rundown gingerbread house. A facade of faux chocolate bricks, scuffed candy cane columns, and dirty icing-trimmed windows greeted them as Franz opened the door for Klaus to proceed him inside.


    Entering the caf¨¦ was like stepping into a old German storybook. The interior was in fare better shape than the outside, and it mimicked a facsimile of a fantastical forest with a canopy looming overhead, complete with twinkling fairy lights and hidden speakers occasionally emitting the chirping of birds. Mossy carpets lined the floors and beyond the entrance sat toadstool-shaped tables and chairs scattered throughout. A few people sat here and there, eating breakfast or sipping coffee. The waitstaff were dressed as characters from classic German fairy tales, with a friendly-looking witch being the closest to them on this side. The whole setup gave a feeling of picnicking in an enchanted glade.


    ¡°Feel free to seat yourselves at any open table, Franz,¡± the witch called as she finished dropping off a fresh cup of coffee at a table near the front. A massive man sat there facing the still open door. While intimidating, Klaus couldn¡¯t help but notice that his face had gone slightly pale on catching sight of Franz coming through the door. When his eyes made their way to Klaus¡¯ face, Klaus was even more surprised to see the man went even more pale. It took him a moment, but that Klaus remembered that his face was not pristine like it was yesterday morning, but now covered in a patchwork of scars. Just further confirmation of what people would associate them with in a city like this.


    The man hunched over and focused all his attention on his steaming cup of coffee, doing his best to ignore Klaus and Franz as they made their way over to a free table.


    ¡°What was that about?¡± Klaus asked as he took a seat.


    ¡°What was what about?¡± Franz asked before following Klaus gaze to the man nearer the door. ¡°Oh, you mean Gunther. First time I was here, he thought I was a member of a different gang intruding on the territory of the Storm Wolves. I simply explained some things to him so there would be no further confusion.¡±


    ¡°Explained some things?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Franz continued, turning back to Klaus as he picked up one of the menus on the table. ¡°I may have been a bit¡­ direct in my explanation. I was quite hungry at the time, and he had knocked my plate onto the floor when he came over to ask his questions. Everything is fine now, though.¡± He gestured for Klaus to pick up his own menu. ¡°Go on, have a look. As soon as the order is in, we will have that conversation I told you about.¡±


    As if to reinforce Franz¡¯s words, Klaus¡¯ stomach chose that exact moment to let him know that it had been quite some time since he had eaten. Flipping open the menu, Klaus¡¯ eyes scanned the options. Everything appeared to be a whimsical take on Bavarian breakfast staples. ¡®Hansel and Gretel Gingerbread Pancakes¡¯ came in a stack of fluffy goodness with a hint of ginger and nutmeg, topped with a drizzle of sweet, forest berry syrup. While he normally enjoyed sweets, Klaus figured it would be better to have a more robust breakfast today.


    His eyes eventually landed on the ¡®Bavarian Huntsman¡¯s Feast¡¯ which was a platter piled high with sausages, pretzels, cheese, and soft-boiled eggs. That and a cup of black coffee would do it. He closed his menu to indicate he was ready to order.


    ¡°So what can I get you, gentlemen?¡± asked the witch when she made her way over.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the Bavarian Huntsman¡¯s Feast and a black coffee, please.¡±


    ¡°The usual for you, Franz?¡± she asked after she scribbled down Klaus¡¯ order.


    ¡°Yes, and a black coffee as well,¡± Franz nodded. ¡°Thanks, Ingrid.¡±


    While the waitress made her way over to put their order in and grab them some coffee, Klaus asked a question that had been bugging him since they had come in.


    ¡°Exactly how long have you been coming here?¡±


    ¡°Ehh, a few weeks now I think.¡± Franz idly scratched at the faded scar on his cheek. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that long after I found you that I started coming here in fact.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t explained that,¡± Klaus pressed.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t,¡± Franz stopped working at his old scar and put both his hands down on the table. ¡°This is your last chance, boy. You can still avoid learning more after this breakfast if you want.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klaus did not even hesitate, ¡°after you saved me, and the way you did it, there was no going back. Tell me what is going on.¡±


    ¡°True, true,¡± Franz said with a wry grin. ¡°But it is still good for you to say it out loud.¡± He paused, eyes going over Klaus¡¯ shoulder to the waitress that had just come back with their coffee. ¡°Thank you, Ingrid. If you could, ask Walter to take his time with the food? The boy and I have a few things to talk through before we eat.¡±


    ¡°Sure, Franz, I¡¯ll go let him know.¡±


    As Ingrid walked towards the entrance to the kitchen, Franz reached into his pocket to pull out what looked to be a rock with a strange symbol on it. Setting it down in the middle of the table, he pressed lightly against the symbol with his thumb. The symbol began to glow a soft, almost imperceptible blue. Klaus could just barely make out a soft buzzing in the air around them.


    ¡°Just something I picked up that will prevent unwanted ears from hearing our conversation,¡± Franz explained at seeing Klaus looking closely at the now clearly magical item. He then pulled out from his jacket what Klaus swore was an old parchment document. Unfolding it, Franz laid it out in front of Klaus, but it was in a language he did not recognize. He then set a pen down next to it.


    ¡°I know you can¡¯t read this as you are right now, but everything I say from this point on is the truth. This,¡± Franz taps the parchment, ¡°is a binding contract that states that you will willingly go on a trip to a location of my choosing, and in exchange, I am free to explain a significant amount of what is going on, including why I have been following you, where you will be going, why you will be going there, and¡­¡± he paused, almost seeming to hesitate before forging on, ¡°¡­your true identity.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    With those three words, Klaus¡¯ world came screeching to a halt. His true identity? What could he possibly mean? The weight of the moment pressed down on him like a leaden fog. Klaus was struck again by how this gaunt-looking man that he was having breakfast with was at once the deadliest person he had ever met, as well as had access to magic when all logic before yesterday said that was purely the province of fairytales and made-up games. Franz sat across from him, same as he was a few minutes ago, but with the terms of the contract explained he now seemed somehow¡­ more. Though he did not move, Franz seemed to loom over him.


    Klaus¡¯ heart beat like mad, a deafening drum in his ears in the silence that now stood between them. A torrent of questions roared through Klaus¡¯ mind, washing away all the others that he had been so eager to ask Franz just moments ago. His true identity? That had to be a lie¡­ right?


    Memories began to come back to him from his time in the hospital. Offhand comments made by his parents when they thought he was asleep. Hushed conversations that he had never been meant to hear, that he had tried to forget how he had tried to forget. His fingernails dug deep into the palms of his hands.


    No.


    Even if he is someone else, that doesn¡¯t change who he has been all the years of his life. Even if his parents weren¡¯t his biological parents, and his siblings his real siblings, they were his family in every way that mattered. That was not going to change. He needed to know.


    Franz cleared his throat, black coffee in hand, and Klaus raised his gaze to meet the sympathetic look on his face.


    ¡°What happens if I do not sign,¡± Klaus asked before he could help himself, already knowing that was not really an option.


    Franz took a sip of his coffee, then gently set it back on the table. ¡°You will still be going on a trip,¡± he replied in a sympathetic tone, ¡°but it will be a bit longer until you learn any more about what is going on. We have come to the point that I am afraid I cannot budge on this.¡±


    Klaus leaned back, taking his own coffee in hand. It was as hot as it looked, and he could barely taste it, so focused was he on the decision he was about to make. The foundation on which his entire world stood had been shattered in the span of a night and a day. Honestly, Klaus was surprised he wasn¡¯t already a gibbering mess given all that he had experienced to this point. The fact that he was not who he thought he was was no more outlandish than the fact that magic was apparently real. No. The only way forward was to actually move forward.


    He signed the contract.


    As he finished writing his signature, Klaus was surprised to feel a similar click to what he had felt in the hospital during what, he was increasingly coming to feel, was quite a bit more real than the nightmare he had tried to convince himself it was. As soon as he had that thought, he immediately got the sense that he should not say anything about it to Franz.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Franz said as he folded up the parchment, putting it back in his jacket pocket. ¡°That makes things quite a bit easier. For the both of us.¡± He leaned back in his chair. ¡°Now. Where to start?¡±


    ¡°The beginning?¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best.¡± Franz nodded. ¡°Let me begin by saying that there is quite a bit more to existence than your people have puzzled out.¡±


    ¡°My people?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you know,¡± Franz gestured vaguely at the other people enjoying the restaurant as well as out towards the entrance, ¡°the people of your planet. You are what I would term the Unintegrated.¡±


    ¡°Unintegrated? What does tha¡ª¡±


    ¡°Look, boy,¡± Franz interrupted Klaus before he could ask the obvious question. ¡°Things will go quicker if you just let me give you the basic rundown that if I have to pause and backtrack through every question you feel the need to voice. I promise, if you just let me talk, this will go a bit quicker.¡±


    Klaus hesitated but then nodded in agreement. If there was anything he didn¡¯t understand, he told himself he would ask it at the end.


    ¡°Good, now the Unitegrated. It is a common term used by the majority of the major powers where I come from for those who have not yet been brought into the System.¡± Franz took another sip of his coffee. ¡°Think of it as being a bit similar in function to those tabletop games you have been playing with your friends, though the System is dozens of magnitudes more complicated and governs practically all aspects of life to some degree or another.¡±


    Klaus couldn¡¯t suppress the incredulous look on his face. It was one thing that magic was real, but quite another to claim that all of existence operated along the lines of one of his favorite games.


    ¡°I know what you are thinking,¡± Franz chuckled, ¡°but you¡¯ll just have to trust me on this for now. You¡¯ll see the truth soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll agree to reserve judgment,¡± Klaus said. ¡°All that aside, why exactly have you been following me?¡±


    ¡°Why I have been following is due to my rank as an Imperial Arcane Pathfinder of the Treverorum Empire in the service of House Blacksword.¡± Franz rolled up his sleeve to display an intricate tattoo on his upper arm. Surrounded by a sea of stars that seemed to shift in the light was a stylized compass rose, at the center of which was what looked to be something similar to the old medieval noble crests of Europe. Before Klaus could get a good look at the details, Franz rolled his sleeve back down. ¡°My role in service to House Blacksword, and the Empire by extension, is to navigate the infinite realms of the multiverse, to learn of them, and when circumstance allows, to act on behalf of my patron¡¯s interests.¡±


    ¡°Before you ask,¡± Franz continued, ¡°you, Klaus, are why I am here on Earth.¡±


    Klaus couldn¡¯t hold back the questions anymore. ¡°What does any of this have to do with me?¡±


    ¡°Well, you involvement starts with the fact that your name is not really Klaus, but Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Klarion?¡± said Klaus incredulously.


    ¡°Klarion von Sturmwacht of the Archducal House Blacksword to be precise.¡±


    Klaus blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. ¡°Klarion von Sturmwacht? Archducal House Blacksword? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Your family, and those to whom I have sworn service to, are one in the same. House Blacksword,¡± Franz continued, ¡°is a high noble house of some importance in the Treverorum Empire. I cannot speak as to the circumstances of your exile, the contract prevents me from doing so, but I can say that your family has determined that it is time for you to reclaim your true identity and fulfill your duty to House Blacksword.¡±


    ¡°Say I believe you,¡± Klaus said quietly, ¡°say I really am this Klarion. Why now?¡±


    ¡°Again, I cannot say. The only thing I am permitted to share on that topic is that there are certain¡­ responsibilities that scions of nobility within the Empire have to fulfill and you are finally of an age that your family has determined that you are eligible to meet those responsibilities.¡±


    ¡°But I have a family. They¡ª¡±


    ¡°Klarion,¡± the sudden blurting of the name cut off what Klaus was going to say. ¡°The people you have raised you on this planet will always be an important part of your life,¡± Franz continued softly, sympathetically in the silence, ¡°but they are not your true family. House Blacksword is, and it has been determined that it is time for you to come back.¡±


    ¡°Back? Back for what?!¡±


    ¡°School.¡±


    Out of all the things he had expected Franz to say, all the options he feared the Imperial Arcane Pathfinder would voice in response to his question, school was not even on the list.


    ¡°School?¡± Klaus parroted dumbly.


    ¡°Yes, one of the schools that all of the nobility of the Empire attend prior to taking up service to the Emperor, the Imperial Court, and the people. Everything you will need to know to be a part of the Imperial ruling class will be there for you to learn.¡±


    Klaus stared down into his coffee. ¡°So, my family sent you to find me? To bring me back to attend some finishing school for nobility?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Franz replied, his tone softening. ¡°Your great-great-grandfather has decided that you need to be returned to the fold to serve the needs of House Blacksword.¡±


    ¡°What needs? And why should I care about what a family, whom I have never met nor ever even known about, wants me to do?¡±


    The only thing Klaus was feeling at these revelations about family was anger. Given everything that Franz had said and done for him, he had no real reason to doubt him. But that did not change the fact that his entire life to this point had been the result of his so-called true family discarding him until he had value to House Blacksword.


    Some of Klaus¡¯ thoughts must have been showing on his face, because Franz let out a disappointed sigh.


    ¡°I knew you were going to react this way.¡±


    Franz quickly raised a hand as Klaus¡¯ head whipped around, mouth open to angrily retort. How else was he supposed to react to news like this?!


    ¡°Not that you are not justified,¡± Franz hurriedly continued. ¡°But I can see that anything I might say to convince you to go to the Empire will fall on deaf ears right now. So I will show you instead.¡±


    Franz reached into his jacket, pulling out a crystal orb. Light blue in color, it immediately attracted the eye and Klaus found his attention seized by it.


    ¡°Touch the orb.¡±

 Chapter 11

    Klaus reached out to the orb offered by Franz. As soon as his outstretched fingers touched it, a burst of blue smoke poured forth, blocking everything around him, including Franz, from view.


    As the blue smoke faded, the ruins of a city were revealed to surround him. Skyscrapers, which once stood tall and proud, were now shattered and in the process of collapsing. The blocks of buildings that surrounded them, in a style Klaus did not recognize, had been consumed by fire or marked by the wounds of recent fighting. Rubble filled the streets, and the corpses of human soldiers, civilians, and monstrous creatures blurred to his gaze by distance lay everywhere. Only a few human survivors moved here and there. He could practically smell the death that had taken hold over the city.


    A roar of thunder and a crack of displaced air that pressed against his back caused Klaus to turn around. A glowing arch of blue light had appeared in the street behind him. Moments after it stabilized, a line of monstrous soldiers covered head to toe in red spiked armor surged forth. Howls of bloodlust burst from fanged mouths at the sight of the startled human survivors further down the street opposite Klaus. With swift strides that quickly turned into a full sprint, the red-armored creatures rushed in their direction, all the while the numbers coming through the portal continued to swell.


    Screams echoed up to Klaus as the few humans he saw scrambled in desperation to find cover in nearby buildings or to flee deeper into the city. Some ducked behind the twisted remnants of what looked to be cars of some sort, likely hoping to be passed by. The figures in red armor were too fast, however, and within moments of getting into range, they were tearing through every human within reach. He could just barely hear the chants of ¡®Blood! Blood! Blood!¡¯ from where he stood looking down at the carnage.


    Klaus felt only horror as the massacre unfolded. One woman threw herself into the doorway of a crumbling apartment building, and even this far away, he could tell how frantically she was seeking to hide. Before she could get deeper into the building, one of the figures in red armor surged behind her, a clawed hand swinging downwards to slam her to the ground in a single brutal stroke. The monster¡¯s other clawed hand thrust into the woman¡¯s chest, cutting her scream short, and splattering the front of the building with her blood. Dozens of others met similarly brutal ends in those early minutes.


    Another roar of thunder echoed from several streets over. After a minute of trying to see what fresh horror was about to be revealed, a new wave of monsters came sprinting from between the rubble of several buildings. War cries emanated from the charging figures, which looked extremely similar to the hobgoblins and trolls of his favorite roleplaying game. Many were cut down in the initial rush, but the swelling numbers of goblinoids began to wreak a toll on the red-armored monsters. The fighting continued as each side received reinforcements.


    The roars of new portals began to emerge in the distance. From the limited view of the city he had, each new invading force was another nightmarish creature. Some races he recognized from his tabletop games, others were completely unknown to him.


    Franz appeared at his side in a burst of blue smoke. The Imperial Arcane Pathfinder gazed stoically down at the violence and destruction that continued to expand around them as each new invading force contributed to the chaos.


    ¡°In the heart of this chaos, the few remaining human defenders were fighting a losing battle. Some few adapted well enough to the System¡¯s arrival that they were able to find Classes of their own. Even fewer survived this long into the fall of their world. By the time the first of our Legions arrived, we were only able to save the smallest percentage of this world¡¯s population.¡±


    Franz pointed into the distance as a massive portal dwarfing all others that had emerged to this point burst into existence. A black-scaled beast burst forth, wings quickly thrusting its massive form into the air. The sheer force of their movement stirred the wind, sending debris swirling in a chaotic whirlwind around the creature. Each wingbeat lifted the monstrous form almost made the earth tremble under the beast¡¯s titanic presence. Klaus couldn¡¯t help but feel a shiver of awe at the titan from mythology let loose a roar.


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    ¡°A Black Dragon by the name of Croxthantorix came through a portal to eventually conquer the world for itself. Within weeks those factions who survived the early fighting sued for peace with the mythic creature and left the world to his tender mercies.¡±


    Klaus listened closely to Franz as he spoke about the fall of another world so similar to Earth. His eyes, however, were focused solely on Croxthantorix as he circled once over the city. Its black scales shimmered in the dim light, each one gleaming like obsidian, absorbing the faint glow from the ruins it flew over. The dragon surged through the air, each movement exuding raw power and dominance. Its serpentine neck curved upward as it ascended, and its crimson eyes burned with an ancient, malevolent intelligence as it looked out over the ruins of the city.


    And then it roared.


    The sound was so deafening, so primal, that it seemed to shake the fabric of the memory itself. It reverberated through the air, filling Klaus with not only awe but also dread. He felt like an ant staring up at a force of nature, a being far beyond human comprehension.


    As the dragon came closer to their position, the surrounding city burst into blue smoke. When it dissipated both Klaus and Franz were sitting back at the table in the diner.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Klaus asked in a whisper, eyes locked on to Franz who was once again across from him, his coffee in hand. His eyes darted around the room, but no one had reacted to the blue smoke. Perhaps they hadn¡¯t seen it? No, that didn¡¯t matter at the moment. If he had had any doubts about the seriousness of what was coming, they had been dispelled by what he had just seen.


    ¡°That, boy, is why you should willingly go to the school your great-great-grandfather wants you to attend. Only there will you be able to gain the knowledge, skills, and allies you will need to give you even the smallest of chances to save Earth from the coming Integration. Otherwise the best you might hope for Earth is the fate of the world you just witnessed.¡±


    ¡°Integration of Earth could end worse than that?!¡± Klaus asked, shocked.


    ¡°Much, much worse,¡± Franz said grimly, his eyes shifting down to his coffee. For several long movements, he just stared into the depths of his drink, lost in some heavy memories of his own. Shaking his head to dispel them, he made eye contact with Klaus again.


    ¡°Klaus - or should I say, Klarion - there is much you do not know about your world. I can¡¯t explain anymore in the time we have,¡± Franz said in an even tone. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t change the fact you have to make a decision: will I have to force you into attending the school your true family wants you to attend, or will you go willingly?¡±


    Before Klaus could respond, Ingrid emerged from the kitchen with two heavily loaded plates of food in hand. As she approached the table, Franz causally reached out and disabled the artifact he placed to prevent their conversation from being overheard. He slid it back into his pocket as as the waitress set the plates on the table.


    ¡°One Bavarian Huntsman¡¯s Feast for the growing young man,¡± Ingrid said, setting the first plate covered in sausages, pretzels, cheese, and several soft-boiled eggs in front of Klaus.


    While the food looked good, Klaus couldn¡¯t help but stare at the other plate Ingrid held. On the plate, set a bowl full of layered yogurt, granola, and honey, all buried under a pile of fresh fruit and nuts. It was not at all what he expected Franz to order.


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Ingrid asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind Klaus, he¡¯s just regretting picking an inferior meal to my Fairy Queen¡¯s Parfait,¡± Franz said with a laugh as he reached out to take his own plate from the waitress. ¡°Could we also get a refill on our coffee?¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll be right back with a fresh batch.¡±


    As the waitress went off to get the pot of coffee, Klaus took the first bite of one of the sausages. It really was good. Franz began eating mouthfuls of his food, letting out a pleased sound at the taste.


    After their coffees were topped off, they ate in silence. While externally calm, Klaus thoughts were a whirlwind. Despite his struggle to find another option, everything kept coming back to this Imperial finishing school for the nobility Franz mentioned as being his best shot to prepare for the coming Integration. Eventually his plate was empty, and his decision was made.


    ¡°I just wanted to become a doctor, pay down my debt, and take care of my family,¡± Klaus said softly at his empty plate. He looked across the table at the Imperial Arcane Pathfinder. ¡°I have made up my mind.¡±


    Franz paused at his last bite to look Klaus in the eye. Whatever he saw there lined up with his expectations, as he nodded once.


    ¡°Your decision is the right one. Your true family needs you, Klarion Sturmwacht of Archducal House Blacksword,¡± he said formally and then put the last bite of yogurt into his mouth. Swallowing, he gave Klaus a grin that had an edge of sadness.


    ¡°Welcome to the Empire.¡±

 Chapter 12

    They left the restaurant soon after. While breakfast was every bit as good as Franz had claimed it to be, Klaus hadn¡¯t been able to enjoy it. A slight weight had been lifted from his chest now that he had made a decision but he still faced an internal struggle over what came next. Having signed the contract, Klaus had an innate sense that he would not be able to get around it in any way, so he would just have to hope that Franz was right that attending this school was going to be his best chance to prepare for the coming threat of Earth¡¯s Integration. His thoughts returned back to his family.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can leave my family if what you say is coming will happen soon.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Franz began with clear sympathy, ¡°only you are able to take advantage of this opportunity. That being said, I am willing to offer you a bargain.¡±


    ¡°What kind of bargain?¡± Klaus asked as they walked down the sidewalk, though he did not yet know where they were heading.


    ¡°If you are willing to do a service for me, I will stay behind on Earth when you go.¡± He sidestepped a hole in the sidewalk. ¡°While I¡¯m here, I can help protect your family in the event the Integration occurs prior to your ability to return.¡±


    ¡°What kind of service?¡± Klaus asked. ¡°Also, where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Nothing you need to be worried about. Just something you will easily be able to do once you have your status in the nobility recognized.¡± Franz then gestured further down the street where a line of taxis were parked. ¡°And we are headed to the house I am renting so you can use a portal and we can send you on your way.¡±


    ¡°So quickly?¡± asked Klaus with a degree of shock. ¡°I thought I would at least have some time to say goodbye to my family.¡±


    ¡°I am afraid not,¡± Franz shook his head. ¡°Now that you have signed the contract, we are on a bit of a schedule.¡± As they got closer to the taxis, Franz waved to get the attention of one near the front. An older man standing next to the car smoking waved in acknowledgement, then gestured that he would be finishing his cigarette first.


    Franz signaled his acknowledgment, then gestured for Klaus to slow down his pace. ¡°So about that service. I¡¯ve already left contingencies in place for you to be notified of the details. In exchange for you to give it an honest effort, I promise to stay behind and protect your family.¡±


    Klaus considered his options. Up until now, Franz had not only saved his life but also dealt with him in an open and honest manner. Or at least that was what it seemed like. And he already knew how strong Franz was. Having him near his family would drastically increase their odds of survival if this Integration happened before he could return.


    An ache in his chest grew as it sunk in he would not be able to say goodbye. Sure, he envisioned going off to school at some point in pursuit of his dream, but he always had time to say goodbye before he left. And there were the school breaks after all, where he would be able to come back to visit. Klaus didn¡¯t even bother asking Franz if something like that was a possibility. The ache deepened as he realized he would be gone for years at the very least, thrust into the world of nobles and imperial expectations, far from everything and everyone familiar in his life. Swallowing hard, Klaus blinked back the sting of tears, felling the sadness of leaving behind the people he loved most.


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    ¡°Alright, I agree. In exchange for completing this task you have in mind, you will stay behind on Earth and protect my family here.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. My word is my bond. Your family will be safe with me watching over them. Thank you, Klarion.¡± Franz solemnly said.


    ¡°It¡¯s Klaus,¡± he corrected yet again as they came up to the taxi, right as the driver finished off his cigarette.


    ¡°For now, but as soon as you cross over into the Empire, that name won¡¯t work for you anymore. You¡¯ll see what I mean once you arrive.¡±


    The old taxi driver flicked away the butt of his cigarette, leaned down, and opened up the driver¡¯s door. ¡°So. Where am I taking you?¡±


    Klaus turned to Franz, who responded as he opened the streetside passenger door, ¡°47 Harcourt.¡±


    The man grunted an acknowledgment, and almost before Klaus and Franz were settled in their seats, the taxi was moving. They sat in silence as Klaus stared out the window.


    The taxi rumbled down the cracked streets of the city. The grime-coated buildings seemed to blur past, their faded facades a reflection of the decay that had seeped into the city¡¯s bones. For all that the graffiti-covered walls and unkempt streets spoke of a city in decline, Klaus found his mind trying to soak up as many details as he could. The flickering neon sign of a corner shop, the distant wail of a siren, even the heavy grey sky hanging overhead like a funeral shroud. For all that, there were signs of life everywhere too. A young girl skipped the other way down the street, giggling as she raced to catch up with a woman burdened by groceries. A shaggy dog lying down next to an older woman reading a ragged paper on a bus bench. Dozens of people on these few streets alone seeking to live their lives the best they could, not much different from his friends and family.


    All were worth saving.


    His hand tightened on the edge of his seat, fingers digging into the worn upholstery as the weight of what was coming pressed down on him. A final pang of longing hit him for the simplicity of the life he was living a few days ago. It was a hard life, yes, with its own set of risks and dangers, but he would far rather suffer through the path to becoming a doctor in this city than to go on the journey that Franz was about to send him on at the command of the noble family that had exiled him here on Earth.


    The memory of the death of a world he witnessed over the German meal appeared in his mind¡¯s eye again.


    Klaus pushed aside the fear and anxiety swirling in his chest, forcing himself to focus. Indulging in his doubt and fears would only make everything he had to do harder, and he did not have the luxury of hesitation if he hoped to save his family and friends on Earth. To that he was going to have to do much more than just survive; he would have to excel. With every block passed in the taxi, Klaus worked to harden his resolve. There was no going back. The portal was waiting, and beyond it, the Empire itself.


    The taxi came to a halt in front of an imposing, weathered mansion in one of the nicer districts of the city of Volksturm. The building loomed like some specter from a forgotten era, one where the city was booming and expanding into a bright future. They stepped out of the taxi and, after Franz paid, the driver immediately left. Klaus followed Franz into the small front yard, a luxury all its own, that held a few stunted trees. Faded shutters framed dirty windows, giving the house almost a gloomy feel. Franz pushed the heavy wooden door open and beckoned Klaus to follow him inside.


    The interior of the mansion was also a mix of faded grandeur and eerie neglect. A high vaulted ceiling loomed overhead, a once-opulent chandelier now chocked with cobwebs. As Klaus stepped inside, the dark wooden floor creaked underfoot, and he caught the smell of old paper and decay, heavy with the weight of history. The door closed behind him.


    ¡°Welcome to my home, Klarion,¡± Franz said, ¡°and the start of your journey.¡±

 Chapter 13

    As Franz led them deeper into the mansion, it struck Klaus how much the house was lacking. Very little furniture was anywhere, and clearly, no real attempt had been made to deal with any of the dust or dirt that had built up in the rooms over time.


    ¡°This is not exactly the kind of place I expected you to be staying,¡± Klaus said, ¡°what with you being a visitor from another universe and all.¡±


    ¡°As an Arcane Pathfinder of the Empire, and one in service to the House Blacksword, I have access to a wide range of resources to draw from on an important mission,¡± Franz gestured around at the house as they made their way deeper inside. ¡°This was relatively affordable as a result, and I liked the weight of history it emanates.¡±


    ¡°So where are we going?¡± Klaus asked.


    ¡°To get you changed, then right to the portal in the basement,¡± Franz responded without looking at him. ¡°The sooner I can send you on your way, the sooner you get to the school and I can focus on my side of our deal to protect your family.¡±


    Without another word, Franz directed him to a side door that opened into a massive guest bathroom. Sitting on a clothing rack near the shower was a set of clothing that was clearly meant for him. Quickly he took of his clothes and pulled on what Franz had left for him. First were some comfortable undergarments, albeit ones in a style he was unfamiliar with. Next followed a tunic and trousers made of some sort of cloth. Again, it was unfamiliar to him. After pulling on a thick leather jacket, he slid on a pair of sturdy boots that seemed to grip his feet a bit tight. Tightening the belt, he pulled on a patterned, forest-green cloak that had a hood. Taking a quick look in the mirror, Klaus couldn¡¯t help the smile that came to his face. He looked like one of his RPG characters about to start a new campaign. His smile grew stiff at the thought, given the reality being a bit close to exactly that.


    Stepping back into the hallway, Franz gave him a quick lookover before nodding approval. Beckoning Klaus to follow him, Franz led him deeper into the house.


    As they passed through the massive kitchen, one of the woman survivors Klaus helped save from the Blood Eagles gang came in to place an empty plate in the sink. Seeing both of the men, she froze for a moment before relaxing.


    ¡°Oh, hello again, Klaus. Franz.¡±


    ¡°Kira, can you go get Eva and come to the basement? There is something I want you both to see before we talk about your future.¡±


    ¡°Uhh, sure.¡± Kira rushed from the room.


    Klaus watched as the young woman left. She was wearing some heavier clothes and seemed a bit more at ease compared to the other day. ¡°How are they doing?¡±


    ¡°Better than they were, but still a ways left to go,¡± Franz replied sadly as he led Klaus from the kitchen to a hallway that held a heavy door just beyond the room. When Franz reached for it, Klaus realized it was the way to the basement. ¡°I am hopeful for them, however. It pains me to say, but this is not my first time saving people from circumstances like that.¡±


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    Klaus followed closely behind Franz as they went down the stairs. Coming to the bottom, he saw the basement was empty except for a carved circle on the floor, which was surrounded by some strange-looking stones.


    ¡°Alright, that is the portal you will be going through soon. But first, there are some advice I want to give you,¡± Franz said seriously. ¡°I¡¯m telling you are this as Franz, not as an Arcane Pathfinder in the employ of House Blacksword. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klaus nodded, though he did not completely. Was Franz going to tell him things his estranged family did not want him to know?


    ¡°When you pass through the portal you will be greeted by retainers of House Blacksword who will get you initiated into the System and escort you to the school you will be attending. I trust them both, and I believe you should too. When you get to the school, however,¡± Franz continued, holding up a finger in emphasis, ¡°do not let your guard down. Friends and allies are important, but the grudges between the various factions and houses of nobility run deep and dark. The surest route to power and recognition is to get as strong as possible, as fast as possible. House Blacksword cares little for you right now, but the stronger you get the more likely they will treat you like a true asset. I leave it up to you to choose the best paths forward for your potential.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, House Blacksword doesn¡¯t care about me?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you more than that, unfortunately,¡± Franz winced slightly, but Klaus could not tell why. ¡°Suffice to say, it is tied up in politics. Now, did you have any other questions?¡±


    Klaus shook his head, ¡°I was expecting you to tell me to work hard, honestly.¡±


    Franz snorted a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been observing you for some time now, boy. With all I¡¯ve seen of you, I didn¡¯t think I needed to waste the words. Just guard your back, and I think House Blacksword will be surprised what you are capable of doing.¡±


    Light thumping steps came from the stairwell behind them as Kira and Eva made their way down into the basement. Each of the young women looked at Klaus and Franz before taking in the basement itself. Seeing nothing but the carving on the floor surrounded by stones, they immediately seemed to relax.


    ¡°Good, you both are here,¡± Franz greeted them. ¡°We can get started then. The world as you know it is about to change. After you witness Klarion depart through the portal, we will talk about your futures.¡±


    ¡°What? Portal?¡± Eva asked. Kira shifted to be partly behind her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see in a moment,¡± Franz responded before turning back to Klaus. ¡°Go ahead and step into the center of the circle.¡±


    Klaus was not sure what he expected, but the act of stepping into the center of the circle caused nothing to happen. It wasn¡¯t until Franz stepped around its perimeter, touching certain stones on the ground as he did so, that suddenly, the whole carving lit up with blue light. As the glow expanded to fill the basement, Eva and Kira gasped in shock. Franz stepped away from the circle and moved to stand next to the two young women.


    ¡°Remember what I said, Klarion,¡± Franz said, ¡°and good luck. You¡¯ll need it.¡±


    Barely had Franz spoken when the circle beneath his feet flickered once, then surged in brightness. The surge emanated outwards to the edge of the circle, then climbed rapidly into the air until it reached the ceiling, leaving Klaus completely surrounded by light. Beyond the circle, Franz was saluting fist to chest and head bowed in Klaus¡¯ direction while both women stood there staring in shock and awe as the world as they knew it permanently changed.


    As the brightness swelled in intensity once more, the Arcane Pathfinder and the two women began to become distorted, almost as if Klaus was looking through a desert haze. A final flash of soundless thunder hit Klaus hard from all directions. Gravity swelled beneath his feet and above his head, giving him a feeling of being pulled in both directions at once.


    Blue light turned to darkness as Klaus felt everything shift. Light returned all at once, and a forest appeared abruptly all around him. A wave of nausea hit soon after, and Klaus dropped to the ground, vomiting everywhere.

 Chapter 14

    Though still feeling nauseous, Klaus forced himself to stand upright. Towering trees stretched above him, their trunks thick and gnarled, twisted into unnatural shapes as if the forest had grown wild for eons. The canopy was so dense that only slivers of pale light pierced through, creating long shadows that flickered across the ground of the small clearing he had been portalled to. Vines and roots coiled across the ground under the trees beyond the clearing, and he could hear the sounds of what he assumed to be unfamiliar birds in the distance. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, which was quite pleasant for Klaus after what he had just experienced. He wiped the vomit from around his mouth as best he could.


    A grey hand darted into view to seize him by his shoulder. With a jerk, Klaus was pulled backward out of the circle. A behemoth of a man in heavy plate armor, wearing a tabard adorned by a black sword, had him firmly in his grip. Beyond his height exceeding seven feet, Klaus immediately noticed the grey skin and sharp teeth bared in a grin. Before he could react, a black stone was pressed firmly to his forehead. A wave of heat and then pleasant cold flowed over him.


    ¡°There,¡± the man grunted, ¡°now you should be able to understand us, Lord Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Understand you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± a lilting voice called from further back, and a woman in red robes modified for travel, also wearing a tabard adorned with a black sword, stepped into view. Flame-red hair and obviously pointed ears were the first things Klaus noticed, and he froze upon making eye contact with a living, breathing, elven woman. ¡°Unless you¡¯d somehow been studying Imperial Common, which I doubt, then you would not be able to understand use without that stone.¡±


    ¡°Imperial Common?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the man next to Klauss said as he released his grip, then stepped back next to the elven woman. ¡°The language of the Treverorum Empire, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± Klaus responded, then asked while staring at their tabards, ¡°Am I correct in assuming you are the ones who will be escorting me to the¡­ school?¡±


    The two of them exchanged long looks.


    ¡°Did Franz really say nothing about us?¡± the elf asked.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Klaus shook his head. ¡°He said two retainers of House Blacksword would be here to escort me, and that I should trust you, but that was it. He didn¡¯t even tell me your names or what races you were.¡± Klaus blushed as he realized what he said about not knowing their races.


    Rather than being upset, they both doubled over in laughter.


    ¡°That sounds like Franz, alright,¡± said the behemoth of a man. ¡°Sharing the bare minimum then letting you figure things out by yourself.¡±


    With a grin that showed his sharp teeth in profile, the man tapped his chest, making the plate armor give a light ringing sound. ¡°My name is Rolfun, and I am a half-ogre Berserker sworn to House Blacksword.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m his wife, Alesin,¡± the elven woman said, lightly resting her hand on Rolfun¡¯s shoulder to push the half-ogre into a bow as she did, ¡°and I am a sun elf Fire Mage also sworn to House Blacksword. We have been charged with escorting you from here, in the Wildlands on the edge of an Imperial Frontier World known as Verdant VI, to the nearest permanent portal hub that will allow you passage to the Imperial Academy in which your family has secured your enrollment, my lord.¡±


    ¡°It is nice to meet you,¡± Klaus said, still feeling somewhat awkward from asking them about their races, and even more so about the tones they were addressing him with. While he had known intellectually that being a part of the nobility would mean changes, given how Franz had been interacting with him, he hadn¡¯t expected this type of treatment so quickly.


    ¡°And it is our honor to be escorting the newest scion of House Blacksword to the Imperial Academy,¡± Alesin said, then stood up from her bow. ¡°If you will follow me to the other side of the clearing, we can unlock your access to the System and we can begin our journey to Ilthis.¡±


    Klaus nodded and followed Alesin to where she had set up a small ritual circle, this one already glowing red. A single white stone sat next to it, which Alesin promptly picked up.


    ¡°If you have a seat within the circle, we can get started. It might take a few minutes to unlock the System.¡±


    ¡°That is it? I thought this would be a bit more of an involved ceremony or ritual of some sort?¡±


    ¡°No, my lord. This is the most basic of initiations into the System that all go through. By design, it is simple so anyone can gain access. Now, make sure your entire body lies within the circle.¡±


    Sitting within the circle, Klaus pulled his legs in tight so that they didn¡¯t overlap with any of the lines in the dirt. Without a word, Alesin leaned over him to set the white stone on top of his head. As soon as it made contact, it burst into dust that quickly faded into the air around him, the red circle pulsing once before going dull. Even though Klaus guessed what was going to happen, it was still a jarring surprise to see a blue box appear in the air in front of him. No matter how he turned his head, the box continued to hover in the middle of his gaze.


    ¡°It will take a few minutes for us to get everything together. You should take your time to get familiar with your HUD, Lord Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Lord Klarion?¡± Klaus asked softly, the way they had been addressing him finally sinking in, but Alesin had already turned away to join Rolfun in packing up a small campsite hidden in the shadow of a tree on the edge of the small clearing. He turned his attention to the box hovering in front of him.


    [SYSTEM MESSAGE: START]


    Welcome, Klarion Blacksword. An initial connection to the Mutiversal System has been established. You have been granted [Basic Level Access] ¡ª the standard interface given to all individuals of natures that range from [RESTRICTED] all the way up to [RESTRICTED]. The current level of access you possess allows you to view your character sheet and core attributes and interact with the essential functions of the System. Given your status as [RESTRICTED] the level of access can be expanded.


    Additional Information: Your journey through the System has only just begun. Continue growing in strength and knowledge to push beyond your limits so that you might increase your chances of gaining access to special quests, titles, unique abilities, and more.


    [SYSTEM MESSAGE: END]


    [WOULD YOU LIKE TO VIEW YOUR INTERFACE?]


    YES/YES?


    Snorting softly at the lack of options, Klaus mentally selected both ¡®YES¡¯ options at once. His breath seized in his chest as it appeared.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 0


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Strength: 12


    Dexterity: 10


    Vitality: 14


    Endurance: 19


    Intelligence: 17


    Wisdom: 8


    Charisma: 7


    Luck: 4


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: N/A


    Abilities: N/A


    This Interface finally confirmed what Franz had been alluding to back on Earth. His real name was Klarion, not Klaus, and his homeworld was marked as Noresyn, wherever that was. The System also, apparently, recognized him as being both a part of the Treverorum Empire, as well as being a scion of House Blacksword. Anyone who had access to a way to view his Interface would immediately know that.


    While ¡®Klarion¡¯ felt foreign, according to the System, it had always been a part of him, hidden beneath the layers of his life on Earth. Deciding at that moment to follow through with the promises he had made to himself earlier, Klaus set aside his old name to embrace his new one. Klarion was who he was meant to be.


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    Skipping over Essence, as he had no context to guess what that meant, he moved on to his stats. From what he could tell, his stats looked alright apart from Luck, but without anyone to compare them to, there was no way to tell just how good they were. Thankfully, he largely recognized each of the different stats, given his time playing RPG games with friends. Hopefully, he would have little confusion as to what each one did for him.


    Less familiar were the tabs presenting information on Traits, Skills, and Abilities, all of which were empty except for Traits. As soon as his eyes landed on Greater Soul Oath, he knew exactly what it referred to: that visitor in the hospital years ago. As hard as he focused on it, even going so far as to mutter a few words under his breath about opening or expanding information while staring at it, nothing happened. Perhaps that was somehow due to the current level of access he had. According to the message, his access could be expanded in some way, but there was no information provided as to how. Banishing it from his mind for now, Klarion closed his HUD and stood up from the ritual circle.


    Behind him, Alesin and Rolfun were in the process of putting the last of their supplies away. Finally, they stuffed their tabards into their packs. Everything packed away, Rolfun bent over and muttered something to Alesin, pointing in two different directions. Likely going over which way to leave the cleaning. Klarion walked over, and as he grew closer his escort stopped talking and turned to him. It struck him all at once that, not only were they not human, but the sun elf and half-ogre radiated a carefully controlled aura of violence that he was only picking up on now. He scrambled for something to say.


    ¡°Why did you put the tabards away?¡± he blurted.


    ¡°Well, you see,¡± Rolfun awkwardly scratched the side of his head with one massive finger, ¡°House Blacksword is a bit¡­ stretched thin at the moment¡­¡± Rolfun awkwardly paused, glancing down at Alesin.


    ¡°And we are well on the edge of Imperial territory out here on this frontier world,¡± Alesin continued, eyes making their way to Klarion¡¯s face as if to judge his reaction to their words. Apparently seeing whatever it was she was looking for in his expression, she took a deep breath then continued. ¡°Look, my lord, while you might feel it due your station to have use escort you the whole way with the tabards on, that might not be the best idea, since¡­well¡­¡± the sun elf paused.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Taking what he said as permission to continue, Alesin said, ¡°You house has a lot of enemies and the tabards would make us, and by extension you, a target if we were to come across the sworn bondsman of any number of noble houses that might have a presence on this world¡ª¡± Alesin full-on flinched as something in Klarion¡¯s expression changed. ¡°We will of course wear them, my lord, should you command us to.¡±


    Before she even fully finished speaking, Klarion was shaking his head. ¡°No. If you say they would make us targets for enemies we might otherwise be able to avoid, then by all means, please make sure they are packed away out of sight. Could¡­ could I see one of them before we leave?¡± He awkwardly shifted his weight. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I have never seen the symbol of House Blacksword before.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    Almost before he had finished asking, or perhaps at the relief that she would not be commanded to wear it while they escorted him, Alesin was pulling her tabard free from her pack. Unfolding it, she presented it to Klarion in a half-bow.


    Gently taking the tabard in hand, Klarion was immediately surprised at the sturdy weight of the azure material. Flexing his arms, he put the weight at ten pounds at least. For all that, though, it still had a texture almost akin to silk. He stared down at what he now held, eyes roving over the details woven into it, which showed more than the simple black sword he had seen in passing when he first saw Rolfun and Alesin. Now that he was closer to it, he could make out a helm, winged dragons, and chains in various places across it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about heraldry,¡± Klarion confessed as he looked down on the tabard, ¡°but could you explain to me what all this means?¡±


    ¡°You really don¡¯t recognize it?¡± Alesin said, again in a tone Klarion could not recognize. Was it doubt or confusion he heard in her voice?


    ¡°No,¡± Klarion replied as the awkwardness seemed to increase another notch. Better to get everything right out in the open. ¡°It has only been a few days since I have learned about all of this. Before Franz saved my life, I was just a doctor¡¯s assistant with no idea about who I really was, House Blacksword, the Empire, or anything really.¡±


    Without another word, Rolfun bent in close and began to point to the various icons on the tabard.


    ¡°The Sable Sword at the center symbolizes the martial might of House Blacksword.¡± His finger then taped the crowned helm that hovered over the hilt. ¡°The helm itself indicates not just elevated status and authority within the Empire, but also a legacy of rulership that spans generations.¡±


    ¡°And the dragons and chains?¡± A part of Klarion hated how eager he sounded to learn more. House Blacksword had apparently abandoned him on Earth and, completely uncaring of the impacts revealing the truth to him in the middle of his normal life would have, ordered him retrieved so that he might attend some school for nobility.


    Another part of him, however, truly did want to learn more about his past, if only to better prepare for what the future might bring.


    ¡°The Winged Dragons on either side of the blade symbolize strength, courage, vigilance, and House Blacksword¡¯s commitment to protecting its territories and allies while pursuing power, magic, and learning. The Interwoven Chains surrounding everything show how unity and loyalty within House Blacksword hold everything together. ¡± Rolfun¡¯s finger then traced lower, lightly tapping the words under the crest. ¡°Blades Unyielding, Honor Unbroken. The motto of House Blacksword and the greatest commitment of all sword to it.¡±


    Rolfun¡¯s explanation done, Klarion gently handed the tabard back to Alesin so she could pack it away. ¡°Thank you for telling me what everything meant.¡±


    Rolfun gave another half bow to Klarion. ¡°Of course, my lord.¡±


    ¡°So, even as a Scion of House Blacksword, you really have no knowledge about¡­¡± Alesin gestured vaguely around herself, then between her and Rolfun.


    ¡°No, absolutely no idea about anything.¡± Klarion grimaced.


    ¡°Well, that explains why you are not such a pain i¡ª¡±


    ¡°Rolfun!!!¡± Alesin half-shouted, punching the larger half-ogre in the side, causing him to grunt and slump slightly. Rolfun rubbed his side with a wince, then apologetically looked at Klarion, fully aware of the breach in respect he had almost made


    ¡°My apologies, Lord Klarion. Sometimes I speak without thinking.¡±


    Rather than respond, Klarion let loose a light chuckle that quickly turned into full-on laughter as he doubled over in mirth. Once he was done and took a few moments to catch his breath, he looked back up at the bemused faces of his escorts. He finally understood the looks they had been giving him, and the constant ¡®my lords¡¯. He remembered Franz¡¯s advice and it sparked an idea in him.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Rolfun. While I admit I can occasionally be a pain in the ass, my life never allowed me to develop the personality traits I¡¯m now realizing you seem to be worried about.¡± He straightened up to make eye contact with them both. ¡°I appreciate you both being here to escort me wherever it is we are going so I can attend the Imperial Academy you mentioned. I would appreciate even more if you would keep those tabards hidden and drop the ¡®my lords¡¯ if you feel doing so will increase our chances of running into trouble on this trip.¡± He then bowed his head to the sun elf and half-ogre, at which he could almost feel how they froze in shock at the sight. ¡°Most of all, I would appreciate it if you would teach me anything you think I would find useful on the way.¡±


    ¡°Lord, please raise your head. It is not right for you to bow to us.¡± Alesin said nervously. When Klarion did not move, the sun elf asked somewhat softer, ¡°Please¡­ Klarion¡­ raise your head.¡±


    Thinking he got what he wanted, Klarion did as she asked. The sun elf stared awkwardly at him for a moment, clearly not sure what to say next when Rolfun took it on himself to speak.


    ¡°Well, it will be nice to escort a Scion that wants to avoid fights for once.¡± When Klarion looked at the half-ogre, some of the confusion must have shown on his face. ¡°What? Just because I have the Berserker class doesn¡¯t mean I look for every battle I can find.¡± Rolfun gave him a teasing grin, though it looked weird on the massive half-ogre¡¯s face. ¡°Especially when I have to escort a young lord who can¡¯t tell his ass from a hole in the ground.¡±


    Alesin hit her husband a bit harder at his disrespect, causing him to double over once more. She couldn¡¯t help the slight smile that appeared on her own face, however, especially when it because clear that Klarion had taken no offense at her husband¡¯s disrespect.


    ¡°Very well, Klarion,¡± Alesin said in agreement. ¡°The list of things we might find useful for you to know is a bit wide. We will promise to teach you what we can, but only if you agree to follow a few rules as we escort you to our destination.¡±


    ¡°What rules?¡±


    ¡°The first should be the easiest for you, given your requests just now. Since we are changed with your safe escort, you must agree to keep quiet about your true identity. We are not exaggerating when we say there are many that would take advantage of any situation where a young scion of House Blacksword is vulnerable and open to attack.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Klarion said. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°The second rule is that you must follow any and all instructions that we give you. This frontier world is far from the seat of Imperial power in this sector of the Empire. There are many creatures, many things, that could kill us out here.¡± Seeing Klarion grow nervous at her words, she hastened to add in reassurance, ¡°We are experienced bodyguards, and we have much experience in the wilds of untamed worlds. So long as you listen to what we tell you, there will be very few things you will have to worry about.¡±


    ¡°Done. Are there any more rules?¡±


    ¡°No, Klarion,¡± Rolfun shook his head, shifting his pack on his shoulders to settle it. ¡°So long as you obey those rules, this trip will be far easier than expected. For all of us.¡±


    ¡°So, are you ready to go?¡± Alesin asked.


    ¡°Yes. Oh!¡± a thought struck him, and without a word, he pivoted to rush back over to the ritual circle he had been sitting in. With a few quick kicks of his boots, he destroyed the markings on the ground, removing the last evidence that anyone had been in the clearing. He hurried back over to his escorts.


    ¡°There. Now I¡¯m ready to go.¡±


    Rolfun and Alesin shared a look, the half-ogre giving a smiling nod of approval at Klarion acting to cover up the last piece of evidence that they had been in the clearing, after which Alesin spoke up. ¡°Alright, Klarion, stick close to us. We have a ways to go until we reach the nearest road.¡±


    Rolfun took the lead into the trees, Alesin motioning for Klarion to go next. She moved close behind him, eyes alternating between Rolfun¡¯s back and the surrounding trees. As the clearing disappeared into the woods behind them, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but feel a mix of fear and excitement. He was fully committed now.


    There was no going back.

 Chapter 15

    After about an hour of traveling in relative silence, only the natural sounds of the forest and the thumps of his stumbling steps around him, Klarion felt the need to speak up. Though he was already beginning to feel tired, not being used to hiking through the woods like they were, his mind was constantly churning over all the questions he had. What was the System? How did everything work? What did he need to know about the Empire? The questions went on and on. He didn¡¯t know exactly how far they had to travel, but he was worried that any minute not spent trying to learn more about his new circumstances would be time lost that he would regret later.


    ¡°Since Franz told me essentially nothing beyond the broad strokes that I was heading to the Imperial Academy to learn and that House Blacksword was the reason I was going, I was hoping you could begin explaining things to me as we traveled?¡±


    Rolfun glanced back at Klarion, then slowed his pace while Alesin came up to his side.


    ¡°We had been planning to begin explaining things once we made camp tonight. To give you time to adjust. Are you sure you wanted to start now?¡± Alesin asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion nodded hard, well aware that he was pressing but he had so many things he wanted to know. Before either could respond, some of the questions began pouring out. ¡°What is the System, and how does it work? What is going to be expected of me at the Imperial Academy? How dangerous will it be? How do I fit within the Empire? What¡ª¡±


    ¡°Woah, woah!¡± Rolfun raised his hands and chuckled, ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we can¡¯t move at full speed. Otherwise, we might not have enough time to answer everything you want to know.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Klarion said somewhat sheepishly. ¡°There is just so much I want to know.¡±


    ¡°And there is so much you need to know,¡± Alesin said with a nod. ¡°Alright. We will get started explaining things as we go rather than waiting for tonight. Let¡¯s start with the System itself.¡±


    Over the next few hours, Alesin and Rolfun explained to him the best they could what they knew about the System. Both clarified rather early on in their explanations that they were not proper scholars and only knew the basics about much of it. Klarion did not care. Any information was better than no information.


    According to his escorts, the origins of the System itself were shrouded in mystery, with even the most powerful leaders of the Empire rumored to not understand where it came from or why it governs the Multiverse the way it does. For her part, Alesin leaned towards the more mystical theories of the emergence of the System as being the result of primordial beings. According to her, the System itself was a divine construct that was designed to maintain a balance in the Multiverse, ensuring that all worlds, races, and individuals that were Integrated within it would possess the potential to rise or fall based on their own merit. She did admit, however, that what this balance actually looked like still seemed to be unfathomable.


    For his part, Rolfun added that he hadn¡¯t spent much time thinking about it compared to his wife, who had snorted in amusement at his admission. He did confess, however, that he felt the System was not so concerned with imposing balance, but instead was some sort of trial for the powers of the Multiverse. When Klarion had asked what the trial would be for, the large half-ogre had only shrugged.


    Eventually, they came to a halt. With no further explanations on the history of the system to hold his attention, Klarion realized exactly how heavily he was breathing and how heavy his legs felt. He slumped more than sat on a nearby downed tree. While Rolfun pulled out some trial rations from his pack, Alesin handed Klarion a bottle. Eagerly unscrewing the lid, he took several quick gulps of the cool, refreshing water inside.


    ¡°We could debate the origins and purpose of the System the entire way, but far more important is how it affects you and the odds of survival at the Imperial Academy,¡± Alesin said while Klarion closed the bottle and struggled to get his breathing under control. ¡°Before we can start walking you through the gritty details, however, you need to know the basics.¡±


    ¡°Something every child of the Empire knows by the time they are old enough to participate in the basic Integration Ritual,¡± Rolfun said with an amused grin, before stuffing his face with what looked to be jerky of some sort.


    ¡°Hush, Rolfun,¡± Alesin glared. ¡°The young lord can¡¯t help the circumstances that prevented him from gaining access to the System earlier. All he can do is come to grips with it as quickly as he can.¡±


    ¡°I promise to work as hard as I can to learn,¡± Klarion interjected.


    ¡°We know,¡± Alesin said, turning back to him. ¡°Alright, time for some practical aspects of working with the System. First, focus on your Interface and pull up your Interface.¡±


    Following the sun elf¡¯s direction, Klarion pulled up his Interface. To his surprise, some of the numbers had increased.


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    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 0


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Strength: 12=>13


    Dexterity: 10


    Vitality: 14=>15


    Endurance: 19=>20


    Intelligence: 17


    Wisdom: 8


    Charisma: 7


    Luck: 4


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: N/A


    Abilities: N/A


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing one of your stats has gone up?¡± Alesin asked upon seeing the surprise on Klarion¡¯s face.


    ¡°My Interface is showing a point increase in Strength, Vitality, and Endurance.¡±


    Had Klarion not been so absorbed in looking at the changes, he would have seen the shocked look that appeared on Alesin¡¯s face and the way her head wiped around to look at Rolfun, who had frozen, a piece of jerky still sticking from his mouth. He slowly swallowed.


    ¡°That is because your Interface is not a static screen, but a dynamic reflection of your potential and growth. If your stats have increased, that means your body has been pushing hard as we escort you through the forest.¡± Rolfun pulled out another piece of jerky, this time coming over to hand it to Klarion. ¡°Beyond training, the process of gaining levels, consuming certain items, and temporary enhancements through gear or magic can all impact stats.¡±


    Nodding his thanks, Klarion took the offered piece of meat. It had a bland, salty flavor, but after the past few hours of exertion, Klarion did not much care. He eagerly took a second piece when Rolfun offered it.


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Klarion spoke around the jerky. ¡°The Interface is similar to some variants of games I have played back on Earth. The stats displayed, or some version of them, are pretty much what many of those games used as the basis of the playable characters.¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t need us to walk you through what each means?¡± the sun elf Fire Mage asked while about to begin eating her own piece of jerky.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Klarion shook his head. ¡°If I come across any surprises on this trip, though, I¡¯ll make sure to ask.¡± He paused as a thought struck him. Perhaps they might have insight on how he might maximize his odds of survival. ¡°I would, however, like your input on which ones you think I should focus on.¡±


    ¡°It is too soon to tell,¡± Alesin said. ¡°Everyone is a little different, and depending on what challenges you face and the choices you make to deal with them, especially during your first levels, will shape you in specific ways. Without experiencing those things, neither of us can give you advice on what you should do.¡±


    ¡°Ok, that makes sense.¡± Klarion struggled to keep a bit of the frustration from his tone. While he had expected some version of Alesin¡¯s response, a small part of him had still hoped some input from his escorts would have helped him begin the process of picking what he needed to focus on.


    ¡°If it helps, we will be making sure you get some experience in combat against wild monsters as we get further along. After some practice of course. Perhaps those experiences will help you find the answer to what you should be focusing on.¡± Rolfun said after picking up on the young lord¡¯s mood.


    ¡°You need to prepare yourself, though. You likely won¡¯t know until you get a Class of your own,¡± Alesin added.


    ¡°A class?¡±


    ¡°Something you will learn more about in your first year at the Imperial Academy. Really, I had expected you to need to know more about your stats. Since you seem adamant you have a grasp of them, I think we should avoid going deeper into the other aspects of your Interface.¡± She held up her hand as Klarion immediately looked to protest. ¡°I say this because, so long as you are with us, you won¡¯t need to know any of that. In addition, the professors at the Imperial Academy would likely do a far better job guiding you as a young noble. Our experiences as commoners and then sworn bondsmen of House Blacksword will likely have few similarities to what you will likely learn there.¡±


    ¡°So there is nothing else I should do right now?¡±


    ¡°No, that would be a bad idea too. I would encourage you to think about what kind of role you want to play in the Empire. Do you want to be a leader of Legions on the front lines in the middle of the Empire¡¯s wars? Would you rather be a scholar of magic? A crafter? A diplomat? Only you will be able to make those decisions. Luckily for you, given your place in House Blacksword, you have very few limitations on what role you might pursue. So long as it helps the Empire.¡±


    Rolfun reached down to pull Klarion to his feet. While the half-ogre¡¯s size and obvious strength still intimidated him, he could now tell was more of the protective sort. Despite his class. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, young lord. Both of us will work with you to establish a training regimen to help build up your stats regularly.¡±


    ¡°It still feels so overwhelming,¡± Klarion confessed quietly.


    ¡°It is normal to feel overwhelmed,¡± Alesin said with some sympathy. ¡°Even nobles struggle when they first start their System journey. And you have a longer way to go than most. But persistence, training, and careful planning will help you no matter the direction you go in. We will do all we can to help so long as we are your escorts.¡±


    While he was still concerned, Klarion had to admit he was feeling a bit better about everyone. Nothing would likely be sorted out completely, or even partially, before they arrived at their destination. But the way Alesin and Rolfun were dealing with him, the way they were explaining things, and the way they were promising to help, went a way towards reassuring him. He had been worried that his escorts would end up being like Franz. The Arcane Pathfinder had saved him, and Klarion would always owe him for that, but Franz had also struck him as more of a ¡®sink or swim¡¯ kind of guy. It was nice that Alesin and Rolfun were going to train him a bit first before throwing him into the deep end.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Klarion said.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s long enough.¡± Rolfun turned his back on Klarion to hide his expression of embarrassment at being thanked by the young noble. The half-ogre then moved to continue in the direction they had been hiking. ¡°We have a bit of a way to go yet to get to our campsite. Hold the rest of your questions until we get there.¡±

 Chapter 16

    Despite Klarion being somewhat out of shape, he enjoyed the journey through the forest. For most of his life he had been a city dweller, hemmed in by concrete and steel. It was nice to be out amongst nature for once. Even if the surrounding trees he was passing through were off in some ways. Though the same deep greens and earthy browns surrounded them as Rolfun and Alesin escorted him in the direction of their camping site, the leaves themselves were not any that he recognized. Some were long and thin, while others had a square-like appearance.


    Then again he was in a completely different world. It would be more than strange if he was seeing oak and elm trees.


    The other thing that stood out to him was the sounds of the forest itself. Bird calls were the most common thing he heard, but no matter how hard he looked around, he couldn¡¯t see a single one. Perhaps they were higher up in the trees or hidden amongst the foliage. While he regretted not being able to see any, the peaceful monotony of the journey was enjoyable all on its own.


    His feet slipped on a wet stone, but before he could fall, Alesin¡¯s hands were there to steady him. The sun elf¡¯s firm grip brought his attention back to where it should have been since the start of the hike through the woods. The fact that he was heading to the Imperial Academy to enroll in classes, as the scion of an important noble house no less, and he could not feel any more unprepared for it.


    He stumbled, Alesin again catching him.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Klarion said, his face reddened at how clumsy he was being.


    ¡°No thanks are necessary. I imagine this is a difficult hike for someone so newly integrated into the System. Don¡¯t hesitate to ask for breaks if you need them. While there is a deadline, we have some time yet before we would need to hurry.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, but no,¡± Klarion said firmly. ¡°The more I push myself, the more training I can get in with the both of you. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll appreciate every second of it when I get to the Imperial Academy.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Alesin said, stepping back. She motioned him to continue after Rolfun, who had slowed for them to catch up. ¡°Just make sure you don¡¯t forget that attitude days from now after training with Rolfun and I.¡±


    Though he was already sure he would regret it, given how tired and sore he was already, Klarion still smiled. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    Alesin did not say anything in response, only gave a smile full of teeth and gestured again for him to follow Rolfun. While Klarion did not know either of his escorts very well yet, that look reminded him of one an old physical therapist of his had given him after first being released from the hospital. Klarion had asked that he be pushed as hard as he could handle so that he might recover faster. The man had given him a smile very similar to the one Alesin had on her face right now. Klarion winced at the memories of those long, painful hours.


    Shaking his head once to banish them, he picked up his pace slightly. Though his legs flared in protest, Klarion pushed through. He hadn¡¯t lied to Alesin when he said that he was looking forward to training. Whenever Klarion made up his mind to pursue something, he would put as much time and effort into it as he could until he was successful. He had done that while struggling to hold on until a cure could be found for his disease and in the physical therapy that came after. He had also done that while he had been working towards becoming a doctor. Of course, he would do the same to achieve his new goal of getting strong enough to protect his family back on Earth.


    His focus shifted to Rolfun. Despite his size, the half-ogre seemed at home in the forest. Dodging between trees as needed, his long stride seemed to be incredibly stable despite the uneven ground. Watching Rolfun move, Klarion began to pick out a pattern in how he was stepping. Mimicking it as best he could, Klarion quickly found that he began covering a bit more ground with less effort.


    Rolfun veered to the right as they came across a tree that had collapsed to the ground, the base of the trunk shattered. The half-ogre ducked through a gap where it had come to rest against a boulder.


    Klarion moved to follow, but a glint near the base of the tree caught his eye. Before he knew what he was doing, he took three quick strides in that direction.


    The sound of nearby birds went silent.


    ¡°Rolfun!¡±


    As if spurred on by Alesin¡¯s shout, a massive creature burst from the underbrush to Klarion¡¯s left. Light reflected off of shining claws, and lean muscle rippled under a spotted coat as a massive leopard lept at him. Klarion froze, getting the briefest glimpse of jaws opening wide to reveal massive teeth when the massive form of the half-ogre blurred past him to slam a fist into the gaping maw. Slammed shut in a crash, the leopard went hurling backward, a strangled yowl emerging from its clearly broken jaw as it went. Rolfun threw himself at the reeling beast before it could recover.


    Klarion scrambled backward, tripping over an exposed root as he did. Crashing to the ground, he slid onto his side. Coming to a stop, he looked up into the descending fangs of an even larger beast.


    Before he could even begin to attempt to raise his arms to shield his face, Alesin was there. A corona of fire flared into being around her. Thrusting out her arm, a spear of flame blasted into the chest of the second leaping leopard, knocking back and away. So violent was her use of magic, the chest of the hunting cat simply ceased to exist, and it was dead before it hit the ground, all without uttering a sound.


    The crunching sounds of fists meeting flesh echoed off the trees behind Klarion, until one last sickening crack. Turning his head from where he was lying on the ground, he saw Rolfun standing up beside a broken corpse, grey arms and armored chest covered in blood from having beaten the first of the leopards to death with his bare hands. So much blood.


    Klarion¡¯s breath hitched, chest tightening as it sank in that he had almost died yet again. The thought hit him like a hammer, and suddenly, the world pressed in around him. The air grew too thick to breathe and his heart beat frantically in his chest. His vision narrowed past Rolfun to land on the broken corpse of the dead forest predator.


    The one that would have killed him before he could have reacted, had Rolfun not been there to save him. Klarion bent over, struggling to get a hold of himself.


    ¡°Lord Klarion?¡± Alesin asked, the concern clear in her voice as she reverted back to calling him by his apparent title.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Klarion said softly, still bent over staring at the ground. ¡°I¡¯m still not used to all¡­ this.¡± He gestured in the general direction of the monstrous cat that Rolfun had killed.


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    ¡°The Forest Leopard or the fighting for your life?¡±


    ¡°Both.¡± His heart was finally starting to slow down again. ¡°Where I am from, we don¡¯t have to worry about either. Well, generally. There is still violence occasionally, usually related to criminal activity. I can¡¯t even remember the last time an animal of any sort attacked a person in my city.¡± Klarion¡¯s speech quickened near the end of his response. Focusing on what he was saying helped him fully push the panic away.


    Alesin crouched down next to him. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, ¡°That sounds like a nice place to live.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t really,¡± Klarion chuckled, fully in control of himself again. He forced himself to stare at the first Forest Leopard, then the other that Alesin had blasted with her fire magic. They seemed smaller, less imposing now that they were dead. ¡°The forest was so peaceful. Kind of like the woods I walked through with my family when we went hiking not that long ago. I wasn¡¯t expecting to be attacked.¡±


    ¡°I guess there is more to teach you about than we thought,¡± Alesin said as her husband stepped closer. He had pulled a rag from somewhere and was trying to wipe as much blood off of his armor as he could. She looked into Klarion¡¯s face from inches away, thinking. ¡°Would you mind sharing more about your past with us, lord? It might help us better design an approach to your training over the rest of this journey.¡±


    ¡°Such as why I would not have expected to be attacked by predators in a forest?¡± Klarion asked, to which Alesin and Rolfun both nodded. ¡°Alright. Do you want me to start now, or wait until we arrive wherever it is you and Rolfun are leading me?¡±


    ¡°Already seeking to get out of training?¡± Alesin asked with a teasing smile. ¡°We can¡¯t have that. The hours we have this evening are already spoken for, given your request earlier. No, better you start telling us all about yourself now.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t get too distracted while you¡¯re sharing,¡± Rolfun added, reaching down and pulling Klarion to his feet. ¡°Just because the forest is peaceful, doesn¡¯t mean there isn¡¯t danger. As the lowest level here, you are a tempting target for all that hunt in these woods. Make sure you stay close.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Klarion promised. ¡°And thank you both for saving me.¡±


    ¡°Would you listen to that, Alesin,¡± Rolfun said with a smile that showed off his large, sharp teeth. ¡°Never thought I would hear a Scion offer thanks to me for just doing my duty.¡±


    ¡°Neither did I, but it is nice to be appreciated,¡± Alesin responded. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get moving. Klarion, tell us about yourself whenever you are ready.¡±


    Over the next several hours of their journey through the forest, Klarion tried to share an overview of his life on Earth with his escorts. He told them about his childhood and how it had been a happy one. He told them of how he became deathly sick, and but for a miracle of some sort, he had expected to die years ago. Both Alesin and Rolfun were excellent listeners. Occasionally, they would ask clarifying questions, but for the most part, they listened in silence, simply giving Klarion room to share. With growing confidence he had spilled his secrets. His shame at being the cause of his family¡¯s debt. His desire to become a doctor, to help others as he was helped, and to pay his parents back. The infrequent times with his friends, and fun that was playing tabletop roleplaying games. That, in particular, Rolfun had got a kick out of. In another place and time, Klarion had the feeling Rolfun would have made a great addition to their group.


    Finally he came to the last turbulent days. Losing his friend and mentor. Almost dying himself, only to be saved Franz after being horribly scarred. The shock at learning there was so much more to the Multiverse. On and on the words spilled from him until there were none left to share about his life.


    Initially, the words had come fast to the young man from Earth, but as the distance passed under their feet, Klarion¡¯s breathing began to turn to gasping. The details about his life that had slowed were gradually replaced with what life was like without the System. When both of his escorts took it upon themselves, in turn, to ask what Classes people had, or how humans on his planet dealt with marauding monsters, what was done regarding the random appearance of dungeons, or any other of a dozen things that he had never heard of before, Klarion began to notice their grimaces at his responses. They got worse as he became unable to share anymore due to his gasping for air. Their grimaces turned fully into frowns when Rolfun said they had arrived where they would be camping for the night.


    As they stepped close to a tree that looked like any other, Alesin pulled out a metal talisman from somewhere on her person. Holding it before her, the tree and its immediate neighbors faded away to reveal a small clearing, two tents already constructed, and a stone-lined pit with a small pile of wood nearby.


    While Klarion was once again excited to see another example of magic, he was still too winded to ask how it all worked. Hopefully, he will be able to ask later. He turned his attention to Rolfun and Alesin, who he realized had lingered behind him while he had wandered deeper into the clearing


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡± Klarion quickly asked between breaths.


    ¡°No, Klarion,¡± Alesin said with a sad shake of her head. ¡°No, things are not alright. For what we are about to deliver you to at the Imperial Academy, you could not have had a worse life until this point.¡±


    Klarion clenched his fists, and he glared back at the sun elf. ¡°I had a good life! My family took care of me! I had a career I could work towards, and friends that I could rely on! I was always¡ª¡±


    ¡°Safe.¡± Rolfun said, his deep voice rumbling in a mournful tone.


    So sad did the massive half-ogre sound that Klarion cut off that he had been about to say that word as well.


    ¡°You were safe. Safe in a way we can barely imagine,¡± Rolfun continued in the same tone. ¡°Safe to such a degree that even the richest of the high imperial nobility who have no desire for war or fighting would have paid you any price to switch lives with you. Even if it meant but a few, peaceful years until Integration occurred and they had to return to the Imperial fold.¡°


    ¡°Klarion, you have to understand,¡± Alesin interjected into the silence. ¡°The world you come from is completely different from any world we have ever heard of. How it lacks so much of the violence and struggle that all within the Empire and beyond it are born into. Even the freshest of Integrated worlds have more violence and suffering than your world, Earth, apparently had.¡±


    ¡°But isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡±


    ¡°No, Klarion. It is not.¡± Rolfun again shook his head. ¡°It means so many of the instincts and so many of the experiences that we could build on in our training to increase your odds of surviving those first few days in the Imperial Academy simply don¡¯t exist in you. We will have to start completely fresh. With everything.¡±


    In the second, longer silence, it struck Klarion all at once what they meant. Barring his last few days on Earth, Klarion had always tried to avoid conflict and threats as much as he could. Given what little he had learned about the nobility of the Empire so far, that was the exact opposite of what would be expected of him. Yes, he understood what they both meant now. Among other things, Klarion had shown to his escorts that he apparently lacked the capacity to kill. Shit. With how he had reacted to the ambush by the Forest Leopards, how he hadn¡¯t even attempted to defend himself, Klarion could well understand their grim looks.


    No.


    ¡°Tabula Rasa.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± both of his escorts asked together, their voices overlapping in confusion.


    ¡°Tabula Rasa,¡± Klarion repeated louder, ¡°it is Latin, a dead language from Earth. It means that the human mind, especially from birth, has no preconceived ideas or predetermined goals. With how I basically know nothing of what it is like to live in the Empire, nor be part of the System, I am truly a blank slate to everything you might teach me.¡±


    ¡°Exactly, Klarion. You have no real experience and¡ª¡± Alesin tried to respond before Klarion cut her off.


    ¡°So teach me. Use my unique background to teach me everything you can,¡± he steeled himself as he said words he knew he hoped he wouldn¡¯t regret, ¡°as fast as you can. I think that lacking all the bad habits of other young nobles might allow me to learn quicker than you fear I will.¡±


    Both Alesin and Rolfun froze as they realized the point Klarion had just made. Just as quickly large smiles appeared on their faces. Despite the excitement, Klarion couldn¡¯t help swallowing in some fright. Both of them now had the same expression as that physical therapist from his time in recovery back on Earth.


    ¡°Well, when you put it like that,¡± Rolfun said, his smile all sharp teeth and excitement, ¡°What are we waiting for?¡±

 Chapter 17

    ¡°Since you are so eager to get started, Klarion, why don¡¯t we begin by seeing if we can improve some of your stats with some assessments? If we can improve some of them, we can get a better sense of how hard we can push you in training.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just jump right into the real training itself?¡± Klarion asked Alesin.


    ¡°You could,¡± Alesin said. ¡°But it is equally as important that you get a sense for your own strengths and abilities as they are now. You are still so new to the System, and if you are anything like everyone else who is integrated, you likely haven¡¯t pushed yourself as far as you can with any stat yet. Only once you do so will you, and by extension us, have a good grasp on what you are able to do.¡±


    ¡°Though these methods will be crude compared to what you will have access to later, having knowledge of what you are capable of will only increase your odds of survival at the Imperial Academy,¡± Rolfun added.


    ¡°Is the Imperial Academy truly that dangerous?¡± Klarion asked. While he could already guess it would not be easy, he did not think that he would be at risk of dying before he could graduate. Seeing both Alesin and Rolfun nodding in response to his question, it looked like he would have to revise his expectations.


    ¡°You¡¯ll learn more once you arrive at the Imperial Academy, but yes, the risks you will be facing there will be significant, especially given that you are a member of House Blacksword,¡± Alesin said.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t need to know any more about that tonight,¡± Rolfun interjected before turning to his wife. ¡°Alesin, if you would like to start, I¡¯ll check the wards and get everything ready for you to begin cooking when you are done.¡±


    Nodding in agreement, Alesin stepped close and gave a light kiss on the side of the half-ogre¡¯s face. Rolfun¡¯s grey skin reddened and a grin bloomed across his face. Unbidden, Klarion felt a brief twinge of jealousy. Not at the fact that Alesin was married to Rolfun, but he had not been able to meet anyone himself in quite some time. There had been a brief period after he had completed his physical therapy and gotten started working with Doctor Halter that he had been able to go on a few dates with acquaintances of his family and even once or twice a blind date set up by his friends. Nothing had clicked, though. Every single one had not gone past a single date. Perhaps it had been him. And then he had gotten progressively more busy with work, leaving no real time to meet anyone new.


    Banishing the thoughts from his mind, Klarion focused back on what he was supposed to be doing. Rolfun had set his pack down and was now going about the clearing, checking what looked to be markings of some sort in the dirt. Before he could look closer at them, Alesin stepped up in front of him.


    ¡°Alright, Klarion, we will begin with Intelligence. Let¡¯s go find a seat and then we can get started.¡± She led him over to the tents. Reaching inside, she pulled out two simple stools. Setting them up, she indicated that Klarion take a seat.


    ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t have any of the typical tools that we might use to work on your Intelligence. So we¡¯ll have to do some simple riddles to work on them. They likely won¡¯t increase your Intelligence much, but given how low your level is right now, any improvement will help. Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but you should know. I¡¯m only so-so at riddles.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to keep them simple then. First one is this: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?¡±


    Klarion furrowed his brow. While riddles weren¡¯t exactly something he spent a lot of time on, but this one didn¡¯t seem to difficult. He considered each part. No mouth, no ears. Communication through something ethereal, something intangible. And the wind¡­.


    Klarion smiled as the answer came to him. ¡°An echo,¡± he said, meeting Alesin¡¯s gaze.


    She nodded approvingly. ¡°Well done. Now, here is one that is slightly harder: The more you take, the more you leave behind. What is it?¡±


    Alesin was right, this one was a bit trickier. Klarion pondered what might work, before he came up with the idea of focusing on the imagery. Taking something yet leaving something more. His mind drifted back to him time on Earth. After he had recovered, he had gone on many hiking trips with his family and friends. The trails had been well kept and whenever they went up or down through the forest they had wooden¡­steps.


    ¡°Footsteps,¡± Klarion answered confidently.


    Alesin grinned. ¡°Well done, it seems that you might have a mind for riddles. Lets see if you can answer this next one.¡±


    For about ten minutes, Alesin asked Klarion some increasingly difficult riddles. He struggled, but he was ultimately able to guess the ones that had no basis of specific knowledge or context. Alesin quickly moved away from those, however, and Klarion eventually gave in to complaining about how he could be expected to solve them. The sun elf simply said that sometimes the riddles that one cannot solve are the ones that work the Intelligence stat the most. After a minute of straight silence when Klarion wracked his brains for an answer for the latest one, Alesin finally called a halt.


    ¡°You have an agile mind, Klarion. That is good. With your late start, you will need to leverage every point as you grow in order to maximize your chances of survival at the Imperial Academy,¡± Alesin said. ¡°Alright, why don¡¯t we take a break from working on your Intelligence stat. Don¡¯t bother checking your growth, if there is any, as we are going to go directly into Wisdom.¡±


    ¡°And how will we be doing that?¡±


    ¡°Again, since you are so low-level, we can will begin by testing your judgment,¡± Alesin said. ¡°We¡¯ll start with a thought experiment. Imagine you are the leader of a village, and you have two sick people under your care, but only enough medicine to save one. One is a young child with their whole life ahead of them, and the other is a skilled healer who has saved countless lives. Who do you save?¡±


    Klarion frowned and considered the dilemma. Weighing the value of each life was difficult, but it was clear to him what Alesin wanted him to focus on. In regards to the child, it was easy to see the potential contributions to the village would be high. Indeed, they would have a long life ahead of them and the possibility that they could be trained or educated to fulfill a need that the village might need in the future.


    On the other hand, the healer already has a lot of experience saving people from injury or disease, something that would likely always be a concern in a village of the Empire. To save the healer would mean that more people might be saved as soon as they were better.


    With these thoughts in mind, for Klarion the answer would depend on how he weighed the possibility of future gains via the child against the certainty of the present usefulness of the healer. Given his own experience of suffering from a disease that no one in the hospital on Earth had been able to heal, and what the potential trajectory of his life now might mean for Earth¡¯s survival, he was tempted to answer in favor of the child.


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    But he hated these kinds of thought experiments. There was always another way if you looked hard enough. He had to believe that, otherwise if he faced too difficult an obstacle at the Imperial Academy he might give up. If he did, the Earth might well be doomed like the world that Franz had shown him in that memory. Perhaps just as bad, what if he was put in charge of making life and death decisions for others.


    An idea struck him.


    ¡°I would save both of them.¡±


    ¡°Klarion, I think you are misunderstanding the purpose of this exercise. You can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I would save the healer, and then help them in any way I could to then save the child.¡±


    ¡°That would not work,¡± Alesin began to explain. ¡°The rule of the thought experiment is that you could only save one. You have to make a decision that saves only one of them¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t accept that.¡± Klarion shook his head. ¡°I won¡¯t accept that. There is always a way. There has to be a way.¡±


    Alesin looked like she was about to say something else when she paused to just look at him. ¡°This isn¡¯t about the thought experiment, is it.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Klarion stood up from his seat, stared out to the trees beyond the campsite, and ran his hands over his face. His fingers slowed as they began to trace his scars. ¡°No, no it is not.¡±


    ¡°Lord, what is wrong?¡± Alesin asked, clearly concerned as she was lapsing back into the form of proper respect that both she and Rolfun had used we he had first arrived through the portal.


    ¡°That,¡± Klarion said, spinning back to point at Alesin. ¡°That is what is wrong! Despite what you, Rolfun, and Franz have said and how you all have treated me, I don¡¯t feel like a ¡®Lord¡¯. I am a glorified secretary with dreams of becoming a doctor who was kidnapped by criminals, almost killed, and then catapulted into this insanity! In three days, everything has changed!¡± He was practically shouting at the end, and the words just kept coming. ¡°I told myself I would be ok! I told myself that I would be able to do it, that I could do what needed to be done! That I could save my family¡­ save Earth...¡± His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the ground. Klarion continued, voice cracking, ¡°But actually being a ¡®Lord¡¯; being in charge of making life and death decisions for others. I don¡¯t know if I can¡­¡±


    ¡°Lor¡ª¡± Alesin halted what she had been about to say when Klarion¡¯s red misty eyes rose to meet her own. Rolfun had put down the cooking pot he had been setting up and seemed to be about to come over, but she subtly shook her head. Nodding, Rolfun turned back to what he had been doing, trusting his wife to handle it.


    She understood the weight of what he was carrying on his shoulders, having seen other young nobles in House Blacksword deal with the same, though perhaps not to such a degree as having the future of an entire planet on their shoulders. She herself had to make such difficult decisions as Klarion was concerned about on any number of occasions in the line of her duty to protect the House Blacksword. Decisions that had not always resulted in the outcomes she had hoped for. So she told him what others had told to her when she had faced exactly what he was facing now.


    ¡°Klarion,¡± Alesin began, ¡°no one becomes a Lord overnight, no matter their birthright. Each and every noble in House Blacksword, like the nobles in all imperial houses of the Empire, feels overwhelmed when faced with these responsibilities. But it¡¯s not about knowing everything from the start. The whole point of the Imperial Academy, and why you are being sent there, is to learn, adapt, and grow into the role.¡± She reached out, gently setting her hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly in reassurance. ¡°You are not expected to have all the answers right now.¡±


    ¡°But what if I never am ready?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see that happening, Klarion,¡± Alesin responded, her tone full of her honest thoughts. ¡°From the information that Franz communicated to us prior to you coming through the portal, and what you yourself have shared, you have already survived things that most people never will. You have shown strength, compassion, and resilience in the face of what would have been certain death without Franz¡¯s intervention.¡± She smiled, emphasizing the next point. ¡°That is already more than what many of the nobles joining your class at the Imperial Academy will be able to say.¡±


    ¡°Really? But I thought you had said that I was starting off at a disadvantage compared to them,¡± Klarion said.


    ¡°Yes, you will be, in terms of both levels and knowledge,¡± Alesin agreed, but held up a long finger. ¡°But they gained those levels and knowledge largely sheltered from the real world. You have already suffered and, based on how you have interacted with us so far, grown stronger for it. You don¡¯t have to be perfect. You also don¡¯t have to carry it alone. For now, Rolfun and I will do what we can to help you. And though we know little about what you will experience at the Imperial Academy, I expect you will find others there that you will be able to rely on.¡± Her voice softened even more. ¡°Doubt is natural, but it doesn¡¯t define you. You questioning your ability to save your family, to protect your planet¡ª-that is only temporary, as you will continue to pursue strength as you push on anyway. You don¡¯t have to feel like a ¡®Lord¡¯ to become one. It will come in time.¡±


    Klarion stood still, absorbing what Alesin had said. While her reassurance didn¡¯t completely erase his fears, it did soften the edges of the panic he was experiencing. He could only hope that she was right, that it was not so much about being born for a role like the one that had been thrust on him but growing into it. He still felt a bit small against the weight of what will be expected of him, but Alesin¡¯s words had wantered the seed of resolve within him that he had planted within himself previously. He wasn¡¯t, and wouldn¡¯t, be in this alone.


    ¡°Thank you, Alesin. I appreciate it.¡±


    Seeing that they were done, and that Klarion seemed to be doing better, Rolfun came over to join them. The half-ogre scratched his chin thoughtfully as he stared at Klarion.


    ¡°You know, Klarion, if your problems start getting too complicated for you, I could train you as a Berserker. That way, you wouldn¡¯t have to think about all these decisions¡ªyou¡¯d just have to smash everything in your path.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Simple solutions, right?¡±


    Alesin shot her husband an exasperated look, but Rolfun winked, clearly pleased with himself. Despite everything, Klarion felt a tiny, unexpected smile creep over his face.


    ¡°There it is! The breaking of the storm,¡± Rolfun said as Klarion relaxed a bit. He turned to Alesin. ¡°Why don¡¯t I take over for now? I promise I¡¯ll have him nice and starving for your cooking.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Alesin then leaned in close, making sure Klarion wouldn¡¯t be able to hear. ¡°Try not to be too hard on him; I don¡¯t think the young lord is up to some of your more drastic training.¡±


    As the sun elf made her way over to do the cooking, Rolfun rubbed his hands in delight. It had been quite some time since he had put a new recruit like Klarion through his paces. The fact that he was a blank slate, whatever that meant, made him even more excited to see what the young lord would be capable of doing.


    ¡°Alright, we are going to work on your Strength, Dexterity, and then your Endurance and Vitality.¡± He clapped his large hands. ¡°Let me see what you can do.¡±


    Rolfun began by running Klarion through some flexibility exercises. It quickly became clear his large size, for a human, had resulted in a more restrained range of motion that would need to be worked on. He then had the young lord move through some complicated movements meant to simulate avoiding an aggressive attacker while unarmed. Klarion¡¯s speed was not bad, but he lacked a bit of coordination. Rolfun let him go for a few minutes longer before he held up his hand for the young lord to stop.


    ¡°I think I have a handle on what we will need to focus on over the coming days.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to do anything else? I spent more time working on Intelligence and Wisdom with Alesin.¡± Klarion rubbed the soreness out of his arms as best he could.


    ¡°No, that is fine. I just wanted to get a baseline for you. Being too tired will only make the Endurance and Vitality exercise I have in mind harder,¡± Rolfun turned to head over to his backpack, talking back over his shoulder. ¡°Hold on a moment while I get it.¡±


    Klarion watched as Rolfun pulled a small, black orb out of his pack. Standing back up, he came back over, hand extended but he did not release his grip when Klarion reached to take it.


    ¡°This last one is a bit different, Klarion. What I hold here is an item designed to work on your Vitality. Part of that is the infliction of pain on the holder, which will ramp up in intensity the longer you hold it. With how the past few days have been for you, it might be a bit much, however.¡±


    ¡°Well, what would you do if you were me?¡± asked Klarion.


    ¡°I would still do it,¡± Rolfun said right away. ¡°Though the pain builds as you hold it, the point isn¡¯t to torture you. It is to sharpen you. You¡¯re going to face worse in the Imperial Academy and beyond. Holding this will not only potentially help your stats, but it will also show you how much you can take before breaking. Every second you hold it will make you stronger¡ªmentally and physically. With everything you have shared with us so far, I think you can handle it.¡±


    Klarion slowly nodded, ¡°I will do it then.¡± While he wasn¡¯t looking forward to experiencing the pain, Rolfun¡¯s reasoning was good. And given everything he had experienced to this point, perhaps it would not be so bad.


    ¡°Good. Now, you are going to want to sit on the ground for this.¡±

 Chapter 18 (Interlude 1)

    Alesin knelt by the campfire, the warmth of the flames a familiar comfort out here in the woods. Unlike her more adventurous husband, she was not much for the outdoors, especially a long journey like the one they were currently on escorting Lord Klarion to the nearest settlement where he might use the portal checkpoint to get to the Imperial Academy. No, like many Sun Elves, she much preferred the libraries and the books of Imperial cities.


    But when the House Blacksword commanded, those sworn to it obeyed.


    She set up the small cooking pot she carried in her spatial ring. While most of everything they had with them was in the packs they carried, there were some things, like the cooking pot, that were a bit awkward to pack away in that way. And she loved that little cooking pot.


    Using her Essence of Fire, she swiftly chopped vegetables and some preserved meat to add to tonight¡¯s stew. So used to cooking on the trail was she, Alesin was able to put all her focus elsewhere, leaving the preparation to muscle memory.


    While her keen senses were attuned to the quiet evening around them, her thoughts returned back to Klarion. He now sat a little ways off, listening as Rolfun explained to him how they would be working on his Endurance and Vitality stats, completely unaware of the scrutiny he was under.


    There was something different about the young man, something she hadn¡¯t expected from someone of such high noble birth. In all her years serving in the Empire, first alone then alongside her husband, she had met more than her fair share of nobles. Most were arrogant, demanding, and carried themselves with an air of superiority that grated on her nerves. Even the weakest, most self-serving of them expected to be waited on, their birthright their only claim to importance.


    Even though he had been exiled from his family to an Unintegrated World his entire life, Alesin had expected him to quickly adopt the general mien of a nobleman as soon as he was Integrated into the System and found out the truth of his background.


    But he had surprised both her and her husband.


    Klarion was different. He didn¡¯t speak to them as if they were beneath him. He didn¡¯t issue orders or expect undeserved special treatment. In fact, contrary to what she would have expected, Klarion seemed more introspective about everything he had been exposed to the past few days. In fact, if it weren¡¯t for the scars that covered his body, she might¡¯ve expected him for a common peasant woefully unaware of the wider Empire. That, combined with the resolve she sensed within him, made him far more dangerous than any boastful, new lord. He just didn¡¯t know it yet.


    She glanced over at him again, a slight smile coming to her lips as she noticed Klarion opting to more firmly grip the orb her husband had handed him. Most that she had seen work on their Endurance and Vitality in this way chose to hold it loosely in one hand, thereby making it easier to drop once they reached the limit of what they could endure. Not so with Klarion.


    Her eyes rose from his clasped hands to his face. Klarion¡¯s eyes were now closed as he focused on his task. The faint glint of firelight showed the raised, silvered marks across his skin. Those scars told quite a story, of a battle to the death that was barely survived, all before he had even been Initiated into the System, let alone before he had a Class. They were the only visible clue he hadn¡¯t been living some quiet life somewhere. Alesin, nor Rolfun, had both been quietly shocked when Klarion had shared how he had received them. Alesin was a sad about that, as they were inflicted on him prior to being Integrated into the System, and as such they would require some high level healing magic before they would even begin to fade away. And even that might not work. Certain scars went deeper than skin deep, lingering on longer than would otherwise be the case. Her eyes pivoted to the strong back of her husband, tracing the locations of the scars that lingered there, under his clothes. She herself had found that she was drawn to those with scars like that.


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    Alesin turned back to her cooking. Hopefully, this escort mission would be a lot more pleasant than what they had been worried about. Her smile deepened when she thought about the leave they would get to enjoy once they were back in Noresyn. Pleasant thoughts kept her occupied while cooking until her husband suddenly loomed behind her.


    ¡°You need to see this,¡± Rolfun said to her quietly. His normally sturdy presence was tight with tension.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Alesin asked, her senses immediately focusing on their surroundings for a potential threat. Her eyes went to Rolfun to see what he was focusing on. Rather than the border of their campsite, his eyes were fixed upon Klarion. Still sitting on the ground, his hands were white with how hard they gripped the sphere.


    ¡°Oh, he still is still able to hold the orb a few minutes in? That is a bit impressive but not a cause for alarm, Rolfun.¡±


    Rolfun breathed a short laugh filled with tension. ¡°My love, you were focused on your cooking again. Klarion has not been holding that sphere for a few minutes.¡± His broad shoulders tensed as he continued staring at Klarion. ¡°It has been almost an hour.¡±


    Alesin¡¯s breath caught at Rolfun¡¯s words. Almost an hour? Her pulse quickened as she turned her full attention to the young lord, the pain-inflicting sphere still held tight in his grip. She had expected that he might be able to do a few minutes given what he had gone through over the past few days, and the illness that he had mentioned from his youth, but this was extreme. She had known young nobles in the House Blacksword with high willpower, but nearly an hour of sustained pain that gradually increased¡­ It was unheard of.Most nobles of the Empire, when first exposed to training like this, would last less than a minute before surrendering. Those that had seen fighting already prior to using the orb could usually last a few minutes before giving up. A mix of awe and unease settled over her, as her mind raced at the implications. Who exactly was this young man!?


    ¡°Klarion has not made a sound since he started. Not even a whimper.¡± Rolfun interrupted her train of thought.


    Alesin exchanged another wide-eyed glance with Rolfun. The half-ogre, who had seen many legionnaires under the banners of House Blacksword go through trials like this, seemed visibly shaken; his jaw clenched with his own disbelief.


    Before Alesin could make a comment, a deep sigh came from Klarion. The young lord¡¯s eyes were still closed, but the tension that had held his body had now disappeared. Leaning forward, he set the sphere down in the grass without ceremony.


    The previously black sphere was now so clear you could see the blades of grass on the other side of where it had come to rest.


    Alesin blinked, her mind continuing to race. How had someone so seemingly untrained, largely unaware of his lineage, and only freshly exposed to the System itself, surpassed even the most hardened of nobles?


    ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    When Klarion abruptly spoke, both of his escorts started. Their eyes rose from where they had been locked on the changed sphere to the still somewhat pale face of the young lord. Alesin struggled to find the words, but it was Rolfun who found his voice first.


    ¡°Next?¡± Rolfun did a good job covering up his disquiet, though Alesin could tell it was still there. ¡°Why, dinner of course! Alesin, is the food ready?¡±


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± Klarion said, pushing himself slowly to his feet. He swayed once but kept his balance after that. ¡°For some reason, I am feeling a bit hungry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing then that I made an extra large amount of my famous Traveler¡¯s Stew. Come grab a bowl and we¡¯ll give you a breakdown of our thoughts about your training.¡±


    While Klarion made his way over with a confident stride, Alesin couldn¡¯t help that her gaze briefly latched once more on the changed sphere. Just who were they escorting to the Imperial Academy?

 Chapter 19

    After being beckoned over to take a bowl of the admittedly delicious-smelling stew, Klarion made sure to carefully place his weight into each step he took over to the cooking fire. Though he was trying to put up a brave front, he still felt the aftereffects of the hurricane of pain that had raged through his entire body. When he had started holding the orb, it had felt more like buzzing than pain all over his body. After a minute or so, the feeling had gradually transitioned into something similar to pins being slowly pressed into every square inch of skin on his body. That hadn¡¯t been so bad, given the suffering he could still clearly remember from those last days in the hospital bed back on Earth.


    But it hadn¡¯t stopped there.


    He had begun losing track of time when the pins had given way to thick needles and then to rusty knives. The only thing that had kept him going at that point was grim determination. After all, Rolfun had said that even the youngest nobles of the Empire had used similar means to work on their stats. Though he knew he had a wide range of disadvantages compared to them, that just meant he would have to push himself as hard as he could to get to their level. Thankfully his determination had been rewarded, for just when he was thinking he would have to let the orb drop from his hands, the pain suddenly had cut off altogether.


    Alesin handed him a bowl piled high with some sort of vegetables and a lot of small pieces of meat. The smell was even better up close. With how thick the bowl was, he could barely feel the heat of the still piping-hot stew. Better give it a few minutes to cool down before his first bite.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Rolfun asked, reaching out to take his own, considerably larger, bowl from Alesin. Though he asked his question casually, for a second Klarion thought there was some undercurrent of concern in his voice. Probably just imagining things.


    ¡°Like someone just spent an hour sharpening knives against my flesh.¡± Klarion said somewhat truthfully, not expecting the looks of horror to appear on both of their faces. ¡°But don¡¯t worry,¡± he hurried to add, ¡°the pain is already fading. In the next few minutes I¡¯m sure it will be gone altogether.¡±


    ¡°That is¡­good,¡± Alesin said, staring hard into his face. She shook her head and cleared her throat. ¡°Anyway, as you are waiting for the stew to cool, why don¡¯t you take a look at your stats and tell us if any have changed?¡±


    Not needing any further encouragement, as he was curious himself, Klarion called up his character sheet.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 0


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Strength: 13=>14


    Dexterity: 10=>11


    Vitality: 15=>20


    Endurance: 20=>21


    Intelligence: 17=>18


    Wisdom: 8=>10


    Charisma: 7


    Luck: 4


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: N/A


    Abilities: N/A


    Based on what his character sheet was showing, he had gained a single point in Strength, Dexterity, Endurance, and Intelligence, two points in Wisdom, and a total of five points in Vitality. Klarion hadn¡¯t realized that he was speaking out loud until Rolfun started violently coughing after taking a big mouthful of the stew. While he pounded on his chest, Klarion shot a questioning look at Alesin, who had paused in eating as well.


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    ¡°The fact that you have gained eleven stat points in such a short session is nothing short of astounding,¡± Alesin said, jumping straight to the point. ¡°It¡¯s an indication that you have massive potential, and if the range of stat gains is anything to go on, you also will likely have a range of classes that you might be able to unlock at the Imperial Academy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect them to keep improving like this, though,¡± Rolfun added, finally having gotten his coughing attack under control. ¡°It is possible you will continue to get some growth through training in your stats right now, but for the vast majority in the System these gains will slow to a trickle pretty quickly. From that point, levels will be the main way for you to continue increasing your attributes.¡±


    ¡°I understand. So, is it time to talk about my training?¡±


    ¡°Easy there,¡± Alesin said, a grin on her face at how excited Klarion clearly was, even in spite of the hellish pain he had so recently experienced. ¡°Why don¡¯t we eat first. Then we can talk over our impressions.¡±


    Without another word, all three dug into their meals. For Klarion, the still-hot stew that Alesin had prepared was a welcome comfort after the long day. Its rich, savory aroma filled the campsite, the scent of slow-cooked meat and earthy herbs mingling in the air. Klarion wasn¡¯t sure how she had done it, but Alesin had infused each bite with the smokiness of the fire. While the meat was tender, his favorite bites were those filled with something that tasted awfully like potatoes. Actually, they were potatoes. While the exhaustion of the day still rested heavily on him, the meal he shared with Alesin and Rolfun was a nice way for the day to end. Before he knew it his bowl was empty.


    ¡°I think the System got your class wrong, my love,¡± Rolfun rumbled as he finished his last bite. ¡°Surely cooking skills this good means you should have been a Chef!¡±


    ¡°Flatterer,¡± Alesin smacked her husband playfully on the head. ¡°If you want more, you don¡¯t have to ply me with compliments. I made plenty.¡±


    ¡°Simply recognizing your skill,¡± Rolfun replied, though he did reach for the ladle to get a refill for his bowl.


    Rolling her eyes, Alesin set her own empty bowl aside and turned to Klarion. ¡°Alright, if you are done eating, why don¡¯t I get us started. I think its fair to say that I speak for us both,¡± Rolfun grunted in agreement off to the side, a massive mouthful of food preventing him from speaking, ¡°when I say that we both see some massive potential within you. Your stats are currently low, but given the growth we have seen already, we think if you focus hard on training, you should be able to survive the challenges of the Imperial Academy.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any advice for how to get stronger? While I think I have begun getting a handle on things, the System itself is still a little confusing.¡±


    ¡°Confusing or not,¡± Rolfun chimed in, setting his bowl aside, ¡°the System does not care, and it will continue to push you whether you are ready for the challenge or not. The Imperial Academy will be the same. The key to your survival is to take things slow, as tha¡ª¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t take it slow. There are too many relying on me for that. I need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°What my husband meant to say was, don¡¯t put yourself at unnecessary risk,¡± Alesin interrupted. ¡°It is one thing to work hard in training and your classes, but another to stir up problems that will increase the chances you will fail.¡±


    ¡°Would that we could be there to help guard your back, but unfortunately, House Blacksword has need of us elsewhere once we have escorted you to the portal hub,¡± said Rolfun. ¡°Until then, however, we will make sure to do everything we can to help prepare you for the Imperial Academy.¡±


    Klarion nodded in response. Despite not knowing his escorts for very long, he already found he was growing to trust them with his life. They had already shown more kindness and support than he had expected. The fact that they did not treat him like a noble or a pawn in some game by House Blacksword, but as someone they seemed to genuinely want to help. Relaxing a bit, Klarion was not able to prevent the yawn that snuck up on him.


    ¡°Alright, I think that is enough tonight. We can go over the particulars tomorrow. For now, get a good night¡¯s sleep.¡±


    Alesin pointed out which tent he could use and reassured him that she and Rolfun would take the watch tonight so he could get a full night¡¯s sleep. While part of Klarion pushed him to at least offer to share part of the watch, the rest of him said he was both too tired and too untrained to be anything other than a source of risk if he did.


    While the tent itself was simple, the bedding inside was some of the softest he had ever felt, even if it was lying on the ground. Not even bothering to take his clothes off, he laid down and buried himself underneath the blanket. Given its size, it might well have been Rolfun¡¯s. The last thoughts he had before sleep took him were about what he might experience tomorrow.

 Chapter 20

    Klarion pushed aside the covers that had wrapped around his body overnight. As soon as they fell away, he felt the lightest touch of the brisk early morning air. He shivered. The warmth of the covers was nice, and he almost sank back into them given how stiff his muscles were from the previous day, but the smell of cooking bacon and eggs drifted in through the opening of the tent.


    Getting up, he fixed his disheveled hair as best he could, then left the tent. The clearing was much the same as it had been last night. Safe, secure, and hemmed in by trees all around. Honestly, he should have expected that. The impression he got from Alesin and Rolfun was extreme competency, especially after both had saved his life yesterday. They wouldn¡¯t have set up a campsite in a location that was at risk of being disturbed. Another thing he would possibly have to learn.


    Klarion still did not have a clear idea on what to expect regarding the Imperial Academy. He set aside those thoughts for now, as the smell of cooking breakfast was too much to ignore at the moment. Alesin was bent over the firepit, carefully flipping bacon next to at least a dozen eggs that were cooking in a large pan. Standing behind her, big smile on his was, was Rolfun holding three plates.


    ¡°Good morning, Klarion,¡± Rolfun said, though his eyes stayed fixed on the meat that his wife was flipping. ¡°Got a treat for breakfast this morning.¡±


    Stepping over to the half-ogre, Klarion took one of the plates he was holding. He then gazed hungrily at the cooking meat as well. ¡°I¡¯m glad that bacon is something that doesn¡¯t only exist on Earth.¡±


    ¡°And I have perfected how to cook it, as well,¡±Alesin said, starting to lift the pieces off to divide between the plates. The eggs followed right after that. ¡°Not so long that its like eating hot jerky, but not so short that all you can focus on is the hot fat you are chewy.¡±


    Taking his first bite of bacon, Klarion could do nothing but wordlessly agree. She had done a great job with it. The next ten minutes were spent in largely companionable silence, the only sound being the chewing of their eating. Rolfun, little to Klarion¡¯s surprise, finished his food first.


    ¡°Before we continue on our journey today, we wanted to talk to you about an important topic.¡±


    Rolfun tapped a small ring on his hand, and to Klarion¡¯s shock, pulled forth a long wooden table. Rolfun had a spatial ring. Before he said anything, Rolfun followed by pulling out what Klarion was able to quickly identify as a warhammer, a war axe, a long sword, and finally a greatsword. The benefits of playing roleplaying games as long as he had.


    ¡°Based on how you moved your body yesterday while I was assessing you,¡± Rolfun continued, pointing at each weapon in turn. ¡°I think these are the best potential choices of a weapon for you to begin familiarizing yourself with.¡±


    ¡°And I need to make a choice now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Alesin as she set down her own empty plate. ¡°Klarion, the Imperial Academy is as much a battlefield as it is a school. You¡¯ll be surrounded by people with ambitions, some of whom will stop at nothing to advance their own interests and who have trained their entire lives to be ready for the chance they might have to do so. You are already way behind the experiences and training of the other nobles who will be entering the Imperial Academy alongside you. The sooner you pick a weapon, the sooner we can start instructing you in the basics of its use.¡±


    ¡°Alright, that makes sense,¡± Klarion then turned his attention back to Rolfun. ¡°Before I make my choice, could you tell me why you picked these weapons for me?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Rolfun smiled, glad that Klarion hadn¡¯t simply picked one without consideration. ¡°Each of these weapons demands different strengths, different techniques. That being said, I chose them because they fit what I see to be your build and potential. But what you select is ultimately down to you.¡±


    Klarion reached down and lifted the first weapon, the warhammer. It was on the heavier side, but not uncomfortable in his grip. He lightly swung it a few times.


    ¡°The warhammer is a brutal weapon. Its strikes can crush bone and armor alike, but it is also slower, requiring more precision. Once you master it, the warhammer is perfect for overwhelming an enemy¡¯s defense.¡±


    He set the warhammer aside; it did not feel quite right to him. He moved to pick up the war axe next. Almost before he had it in his hands, Klarion already had the sense this would not be the weapon for him. Before Rolfun could explain the virtues of it, Klarion was already shaking his head and setting it back down. He looked to the swords.


    ¡°The longsword is all about balance. Wielded properly, it requires speed, precision, and strength. It is a good all-around weapon for someone starting to learn how to fight,¡± Rolfun said, pointing to the shorter of the two swords. The half-ogre then gestured at the last remaining weapon. ¡°The greatsword is a beast of a weapon, all about reach and power. While it is a heavy weapon, and a bit slower than the alternatives here, I prefer it for its ability to fight multiple enemies at once.¡±


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    ¡°So the greatsword is the weapon you use?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Rolfun said with some excitement, then glanced at Alesin as if asking permission. When she sighed and nodded, Rolfun eagerly reached into his spatial ring to pull out a massive greatsword, even larger than the one that he had placed for Klarion to examine. A pommel in the shape of a fanged skull was revealed first as Rolfun showed it to Klarion. The blade itself was nearly as long as Klarion was tall, forged from a darkened steel with a slight bluish hue. Given the new world he was in, it might be a different metal or perhaps magic of some sort was involved. Actually, given the slightly glowing runes etched along its length that he was just now making out, it was certainly enchanted. Rolfun hefted the blade effortlessly in one hand, grin growing even wider at how enraptured Klarion was with his pride and joy.


    ¡°I know you want to show him,¡± Alesin interjected from the side. ¡°Go ahead. Just keep the damage to a minimum.¡±


    Her husband nodded in thanks, pivoted and walked over to one of the trees ringing their campsite. ¡°Watch this,¡± he called over his shoulder. Raising the greatsword, still one-handed, Rolfun swung it down at the side of the tree. The blade did not appear to slow at all as it emerged from the side, but Klarion was not following Rolfun¡¯s swing. His eyes were fixed on the ice that followed in the wake of the greatsword. It expanded for another moment along the part of the trunk that Rolfun had slashed, then gave way with a sound similar to shattering glass. Reaching out, Rolfun deftly pushed the tree to fall back into the forest rather than into their campsite. It landed with an awfully loud crash.


    ¡°I said keep the damage to a minimum!¡± Alesin said, exacerbated.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Rolfun said, scratching his head. ¡°I think I was just a little too excited to show him.¡±


    Klarion walked over to inspect the downed tree while his escorts argued. The trunk looked like it had been sliced clean through by Rolfun¡¯s sword at first, but the spread of the ice along the cut and the resulting slam against the ground had ripped jagged splinters out along the whole length of the blow. The damage was beyond impressive for such a light blow, and Klarion was sure it was the least of what Rolfun was likely capable of.


    Klarion imagined what it would be like to wield such a dangerous weapon. The sheer power it would give him, and how intimidating it would be for any enemies. And there would likely be many of them, given how Alesin and Rolfun had been talking to him about what life would be like at the Imperial Academy, given the noble house he belonged to. He also had to admit to himself that, in the roleplaying games he had played with his friends, he had always enjoyed the sessions where he had played a character who wielded a greatsword. Placing himself in the position of those characters, he could already imagine how satisfying the weight of the weapon would feel in his grip and how every swing would carve a path through those who sought to kill him.


    ¡°I think I have made my decision.¡± Klarion stepped over and picked up the greatsword with a grunt. It was a bit heavier than he expected. Hopefully, he would get strong enough, quick enough, that he wouldn¡¯t be encumbered by it for long.


    Rolfun and Alesin ceased arguing over the half-ogre¡¯s need to control his strength as they heard Klarion make his decision. Alesin rolled her eyes, since it would not be the weapon she would have advised, but she had guessed it was going to be a forgone conclusion given the demonstration her husband had given. For Rolfun¡¯s part, he looked excited that the young lord of House Blacksword had selected the weapon that he himself preferred and had spent so much time mastering.


    ¡°Excellent choice!¡± Rolfun reached into his spatial ring to pull out a simple leather harness. Gesturing Klarion over, he showed him how to wear it, and then secured the greatsword to his back. It felt awkward at first like he was being pulled to his right, but Rolfun simply adjusted the straps a bit so that it sat more comfortably. Once it was in place, the half-ogre showed him a quick release in the strap so that he could pull the blade free quickly if needed. He practiced it a few times to get used to it.


    ¡°Today you are going to get used to carrying your new weapon around. Depending how comfortable you move with it, we might start some simple lessons tonight.¡±


    ¡°So get used to it as quickly as I can, since I don¡¯t have a lot of time,¡± Klarion responded.


    ¡°That you don¡¯t,¡± Alesin nodded in agreement, moving to begin packing away everything in her own spatial ring. ¡°We need to get moving. Though there is some time yet, there is a hard deadline to get you to the Imperial Academy so you can enroll for the current year. If we are late¡­ well, we will make sure you aren¡¯t late.¡±


    ¡°Do you need my help packing up?¡±


    ¡°No, we have it handled. Just make sure you¡¯re ready to go in a few minutes.¡± Alesin put the rest of her cooking equipment away. While Rolfun moved to put the weapons and table back into his ring, she made her way over to the tents, ducking inside the one she had shared with her husband the night before.


    ¡°Hey, Rolfun,¡± Klarion said, stepping over to the half-ogre. ¡°I was going to ask earlier, but that is a spatial ring, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, though it¡¯s only a common, small one. The larger ones are too expensive for Alesin and I to be able to afford.¡± Rolfun finished putting the table back into his ring. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you recognized what it is. Does your homeworld have these items as well?¡±


    ¡°No, or at least not that I have ever heard of. I actually recognized it from similar items that were in some of the games that I played with my friends.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. Well, luckily for you, you will be able to afford one far better than mine at some point. Probably during your time at the Imperial Academy too.¡±


    ¡°Everything is packed and it¡¯s time to go. Same order as yesterday, with you in the middle of us,¡± Alesin said to Klarion, having finished putting the tents away. She tossed Rolfun¡¯s backpack to him and pulled on her own. She jumped a few times, then adjusted the straps to secure it better. Satisfied, she again focused on Klarion. ¡°Today¡¯s going to be harder for you, Klarion. I¡¯m sure you are sore, but we need to go a bit further today to get to the next camping site. The whole way, we are going to take it in turns to begin teaching you about everything you need to know before you arrive at the Imperial Academy. Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I will do my best to keep up and absorb everything you both can teach me,¡± Klarion said. ¡°Don¡¯t go easy on me. I want to be as ready as I can be for the Imperial Academy.¡±

 Chapter 21

    Klarion almost came to regret the eagerness of his reply to his escorts, that they not go easy on him. They took him at his word, starting in the first hour of the rest of the journey. What he had thought initially would be a short journey was quickly proven wrong. Exhausted and more sore than he could ever remember being outside of his physical therapy, he had asked Alesin how many days they had before they arrived at their destination.


    She had responded that they still had about two weeks to go.


    Relief that he had more time to learn from them quickly turned to numb horror after how intense the night¡¯s exercises ended up being. And they had gotten him up even earlier to start the next leg of the journey. Each day they traveled through the dense, shadowed trees was more grueling than the last. Even step was heavier than the one that came before, his muscles screaming in protest at the relentless pace set by the sun elf and half-ogre. He couldn¡¯t even zone out, either. Every hour spent moving from one campsite to the next was spent drilling into him as much as they could tell him about life in the Empire and what he would need to know to fit in to some degree. Klarion tried his best to pay attention as much as he could, especially because the information they shared was often followed by quizzes, but he half-suspected that he had forgotten more than he had memorized. At one of his lower points, he had admitted as such to Alesin. She had confessed to him that he was actually exceeding what they expected him to retain, given the rigorous pace they set. For the span of a few minutes, that had made him feel better, but then the pain of the pace Rolfun set had washed that feeling away.


    The only thing worse than traveling with the experienced bondsmen of his family¡¯s House was the training in the evenings once they stopped to set up camp. At least an hour every night was spent learning the rudimentary ways of wielding his new greatsword. Even when he couldn¡¯t lift his arms anymore, Rolfun had insisted he could continue practicing how to dodge his strikes. And when he could no longer dodge his strikes, the half-ogre would push him to do physical exercises until every single one of his already aching muscle groups felt like they had been pushed past human endurance.


    And it did not end there either.


    When he wasn¡¯t physically practicing with Rolfun, Alesin had him running a wide range of mental exercises to deal with various combat scenarios. From the start she had emphasized the importance of learning everything about his enemies possible, whether that be through thorough research and preparation or simply astute observation if he was suddenly attacked. Simple scenarios quickly turned complex, and he was gradually taught the different ways to use terrain and the environment to gain an advantage. She even began teaching him about the fundamentals of what combat with those who could use magic could look like. Those last ones he particularly struggled with. Without having experienced magic before and missing so much knowledge on it that many nobility were exposed to from a young age, it was just taking him a longer time to fully grasp. With how much she grilled him, Klarion was just as mentally exhausted as he was physically so by the end of each night.


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    The only reason he was able to survive the trip, let alone continue the training they subjected him to, was the fact that Alesin and Rolfun had a supply of what they called minor healing potions that he drank every night after dinner before he was carried to bed. Within seconds of drinking them, the pain and soreness faded to a dull ache, and his mind eased enough that he could fall asleep. He didn¡¯t remember many of the dreams from those nights, which probably was a good thing, given how much he needed a good night¡¯s sleep. What he did remember, however, were all the thoughts he had before he fell asleep.


    He would be lying there, bundled up in the tent that Alesin or Rolfun had set up for him, wondering if he could truly keep up. The new world he was in was so very different, and given what Alesin and Rolfun were trying to teach him, so much larger than he had imagined would be possible. The Imperial Academy loomed in his thoughts like a distant storm. Each day it came closer, and he still had no real clue how to navigate the intricacies of being a noble and a high-ranking one at that. And once he got there, he would be surrounded by those who had at least a decade of preparation and an entire lifetime living under the System.


    Worse were the thoughts that continued to plague him that he was falling behind where he needed to be in order to help Earth when it was Integrated into the System. His family and friends were completely unprepared, just as he had been before being saved by Franz. Every day he struggled to keep pace with Alesin and Rolfun in a world he barely understood, let alone could excel in. What if he wasn¡¯t powerful or influential enough when the time came? What if all his efforts weren¡¯t enough to protect them from the coming apocalypse? The questions haunted him each night, sinking deeper into his mind each time he thought about the future. Failure was not an option, but it was beginning to feel like a looming inevitability.


    For all his fears, however, Klarion continued to put forth every effort he could to answer just one more question correctly or last just one minute longer in his sparring than he had the day before. The first week was hard, but after that, he thought he began to see a change in his progress. The answers to Alesin¡¯s random quizzes came quicker and more accurately. The sparring with Rolfun lasted longer, and he even occasionally got a glancing blow in. While he knew he had quite a ways to go yet, the fact that he seemed to be getting better helped offset some of the despair he was still feeling about the future.

 Chapter 22 (Interlude 2)

    It was nearly two weeks into escorting Klarion to the portal that would take him on to the Imperial Academy and Alesin was exhausted. The young lord had just finished drinking the minor healing potion that Rolfun had given him after their sparring session, and he would soon be asleep in his tent.


    Her husband made sure their charge was settled for the night and, once he was sure the young lord was asleep, came over to where Alesin sat on the ground by the fire. Alesin made the smile that she saved only for him as her husband partially slumped to the ground behind her and pulled her into his arms. Rolfun nuzzled into her fair, breathing deep of her scent before letting out a contented sigh.


    ¡°It is a good thing we only have a few more days left,¡± Rolfun said, exhaustion clear in his voice. ¡°That young lord is running me ragged and I could use a break.¡±


    While it had endeared the young lord to them when he had so easily gone with the need to set aside his title until they got him safely to the portal in the nearest settlement, they had taken to referring to him as such in the privacy of their warded campsites once Lord Klarion was asleep. To say she and her husband were impressed by him would be an understatement. Though they themselves were elites well within the middle ranks of House Blacksword, the young lord had continued to keep up with the grueling pace they had set for him. As such, it seemed only fitting that they refer to him properly, as long as it didn¡¯t get in the way of their mission.


    ¡°I hear you, my love,¡± Alesin said, leaning back against her husband¡¯s broad chest. ¡°If you had told me weeks ago how exhausting it would be to train Lord Klarion, who does not have a class or even a level under his belt yet, I would have insisted that you go to a healer to make sure you didn¡¯t have a head injury.¡±


    Rolfun snorted in amusement. ¡°And I would have gone too, thinking that I had perhaps had my bell wrung one too many times by the Commander to tell you that.¡± Her husband reached up and began gently kneading her shoulders. She let out a sigh of contentment as her husband began working her sore muscles.


    ¡°What I don¡¯t understand,¡± Alesin said after enjoying the massage for a few minutes, ¡°is why Klarion was even on a planet outside the System in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Well, the powers of the Archduke are great, it would ha¡ª¡±


    Alesin snorted in amusement, interrupting her husband explaining the obvious to her. ¡°Yes. I am aware of the powers that the Archduke has, as well as some he is only rumored to have. I also know a bit more from my mentor about some few others sworn to House Blacksword, and there are at least a half dozen individuals capable of sending a boy through a portal into a world outside the System, like the one Klarion comes from.¡± She sighed, though this time it was one of frustration rather than out of enjoyment of the feel of her husband¡¯s fingers on her shoulders. ¡°No, what I mean is, why was Lord Klarion sent to such a world in the first place? It¡¯s clear from the last few weeks we have spent with him that Lord Klarion will become a powerful and important asset to House Blacksword soon after graduation from the Imperial Academy, if not before.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean, love,¡± Rolfun agreed, his fingers shifting to work on a particularly stubborn knot. Her breathing eased as his pressing gradually loosened it. ¡°The young lord is a good student, completely free from the arrogance that so many of the nobility his age seem to suffer from. I can¡¯t even mention how well he is doing, as I don¡¯t want him to develop an ego about it. Better that he goes into his first year at the Imperial Academy humble and cautious. Combined with how he is doing under your testing and my combat training, I would think whoever made the decision to send him away will be removed from House Blacksword entirely once he arrives at the Imperial Academy and those at the school begin to get to know him.¡±


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    ¡°I can¡¯t believe his progress myself. Did you hear how I told him that all this training and the exercises I am running him through are the absolute basics that nobles his age are already expected to know?¡± She ran a shaking hand through her hair. ¡°Blood and Ash! I made up my mind earlier today to ask him about what he would do in a scenario where he was commanding a smaller force in battle against a stronger enemy. I barely finished explaining the specifics of each force, which put his own at a disadvantage, and he pulled a completely unconventional strategy out of thin air. And you know the craziest part?¡±


    ¡°Let me guess. His strategy would have given him at least an even chance at winning?¡±


    Alesin snorted in amusement. ¡°Better than that. The way he outlined it and presented the logic that underlay his decisions, I¡¯d expect him to win more often than not. Unlike most of the nobles we have served with, I expect Lord Klarion might have some potential as a leader in war.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Rolfun leaned back away from her, rolling his shoulders as he worked to loosen his own muscles, ¡°am I right in guessing that you have moved into more advanced topics across the board?¡±


    ¡°The young lord is like a sponge. I had planned just to share a few more advanced things, but the rate he has been going, I¡¯ll have to cut myself off from exposing him to more complicated knowledge for fear of what he learns now getting in the way of what he will learn at the Imperial Academy. Blood and Ash!¡± She swore again. ¡°Some of this advanced material not even the majority of nobles would be expected to know until they are in the Imperial Academy itself! And the terrifying thing is he doesn¡¯t just absorb it either! He understands it and builds off his knowledge!¡±


    ¡°Quiet, quiet my love,¡± Rolfun shushed her. ¡°We don¡¯t want to wake the young lord.¡±


    She shifted on the ground to face her husband. Gesturing for him to face the other way, she then reached out and began kneading his shoulders to work on the knots he had developed during the day.


    ¡°I can tell he is going to be an impressive student regarding tactics and strategy, but what do you think of him in terms of combat itself?¡±


    ¡°Impressive seems to fall short,¡± Rolfun groaned out the words as Alesin began working his shoulders. ¡°It had been my intention to only show him a few basic moves and get him used to carrying a greatsword. Ideally, he would get to the point that he wouldn¡¯t embarrass himself too much once he began working with the combat instructors of the Imperial Academy.¡± He let out his own snort of amusement. ¡°I, too, had to throw away my plans. These last few nights, he has continued to surprise me nearly every time we spar.¡± Rolfun tapped his left hand against his armored side. ¡°Lord Klarion got another glancing blow against me tonight. I even felt it through my armor! He moved a half-step quicker than I figured his stats would be able to support, and I lashed out instinctively in response.¡±


    She paused in working his muscles. A young lord of House Blacksword, even as amenable as Lord Klarion so far appeared to be, would be a frightening enemy if he took offense from training with her husband. She was already running through her mind a few options for gifts to present in an apology to him. ¡°How did he take the blow?¡±


    ¡°Alesin,¡± Rolfun reached up to gently take her slight hands in his own massive fists. ¡°Lord Klarion dodged the blow.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°He dodged it,¡± Rolfun repeated. ¡°Thank the Emperor and the Seven Princes that he is agreeable as he is too. While the strike I lashed out with was only slightly stronger than what I had been practicing with him to that point, any other Lord would have berated me for it. Instead, Lord Klarion took it as a reward for having his having pushed me!¡±


    Alesin barely heard the rest of the story of the most recent sparring match with the young lord. All she could focus on was that Lord Klarion, fresh to the system, without a single level, let alone a class, had caused her husband, an experienced trainer of soldiers and young nobles a part of House Blacksword, to go beyond the force he had intended with a strike.


    ¡°All while being without his first level or a class,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°All while being without his first level or a class,¡± Rolfun agreed.


    They both turned their gazes to the tent in which Lord Klarion was sleeping. Their faces were stoic to the casual observer, but to those who knew them well, they would have seen what looked suspiciously like a hint of shock and awe on their faces. Though they both still had to rein in their significant strength and powers, the fact that they had to even adjust them the slightest bit on this short escort mission spoke to the speed at which the young lord was improving.


    What kind of monster were they escorting?

 Chapter 23

    The days had been blurring together for a while now, but despite how exhausted his mind and body were, Klarion was pretty sure they were getting close to the two-week mark in their journey. It had taken him longer than he had wanted, given how much was on the line, but he felt like he had finally learned enough to not stand out like a sore thumb when he joined the Imperial Academy. Most of the questions Alesin was asking him, on strategy or otherwise, he was starting to get right. Even the brutal training Rolfun was subjecting him too seemed to be getting a little easier. The greatsword, despite its massive heft, was also starting to feel more comfortable secured to his back in its harness. He had a suspicion that these changes were likely due to improvements in his stats, but he resisted the urge to look at the improvements he had made.


    He turned his attention back to his escorts. For slightly more than the last hour, both Alesin and Rolfun had stopped sharing information they thought he would need to know to pass as one of the nobility. If he was honest with himself, Klarion was starting to get a bit nervous. After so many days of going over the basic history of the Empire and the ins and outs of combat, the lack of voices was starting to unnerve him. Just before he could ask what was going on, Rolfun raised a hand to halt him. When he and Alesin came to a stop, his half-ogre escort directed them to follow him behind a cluster of nearby trees. Though his eyes were fixed on the ground as they walked, Rolfun spoke quietly to them both.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done well in your training to this point, Klarion,¡± Rolfun acknowledged. ¡°But you need to experience real combat with that greatsword after being Integrated into the System to know what fighting is truly like.¡± Apparently finding what he was searching for, he pointed to some slight indentations in the loam. ¡°And I think we have found the perfect enemy for you to get that experience.¡±


    Getting down on his knees, Klarion looked closely at the ground where Rolfun was pointing. While he could see the indentations slightly better from up close, he still could not make out exactly what they indicated. ¡°What am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°These,¡± Rolfun traced out the deepest curved indentation then pointed to several smaller marks in the ground, ¡°are the tracks of a Forest Goblin.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s mind immediately went back to a campaign he had done with his friends that had featured a goblin they had adopted from a forest. Initially, it had been a violent creature, but through diligent training, they had taught it common and how to move beyond its initial savage nature. By the end of that dozen sessions, the goblin they named Maybe had become an integral part of their team. While he knew those sessions had no bearing in reality, Klarion still was not sure how he felt about hunting down something that could speak back to him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can hunt down a Forest Goblin, Rolfun.¡±


    Alesin put a comforting hand on his shoulder, her voice calm yet firm. ¡°Don¡¯t let misplaced sympathy get in the way of hunting goblinoids, especially Forest Goblins. They are some of the most vile, twisted creatures that infest the border regions and frontiers of all civilized places in the Multiverse. Their cruelty is well known by those who fight to protect those who are part of the Empire - pillaging, torturing, enslaving. Forest Goblins have done all that and more. Entire settlements across many worlds freshly Integrated into the Empire have been wiped out because of their evil.¡± She shook her head, eyes unfocused slightly, apparently partially lost in some memories of her own.


    ¡°No. You are not taking innocent lives.¡± Rolfun continued where Alesin left off. ¡°You are protecting our people. Your people. Hunting down even a single Forest Goblin will lead to the prevention of more suffering. You will simply be joining in on the efforts of countless soldiers of the Empire who have made it their duty to rid the land of evils like these creatures.¡± His eyes focused back on his, and there seemed to be a darkness deep within them. ¡°You are simply killing something that needs to be killed, and there is no shame in that.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Klarion swallowed hard, his hand drifting back to grasp the hilt of the greatsword that Rolfun had given him. He didn¡¯t want to believe Rolfun and Alesin, but something in the tone of what they said resonated with his own experiences back on Earth. As hard as it had been, in the city of Volksturm he had still lived a life largely free from want. A hard one, sure, and he had never been sure whether his hopes to become a doctor would pan out, but still a good life. Even then he knew of many who had suffered in the city as it continued to decay under the gradually expanding influence of the gangs. Members of some of those gangs from back then sounded a lot like how his escorts, no his friends, were describing the Forest Goblins now. If he truly trusted both of them, he had to trust that they knew what they were talking about now. Klarion nodded slowly, the tension easing in his chest. ¡°I will do it.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Rolfun crouched back down to creep forward between the trees, the way he moved his massive frame continuing to surprise Klarion with how stealthy he was for his size. As Klarion came up next to him, the half-ogre gestured at some deeper impressions. ¡°There, see how the tracks deepen? The goblin slowed down. Likely resting or distracted. With how fresh they are, it should still be close.¡± He turned fully to Klarion, reaching out to grab his shoulder. ¡°This is your hunt now. Do the best you can. We will be watching.¡±


    Standing up from his squat, Rolfun moved to let him take the lead. When he shifted his stance, Klarion glanced behind him, only to see that neither the half-ogre nor the sun elf were anywhere in sight. Where a few weeks ago he would have frozen in fear at the apparent abandonment in a strange forest far from home, the training he had been going through under their care had instilled a bit more confidence in him. Rather than fear, all Klarion felt was determination as he began following the tracks. They had put so much time and effort into teaching him what he would need to survive at the Imperial Academy.


    He didn¡¯t want to let them down.


    Klarion followed the tracks for what he guessed to be about another hundred feet deeper into the trees. Only the slight rustling of leaves underfoot accompanied him as he moved. The terrain sloped downwards to a small creek, the water trickling by softly over smoothed rocks.


    It would have been a peaceful scene except for the goblin gnawing away at what looked to be a piece of raw meat. Its ugly, twisted features were bent over its hands as it greedily tore away at its meal with blackened fangs. Oblivious to his approach, the Forest Goblin was a bit smaller than Klarion expected, but its wiry build and sharp claws were still a clear enough threat that he would not make the mistake of taking the creature lightly.


    This is it. Don¡¯t overthink it. Stay come, move fast, strike faster. If you miss, it won¡¯t hesitate to kill you first. His previously calm heart began to pound in his chest, though he was surprised to find it was a mix of fear and excitement rather than just pure terror at the prospect of violence. He really had changed. Before he could second guess himself, Klarion went from standing still to a full sprint down the slope to the creek. Three strides in and the Forest Goblin hadn¡¯t moved.


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    But then he slipped.


    Books skidding along the grass, he caught himself with a muffled curse. The Forest Goblin¡¯s long ears twitched in his direction, but Klarion only increased his pace. Eager hands reached for the quick release on his greatsword just as the Forest Goblin began to turn. Between one stride and the next, his thumb found purchase, and then the hilt was coming free in his hands. Flinging his other arm up, he grabbed the hilt to pull the blade free, turning the draw into a plunging blow just as the Forest Goblin made eye contact with him. Its eyes were deep red and roiling with rage.


    Klarion slammed his blade downwards.


    But he was too eager. Or the Forest Goblin was too lucky.


    His greatsword easily parted the left arm from shoulder, but Klarion knew it would not be enough as the Forest Goblin ignored to grisly wound to lunch towards his throat, fangs gapping and other clawed hand extended. A whistling shriek erupted from the monster as it lunged at him.


    Klarion¡¯s first block was clumsy, but he did halt the Forest Goblin¡¯s frantic lunge. His second was better, and the third was nigh perfect from what Rolfun had shown him for fighting an unarmed opponent. Seeing a brief opening, Klarion leaned to the side and brought his blade whipping around with a grunt of exertion.


    And just like that, it was over.


    The Forest Goblin¡¯s head bounced into the lazy stream. Green blood painted his sword and his side when the rest of the corpse fell into him. Kicking it away, Klarion took a deep breath, then let it out. Again surprised, he found that the knowledge that he had just killed another being rolled over him easier than he had expected. Perhaps it was what Alesin and Rolfun had said.


    Then he saw what the Forest Goblin had been eating.


    The corpse had come to rest next to the remains of the Forest Goblin¡¯s meal. At first it just looked like a haunch of flesh, but as Klarion looked closer, it was clear that some of the remaining nubs had been fingers on an arm that looked slightly too small for an adult man.


    Klarion immediately threw up all over his feet. Still handing his greatsword, he jabbed the tip of his blade into the ground, in the moment not remembering how Rolfun had told him never to do that. He wiped the back of his free hand across his mouth to remove the remains of the vomit. Wha¡ªNo, who the hell had the Forest Goblin been eating?!


    Klarion stood there, panting heavily, before he heard Alesin and Rolfun cry out in unison from back up the incline.


    ¡°Duck!¡±


    Trusting them implicitly, Klarion gripped the hilt of his greatsword with both hands, and dove forward across the ground. Turning his dive into an awkward roll, as he didn¡¯t want to accidentally cut himself with his blade, Klarion came back to his feet staring at a massive Forest Goblin that had appeared just behind where he had been standing, two wicked-looking daggers extended in a blow. Klarion was horrified to see how closely the creature had come to stabbing him in the back.


    The Forest Goblin gave him a wicked grin, red blood staining its lips, and vanished into black smoke just as a blast of flame came roaring through where it had been standing. The clash of blade against blade and a roar from Rolfun came down to him then.


    ¡°Klarion, three behind you!¡± Alesin called out as she stepped into view, hands juggling what looked to be spheres of orange fire. She threw them one after the other at the dagger-wielding Forets Goblin as it appeared in another burst of smoke in the tree above her head.


    Pivoting, Klarion again put all his strength into wiping his greatsword around in a full-body parry, not knowing how close his foes were but hoping he was fast enough to block their first blows.


    It was a good thing he did.


    His blade came whipping around, right into the path of three Forest Goblins lunging forward with rusty swords. They were smaller, closer in size to the one he had already killed. But that didn¡¯t matter, as they all worked together to put him on his heels. In short order he had two light slashes down his leading leg and a small chunk of flesh missing from his forearm from where one of his foes had darted in for a quick bite.Bringing in his blade close across his body, he blocked several more lunges, but it was not going to be enough if he had to keep fighting them by himself. Grimacing in pain, Klarion began to feel the first stirring of panic deep in his chest.


    What if this was it?


    The question echoed in his thoughts, but before despair could sink its talons into him, a cold, almost malevolent anger burst into being within the deepest part of him. Time seemed to slow, and the viciously gleeful faces of the Forest Goblins in front of him slowly morphed into confusion, then terror as Klarion¡¯s eyes sharpened and mouth opened.


    He roared.


    Speed returned as Klarion took advantage of their terror to put everything he had into a lunging slash that caused his greatsword to whistle through the air. Terror turned to horror in three faces as the blade caught the first in the chest and, barely slowing, cut the other two in half at the waist.


    Klarion stumbled slightly, exhaustion suddenly hitting him. He began to slump to the ground when suddenly strong, grey arms were there holding him up.


    ¡°Easy there, easy. I got you.¡± Rolfun¡¯s voice came from above his shoulder. The massive half-ogre gently lowered him to the ground, lifting the greatsword from his grip as he sat. ¡°Just take it easy for a moment. First, real fights are always hard.¡±


    Klarion was tired, so tired, but he knew that something was off. ¡°Where is Alesin? Is she alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry your head,¡± Rolfun reassured him. The fact that the giant Berserker was completely calm gave his words more weight. ¡°She is off hunting down some stragglers. Nothing she can¡¯t handle. Should be back in a few minutes. Now, if you don¡¯t mind, could you tell me what happened with that roar you made?¡±


    ¡°My yell?¡±


    ¡°No, young lord,¡± Rolfun snorted. ¡°If that was a yell, even the teacher¡¯s at school are going to want to avoid making you mad.¡±


    ¡°Was it loud?¡±


    ¡°¡®Was it loud?¡¯ he says,¡± Rolfun said, this time with a real laugh. He pointed at the corpses next to him then jabbed a thumb into his own chest. ¡°The sound you made not only caused those three to freeze outright, but I even staggered a half step from the force of it. I don¡¯t know where it came from, Klarion. But whatever you just did has all the hallmarks of being some skill that you will unlock once you get a class.¡±


    Before Klarion could ask any of the questions that Rolfun¡¯s comments brought to mind, Alesin burst from the trees in a cloak of flame. Arms outthrust, she slammed into the ground the remains of the Forest Goblin that almost had killed him earlier.


    ¡°Is he alright?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely fine,¡± Rolfun said before Klarion could respond. ¡°Did better than we expected, honestly. Though I¡¯m still not sure where that roar came from. Best guess is a skill leaking through in the stress of combat.¡±


    ¡°You mean almost dying.¡±


    Rolfun shook his head. ¡°Klarion, despite what it seemed like, you were never in any real danger. Though a few stronger Forest Goblins surprised us, I was still a heartbeat away from crushing those three with my fists before they could get another blow in. I didn¡¯t even have to draw my own weapon.¡± Rolfun patted his shoulder, the force almost pushing him back down into the dirt. ¡°No matter what, the only outcome possible for this fight was the one that happened.¡±


    Klarion nodded in response, somewhat mollified. Admittedly, what Rolfun was saying made sense. Even though he hadn¡¯t seen the true strength of either of his friends yet, he could well guess that House Blacksword would not send escorts that could not handle the monsters of the forest they were traveling through.


    ¡°So?¡± Alesin asked.


    ¡°So what?¡±


    The sun elf shook her head in exacerbation, dismissing the cloak of flame that surrounded her body. ¡°So, have you looked at your Character Sheet? How many levels did you gain? I¡¯m guessing at least three, given you killed four lower-level Forest Goblins and indirectly contributed against a few more.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Since he hadn¡¯t checked in days now, Klarion had almost forgotten that he essentially lived in a game world now. Steeling himself, he mentally opened his character sheet. What he saw caused him to freeze in shock.

 Chapter 24

    Klarion was in disbelief, staring at the status window that now floated in front of him. He blinked twice, but the numbers did not lie.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 1 (Free Points = 30)


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Strength: 14 => 24


    Dexterity: 11 => 19


    Vitality: 20 => 35


    Endurance: 21 => 43


    Intelligence: 18 => 27


    Wisdom: 10 => 17


    Charisma: 7 => 10


    Luck: 4 => 6


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: N/A


    Abilities: N/A


    Every one of his stats had increased, some significantly. He could hardly believe that these were his stats after only two weeks. While he had no point of reference to judge the rate at which he had grown, it was clear that the relentless training under both Rolfun and Alesin had pushed him well past his physical and mental limits. There was even a new number on display next to his updated level of one. Thirty points apparently waited to be allocated in some way, but much like the rest of his growth, he had no idea if the number was good or bad compared to others.


    ¡°So? How many levels did you gain?¡± Alesin asked, as he had been staring quietly at his character sheet.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Klarion apologized with a frown. ¡°It looks like I only gained a single level.¡±


    ¡°Oh! That is¡­ strange¡­¡± Alesin responded with concern while her husband crossed his arms and frowned as well. ¡°Not to question you, Klarion, but you are looking at the right place on your character sheet, right? The third row at the top?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion said somewhat softer, wondering if he had perhaps messed up some how. ¡°Still just says level one, and it expanded to say I have a number of free points.¡±


    ¡°Well, that is¡­ disappointing,¡± Rolfun said with a grimace. ¡°Normally level zeros without a class gain experience at a large enough amount from fighting that they level quickly until they reach ten.¡± He turned to Alesin. ¡°Perhaps our presence interfered in some way?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Alesin shrugged. ¡°But it really shouldn¡¯t have.¡± She turned back to Klarion. ¡°Well, there isn¡¯t much we can do about it. So. How many free points do you have? If it¡¯s ten then you should be in good shape for leveling your stats while at the Imperial Academy, but don¡¯t be too disheartened if you fall short. There are ways to get around those limitations as you level since you will have the resources of House Blacksword upon graduation.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit more than five,¡± Klarion said in a soft voice, the shock of what she said flashing through him like lightning. The smiles on their faces got bigger as he continued. ¡°It¡¯s actually more than ten as well.¡±


    Rolfun laughed and clapped a massive hand on his back, sending Klarion stumbling slightly. ¡°Ha! I knew you were going to turn out to be an elite of the next generation of House Blacksword. Alright, go on. Tell us. How many free points do you get per level? Is it twelve? Fifteen?¡±


    ¡°I get thirty free points.¡± Klarion continued speaking into the sudden, deafening silence, as if he needed to clarify the absolute absurdity of what he was saying. ¡°Thirty free points. Per level.¡±


    For a long, glacial moment, Rolfun and Alesin stood frozen at his side. So still did they stand, that any observer would almost think them statues. Rolfun¡¯s hand tensed on his shoulder.


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    ¡°Alesin.¡±


    ¡°One mile.¡±


    With those three words, Alesin burst into flame. The cloak of fire she had been wearing earlier expanded to include a hood and boots made entirely of the substance. Reins on her power cast off, the sun elf bent her knees then blasted herself into the air over the tree tops. As soon as she disappeared through the leaves, Klarion heard a series of short blasts that gradually faded into the distance. The whole time, Rolfun¡¯s hand held Klarion still.


    ¡°She is better at picking up on the presence of monsters, and spies, than I am,¡± Rolfun responded to the question Klarion had been about to ask. ¡°She will check a mile circle around us to make sure we are clear, and that no one overheard¡­¡± the half-ogre hesitated, ¡°¡­that absurd, and profoundly dangerous, claim you just made.¡±


    For the briefest moment, as he stared at Rolfun, Klarion got the sense from his friend that he was truly out of his depth. While thirty points had seemed high to Klarion, the reaction of both of his escorts indicated that it might well be something more than that.


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait for the all-clear from Alesin,¡± Rolfun said as he turned his attention to the surrounding trees, his hand gripping even tighter on Klarion¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t resist me if she says we need to move.¡±


    The next few minutes were some of the longest of Klarion¡¯s life. As the time slowly seeped away, he couldn¡¯t stop the questions raging through his mind. What did thirty free points mean? Should he have kept the number to himself? And the most terrifying question of all: What did that number mean to his escorts? Finally, Alesin returned in a final burst of flame, the fires that garbed her flaring away all at once upon her landing. Breathing a bit heavily, she shook her head. They were clear.


    All at once the tension in Rolfun¡¯s body dissipated. Klarion, however, remained tense. He still did not know exactly what this all meant.


    ¡°Could one of you tell me exactly what¡¯s going on?¡± he blurted out.


    As if remembering where his hand was, Rolfun snatched it away from Klarion¡¯s shoulder like it was he that was just recently on fire rather than his wife. Stepping back to come beside his wife, and apparently overwhelmed with the significance of what was going on, Rolfun bowed his head and slammed his fist to his chest in salute. ¡°My apologies, Lord Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Rolfun,¡± Klarion said in as light-hearted a tone as he could muster in the stress of the moment. ¡°I thought we went over this weeks ago. You don¡¯t have to address me like that.¡±


    ¡°Lord, it is an ingrained habit, and one which brings a feeling of security with it in situations like this. You¡¯ll have to forgive him¡­us.¡± Alesin said slowly.


    ¡°And what exactly is this situation?¡±


    ¡°The fact that you could easily be as powerful as a member of the ruling Imperial family in time.¡± Alesin spoke with complete solemnity. ¡°It is not unprecedented, but it is exceedingly rare.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? And how rare?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit hard to put into context,¡± Alesin continued, as Rolfun still stood with his head bowed. Her eyes spied a leaf on the ground. Reaching down, she picked it up, showing it to Klarion while gesturing at the trees around them. ¡°Take this leaf, for example. While it¡¯s a nice one, being a pleasing shade of green and with four points, you only need to pick any tree around us and you can find hundreds, perhaps thousands more just like it. Now magnify that to include all the leaves in the forests of this world. That¡¯s how common those who gain five free points or less per level are within the System.¡±


    ¡°And ten free points?¡±


    ¡°Those who fit that criterion would be like the trees themselves,¡± she brandished the leaf at the bark of the nearest tree. ¡°Trillions of leaves on this world compared to billions of trees that shed them. Astronomically more rare.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ those that gain thirty free points?¡±


    Alesin opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it. She remained silent but shook her head. The sun elf shifted side to side before she looked at the ground as well.


    ¡°Alesin? Look at me, please,¡± Klarion almost begged. It was clear that, based on their reactions, the number of points he received per level was not only a blessing but perhaps a curse as well. ¡°I need to know. Just how much trouble am I in?¡±


    Alesin sighed but looked back up at him. ¡°Your existence might be likened to one of the most valuable trees in this world. The Soulwood Tree. Growing hundreds of feet in height, it possesses a bark that gleams silver in the moonlight and is crowned by iridescent leaves that shift colors during the season. When harvested, the wood itself carries an ethereal glow and has an inherent ability to absorb, channel, and amplify the magical abilities of its wielder once turned into weapons or armor. Its existence here is why the entire planet was fought for, then annexed into the Empire.¡±


    ¡°And how rare is this tree?¡±


    Alesin went silent again.


    Into that silence, Rolfun spoke words that shook Klarion to his core.


    ¡°A few thousand are estimated to remain on this entire planet,¡± Rolfun lifted his head to look into Klarion¡¯s eyes. ¡°Lord, most dream of ten free points. The strongest heroes are often only able to unlock barely fifteen free points per level. You could surpass the legends of the Empire¡¯s founding.¡±


    ¡°Once you unlock a class,¡± Alesin whispered with her eyes fixed on Klarion, in equal measures horrified and awestricken, ¡°the Emperor himself will be watching you.¡±

 Chapter 25

    When Rolfun and Alesin had revealed the truth to him, they had also told him a little about how others might learn what he had just revealed to them. Essentially, so long as he didn¡¯t put the points into anything, there was no way they could see how many free points he possessed. With how slowly he appeared to level in compensation for these gains, it would further obscure the situation. When he had asked why, both had simply shrugged and said it was a quirk of the System. They had then impressed in the strongest way possible of his need to keep this secret from everyone not sworn to him. Klarion had immediately asked for some time alone.


    While Rolfun and Alesin looted the bodies of the dead Forest Goblins, Klarion put his back firmly against the nearest tree, slid down to his knees, and sunk his head into his hands. It was one thing to think you were special but quite another to have it confirmed by something like the System. For the first time since he learned about what was going to happen to Earth, he felt like he had been given a break. That he truly might be able to make a difference. Perhaps he would even be able to save not only those he cared about but possibly many, many more than that.


    With all those positive feelings and hope, however, another more rational part of his mind was already looking ahead. To what would be coming even before he was ready and able to return to Earth. That other part of him still resisted the feeling of excitement that was welling up within him. Yes, he had monstrous potential if that rarity of his free points per level was truly so far apart from the vast majority of those within the system. But if there was one thing he knew from his awareness of politicians, actors, businessmen, well, anyone famous really back on Earth, it was those who stood out that not only attracted the most attention but also the most animosity from others.


    In this new world that he was gradually settling into, full of magic and nobility, every bit as power-hungry as those that had lived on Earth for so many centuries if it became known just how far he stood apart...


    Klarion lifted his head and mentally called up his character sheet. He stared at those thirty free points. His weeks-long training with Rolfun and Alesin had led to a large increase in stats, but it would be nothing compared to if he just dropped all thirty of those points into a single stat. He mentally hovered over Strength. What guy who grew up watching movies about superheroes did not dream about being able to suddenly punch through concrete? His attention flickered to Vitality. That might be an even better stat for him. Putting the points there might allow him the ability to finally push aside his secret fear that he might one day relapse into his sickened state. While he stared at that stat longer, he ultimately decided against allocating any of his free points.


    Given what Rolfun and Alesin had told him about free points, it would probably be a good idea to save them until he had enough levels that he could begin trickling them in here and there to shore up any of his stats that were lagging behind. Besides, until he knew the class he would be getting, it would also be better to save the free points until he knew if he needed to place them where they might have the greatest impact. For now, he would keep saving them.


    Decision made, Klarion stood up and made his way back over to Rolfun and Alesin. They were already done looting, as none of the Forest Goblins they had killed had much in the way of possessions. Alesin dropped the last metal dagger into her spatial ring, probably to sell later was Klarion¡¯s guess. Rolfun hadn¡¯t bothered looting anything, though he saw that he had sliced off the left ear of each of the corpses. As Klarion moved closer, he heard the half-ogre muttering about a bounty posted in the frontier town they were headed to. This was the first time he had heard anything said about the destination they were escorting him to.


    ¡°Could you tell me a bit more about the town?¡± Klarion asked as he rejoined them.


    ¡°Not much to say, really,¡± Rolfun said, slipping the last ear into his spatial ring. ¡°Thorn¡¯s Reach is much like any settlement you might expect to come across on an Imperial Frontier World like Verdant VI.¡±


    Klarion gave him a long, steady look.


    ¡°¡­But you wouldn¡¯t know anything about that, would you,¡± said Rolfun, scratching his head sheepishly.


    ¡°No, Rolfun, no, I wouldn¡¯t. Would you mind explaining?¡±


    ¡°Well, Thorn¡¯s Reach is nestled near the edge of the integrated Imperial territory on this world. It is built into a narrow valley, surrounded by towering jagged cliffs and the dense forest that we have been traveling through. It has been around for a little more than a decade now, so it has a decent-sized population and a Waypoint that goes directly to the Capital on this world. From there you will take the Portal on to the Imperial Academy of this Sector.¡±


    ¡°We should get going,¡± Alesin interjected. ¡°We have a bit less than a day to get there and we should be able to get close by tonight if we keep moving.¡±


    While Klarion was all for making it to the first real site of Imperial civilization, he glanced back towards the discarded arm that the initial Forest Goblin had been gnawing on. Alesin followed his gaze, eyes coming to rest on it as well.


    ¡°As someone sworn to House Blacksword, what would the protocol be for finding the remains of an Imperial subject like this?¡± Klarion was not so sure about what the situation would require, but despite his still real fears about being at risk due to his inexperience in fighting, he still hoped there would be something they could do.


    ¡°Normally we would required to investigate at the least,¡± Alesin said, clearly sympathetic. ¡°But this is not a normal situation. You, Klarion, are a scion of one of the most important noble houses in this sector of the Empire. Your safety takes precedence.¡±


    Klarion frowned at her response. Unfortunately, it made sense from what he had been gradually learning about the Empire. He was beginning to draw some uncomfortable parallels with the government of Volksturm back on Earth. The politicians there had spoken of the need to take care of the population as well. But for all the speeches and initiatives, it only ever seemed they were taking care of their own first and foremost. He hoped that wouldn¡¯t be the case here, but he wasn¡¯t holding his breath either.


    ¡°And if I instead asked for this to take priority first?¡± Klarion asked. ¡°Perhaps there will be nothing, but I feel that if there is a chance of helping someone, we should take it.¡±


    Alesin and Rolfun looked at each other, and the half-ogre shrugged abruptly.


    ¡°The Legion detachment at Thorn¡¯s Reach is clearly not doing proper patrols if someone got caught by Forest Goblins this close to the walls,¡± Rolfun said, his tone flat and angry. His gaze shifted to Klarion. ¡°While his safety takes priority, I think it would be safe to take a quick look without having to commit fully.¡±


    Seeing from Alesin¡¯s expression that she was starting to be swayed, Klarion was quite to chime in a promise that he hoped would bring her fully on board. ¡°I promise to stay back, away from any danger.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Alesin agreed. Clearly she wanted to intervene as well, but was struggling to balance the need to protect him. His promise to stay back was apparently enough. ¡°But we will need to hurry. There is no telling how long ago the attack would have occurred.¡±


    Getting Alesin¡¯s agreement, Rolfun was quick to lead them again. Rushing along, the half-ogre made good progress through the trees, but he never went so fast that Klarion would struggle to keep up. A few minutes in, Rolfun paused once to look at something on the ground. When Klarion kneeled to see what he was looking at, Rolfun pointed out the faint imprints of tracks that he said were Forest Goblin. They maintained a good pace, following the direction the tracks had come from, pausing now and again to verify they were still heading in the right direction. Both his escorts got progressively more grim as it increasingly looked like the ambush had taken place near to the area of the settlement that they were taking him.


    Rolfun slowed his pace to a gradual halt and gestured backward for silence. They had come to the edge of the forest, and Klarion could just make out an open area beyond the trees.


    Alesin hissed in anger, pulling both Rolfun and him up short. He spun around, initially worried that they had been spotted, but his sun elf escort hadn¡¯t summoned any of her fire magic. Instead, she stared at the roots of a nearby tree.


    Looking closer, Klarion gradually made out the reason for Alesin¡¯s outburst. Parly blending in with the shadows on the ground near the tree was a young elf boy covered in blood. Missing an arm and not moving, the elf was clearly dead.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got movement.¡±


    Rolfun¡¯s words brought their attention back to him. The half-ogre had pulled his greatsword and was leaning against a tree, looking beyond the edge of the forest. Alesin glanced around to make sure she hadn¡¯t missed anything; then, she stepped up next to her husband to get a view of what he was looking at. While he was curious himself, Klarion decided to stay back and under cover.


    ¡°There,¡± Rolfun gestured past what Klarion could make out. ¡°Looks like a small merchant family was caught returning to Thorn¡¯s Reach. Two covered wagons. Probably around a dozen people including escorts,¡± Rolfun said grimly. ¡°The Forest Goblin¡¯s probably set an ambush and waited for them. It looks like it happened yesterday, given how few stragglers remain.¡±


    Alesin stared a long moment more, then nodded. She turned back to Klarion, a deep frown on her face. ¡°We came to look like you¡­ like we wanted, but it doesn¡¯t look like there are any survivors.¡± His face must have shown a flicker of his angry thoughts because Alesin continued. ¡°If you step slowly, you can come next to us here to see the truth for yourself.¡±


    Taking the invitation, Klarion crept closer. As soon as he drew even with his escorts, Alesin gestured for him to look through the now sparse cover to what he now saw as being a dirt road that defiantly struck straight through the forest. A good hundred feet of trees and foliage had been cut back on either side, likely to make maintaining the simple road a bit easier, as well as decrease the odds of an ambush on any travelers.


    Not that it had worked this time.


    Half on and half off the road were two overturned wagons, clothing and small boxes scattered around them. A number had been torn open or smashed apart, spilling their contents over the ground. Apparently, the merchants had been transporting some sort of ore when they had been ambushed. Here and there were bloody stains that had pooled in the grass and dirt. He could smell the dried blood from where he stood.


    But no bodies remained in sight.


    Klarion could just make out what looked to be a single bloody track that went back into the trees on the opposite side from where the three of them hid from view. Remembering the first Forest Goblen he had fought and what it had been eating, Klarion glanced over at Alesin to confirm his suspicions.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, still grim, before he could ask. ¡°The bodies were likely taken back to the main tribe to be eaten.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing we can do?¡±


    ¡°The chances of any survivors is now zero. We are too late to do anything.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°So we should just continue to Thorn¡¯s Reach?¡±


    Rolfun reached out and gently pulled him back to stand closer to Alesin. ¡°Not quite yet. There is something we need to do first.¡± He turned to Alesin. ¡°Do you mind watching over him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she glanced at Klarion. He knew he looked confused at the direction the conversation was going. ¡°Wait until they fully commit to go all out. No survivors.¡±


    ¡°No survivors,¡± Rolfun agreed with a nod.


    In a surge, the half-ogre charged between the trees toward the wagons. He was barely halfway there when Klarion heard a series of shrieking cries from the direction the bodies had apparently been taken. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as the number continued to increase.


    ¡°What is going on?¡±


    Alesin had shifted from looking after Rolfun to glancing at the trees that were nearest them. She answered him without pulling her attention away from their surroundings. ¡°Forest Goblins are scavengers that take anything that might be of use to their tribes. They also are ambush attackers.¡± Alesin gestured in the direction of Rolfun, who had taken a wide stance, greatsword in a guard position. ¡°With the wagons and trade goods still scattered around, it would make sense that some of them were still lying in wait.¡± She frowned, ¡°Given the number of cries we are hearing, there are a fair few more than I expected.¡±


    As if her words were the signal to start their charge, a mob of Forest Goblins came rushing out of the trees at Rolfun. Most wore little and rushed forward with clawed hands extended and fanged mouths bared in hate at the half-ogre. Here and there were a few that had slightly better clothing and wielded a range of bladed weapons. A single Forest Goblin, larger than the rest and wielding a massive axe, brought up the rear of the charging mob.


    ¡°Should you help him?¡±


    ¡°There are too few to give him more than a warmup,¡± Alesin reassured Klarion. ¡°No, it¡¯s better I stay here, given the chance that there might be others still in the trees waiting for a chance to attack. Pay close attention,¡± she continued in a heavier tone, ¡°this is the reality of life for those that live on the frontier of the Empire.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Klarion asked, confused. He kept his eyes on the impending fight, but made sure he spared some attention for what Alesin was saying. He had a feeling it was important.


    ¡°Life here, as everywhere on the borders of the Empire, is unforgiving. Out here, many of our people are not shielded by high walls or guarded by armies. There simply is not enough resources for the Empire to secure everything in the face of the larger threats. Other empires. Ancient monsters. Threats from the unknown. Horrors from beyond the System itself. All these and more threaten us,¡± she continued grimly, ¡°Those seeking to push outward the boundaries of the Empire face constant threats that test every ounce of strength they possess. People learn fast, or they don¡¯t survive.¡± Her hand emerged in his vision to point at the bloodstained ground. ¡°Farmers and merchants train with weapons, children learn to hide, and everyone trains to defend themselves. There is no room for weakness or hesitation, Klarion. To possess those fatal flaws is to experience what happened here. You need to remember that.¡±


    ¡°But I thought I would be at the Imperial Academy?¡±


    ¡°You will be, for a time. Years certainly, until you graduate. But where do you think you will be going from there?¡±


    Klarion did not respond. He could guess the answer. And the Forest Goblins were almost to Rolfun.


    ¡°That is right. More likely than not, your initial service to the Empire will likely be in a place like this. The border regions demand resilience and strength. You¡¯ll need to harden yourself if you want to make it. Especially if your goal is to save the planet you grew up on.¡± Her tone changed, carrying an undercurrent of excitement. ¡°Now pay attention to how Rolfun fights. I expect his style will be closer to what you will gradually develop at the Imperial Academy compared to mine, given your selection of the greatsword.¡±


    Following what Alesin directed him to do, Klarion focused his attention on Rolfun. The half-ogre continued to stand still, waiting until the charging mass was three-quarters of the way to him where he stood by the overturned wagons. As soon as they crossed that line, Rolfun let out a howl of his own. Grey skin now glowing a bright red, he raised his greatsword, its edge now shimmering with the blue of frost. With a surge, he threw himself into the mass of Forest Goblins.


    Compared to Rolfun, the Forest Goblins were small, wiry creatures. His arrival in their midst smashed six from their feet. Before they could adjust to his abrupt arrival, Rolfun¡¯s greatsword was already slicing through them with long, sweeping strikes. Each blow cleaved heads and limbs from bodies, the cuts of where he carved flesh free, covered in jagged lines of ice. Frozen shards burst and swirled around him, driving into the goblins that still stood. Howls of agony rang out, but for all that they were being killed so quickly by the skilled Berserker, every Forest Goblin still fought to get within range of the half-ogre.


    One goblin finally got through the mass to lunge forward at Rolfun¡¯s side with a shriek. Rolfun¡¯s backswing was faster. In a brutal arc that left a new trail of frost in its wake, he swung his blade across, bisecting his attacker at the waist. Spinning with the momentum of the blow, Rolfun brought his greatsword across in another bone-crushing blow against another Forest Goblin that was charging from his right.


    While the Forest Goblins continued to press in on him, the shards of ice continued to slow them down. Each time a foe came within range, Rolfun simply shifted the flow of his strikes, his fury unyielding. Eventually, the rush began to turn, and it was Rolfun who was pressing forward to get to grips with the Forest Goblins. Momentum lost, the few frost-coated enemies that remained began to hesitate under the half-ogre¡¯s countercharge. Increasing the speed of his swings, Rolfun struck all of them down. Only the large Forest Goblin with the massive axe remained.


    Rolfun faced down the massive Forest Goblin with a menacing calm, his frost-encrusted greatsword held in a ready position. His foe, nearly as tall as Rolfun, snarled, gripping its jagged axe. The Forest Goblin began to circle the half-ogre, looking for an opening, but Rolfun simply shifted his stance, always on guard.


    Then Rolfun¡¯s foot slipped.


    The Forest Goblin lunged forward, swinging its axe in a brutal arc. Klarion¡¯s heart was in his throat, but then Rolfun sidestepped the blow smoothly, countering with a sweeping strike that caught the side of the Forest Goblin. His blade bit into green flesh, leaving it encrusted with frost. Before the blow could cut too deep, however, the Forest Goblin threw itself back and to the side. Reeling from the cold that came alongside the blow, it struggled to stay ahead of Rolfun¡¯s advance. Every step backward put it at a further disadvantage, as Rolfun moved with precise and unyielding steps, like a glacier closing in. With another upward slash, the half-ogre knocked the Forest Goblin to its knees.


    But before he could bring his greatsword down in a final blow, the Forest Goblin like out a feral, guttural scream that echoed through the trees, its desperation evident in every savage note. The cry cut off all at once when Rolfun beheaded it.


    ¡°Blood and Ash!¡± Alesin swore. She grabbed Klarion, spun him, and pressed his back to the tree they had been watching Rolfun from. She then put herself between him and the deeper forest. ¡°Get your greatsword out. That greenskin just called for help.¡±


    ¡°Are we in trouble?¡± he asked at Alesin¡¯s worried tone. He readied his greatsword, the weapon already somewhat comfortable in his hands from the past days of working with it.


    ¡°No, we are not in trouble,¡± she replied to his relief. But then her next works brought his worries back in full force. ¡°You, however, might be.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Night Goblins,¡± she spat, summoning fire to her hands and a cloak of flame around her, banishing the nearest shadows around them. ¡°There should not have been any around here, but that call was clearly for the dark-skinned bastards.¡± Perhaps sensing how worried Klarion was growing behind her, she hurried to reassure him. ¡°They are a bit more of a nuisance to Rolfun and I than these Forest Goblins, but we will be able to handle them. Just stay close and keep your eyes up. They have a habit of striking from where you least expect it.¡±


    She flared her cloak of flame still brighter. A larger ring of shadows was banished, but a few deeper in among the trees stubbornly resisted the light.


    ¡°Rolfun, get your ass over here!¡± Alesin yelled. She began to throw small handfuls of fire in the direction of the pools of shadow, which darted and weaved amongst the roots in dodging movements. Alesin simply increased the speed of her casting. Moments later, the first ball of flame made connection with one of the shadows that had been moving closer.


    Bursting free of the shadow came a figure smaller than even the Forest Goblins Klarion himself had previously fought. With skin so purple it was almost black, it wielded jagged pieces of metal in its fists like knives. As if its appearance was a cue to the others, shadows all around them burst into Night Goblins that began sprinting into melee range.


    Alesin raised her arms, and her cloak of flame flared out around them, catching the nearest charging Night Goblins in the reaching fire. Squells of rage and pain echoed around them, and those as yet untouched by the fire staggered to a halt out of the sun elf¡¯s range.


    Movement pulled Klarion¡¯s attention from the surrounding enemies up into the air above him. In that brief glance he could see several more Night Goblins dropping down on them.


    ¡°Above us!¡±


    ¡°Rolfun!¡± Alesin urgently yelled as she began thrusting new spears of fire at the Night Goblins that surrounded them on the ground, who were in the process of pressing back in close.


    In that moment, Klarion knew that she couldn¡¯t spare her attention to the ones dropping down upon them. He raised his greatsword, preparing to defend himself. As the first Night Goblin dropped in close, he swung his sword up.


    To his horror, the Night Goblin seemed almost to flicker to the left, away from his blow. Letting out a fierce snarl, it extended both daggers towards Klarion¡¯s side. He braced for the blow.


    ¡°Glacier Howls!¡±


    A burst of roaring wind and shards of ice went blasting over Klarion¡¯s head. Up into the group of dropping Night Goblins it rose, bearing their falling forms up and away. The wind battered them through the air, and the ice painted the surrounding trees with purple blood. Most of the Night Goblins went tearing through branches to disappear into the forest.


    Alesin took quick advantage of the shock of the Night Goblins attacking her on the ground at Rolfun¡¯s brutal arrival. She raised her hands into the air before her, the tips glowing blue from the heat. Thrusting them in the direction of the Night Goblins that still stood, the flames that had intensified on the tips shot forth in a crack of sound.


    ¡°Blazing Darts!¡±


    Within moments they were only surrounded by the dead and the dying. Rolfun strode past the tree directly to Klarion while Alesin finished off those Night Goblins that still drew breath. His half-ogre escort gave him a quick look over. Finding nothing out of place, Rolfun clapped him firmly on the shoulder, glad he was safe.


    Finished with the last of the Night Goblins, Alesin came over to Rolfun, a scowl on her face. ¡°When we get to Thorn¡¯s Reach, I am going to have words with the garrison commander. Clearly, they are not conducting enough patrols if there are Night Goblins supporting the Forest Goblins this close to the settlement.¡±


    ¡°After we get Klarion to the portal,¡± Rolfun interjected, his own voice upset. ¡°We can¡¯t draw attention to ourselves until the young lord is safe. I¡¯ll have a few words of my own to share as well.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Alesin agreed, setting aside her anger as best she could. She turned to Klarion. ¡°Time to get moving. We have already spent more time here than I was expecting.¡±


    Klarion nodded in agreement, but he kept staring in the direction of the Night Goblins that Rolfun had blasted away. While he had come quite a way in his ability to defend himself since being sent to this world by Franz, he was also sure he would not have been able to defend himself from that many Night Goblins at once. If Rolfun and Alesin hadn¡¯t been here, he would already be dead. He stared down at his hands as they began to shake.


    ¡°Klarion.¡±


    He raised his gaze to look at Alesin, who had stepped in close to him. The sun elf¡¯s eyes were sharp as she stared into his face, but they also had a hint of sympathy.


    ¡°Klarion,¡± she repeated, her voice soft and steady, ¡°you survived and you have learned an important lesson if you were paying attention. Do you want to know what that lesson is?¡±


    Klarion tried to respond, but his mouth was dry and it took a few tries. ¡°What lesson?¡±


    ¡°Strength matters here on the borders of the Empire. You have now experienced the dangers out here ¡ª the goblins, the beasts, the threat of magic that comes from both to twist the land against you.¡± Her tone sharpened, ¡°But these are only the surface threats. There are far greater horrors that lurk in the darkness, waiting for their chance to strike. Without strength, these forces would tear through every town, village, and city out here, leaving only blood and ash behind. Without strength, you will not be able to fulfill your role in the Empire,¡± she then pointed at herself and her husband, ¡°but allies are even more important.¡±


    Rolfun came in close to Klarion then, grabbing his shoulder again in reassurance. ¡°You will be trained at the Imperial Academy not just to survive, Klarion, but to defend the Empire. You will gain the strength to stand against the darkness, and in time, be called upon to lead others to do the same. Trusted allies and followers will make that task easier,¡± Rolfun put extra emphasis on the words he was saying, seeking to drive the lesson home. ¡°When your time at the Imperial Academy ends, you will be expected to contribute to the defense of the Empire. And not just in small ways, either. From what Alesin and I have already seen of your potential talent, your potential power, there will be large demands made of you.¡±


    ¡°What if I am not ready?¡± Klarion was beginning to calm down, but what Alesin and Rolfun were telling him made him more worried about the future. He already had promised himself to get as strong and knowledgeable as he could to have a chance at saving those he cared about back on Earth. But he still had a hard time visualizing himself as a leader, like in all those stories he had read growing up. Would he be able to handle the weight of that responsibility?


    ¡°That is where trusted friends, allies and vassals come into play,¡± Alesin responded. ¡°The Imperial Academy will provide you the opportunity to gather all three. Make sure you do not waste it.¡±

 Chapter 26

    For the rest of the day, Klarion and his escorts had made their way down the dirt road in the direction of Thorn¡¯s Reach. While the road was nothing like those that were back in the city he had grown up in on Earth, it still made for an easier journey than traveling through the forest. Despite the faster pace they were setting, however, the fight against the Forest and Night Goblins had delayed them to the point they would arrive at the settlement with the gates already shut for the night. Rather than wait outside the walls, Alesin said they would stop alongside the road at a place she and Rolfun had camped at when they had begun heading to the location where Klarion was due to appear.


    For Klarion their impending arrival at Thorn¡¯s Reach was both a source of excitement and dread. He was more than a little bit curious to get a sense of what the Empire was really like. Part of it was also the fact he was growing tired of the simple trail rations and stews that Alesin had been making for them at night. They were good, and he had said as much to his sun elf escort, but he would give anything for a good sandwich. The prospect of other kinds of food had occupied him during the last hour of their journey. Though he had to admit to himself, part of the reason he had sunk him thoughts into imagining what kinds of food there would be at Thorn¡¯s Reach was to avoid thinking about what he was dreading.


    That soon he would be leaving Alesin and Rolfun behind to enter a world that he was only barely beginning to understand. His escorts, his friends, had already been making it clear how abnormal he was. Combined with his apparently high rank, which he still had no real concept of, the potential he supposedly had would quickly set him apart as not only someone who could grow into an asset to the Empire, but also a target for the other nobility around him. And he would be going into that situation blind, with only himself to rely on, as Alesin and Rolfun would be parting ways with him once their escort mission was complete. So he thought about food instead.


    Some hours later, they finally came across the site that Alesin had mentioned. A small stream lay between the forest and cleared area alongside the road. Indicating that they had arrived, Rolfun began unpacking their tents, while Alesin moved about preparing a fire to cook dinner. Apparently stew again.


    ¡°Do you need help with anything?¡±


    Both Alesin and Rolfun paused in their work to smile at each other before turning to him.


    ¡°That is kind of you to ask, Klarion,¡± Rolfun said, clearing the ground of sticks and rocks for the two tents to be set up. ¡°But this your last night out here in the wilds. You should just enjoy it while we set up.¡±


    ¡°It is nice to travel with a young lord who doesn¡¯t demand everything, however,¡± Alesin chimed in, attention focused on setting up a firepit. ¡°Just relax for a few. We have a bit of a different lesson for you tonight.¡±


    Nodding, Klarion found a spot to sit down out of the way. Trying to follow their advice, he directed his attention at the forest that surrounded the road. It was just as dense as what they had been traveling through to this point, but it seemed almost a bit more peaceful. Probably because of how close it was to Thorn¡¯s Reach and the garrison it held.


    Soft birdcalls came from within the trees, the birds themselves seeming to be just out of sight. The wind blew gently, the trees swaying in the late afternoon light. Raising his eyes, Klarion gazed up at unfamiliar stars. A completely different view from what he had experienced back on Earth, the sky was beginning to fill with pinpricks of light far in excess of what had been viewable from Volksturm. It was an enjoyable view, but he once again thought about exactly how far he was from home and those he cared about. His family. His friends. Were they already frantically searching for him after his abrupt disappearance?


    Those thoughts kept him occupied until Alesin called him over to join her and Rolfun for dinner. Pulling his eyes from the stars above, he pushed himself up and walked over. It was stew again, just like he had guessed before. He took the offered bowl and began to eat.


    ¡°There won¡¯t be any sparring tonight,¡± Rolfun said, about to start on his second bowl of the stew. ¡°No practice with Alesin either. We have something more important to talk to you about. Your last set of lessons.¡±


    Klarion swallowed a mouthful of his stew. ¡°On what topic?¡±


    ¡°If I may be blunt?¡± Alesin asked. At Klarion¡¯s nod, she continued. ¡°While we have been doing our best to prepare you as best we can to survive the violence that you might face in the Imperial Academy, that won¡¯t be enough by itself for you to survive. You need to know how to behave like a noble as well.¡±


    ¡°Something that you are really bad at,¡± Rolfun added with a laugh. ¡°Though we have appreciated how easy this escort mission has been. So thank you for that.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem,¡± he said with a smile of his own. He put his bowl down. ¡°So I¡¯m guessing tonight you are going to share with me some tips on how to better pass as one of them?¡±


    ¡°One of you, Klarion,¡± Alesin corrected him gently, setting aside her own empty bowl. ¡°You are a noble, though you don¡¯t feel like one in truth yet. Knowing you,¡± she gave a fond smile, ¡°that will take time. But you should still have a general idea of how it all works and the expectations of you. Which is what we will be covering tonight.¡±


    In the hours before it was time to get some sleep, Alesin and Rolfun took it in turns to tell him everything that they thought he would need to know about the nobility of the Empire in the hopes of better preparing him for the years ahead. Alesin began by explaining that the nobility, contrary to how they were on Earth, were not just figureheads byt served real roles in the Empire, be it in the military, government, or economy. She emphasized that every noble, regardless of rank, was expected to pledge loyalty to the Emperor, uphold the values of the Empire, and to contribute in some way to its security and, if possible, its expansion. Rolfun had then added that the power to accomplish this came from personal strength, alliances, and ruthless pragmatism.


    ¡°Make no mistake, Klarion,¡± Rolfun said leaning forward, casting his long shadow of him. ¡°If you don¡¯t learn how to fight, and fight well, they will tear you apart. You need to understand that no one is going to come to help you. Your family is too busy against too many threats to keep more than a cursory watch over you, and the Academy instructors are solely responsible for teaching, not intervening in conflicts between the students. The System might give you strength, but you will need to earn every scrap of power on your own. If you don¡¯t, chances are you will just end up another dead noble.¡±


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    When Klarion had pushed for further details, all that the half-ogre had said was that he would learn more as a student of the Imperial Academy. While Rolfun had refused to elaborate, from Earth¡¯s own history Klarion already had an idea of what he meant. In the past, the kingdoms and empires of Earth had often been plagued by corruption and abuses of power, infighting raging unchecked by authority in many cases. Of course, when the more modern systems of governance had begun to emerge, it had just been different people engaging in corruption and abuses.


    Klarion had then asked how he should navigate the Imperial Academy, Alesin had taken back over the conversation, launching into a presentation of social etiquette and the game of politics. Given their own lack of rank, Alesin and Rolfun only knew the proper behaviors and expectations for their own positions in society and the military of House Blacksword, but they did reassure Klarion that he would be taught everything he needed to know while at the Imperial Academy. While they were not able to teach him themselves, they did take pains to emphasize that any class focusing on these things should take priority until he grew confident in how he was to interact with others.


    Klarion could already see it now. When he would need to bow; to whom he was to salute; how to navigate conversations without giving offense; and how to drink tea with the proper finger extended. There was a different finger that he had in mind for that. He was not looking forward to it. But he would do what he needed to do in order to survive.


    Alesin had pulled him out of his musings by stressing that appearance was also extremely important in the Empire. Even the lowest of nobility was expected to maintain dignity and control in their interactions with others. Showing emotion, even in response to danger or insults, would be seen as a weakness. While Klarion nodded along, he couldn¡¯t suppress a mental wince. This was one area he already knew he was going to mess up. He had never been very good at concealing his emotions.


    Their explanation of the game of politics was something he could understand a bit better. Not that he had much experience in it himself. Rolfun once again gave advice that was more cynical in nature than what Alesin was telling him. Both pushed for the importance of forging alliances, but the half-ogre warned him that most interactions with the nobility would be transactional. Friendships were rare, and even trusted allies could turn on him if they had opportunities for personal gain.


    ¡°Klarion,¡± Alesin added, trying to drive the importance of what they were sharing home to him, ¡°the Imperial Academy is not just a school. It is the first arena that you will be in that alliances might be made or destroyed, where the powerful will prey on the weak. It will be the first part of a world where House Blacksword¡¯s enemies will see you as a target.¡±


    That had quickly led to another, uncomfortable part of the lesson. Apparently, worse still for Klarion was the situation that House Blacksword itself was in. While neither Alesin nor Rolfun provided much in the way of detail, reading between the lines, Klarion could tell that the high noble house to which he belonged had become weak as a result of extended conflicts with a number of opponents, both inside and outside of the Empire¡¯s ranks. The Empire was full of families vying for dominance, and the state of weakness in House Blacksword had continued to attract foes seeking to bring it low. Klarion knew he would need to be careful with whom he associated with, and guard his back in all circumstances. He would need to work quickly to build a reputation of strength, otherwise his weakness would attract predators among the nobility.


    Even that might not be enough.


    According to Alesin, enemies during his time in the Imperial Academy would come in many forms. Noble rivals, assassins, and even disgruntled commoners who say an opening to act. They both said that he would likely have no problems with this latter group, but regardless, by being a noble, he would be a target for the others. Great.


    ¡°So, at the end of the day, my chances of survival are very low¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rolfun shook his head, ¡°so long as you take your classes seriously and get some bodyguards, you should be ok.¡±


    ¡°Bodyguards?¡±


    ¡°This is another topic we don¡¯t know much about,¡± Alesin responded, looking over at her husband who was still shaking his head. ¡°All we know is that all nobles who attend the Imperial Academy graduate with at least a few bodyguards that they attained while there. You will likely be able to do so as well.¡±


    Having bodyguards, while completely outside his personal experiences, was something he was aware the rich and famous used regularly back on Earth. Given his childhood experiences of constantly being surrounded by doctors and nurses while he had been struggling to survive in the hospital, the prospect of people constantly being around him, shadowing his every move, did not make him uncomfortable like it might others on Earth. No, the concern he had about bodyguards was that he would have more people reliant on him, and that responsibility weighed heavily on him.


    Too bad he couldn¡¯t simply become a doctor like he had wanted.


    When he voiced concerns about the responsibility to Alesin and Rolfun, they hadn¡¯t had any sympathy for him.


    ¡°You will have to quickly grow used to it,¡± Rolfun said, crossing his arms. ¡°As a scion of House Blacksword, regardless of whatever rank you eventually ascend to, you will have authority over commoners and lesser nobles both. You will be expected to act as such at some point. Part of that means you will have lands, and people, that answer to you first.¡±


    Seeing that Rolfun¡¯s words were only starting to stress him out more, Alesin quickly added, ¡°But that is a ways off yet. What you should focus on right now is gaining all the knowledge, strength, and levels you can to prepare for that day.¡±


    ¡°That is what it comes down to then, right?¡± Klarion asked. ¡°The Imperial Academy is where I will sink or swim, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Alesin agreed. ¡°Your time there is where you will establish a foundation for your future.¡± She gave a small smile of reassurance. ¡°But since you are already aiming to get strong enough to save you family and friends back on Earth when the Integration comes there, you were already planning on giving your best anyway.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°That being said,¡± Alesin continued, ¡°you might also consider hiring private tutors once you gain enough funds to do so. Extra training might give you an edge over any enemies you might develop in your time at the Imperial Academy.¡±


    ¡°Well, that was the core of what we wanted to talk to you about. Do you have any more questions?¡±


    ¡°So very many questions,¡± Klarion said with a laugh. ¡°But nothing I think we can go over tonight. I¡¯d rather simply enjoy the company of friends before the big day tomorrow.¡±


    They both smiled again.


    ¡°We can do that,¡± Rolfun said.


    ¡°So, I have been a bit curious,¡± Klarion said, changing topics. ¡°How did the both of you meet?¡±


    Rolfun blushed heavily, his grey cheeks turning a bright crimson. Alesin laughed hard, glancing at her husband¡¯s reaction to Klarion¡¯s question.


    ¡°The first time I saw Rolfun, he was wearing a bright orange and blue dress, wrestling a boar in one of the House Blacksword training pits, while some of his fellow trainees were yelling something about a hairy kiss.¡±


    Klarion froze, shock on his face. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the young lord needs to hea¡ª¡±


    ¡°What happened next?¡± Klarion was quick to ask, cutting Rolfun off.


    ¡°Well, right as it looked like Rolfun was about to get the upper hand, two other trainees came rushing over to the pit, a pot filled with what I later learned to be melted butter raised high over their heads. They poured it all over Rolfun and the boar and then¡­¡±

 Chapter 27

    The morning started exactly the same as all the others that Klarion had experienced in this world so far. Alesin and Rolfun were both up before him, packing up for the day¡¯s journey. Breakfast was ready, and the smell of it gradually pulled him to consciousness. The conversation they shared over the meal was slightly different from the days before, however. Where previously it had been more focused on giving a preview of what lessons he would be engaging in during their travels, this morning it was instead focused on what cover they would be using to get into Thorn¡¯s Reach that wouldn¡¯t attract too much attention. Seeing Klarion¡¯s concern, both had been quick to reassure him that the chances of an enemy of House Blacksword being in the settlement were low. Even if such an individual was present, the chances of them trying to do anything with Alesin and Rolfun there would be even lower. It was more about just being careful.


    With that in mind, Klarion was to play the mostly silent role of the son of a traveling merchant in the region. He had been sent ahead to the settlement with two of his father¡¯s mercenary guards, to be played by Alesin and Rolfun, in order to give him a break from traveling since this had been his first real trading trip under his father. While Klarion still didn¡¯t know much about the situation on Verdant IV, the scenario itself seemed plausible enough. Agreeing to the plan, he focused on assuming the role as best he could. After about an hour of traveling along the road, he felt sufficiently comfortable with the role that he began to relax to enjoy the last of the trip with Alesin and Rolfun.


    ¡°Thorn¡¯s Reach is just around this bend,¡± Alesin said from next to him, ¡°I¡¯m interested to see what you think of your first sight of a settlement of the Empire.¡±


    They walked around the curve in the dirt road, and Thorn¡¯s Reach was abruptly before them. Like Rolfun had said, it had been built into a narrow valley, with by sides surrounded by towering jagged cliffs that jutted up from the dense forest that surrounded it. The settlement was a mix of town and fortress. Stretching between the two cliffs was an imposing wall of stone several stories in height capped by thorned ironwork. Dark green vines with what looked to Klarion to be thorns covered the surface of the wall itself, almost like nature was guarding the town. They were close enough that Klarion could see a number of armored figures patrolling the top of the wall and groups of what looked to be archers stationed on top of the two watchtowers that bracketed the open gate into Thorn¡¯s Reach.


    ¡°Remember, you are the son of a minor merchant sent ahead with two of your father¡¯s mercenary guards to find lodging for the night. Keep you hood up and don¡¯t say anything else if you can help it,¡± Alesin reminded him.


    They picked up their pace, quickly coming to the end of the short line of people, mostly humans, who waited outside the gate to get into the settlement. Two Watchmen were stationed by the open gate, attention fixed on the line as it led up to the gate. A contrasting pair, the first was tall and wiry, his hawk-like eyes scanning each traveler with an intensity that bordered on outright suspicion. His armor was battered but well-maintained, a short sword with a worn hilt at his side, while he held a spear with a gleaming tip in a guard position.


    The second Watchman was a bit shorter and stockier. Compared to his fellow Watchman, he was more relaxed, though his hand still rested on the hefty, well-worn mace at his side while the other held his own spear upright. While his warmer gaze tracked over the line of people waiting to enter, Klarion sensed a hard edge to his stance that indicated that he was likely ready to use his weapons at a moment¡¯s notice if need be.


    The line slowly threaded its way between the duo, before coming to a halt at a simple table that had been set up in front of the final figure in front of the open gate. The man, whom Klarion assumed to be the Watch Captain, or some other rank of authority, commanded immediate respect. His armor was cleaner and adorned with dark, thorn-like engravings that symbolized his rank. As he spoke to a man in rough clothing, Klarion saw a scar flex along his left cheek, giving the man a fierce, unyielding appearance. Of course, that scar was nothing next to all those that covered his own body.


    As they got closer to the front, Klarion began to be able to make out what the Watch Captain was saying. He questioned each traveler in a low, stern voice. Unlike the other Watchmen at the gate, he appeared to Watch not only the faces of those he spoke to but also the body language.


    Klarion couldn¡¯t help but mutter a soft curse. While he had a backstory as cover, and his hood hid his scars from sight, he was less confident about his body language. Before he could express his misgivings to Alesin and Rolfun, it was already there turn.


    ¡°Names and reason for visit.¡±


    ¡°Klarion, and these are my guards, Alesin and Rolfun,¡± Klarion said, trying to put as much confidence into his response as he could. ¡°My father is a traveling merchant, and he sent us ahead of the main party to reserve lodging for the night.¡±


    At Klarion¡¯s response, the Watch Captain jotted down some notes in the book he was using to keep track of who was entering Thorn¡¯s Reach. He then looked back up at Klarion, a slight smile on his lips, the scar tugging up one side. ¡°That is good to hear. Not many merchants have been coming through here lately. Chances are your father will have some odds and ends that Thorn¡¯s Reach needs. What did you say he was carrying again?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Klarion said. At a look from Rolfun, he decided to improvise. ¡°We are transporting mostly foodstuffs, but we have a good selection of tools and a mix of trade goods that might be useful here. I¡¯m sure my father will be happy to let any who are interested take a look.¡±


    ¡°That is good to hear,¡± the Watch Captain said, his smile growing slightly larger as he stared up at Klarion. The smile locked on his face, and Klarion cursed as he realized the man was looking up under his hood. ¡°Now those are some interesting scars you got there. How did a young son of a merchant get those, I wonder?¡±


    Alesin and Rolfun tensed up at his sides, but before they could do more than shift, Klarion was blurting out a response in an attempt to deflect whatever suspicion the Watch Captain had.


    ¡°I had a run-in with a Forest Goblin when I was younger. Barely survived,¡± Klarion pulled the hood back, revealing his face and all the scars. ¡°I was left with these as a reminder not to go off into the forest by myself.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± the Watch Captain gestured to the members of the Watch on either side of them. ¡°Take this Klarion and his guards into custody. Something doesn¡¯t sound right about your story.¡±


    Before anyone can move, Rolfun has his greatsword in hand, the tip extended an inch away from the Watch Captain¡¯s throat. Everyone froze in place. ¡°I¡¯d reconsider that order if I were you.¡±


    ¡°Good try thinking on your feet, Klarion,¡± Alesin said from his other side. She sighed and pulled a sealed letter from her spatial ring. Across the front was a wax seal with the crest of House Blacksword. ¡°Looks like we will be needing this letter after all.¡± She stepped forward and extended the letter to the still frozen Watch Captain. ¡°For your eyes only.¡±


    Hesitantly, the Watch Captain reached out his hand to take the letter. Seeing that Rolfun hadn¡¯t moved the greatsword that was still pointed at his throat, he nervously examined the crest, then popped it open and began reading. The further down the letter his eyes traveled, the whiter his face got. As soon as he finished, he folded the letter back up, and extended it in a shaking hand back to Alesin. She took the letter and put it back into her spatial ring.


    ¡°I understand,¡± the Watch Captain said calmly, though there was still a slight hint of nervousness in his tone. ¡°Please, feel free to enter Thorn¡¯s Reach. The next Waypoint activation will be tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Watch Captain¡­?¡±


    ¡°Brydor,¡± he said quickly. ¡°Watch Captain Brydor.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Watch Captain Brydor,¡± Alesin then extended a hand to drop several silver coins onto the book he had been using to keep track of everyone entering the settlement. She winked. ¡°For the entrance fees.¡±


    Watch Captain Brydor called for the next in line, his tone a bit more forceful than before.


    Just like that, they were waved through into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Stepping through the gate was like entering another world. The settlement was a mix of rustic charm and rough-hewn defenses, and it was busier than he expected. A steady hum of people moved about, bartering at street vendors, or simply gathering in groups to exchange gossip or news. The buildings beyond the streets were clearly marked as shops of various kinds, each having its own colorful banners and makeshift signs. Each structure was practical in design, being a single story tall, made of stone, and possessing simple wooden shutters to keep out the weather.


    A few farmers were further down the main street, their carts piled high with produce. One even had a wagon filled with some strange sort of goat-looking creature. Apparently, he was supposed to take them to a different place, because several Watchmen were in the process of yelling at him to move his wagon.


    For all that it was as medieval as he predicted it would be, Klarion couldn¡¯t help the smile that came to his face. The air was thick with the scent of earth, leather, and cooking fires, all blending together with what he thought to be the tang of metal from a nearby blacksmith¡¯s shop. It was a nice, pleasant mix of smells, which he had not expected. He asked Alesin why that was the case.


    ¡°Even settlements as far out on the edge of the Empire as this one still make it a priority to build a proper sewage system and construct buildings with indoor plumbing. That goes a long way towards dealing with the smells you might expect,¡± Alesin gestured around at the buildings as she spoke. ¡°The closer you get to the Core Worlds of the Empire, the nicer everything is.¡±


    His question answered, Klarion turned his attention back to admiring the view. He realized that it was just humans living in the settlement which, in hindsight, he should have realized before they even arrived at Thorn¡¯s Reach. After all, Alesin was a sun elf and Rolfun was a half-ogre.


    Looking closer at those around them as the trio made it deeper into the settlement, Klarion realized that while the majority were humans of one skin tone or another, here and there were new races of people he hadn¡¯t encountered yet. Tall elves in flowing brown robes of a different type than Alesin, their skin the light grass, walked down one of the side streets. The smell of iron and other metals spiked as a blacksmith came into view, the front door backed up with a line of mostly, what Klarion took to be, dwarves. Stocky in stature with massive muscles, their long beards were braided together in a set pattern, and to a one they wore chainmail that shined in the light of the sun.


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    His attention was stolen when a child stumbled in front of him, giggling, into the street. Without looking at who he had almost run into, the human boy stood up from the dirt and ran off, another group of children emerging from a nearby alley and setting off in pursuit.


    The smile that had come to his face immediately died, however, when he saw a human man outside a store beating two people who looked like a mix of man and wolf. An iron collar circled each of their throats.


    ¡°Wolfkin slaves,¡± Rolfun said on noticing why Klarion had come to a halt in the street. His tone had gone frigid, clearly as unhappy as Klarion at what he was seeing. The half-ogre knew him well enough by now that he responded to Klarion before he could even ask his question. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Klarion. The laws are clear, even here on the frontier. Technically, what that man is doing is disciplining his slaves.¡±


    ¡°And that is not enough to intervene,¡± Alesin said sadly from beside him.


    By the end of their short conversation, the beating had stopped. Still cursing to himself, the slaveowner pulled out a small vial that Klarion recognized as a minor healing potion. Leaning over, he gave each of the slaves a drink, then kicked them to their feet. Once they were standing, the man led them away.


    ¡°Is that common?¡± Klarion asked as the trio disappeared around the bend of a street.


    ¡°Slavery?¡± At Klarion¡¯s nod, Alesin continued. ¡°It varies depending on where you are in the Empire. Some nobility forbid the practice outright within their territories, while others encourage it tremendously, if not engage in slave-taking themselves.¡±


    ¡°House Blacksword?¡± Klarion asked, dreading the answer. He hadn¡¯t even met any of his true family yet, but if they engaged in slavery he would do everything he could to put off doing so.


    ¡°No,¡± Rolfun shook his head to Klarion¡¯s relief. ¡°There are no slaves serving House Blacksword. Only bondsmen and vassals, each with their own protections.¡±


    Klarion stared down the street that the slaves had disappeared down. He made a promise to himself then and there that he would do what he could to help if he were ever in a situation where he could act.


    His stomach growling pulled him out of his contemplation. He realized it had been some time since breakfast.


    ¡°Here, take this,¡± Rolfun reached out, dropping several small copper coins in his open hand. ¡°Keep an eye peeled for a street vendor selling meat buns. It¡¯s the best food I tried the first time we came through here.¡±


    As soon as the coins were in his hand, it was all Klarion could do to keep up with his escorts as they made their way deeper into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Every food vendor they passed called out exotic foods in their wake. As much as he wanted to stop at them all, he trusted Rolfun not to steer him wrong. So he kept walking. Eventually, when he thought his stomach couldn¡¯t take any more, they finally came across an old man selling meat buns on the corner of the street.


    ¡°Meat buns!¡± the man called out in a gravelly voice. ¡°Get your meat buns here!¡± As he was calling to prospective customers, the vendor was pulling strips of meat off the small grill he had set up, which he then dunked into a dark-colored sauce, and finally placed between two pieces of bread that looked awfully similar to hamburger buns. The smell was almost intoxicating in its deliciousness.


    ¡°How much for a meat bun?¡± Klarion asked, stepping out of the street to the vendor¡¯s stall.


    ¡°Copper apiece.¡± He replied without looking, placing the freshly completed meat bun on a tray of others. ¡°But I¡¯m doing a special right now since lunch is almost over. Four for three.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the four then,¡± Klarion said quickly, offering the coins Rolfun had given him. In short order the coins disappeared up the old man¡¯s sleeve and Klarion had a stack of four meat buns in his hands, the sauce already starting to drip on his fingers.


    ¡°Come again!¡± the old man called, eyes still focused on preparing the remaining meat he had been cooking.


    Stepping back to Alesin and Rolfun, who had both paused to wait for him, Klarion handed one to the sun elf and two to the half-ogre. At Rolfun¡¯s questioning look, Klarion explained.


    ¡°The vendor had been doing a special. Beyond it being your coins that purchased them,¡± Klarion began with a smile, ¡°we all know you eat the most out of all three of us.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to, Klarion,¡± Rolfun said, clearly touched at the gesture despite the coins being freely offered. ¡°But thank you.¡±


    Without another word, they each took a bite of their meat buns. Tender meat and a tangy, almost barbeque-like taste exploded in his mouth. Rolfun hadn¡¯t been kidding. This really was amazing, especially after many days of nothing but stew. While Klarion and Alesin took time to savor the flavor, Rolfun simply wolfed both of his down. After licking the remaining sauce from his fingers, Rolfun, who had already done so, motioned that they should continue deeper into Thorn¡¯s Reach.


    As they progressed, the crowds grew bigger and more diverse. Alesin and Rolfun both stepped closer, both to make room for others in the street as well as, he assumed, to protect him. A wider range of races were present, some of which he couldn¡¯t quite make out before the movement of the crowd forced them apart. The sounds of distinct conversations from closer to the settlement¡¯s edge gradually shifted into a dull roar of sound that pressed in on all sides. It went up another level in volume as they came to a large, open square surrounded by the largest buildings he had seen as of yet. If he had to guess, there were at least a few thousand people, if not more, who called Thorn¡¯s Reach home. A bit more than he expected, but given what his escorts had told him about life in the Empire, and the fact that even places as far removed from the Core like this place had sewers and indoor plumbing, Klarion was finding he would have to reconsider some assumptions.


    ¡°There it is!¡± Alesin practically shouted in his ear, causing him to flinch under his hood. ¡°That is the inn where we will be staying the night! Nothing else we can do until the Waypoint is ready to activate in the morning!¡±


    Following her pointed finger, his eyes came to rest on a large, sturdy-looking building. A large door stood open at its front, a wooden sign hanging above it with an etching of a raven¡¯s talon gripping a thorn. Apparently the inn they were staying at, Klarion all at once felt the need to get aside and take a break away from all the noise. He never had done very well surrounded by people and, as strange as it was to admit it, Thorn¡¯s Reach was in many ways louder than Volksturm back on Earth.


    Rolfun pushed through the crowd, then into the inn. Klarion was close behind him, while Alesin brought up the rear. Like magic, which might very well be the case given where he was, the sound of the square cut off abruptly as he stepped over the threshold into the inn.


    It was like stepping into one of the roleplaying campaigns that he had played so often with his friends back on Earth.


    Thick timber beams stretched across the ceiling. The light of the fire on the far side danced across tables worn down by patrons over years. Even now, still a bit early in the day, humans, elves, dwarves and a few more, exotic people Klarion didn¡¯t know of were sitting at tables with drinks in hand. A wide bar stretched across one wall, stacked with a wide selection of alcohol. At the far side, a small stage held a older man with long white hair currently stringing what looked to be a guitar of some sort.


    Holy shit, the inn even had an actual bard.


    ¡°Welcome to the Raven¡¯s Thorn!¡± A lilting voice called out from behind the bar. An elven woman with long red hair stood there, gazing at them. ¡°How can I help you all?¡±


    Alesin stepped up to the bar. ¡°Two rooms for the night. And if you could, send up three dinners once they are ready?¡±


    The innkeeper, for that¡¯s clearly what she was, did some quick mental math before responding. ¡°That will be two silver, three copper. Any drinks will be extra.¡±


    ¡°No drinks with the meals, but we will come down for those in any case.¡±


    Rolfun stepped forward to count out the coins for the innkeeper. She swept them off the bar into a small purse at her side. The half-ogre asked a question about when dinner might be ready, but Klarion¡¯s eyes were locked on the honest-to-god bard about to begin playing.


    ¡°Good afternoon everyone! Welcome to Raven¡¯s Thorn! I, Thrayer Wildspeak, will be your entertainment for the evening! Now, do I have any requests to start us off tonight?¡±


    There was some muttering among the different patrons, but it was almost a minute before an older man missing an eye who had the general mien of a retired soldier spoke up with a request.


    ¡°The Fall of the Eighth Verdant?¡±


    ¡°Ahh, I thought you would ask for that one again, Rumos,¡± Thrayer said in a somewhat put-upon voice. Despite the tone, his fingers danced across the guitar, tuning it for the song. In short order, he was done. He cleared his throat, ¡°The Fall of the Eighth Verdant!¡± The old bard¡¯s voice settled into a deep, weathered rumble, like stones tumbling down a quiet mountainside.


    He began to sing.


    In fields of blood and bone they stood,


    The 8th Verdant Legion, valiant and good.


    Against the tide of death they fought,


    With every ounce of courage they brought.


    Undead hordes, a relentless wave,


    Their numbers countless, their hunger crave.


    But the Legion stood firm, unyielding and brave,


    Their banner held high, their spirits unswayed.


    With swords and shields, they clashed in the fray,


    Each warrior fighting to see another day.


    Their valor unmatched, their resolve unbroken,


    Against the darkness, their light was awoken.


    With each strike, a symphony of steel,


    Their battle cries echoing, a warrior''s zeal.


    Though outnumbered and surrounded, they stood tall,


    For honor and glory, they would give their all.


    Through the smoke and fire, they held their ground,


    Their bravery shining, a beacon profound.


    Though fate may decree their final stand,


    In the annals of history, their legend will expand.


    For the 8th Verdant Legion, in glory they fell,


    Their sacrifice remembered, their story to tell.


    Though their bodies may rest in the sod and the dust,


    I stand before you to share their tale, I must.


    Moments after he sang the last verse, the final notes of the song died away into the silence of the inn. Each had carried the weight of years and wisdom, softened at the edges by age but still strong, resonating through the inn. His tone had been low and gravelly as he had sung of the victory and the loss of the Eighth Verdant. Even the rowdiest of the early patrons had gone still, drawn into the sound of his voice, feeling each word as if it had been woven just for them. A group of dwarves had set full steins of ale aside, solemnly listening about the honored dead. An elf stared off into the distance, lost in thought as his fingers tapped slowly along on the table he sat at. The man, Rumos, sat with tears openly streaming down from his one good eye. His face red with grief, Klarion wondered if he had known some of those that had fought in the legion.


    If only his friends could see him now. Maybe one day he would be able to tell them about this. What he had experienced so far would have made for a good story at the wedding. At that thought, all he felt was sadness. There would be no way he would be able to make it to the wedding. He just hoped his friends would be able to forgive him once he did make it back.


    Rolfun¡¯s heavy hand clapped on the shoulder, pulling his attention back.


    ¡°Are you ready to head up to the rooms? Everything is paid for and dinner will be sent up to us soon. I figure after the long journey here, you likely would appreciate a good night¡¯s sleep in a real bed.¡±


    Klarion nodded and followed them up the stairs to the room that had been set aside for his own use. Alesin came in and gave it a quick look over, though whether she was looking for enemies or dust, Klarion was not sure. Given the, what he assumed to be, spell she was muttering under her breath, it was probably the former.


    Once she was satisfied, she stepped back past him out into the hallway. Bidding them good night, and confirming the room they were in if he needed anything, Klarion closed and locked the door. Going to the simple washbasin, he tried to clean himself up as best he could. Days of travel and all the sparring with Rolfun, much less the battles against the Forest Goblins, and he was caked with dirt and less savory things. The water was black by the time he was done, but he felt a bit more human.


    A knock on his door revealed a tray of food. He couldn¡¯t control the grimace that came to his face when he saw it was a bowl of stew. At least it came with a piece of bread and butter. Despite his preference for another meat bun, he finished the food in quick order. After setting the tray back outside the room, and locking the door behind him, he crawled into bed. Finally full, and finally safe, he slept the sleep of the exhausted with no dreams.

 Chapter 28 (Interlude 3)

    Watch Captain Brydor had not had a good day. First, the embarrassing incident when he had almost taken a thrice-damned scion into custody. And it hadn¡¯t been just any scion either. No, that would been too much of a mercy for the day he had been having. It had been one belonging to the Archducal House Blacksword. One of the most powerful, most violent high imperial noble houses in this sector of the Empire, even if it had been facing a surge of challenges this past decade and a half. Thank the Seven that the young lord had been satisfied when his bodyguard had gotten him passage into Thorn¡¯s Rest.


    No, right after that incident, a scout of the Legion, half dead and near out of his mind with pain, had shown up at his gate a mere hour before he was supposed to hand over his shift. It had taken a good two hours before the scout had been able to talk, as dehydrated and tired as he was, but his counterpart, Watch Captain Thredor had gleefully left the whole problem in his ¡®capable hands¡¯ to go report in with the Legion itself once the scout was able to share what was going on.


    And it was bad too, which is why, rather than head home for a well-deserved night¡¯s sleep after his brush with the high imperial nobility, he was now climbing to the top of the damned walls to keep an eye on the forest. The only balm to his exhaustion was the fact that he was climbing the stone stairs alone. The words he was growling to himself were not what he would want the rank and file to hear.


    He glanced behind him, back down the stairs. Already he could see some figures in familiar armor moving his way. Based on the quickly increasing numbers, the rest of the Watch would be joining him soon. And the detachment of the Thirteenth Verdant Legion would likely be mobilizing as well.


    If Storm Wolves were really on their way to Thorn¡¯s Reach, they would need every blade.


    What felt like hours later, but his tired mind insistent had only been a handful of minutes, the Watch Captain reached the top of the wall. A handful of the Watch hurried up behind him, spears clattering against stone stairs and armored shoulders both as they took up station on the wall. Brydor ignored them, confident that the drills had prepared them to take up the proper spacing on the wall. Instead, he made his way over to the Western Tower.


    Groaning, he climbed one last set of steps. Like every time he had climbed them before, he counted them. Fifty-three all told, and a half-broken one at the top. One day it would be fixed, he had been told. That was what they had been saying for six months now.


    He hoped he would be told the same again tomorrow.


    Brydor came to the sealed, heavily warded steel-oak door at the top of the stairs. Knocking out the quick series of raps that was his personal code to get access, the door quickly swung inward. Stepping quickly over the threshold, it was slammed back closed behind him.


    While the top of the tower was fortified against attack, what with the warded door of steel-oak, its primary purpose was to serve as an early warning system in case of attack or, the Seven forbid, a Beastwave. The errant thought dosed him in ice. If the coming Storm Wolves were the crest of a Beastwave, very few of them would live to greet the morning. Banishing the depressing thought, he forced himself to focus on what he could currently do.


    ¡°Report,¡± he commanded as the six Watchmen in the room came to sharp attention.


    ¡°Nothing yet, Captain,¡± one said. Walton he thought his name was. ¡°Just the same small movements deeper in the shadows of the trees. I think the scout maybe got spooked by some normal wolves and ran himself near to death to get back behind the wolves.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a scout in the Fourteenth Verdant, Walton,¡± Brydor said grimly. ¡°I wish, by the Seven I wish, he was just another incompetent greenhorn.¡±


    ¡°But we all know the training that Legion¡¯s General puts them through, especially those stationed out here near the border,¡± Walton said when the Watch Captain left the thought unsaid. Silence greeted his words. Everyone in the Watch knew how hard the Fourteenth Legion trained.


    The training for the scouts was particularly brutal and relentless, designed to push even the most promising recruits to their limits. Each day they worked on their endurance, stealth, and tradecraft. The best of them had enough stats from their levels to move silently across the rustling leaves and tangled roots of the forest. Rumors had it that one of the Scout-Captains could snatch the wings clear off a Tiger Moth, only to release them and let the wings fly away by themselves.


    No, if one of the Fourteenth¡¯s scouts said Storm Wolves were coming, then all they could do was prepare and hope there were only a few of them.


    ¡°Alright everyone,¡± Brydor said with a nod. ¡°Stay on your guard. Tonight is going to be a long night.¡±


    The Watchmen all saluted and then returned to their positions, observing the forest from various vantage points. Hopefully, his men would be able to spot the Storm Wolves before they were able to get near the wall. That would give him time to signal to reinforce the spots on the wall where they were attacking. With his eyes not being what they once were, he found an empty chair along one wall. He would leave it up to younger men tonight.


    Brydor idly tapped his thumb against the sheathed sword at his side. Storm Wolves were vicious creatures, as large as horses and more than capable of tactics in their hunts. If a pack were large enough or desperate enough, they¡¯d been known to attack Legion patrols and even settlements. Even with the height of the walls around Thorn¡¯s Reach, Brydor did not think they would be safe from attack.


    He stopped tapping on the hilt and instead reached down to grasp it. Having checked it was not stuck in his scabbard; he released it. For some time now the Watch had been hearing concerns about the detachments of the Legion posted to Thorn¡¯s Reach. They trained hard, but so did all of the Legions. It was what they did when they weren¡¯t training that was the issue, or in this case what they did not do. Regular patrols.


    Cursing under his breath, he shifted in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. Whispers had reached him the past few weeks that the number of regular patrols had been cut down for some reason. Circumspect inquiries on his part to his superiors in the local Council had been met with reminders of his position, and that there were several potential replacements should his position need to be filled. He had taken the hint and quickly dropped the matter.


    A soft howling sound seemed to echo from deeper in the forest, but one none of his subordinates reacted, Brydor put it down to nerves. No, he had no proof, but if Storm Wolves ended up attacking Thorn¡¯s Reach tonight in force, he wouldn¡¯t need any. As a matter of course, the Capital on Verdant IV would have to investigate. Then, and only then, would he file a formal complaint.


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    If he survived the night.


    As if to match his mood, the weather started to turn as the evening settled in fully. Dark clouds moved in, and the wind began to pick up. A storm was threatening, and part of him hoped it would be enough to deter any attack that night. The other part knew that a storm like this wouldn¡¯t have any impact on the Storm Wolves.


    ¡°Sir!¡±


    The urgency in Walton¡¯s voice caused Brydor to shoot to his feet. Stepping quickly to the Watchman¡¯s side, he demanded, ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°There, sir!¡± Walton pointed a slightly shaking finger off to one side of the road, deeper into the forest.


    Squinting, Brydor leaned over, staring in the direction the Watchman was pointing. The wind began to pick up outside the tower, carrying with it the barest scent of rain and something else. A low rumble echoed into the distance, and his hand again drifted down to the hilt of his sword. His free hand gripped the stone parapet tightly as he leaned out, staring into the deepening night. He couldn¡¯t see anything. Another low rumble came, though a bit louder than before. A massive flash of lightning lit up the trees before the wall. As one, the Watchmen and their Captain froze.


    The great bolt came not from the sky but from the ground.


    Another crackling, jagged bolt followed the first, arcing up into the air in the direction of the main gate into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Illuminated behind the bolt were scattered the members of a Storm Wolves pack. As he watched, the Storm Wolves near the front, closest to the walls, took off in a run. Sleek, black fur rippled with intermittent arcs of electricity as they came. Each moved with lethal grace, their blue, glowing eyes fixed on the walls of the settlement.


    ¡°Bows!¡± Brydor screamed, leaning out further to call down the right sound of the wall. His cry was soon echoed by those experienced Sergeants of the Watch who had taken their own positions on the wall among their men. Their cries grew increasingly frantic as the number of Storm Wolves charging from the darkened edges of the forest continued to increase. Too many for a single pack.


    As the first arrows began to land among their charging forms, their howls rose as one to pierce the air, thunderous and sharp, sending jolts of adrenaline through all those on the walls. As one, they began to glow with a bluish-white light that rippled over their fur. The Watch Captain rushed to get a count.


    Brydor¡¯s heart dropped into his boots. With how many Storm Wolves there were, Thorn¡¯s Reach was looking at an assault by several packs that had combined under a single Alpha. As the Storm Wolves surged closer, the leading edge loosed a volley of lightning bolts at the walls, sending showers of stone and sparks flying into the air. A portion of the leading edge of the charge collapsed into a tight group, rushing to the gate.


    ¡°Emperor protect us,¡± he swore, backing away from the edge. Seeing the Watchmen in the tower with him staring in horror out at the rushing pack, Brydor rushed to the pull rope that hung in the center of the room. Cursing his subordinates for not taking the obvious action, he gripped it tightly, then yanked it as hard as he could to sound the alarm.


    The deep ringing of the bells brought the Watchmen back into focus. As one, they turned to Brydor for orders.


    ¡°Bows!¡± Brydor barked again, stepping over to the nearby wall to grab a spare one. ¡°Evey Storm Wolf you kill from a distance is one our brothers and sisters won¡¯t have to fight in close!¡±


    His men scrambled around him, grabbing bows and piling quivers of arrows within easy reach. With this not being an armored line charging at the wall, but rather scattered monstrous creatures the size of horses, they simply loosed their arrows at the closest targets as quickly as they could. An arrow struck here and there, taking down the occasional Storm Wolf with a yelp. But the speed they were moving, and the relatively few number of archers hitting their targets, meant that they would soon be at the base of the walls.


    Tearing his gaze from the doomed effort, he rushed to the observation window that looked back over Thorn¡¯s Reach. Sticking his head out, he sought someone, anyone. As he expected, the blasts of lightning against the wall, and now the main gate, were casting bursts of light into the settlement and some of the people who lived nearby had begun opening doors and windows to find out what was going on. Into that confused babble, Brydor put his entire breath into a shout.


    ¡°Storm Wolves at the wall! Someone fetch the Militia!¡± The blasting increased in brightness and intensity behind him. The first cries of injured Watchmen began to reach his ears. ¡°Fetch the Legion! Hurry!¡±


    As he hoped, a number of women and women, the flight of feet, took off in a sprint deeper into the settlement. The older people who had come out to see what was going on began to herd children and families into houses. No complaints were made, or questions asked, they all just began moving. In short order, doors were slammed shut and windows were barred. If there was something everyone who lived on the edge of Imperial territory learned from an early age, it was how to quickly secure a home against monsters and invaders. Deeper into Thorn¡¯s Reach, he thought he could hear the warning being spread. Some of the stress began to leave him. Hopefully, it would be enough.


    A burst of light partially blinded him as the main gate burst inward, but ot so much that he couldn¡¯t make out three Storm Wolves still crackling with the aftercharge of their lightning pressing inside. As if sensing his attention on them, they turned in his direction to charge, howling. More Storm Wolves began to enter behind them. Rather than all hitting the walls from behind, some began to make their way deeper into the streets. Some were already attacking nearby houses.


    ¡°They¡¯re too fast,¡± he muttered in horror, weights settling into his gut as the Storm Wolves advanced at unnatural speed into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Tearing his eyes away from approaching death, he called out orders as fast as he could.


    ¡°Storm Wolves past the gate! Archers to the rear! Spears to the stairs to hold them!¡± Most of the Watch reacted quickly to his orders, being well drilled for a scenario like this, but some few were not moving as quickly as he would like. ¡°Move it! Last one into position spends the next two weeks¡¯ worth of nights on the wall! Move!¡±


    Having done all he could, Brydor raised the bow he had been holding, then cursed. He hadn¡¯t grabbed a spare quiver. He rushed to the nearest available one, ducking around his men, half of whom had shifted to find targets now inside the walls. The screams outside were becoming louder.


    Just as he seized a quiver, the warded door to the observation tower heaved as some massive force slammed into it. Cursing again, he tossed the now worthless bow and quiver aside. He grabbed a spare spear just as the warded door heaved again, though this time a distinct cracking sound was heard.


    ¡°Spears!¡± Brydor yelled, but it was necessary. Bows were dropped all at once as everyone else in the tower rushed to get armed with spears. The Watch Captain felt some small measure of pride that they all were able to get one, and take position in two ranks by the warded door before a third, louder crash rang out. They could all see the cracks now.


    ¡°Hold your positions!¡± Brydor roared, bracing his spear, tip pointed at the coming threat. Another crack, and they could see the bloodshot, menacing eye of a Storm Wolf pressed to it. Without thinking, Walton thrust forward, driving the tip of his spear into the center, drawing a whimpering squeal as the Storm Wolf threw itself backward out of sight. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.


    ¡°When they come, we charge,¡± Brydor calmly ordered the men around him. ¡°No hesitation.¡±


    Despite grimaces, groans, and in one case a moan of fear, each of the Watch gripped their spears tightly and prepared to sell their lives dearly. The people of Thorn¡¯s Breach were theirs to protect, and protect them they would. To the last.


    For a long, almost silent moment, they hovered over the door. Hoping, dreading, that the Storm Wolves had gone to seek easier prey.


    The warded, steel-oak door burst inward.


    Watch Captain Brydor led the charge into lightning and death. Three words ripped from his throat, which briefly overpowered the howls of his foes. Survivors of the Watch would later swear they echoed all over the wall.


    ¡°For the Empire!!!¡±

 Chapter 29

    Klarion found himself waking up as the small pillow he had been using hit the floor. Somehow in the middle of the night, he had twisted sideways on the bed. Shifting in the thin sheet, he reached over the edge to grab the pillow. Without it, he didn¡¯t think he would be able to get back to sleep. His hand fumbled once, but on the second try was able to grasp it. He was in the process of lifting it back to the bed when he thought he heard something. Was that a howl?


    The sound came again.


    Setting the pillow aside, Klarion sat up. For a howl to penetrate deep enough into the inn, the dog must be almost just outside. Yet something seemed off about the howl, but he wasn¡¯t sure what. Closing his eyes, he strained his ears, trying to hear. For a long minute, he heard nothing.


    Several howls rang out, louder than the first he heard. Faintly, he thought he heard some screaming.


    Even though everything was still so new to him, Klarion did not think that was normal. Pushing himself up and out of the bed, he moved over to the pile of clothes he had been wearing last night. With a grimace, he lifted them and began shaking them out, trying to get as much of the dirt and dried blood off as possible. After the first few shakes, nothing else was coming off. Giving up, he pulled them on. The last thing was the harness and his greatsword. With a now well-practiced touch, he tightly secured the harness, then gripped the hilt of his weapon to make sure he would be able to pull it if he needed it. He hoped he wouldn¡¯t have to.


    Doing one last, quick check, he made sure he had everything with him. Unlocking the door, he stepped into the hall and almost ran face-first into Rolfun. Already in his armor, the large half-ogre reached out to steady him.


    ¡°Good, you are up,¡± Rolfun said, a hint of tension clear in his voice. ¡°We need to get going.¡±


    ¡°What is going on?¡±


    As if to reinforce the urgency of the moment, Klarion could now clearly make out screaming coming from outside the inn. Howling soon followed, and what seemed like blasts of some sort were now echoing in the distance. Rolfun had paused, clearly trying to listen to what was happening. When the cacophony did not die down but increased in volume, Klarion knew at once that whatever was going on was coming closer.


    ¡°We are not sure, but based on what we are hearing outside, I would say something is attacking the settlement,¡± the half-ogre responded, apparently having heard what he needed to. ¡°The Waypoint is still shut down for the night, but given the apparent situation outside, it is likely it will soon be activated for whatever emergency is unfolding.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re taking me to the Imperial Academy now?¡± Klarion asked. He had come to enjoy the time with Rolfun and Alesin, despite how intense all the training had been. While his muscles still ached and felt even more sore at the memories of the days spent traveling with them, Klarion knew he was going to miss them. In the short time they had been together, each of them had stepped forward to help him come to terms with everything that had changed for him in such a short period of time. Alesin herself had continued to push him forward whenever any doubts had crept in, while Rolfun¡¯s good humor had allowed him to better understand that just because he was entering into what was essentially a new life, that did not mean that his position and role would prevent him from finding allies and, more importantly, friends. For that is what he considered both Alesin and Rolfun now. Their relentless focus on training had also instilled the importance of preparing to the greatest degree possible. Even though he felt he had fallen short of what they had been trying to teach him, he would make sure to carry that momentum forward into whatever came next at the Imperial Academy.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Rolfun said, not catching the complicated look on his face. ¡°As soon as Alesin is ready, we will be heading out.¡±


    As if Rolfun¡¯s response had been her cue, the door to the room where his escorts had been staying opened. Pack over the shoulder, Alesin stepped into the hallway, closing the door with a click behind herself.


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± she said with a jerking nod. ¡°If you are ready then, Klarion, we really need to get going if we are to beat the rush for the Waypoint.¡±


    Both his escorts stepped to the stairs, Klarion following in their wake. While moving to follow closely, he was about to ask more questions when the frantic ringing of bells sounded outside the inn. As one, both Alesin and Rolfun tensed up.


    ¡°I am guessing that is not good?¡±


    ¡°No, Klarion, no it is not. We have even less time now,¡± Alesin responded, picking up her pace to the stairs. ¡°Every settlement has a bell like that, and it is only rung when attackers have successfully made it inside.¡±


    ¡°So the howling?¡±


    ¡°Likely the attackers,¡± her voice, if possible, got even more grim. ¡°It might even be the beginning of a Beast Wave.¡±


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    ¡°Which is why we need to get you to that Waypoint. Now.¡± Rolfun said, picking up his pace as well.


    ¡°But can¡¯t we help?¡± Klarion asked to their backs as he made to follow. ¡°From what I can tell, you both are strong. I can even stay here, out of the way?¡±


    ¡°Not how this works, Lord Klarion,¡± Alesin responded, her tone and the title she used telling him this wasn¡¯t his friend talking but a sworn protector of House Blacksword. ¡°Our only duty is to get you safely to that Waypoint. Everything else, including our lives, is secondary to that.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Alesin cut him off with the heat in her voice as she pivoted to face him, her husband coming to a stop beside her. ¡°I know its hard for you right now, but you don¡¯t yet understand the value you represent to the Empire and to House Blacksword. It would be regrettable if Imperial citizens die tonight, but even the smallest chance that something happens to if we intervene is not acceptable. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klarion said honestly, but before Alesin could respond he continued, albiet in a bit of a bitter tone, ¡°but I know just how little I still understand about everything, so I will follow your lead.¡±


    ¡°That will have to do,¡± Alesin replied, spinning back to the stairs. ¡°Stick close then. We will be moving quickly.¡±


    As a group, they practically ran down the stairs back into the common room. This late, only a single dwarf was passed out at a corner table. With how loudly he was snoring, it was possible he would sleep the whole way through whatever crisis was unfolding.


    The only other person up was the elven innkeeper. Long red hair tied up in a crude version of a bun, she darted from window to window in her night gown, frantically pulling down thick wooden blinds and locking them. She just finished the last when the three of them made it to the entrance. The innkeeper saw them just as Rolfun stepped forward to open the door.


    ¡°If you go out, you won¡¯t be able to come back in,¡± the innkeeper said, starting to scramble to the door. This close to the entrance, clear screams were coming through, and the howling sounded quite a bit nearer. ¡°It sounds like a bad attack out there. You paid through the night, why don¡¯t you stay?¡±


    At first, Klarion thought the innkeeper was offering purely out of the goodness of her heart, but then he followed the direction of her gaze to see her eyes darting to Rolfun¡¯s armor. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he still knew by how hard she was staring at the half-ogre that keeping the three of them there would mean additional protection for her, and her inn, if it was attacked.


    ¡°Just bar the door,¡± Rolfun said over his shoulder as he stepped out.


    Alesin and Klarion followed behind him, all the while, the innkeeper got increasingly desperate to get them to stay. The sound of her, now begging, was cut off as Alesin closed the door behind them.


    Night still lingered, with dawn still a ways off, but despite that, the lighting along the streets within Thorn¡¯s Reach allowed them to see what was going on.


    The streets were in chaos.


    Men, women, and children of many races were sprinting down the street along the inn. Some darted between carts to go down narrow alleys, probably hoping to find a place to hide. Others, clutching whatever belongings they had in hand, either moved in a tightly packed mob to the center of the settlement or approached buildings at random, demanding or begging to be let inside. Few opened their doors, but that didn¡¯t stop many from trying.


    Alesin pushed Klarion along, as he had paused to stare. Both of his escorts pressed in close, doing their best to protect him from the crowd. Klarion had no idea what levels either was, but no one in the crowd was able to get close to him as a result of their efforts.


    Alesin pulled Klarion hard to the left as a horse, mad with panic, came galloping down a side street to overturn a stall that a merchant had practically been attempting to pack away. Hitting it fully on the side, the horse was barely slowed as all of the merchant¡¯s goods were thrown over the street. Galloping away, it knocked several other stands and people over as it went. The merchant tossed his arms up in defeat, then grabbed what he could to join the crowd, rushing away from the direction the howls were coming from. Given some of the words many were shouting, Klarion finally heard what was going on. The front gate had fallen and the walls were under attack. The alarm had wrung right as the attackers, Storm Wolves, had gotten inside.


    Alesin continued tugging him along, as Rolfun struggled to clear a path without hurting anyone too badly. Normally he would be able to do so without issue, but some people who had been driven mad in fear were trying to push against the crowd.


    From the distance came another set of gut-wrenching howls, the Storm wolves sending another wave of panic through the crowd. Louder than the ones that had come before, it was clear to Klarion that they were coming closer. As if summoned by the impending threat, two squads of the Watch who had been deeper into the settlement came barreling around the corner further down. Formed up in a wedge, they were making good headway in carving a path through the panicked population. Garbed in chain armor, and wielding spears alongside upraised shields, any civilians they encountered moved quickly out of their way. Unfortunately, a side effect of their charge was that a significant number of people in his part of the crowd began to run in the other direction. Before he knew it, a massive dwarf in darkened leather ran full into his chest, pushing him back and away from Alesin and Rolfun, who at the time was struggling against a group of armored elves.


    Tripping over the debris of another overturned cart, it took Klarion nearly a minute to get back to his feet, what with the press of the crowd around him. He was only able to do so when some beastkin man with pointed ears paused to pull him back upright. Before he could thank him, the beastkin was off again. Klarion quickly checked his harness, feeling some relief that his greatsword was still secured to his back. That relief turned to ice in his veins as he realized that Alesin and Rolfun were nowhere in sight.


    Klarion looked around the street, hoping that he would see either of his escorts coming back around a corner to get him. No such luck. Even though the pressing crowd had already significantly shrunk, and the squads of the Watch had already passed through, he didn¡¯t see the sun elf or half-ogre anywhere.


    The weakening cries of fear became full screams of terror behind him as the largest howl yet rang out. Spinning in place, Klarion¡¯s hand darted without conscious thought to the hilt of the greatsword on his back.


    That was when he got his first look at a Storm Wolf.

 Chapter 30

    The Storm Wolf was a massive creature, its size rivaling that of a horse. While in the same rough shape of the wolves he had seen at a zoo back on Earth, the monster that now stalked down the street had little else in common with those animals. Muscles shifted beneath mottled, storm-gray fur stained red with blood from a jagged wound down one side, and several arrows stood upright along its back. Lightning-blue eyes locked on his own but briefly before the Storm Wolve bared yellow fangs and leaped on a young elven woman who was trying to sneak into a nearby alley.


    She barely got out a scream of pain at the Storm Wolf¡¯s front claws sinking into her back before fangs the size of daggers lunged down to close with a crunch around her head. With a savage twist, the Storm Wolf ripped the poor woman apart, tossing the half in its jaws to the side. Its first target dead, the Storm Wolf twisted its bloodied maw to the next closest targets.


    A human woman crouched in terror, eyes fixed on the Storm Wolf, holding two small children tightly to her side. As her eyes met those of the Storm Wolf, she let out an involuntary whimper of terror. The Storm Wolf tensed its leg to lunge.


    ¡°Oi, you storm-cursed mutt!¡± Klarion cried out, the words slipping free before he could think. He found himself striding forward, greatsword already in hand, though when he had drawn it, he didn¡¯t consciously know.


    The Storm Wolf hesitated, great head shifting to look in his direction.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m talking to you, you mangy piece of shit!¡± Klarion yelled, his voice gaining volume. The sight of the innocent elven woman being torn apart in front of him had filled him with rage, and he would be damned if the same happened to another woman and her children. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try me instead!¡±


    The Storm Wolf abandoned the woman and her children, pivoting to step in his direction. It opened its bloody maw wide and let loose a howl that was closer to a roar. The gruesome death of the elf that had frozen the rest of the people on the street shattered all at once as those that remained took off screaming in whatever direction would take them away from the monstrous predator in their midst. All except Klarion and the mother who still crouched petrified with her kids.


    Just as Klarion was about to charge in at the Storm Wolf, in the hopes of distracting it from the innocents still frozen in terror, the matted, storm-gray fur along its back started to crackle with a white glow. At first, he did not know exactly what was going on, but as the hair on his forearms began to stand up, Klarion remembered how his dad had told him as a kid how lightning worked.


    He plunged the tip of his greatsword into the road in front of him just as the Storm Wolf made a sound partway between a cough and a bark, launching a bolt of lightning at him. The bolt made a connection with his greatsword just as it became lodged in the ground. Most of the blast was grounded, but enough past through the hilt of his weapon to his arms, that Klarion was violently flung back and away from his weapon.


    His mind scrambled as his back hit the ground hard. Flipping over several times, he finally came to rest against the wall of a building. Shaking his head to clear the ringing from his ears, and trying to ignore the pain in his arms and chest, he put his hands flat against the ground and tried to get back to his feet. As he stood, Klarion looked up to see what the Storm Wolf was doing.


    It remained standing where it had been, though now steam was rising from the fur on its back. Its lips remained curled in a vicious snarl, showing rows of blood-stained teeth. If Klarion had any doubts before about how intelligent the creature was, the clear sense of dissatisfaction it gave off at him having survived its lightning put that to rest. While Klarion stood up, the Storm Wolf began to prowl forward, completely disregarding the remaining people on the street around them.


    Klarion¡¯s pulse pounded in his ears as he watched the Storm Wolf stalk closer, clearly intent on dealing with the threat he represented before any other targets on the street. His eyes drifted to his greatsword, still buried in the ground, too far away to reach.


    The Storm Wolf shifted its path to cut off his line of sight to his weapon and began to pick up speed. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Klarion clenched his fists and prepared to dodge once it came into range. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, but he stayed rooted in place. The Storm Wolf was too fast, he knew his only chance was to face it head-on.


    Abruptly the Storm Wolf put on speed, covering the last dozen feet in a moment. In a snarl, it thrust its open jaws towards Klarion. He threw his body to the left, just barely getting out of the way of its charge. In a roll, he came back to his feet, again facing the Storm Wolf. Recovering quickly, it lunged at him again, but this time when he tried to dodge, a paw came whipping around to slam him to the ground.


    The front legs of the Storm Wolf came to stand on either side of his torso, and it jerked down to bite him. He was barely able to get a forearm up in front of his face before the jaws clamped down on it. A scream was torn from his throat as the Storm Wolf¡¯s bite began to grind his arm bones together.


    ¡°Spears!¡±


    While his world had turned red from the pain, Klarion heard the shout come from somewhere behind him. All at once, the Storm Wolf jerked above him. Its jaws were unclenched with a whimper, and the beast fell to the side. Hitting the ground with a deep thud, it lay still.


    While he stared at the deep, bloody holes in his arm, hands reached down to grab him under the arms. They pulled him backward, away from the now-dead Storm Wolf. A voice asked him something, but all he could think about was the throbbing pain that was worse than any he had yet felt since coming to Verdant VI. When he gave no response, a louder voice called out.


    ¡°He is in shock!¡± The voice came from somewhere behind him, but he had a hard time focusing on it. ¡°Hurst! Get over here and heal his arm!¡±


    ¡°Right away, Watch Sergeant!¡± a higher voice responded.


    Two tan hands came into his view, cutting off the sight of his wounded arm. After a moment, they began to glow a pale green. As he watched, the pain in his arm began to fade, and the holes were soon shrinking before his eyes. More able to focus, Klarion glanced at the person holding his arm. A young woman in the garb of the Watch, her face was going pale in concentration as she tried to heal him. In moments she let out a slight groan, and the soft light around her hands faded. Breathing heavily, she slumped backward.


    Seven other members of the Watch moved up to stand around them. Armed with spears and shields, they were casting wary glances down the street in the direction of where the Storm Wolf had come from. With the current threat killed by the Watch, a number of people who had been attempting to hide along the street were up and moving deeper into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Klarion was glad to see that the mother who had been crouching holding her two children was among that number. She moved as quickly as she could, which was to say not very fast, as her two children were having trouble keeping up. The three of them were soon separated by a gap from the rest of the group rushing in Klarion¡¯s direction.


    That was when two more Storm Wolves appeared down the far end of the street.


    Slightly smaller than the first Storm Wolf that the Watch finished off, each was covered in blood but otherwise seemed ready to continue hunting. They snarled as they caught sight of the fleeing people, and both quickly broke out into a run to pursue.


    The Watch Sergeant saw them at the same time Klarion did. He frantically began calling for the civilians heading in their direction to run.


    ¡°Watch Sergeant Bale, Hurst is still tapped out!¡± one of the members of the Watch near Klarion practically shouted in fear. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to move her for a few minutes yet!¡±


    ¡°Form a line!¡± Watch Sergeant Bale shouted orders, looking helplessly over the heads of the still-running civilians. ¡°Shields up and spears out! We hold here!¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Those at the back, hearing the calls from the Watch Sergeant and then hearing his shouted orders, struggled as one to pick up their pace. The group soon stretched out in a line, the younger, fitter civilians pulling ahead while the others lagged behind. The worst was the mother with the two children at the back. One of the kids had stumbled, and the mother was frantically trying to get them back on their feet.


    Klarion judged the distance.


    They weren¡¯t going to make it.


    In that moment, Klarion realized something profound about himself. Despite the injury that had just been healed, and the very real fear he still felt, he was not someone who could just stand by while others were not risk. Not when there was something he could do to help. He realized that his instincts to protect were what had originally called him to become a doctor. But now that the path to becoming one was closed off for him, he found that his instinct to protect remained, even at his own peril. Fear still bloomed within his chest, but the drive to protect that he felt easily overpowered it.


    The fleeing people, the woman struggling to save her children, needed someone to stand between them and the monsters in the dark.


    The mother was not able to get her child back on their feet. Giving up, crying out in fear, she pulled both of her kids in close, back presented towards the oncoming Storm Wolfs. It would not be enough to save them.


    The face of the terrified mother struck something deep down within him. Something fundamental to who he was. What he was doing here, and what he would be doing at the Imperial Academy, was not about bravery or power. No. It was about protecting others. Protecting others was simply who he was. Even if it meant risking his own life.


    He¡¯d already seen enough bloodshed to know that he wouldn¡¯t be able to live with himself if he let his fear keep him rooted in place.


    Klarion darted between the forming line of the Watch, ignoring their calls to stop. He broke out in a sprint. He was a protector. He would, he had to, save them.


    A click seemed to echo in the air all around him, but it just as easily could have come from within his mind. The fear of potentially rushing to his death fell away all at once to be replaced by a grim resolve. Pressure built within his chest, similar to what he had felt that time before out in the forest with Rolfun and Alesin. Rage blossomed within him as he saw both Storm Wolves veer to attack the woman and her children first.


    As if sensing the attack, the woman cried out in fear, then threw herself and her children to the side. The first Storm Wolf missed in its lunge, but the second took a swip in passing. The claws on its foot caught the leg of the mother, tracing deep lines that began weeping a dark red as soon as she hit the ground and slid. Her cries of fear turned to pain alongside those of her children. The Storm Wolves pivoted to lunge after her, the second with a raised, clawed paw ready to slam down.


    The pressure in Klarion¡¯s chest burst.


    His voice rose in a roar of raw, primal fury, echoing off the walls and filling the street. It was more than a shout; it was a challenge, a declaration of dominance laced with the weight of unyielding defiance. It was a command that vibrated in the air, causing the nearest windows to tremble with its force.


    As one, both Storm Wolves froze, ears flattening as if struck by an invisible force. Their heads whipped in Klarion¡¯s direction, and for a heartbeat, their wild eyes held the unmistakable flicker of fear.


    Their hesitation was all Klarion needed to get his hands back on his greatsword, still embedded point down in the street. Blackened from the blast of lightning, the hilt was still warm to the touch as he yanked it up and free to trail behind him as he continued his sprint. He heard the return of shouts behind him, but Klarion ignored them. The only thing he was focused on was getting within range of the Storm Wolves before they decided to attack the injured mother and her children again.


    He smiled as both Storm Wolves reacted to his charge by abandoning their almost prey to charge at him with snarls still tinged by fear.


    In that brief moment before coming into their range, Klarion remembered his fights with Rolfun. Bigger and stronger than him, Klarion had gradually learned to embrace a fighting style of movement and deflection. Given the horse-like size of the Storm Wolves bearing down on him, he would need a similar approach to survive their first attacks. A plan flickered through his mind.


    At the last possible moment, he dashed to the left, coming closer to the leading Storm Wolf but using its bulk to block the arrival of the second for a crucial moment. The beast growled in apparent rage, then swiped out with a paw, attempting to rake his side with its claws.


    Using the momentum of his pivot, Klarion brought his greatsword whipping around to bring the sharp edge down on the Storm Wolf¡¯s lunging paw. Its growl turned into a squeal of pain as half the paw was slashed away from Klarion¡¯s blow. Pained fury turned to ear-flattening fear as its eyes rose to meet a descending blow from the greatsword.


    Klarion had used the momentum of the first strike to bring the greatsword up and over then back around to slam down into its skull.


    A sickening crack echoed in the street, and the first Storm Wolf collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. It was dead.


    A clawed paw came swinging in before Klarion could recover his stance, batting him away from the dead Storm Wolf to land near where the mother looked to be starting to bleed out. Knowing that the other Storm Wolf was right behind him, and not wanting to be pinned to the ground again, Klarion tried to turn his fall into a roll to get back to his feet.


    A clawed paw hit him again, slamming him back down into the ground near the family. He cried out as he felt hot knives dig in along his back and shoulder, but he kept his hand closed like a vice around the hilt of his greatsword. Two sets of terrified eyes met his own. The faces of the kids, two young girls trying desperately to stop the bleeding of their mother, were staring in horror over his shoulder. Moving faster than he ever had before, Klarion put his back to them as he thrust out with his greatsword in a single motion.


    The blade went right through the roof of the mouth of the descending Storm Wolf. Its weight carried it down, impaling its skull fully, only to bear Klarion to the ground as well. Wind knocked out of him by the weight; he was once again knocked to the ground, half under the now-dead Storm Wolf. In the relief of having survived, he let loose an almost manic laugh at the fact he kept being knocked to the ground like this. Dexterity and Strength were going to be a focus going forward, at least until he got a class, whenever that would be. He shifted on the ground to try to get a look at the mother and kids behind him, which caused the open wounds on his back to grind painfully into the dirt. He struggled to control a hiss at the feeling. Better add Vitality and Endurance to that as well.


    Finally, after a little more painful wiggling, Klarion was able to get an eye on the people he saved. Both girls were still crouched over their now clearly unconscious mother, small bloody hands tight to her leg, trying to stop the blood loss.


    ¡°Are you both alright?¡±


    They immediately started crying, the fear and stress over everything that had happened in a bare handful of minutes hitting them all at once.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming, everything will be alright.¡± Klarion said, more to let them hear the newly restored calm in his voice than anything else. They likely couldn¡¯t even understand the words he was saying at the moment. ¡°As soon as I pull myself free, I¡¯ll take a look at your mom¡¯s leg. Just a moment, I promise.¡±


    As he had already expected, his strength was not great enough to push the dead Storm Wolf off of his lower half. Luckily for him, however, he did have enough strength that he could slowly, painfully, wriggle the rest of the way out from underneath its body. Fully aware of the still-bleeding woman behind him, the minute that it took him to get free seemed more like an hour.


    First one leg, then the other was out. To save time, he half-shuffled, half-crawled over to the injured woman.


    As gently as he could, he asked, ¡°Can I take a look at your mom¡¯s leg? I think I can help.¡±


    Sobbing and nodding, the little girls stepped back to hold each other as Klarion put his own hands forward to slow the bleeding. The wounds were slightly jagged but not as deep as he feared. Briefly taking one hand off the woman¡¯s leg, he reached up to his opposite shoulder. Gripping the already half-cut sleeve, he ripped it off in a jerking motion. In as deft of a movement as he could make, he looped it around her leg, just above where the cuts stopped. Working fast, he tightened it as quickly as he could to slow the blood loss. He wished he had something to help lock it in place, but at least the material he had was durable enough to work. Who would have thought those old videos he had watched on tourniquets would be useful, let alone that he would be using one in another world?


    As soon as the thought hit him, a wave of exhaustion followed, and his hands began to shake slightly. The previous half-ignored pain across his back flared in intensity. What he wouldn¡¯t give for another one of the minor healing potions Rolfun and Alesin had carried with them. His gaze went up from the leg he was holding to the unconscious woman¡¯s face. No, even if he had one right now, there was no doubt in his mind who he would be giving it to first.


    Though he was dead tired, and his wounds hurt, Klarion couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit¡­ happy. Yes. Happy. For years now, it had felt like he had been spinning in place. Working hard to survive and, hopefully, make progress towards becoming a doctor to help people as he had been helped. But he had not gotten any closer to that goal. Not really. His job had been a decent one, but it had been more clerical in nature. Dr. Halter had done all the real work. That had all changed after being saved by Franz, and being first trained and then escorted here by Alesin and Rolfun. Even though it meant engaging in violence and risking his life, he had been able to protect someone. More than someone. For once, he had truly been able to help.


    He slid to the side of the woman, hands still tight on the makeshift tourniquet. A nod and a smile helped bring the two girls further relief, though they continued crying.


    Hopefully, Alesin and Rolfun would notice that he wasn¡¯t with them soon.

 Chapter 31 (Interlude 4)

    The chaotic rush of bodies on the street grew worse the deeper she and Rolfun went into Thorn¡¯s Reach. Around them, cries of terror and shouted demands filled the air, mingling with the distant howls of the Storm Wolves. People from all walks of life surged forward, desperate to escape the beasts that were even now making their way deeper into the settlement. Even so, for all the rushing and the press of the mob, the waves of people broke around Alesin and Rolfun. At a settlement like this, far out on the edge of claimed territory on an Imperial Frontier World, they were easily the highest-leveled beings inside Thorn¡¯s Reach. Perhaps the local ruler was stronger, but that was not a guarantee either.


    No the issue with the pressing crowds wasn¡¯t a lack of power. It was the fact it was easy, too easy, to hurt innocents if they did not keep control over their actions. Combined with instructions from their superiors in House Blacksword to keep a low profile, it meant they had to do what they could to avoid attracting attention to themselves. That didn¡¯t mean Alesin had to be happy about it. Every person in the crowd who pressed too close to her was greeted with a snarl that would have caused the Alpha in the Storm Wolf pack attacking the city to flee back into the deepest part of the forest, tail tucked so far between its legs that it disappeared altogether.


    She might have lashed out at people, too, had Rolfun¡¯s steadying presence not been so close. Her massive husband moved as quickly as he could through the crowd without inadvertently stepping on anyone. He even would pause to help people knocked over here and there, as he could. The latest that he helped, an old dwarven matron, gestured back in the direction they had come in fear. Alesin couldn¡¯t hear his reply, but she could see him tense up when he glanced back in her direction.


    ¡°Alesin!¡± Rolfun practically shouted over the chaotic rush of people. ¡°Where is Klarion!?¡±


    She glanced behind herself, back in the direction they had come from. The rage she had been feeling at the crowd¡¯s pressing abruptly shifted to gut-churning worry. Klarion was no longer behind her.


    ¡°Blood and Ash!!¡± She cast her gaze around, but there was no sign of their charge anywhere nearby. She growled under her breath, the palpable anger emanating from her enough to get the nearby crowd to push to get away from her. Not that she noticed.


    Klarion had probably gotten separately back down the street a ways, and she hadn¡¯t noticed because of how distracted she had been by the fact she hates crowds. This was not good. The likelihood of him coming under attack by a Storm Wolf would, hopefully, be low, but if there was one thing she was starting to form a suspicion about, it was that Klarion was going to be a magnet for trouble. No, they needed to find him as quickly as they could. There was no telling what he would get himself into otherwise.


    ¡°We have to go back!¡± she responded in another shout. ¡°We can¡¯t have left him too far behind!¡±


    Without a word, Rolfun turned and began making his way back to the direction they had come from. Their progress was, thankfully, a bit faster since the vast majority of the panicking people were still headed deeper into Thorn¡¯s Reach. When he came even with her, Alesin stepped behind his imposing form so she wouldn¡¯t have to forge he own way forward. She caught a smile on his face as he passed her, likely in amusement at how much her anger about the crowds was showing. Luckily for him, he made no comment. Had he done so, she would have made sure he regretted it later.


    The mob of pressing people finally began to thin out as they made it a full two intersections further back along the route they had taken. With fewer people around them, Alesin felt the tension between her shoulders start to loosen.


    ¡°Halt in the name of the Watch!¡±


    And the tension was back.


    Alesin stopped moving, her husband doing the same, as the few people near to them gave a wider berth. If she had any doubt as to who was the target of that command, it all ended upon catching sight of the wood elf in a Watch Lieutenant uniform leading a squad of the Watch in their direction, eyes fixed on her. The haughty, superior expression on his face immediately filled her with distaste. Rolfun, the Seven bless him, could tell immediately this would be trouble, so rather than let her take the lead, he moved to interpose himself.


    ¡°Is there something the Watch needs?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the Lieutenant replied in that same haughty voice. ¡°I can tell at a glance that you both are a cut above the usual adventurer riffraff in this settlement. You are hereby drafted into the Watch for the duration of this emergency. Get in line, we are headed to the wall to reinforce the effort to turn back the Storm Wolves.¡± When Rolfun made to respond, the Lieutenant cut him off. ¡°Resisting this lawful order will mean both a fine and time in prison. Now, come along.¡±


    Such was the arrogance of the wood elf that he didn¡¯t even bother to wait to see if they followed his command. He simply continued in the direction of the wall, barking for his human Sergeant to take them in hand.


    ¡°Sorry about that, but you will need to come with us,¡± the Sergeant said, stepping out of the group as the rest of the Watch followed after the Lieutenant. ¡°Hopefully, this will be over quickly and you can go back to what you were doing. With the settlement¡¯s thanks, of course.¡±


    While the Sergeant motioned for them both to follow after the rest of the squad, Alesin was already shaking her head. They did not have time for this right now. She was about to let the man have it, while Rolfun intervened again.


    ¡°You have our apologies as well, Sergeant,¡± Rolfun said, pulling the Sergeant up short. ¡°But we are not able to join you. Our charge has been lost somewhere between here and the wall, and our duty is first, last, and only to find and protect him.¡±


    ¡°Your charge?¡± the man asked. He looked closer at Rolfun and Alesin, for the first time noticing the quality of their gear. ¡°Who is your charge?¡±


    ¡°Alesin?¡± Rolfun referred the question to her.


    ¡°Blood and Ash,¡± she swore again. She had been doing a lot of that lately. Her mind examined all the options. Things weren¡¯t looking good. With Klarion no where to be found, and the emergency going on in Thorn¡¯s Reach, there really wasn¡¯t a point in continuing as they had been. Better that some of the truth about what they were doing get out than to try to play along, only to loss Klarion. They truly didn¡¯t have time to waste. ¡°Scion Klarion. We are charged by the Archducal House Blacksword to escort him from Thorn¡¯s Reach to the Waypoint that he might head to join the incoming year of the Imperial Academy. As bondsmen of House Blacksword, we are authorized to use any and all means necessary in pursuit of our mission, but,¡± she said as the Sergeant¡¯s face went the color of curdled milk, ¡°we have also been directed to be discreet to the extent possible.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we cannot go with you and your squad,¡± Rolfun added, clearly glad that everything was now out in the open. ¡°So we will be on our way.¡±


    ¡°The Lieutenant will not like that, especially if you don¡¯t have any proof,¡± the Sergeant said, but if possible, he went even more pale at the look Alesin shot him at his words.


    ¡°Then he can take it up with the Seven,¡± she growled, a brief flicker of fire coming from her eyes, but she still pulled out the same document she had shown the Watch Captain at the gate. ¡°Here. Everything is in order.¡±


    The Sergeant hesitated but ultimately took the document. Opening it, he read through it quickly, his face becoming more horrified as he went. She could almost see the gears turning in his head. That the sun elf and half-ogre his commanding officer had just tried to draft were truly bondsmen of Archducal House Blacksword. That they had been charged to safely escort the youngest scion of that same imperial high noble house to Imperial Academy in their sector. And that, should their mission be interfered with in any way, whoever had the gall to do so would be censored by one of the most powerful noble families in this corner of the Empire itself.


    Needless to say, after the Sergeant carefully handed her the letter back, he tore off in a sprint after his Lieutenant.


    ¡°I think that means we are ok to continue,¡± she said with some grim satisfaction.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie,¡± Rolfun admonished her, ¡°you have been wanting to do something like that since you received our charge from House Blacksword, and,¡± he cut off her response, ¡°the Watch Captain did not react with quite the same¡­ urgency as the Sergeant just now.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I think you mean bone-shaking terror,¡± Alesin said, finally smiling. ¡°I will admit, it felt good to throw the weight of House Blacksword around a little.¡±


    ¡°Well hold on to that feeling,¡± Rolfun said, sighing again at seeing the Lieutenant had called a halt and was rushing back in their direction, the harried-looking Sergeant trailing along behind him.


    ¡°Let me see that document,¡± the Lieutenant all but demanded, completely ignoring the frantically talking Sergeant behind him.


    Without a word, Alesin handed it back over. Unlike the Sergeant, however, the Lieutenant only got more and more angry the further he read. Snarling, he shoved it back into Alesin¡¯s hands, completely unaware of how close he was coming to her setting him on fire.


    ¡°So you are dogs of the falling House Blacksword,¡± the Lieutenant growled, ¡°that doesn¡¯t matter in the face of this emergency. You will still be joining my squad and we will find your spoiled noble scion as soon¡ª¡±


    Alesin, worried over the potential failure of her mission, and even more about the potential threats that, even at this moment, might be able to end the life of the first noble scion she actually liked, reacted exactly as one might have expected.


    She called the hottest flames she could in a split second, and swung her fist as hard and as fast as she could at the face of that ignorant, piece of shit Lieutenant. She could practically feel her flaming knuckles popping the skull of the wood elf fool. With his death, they could finally get back to what they were supposed to be doing. Protecting Klarion.


    Rolfun¡¯s hand, covered in frost, darted in from the side to take the blow inches from the idiot¡¯s face.


    A burst of steam hissed into the air around them as her husband¡¯s frost put out her flame. The Sergeant cursed and stepped back out of range, while the Lieutenant simply doubled-down in the face of his averted death.


    ¡°What the hell was that! I¡¯ll have you know that attempting to assault a lawful officer of the Watch means¡ª¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Nothing.¡± Rolfun growled, abruptly stepping into the Lieutenant¡¯s personal space. Alesin smiled at the way he casually dominated that space. Oh, he was angry now. ¡°By insisting on following your asinine, worthless commands, you are delaying two legitimate bondsmen of, despite the rumors, one of the most powerful imperial high noble houses in this part of the Empire from going about their duties.¡± He cut off the angry Lieutenant before he could respond. ¡°If you continue to do so, I¡¯ll let Alesin have you!¡± The massive half-ogre completely ignored the stuttering Lieutenant to look at the Sergeant behind him. ¡°Sergeant! Get this fool out of our way, or I won¡¯t be responsible for his death!¡±


    Rolfun strode off, continuing in the direction they had been heading until they were interrupted by the Watch. For his part, the Sergeant called over the whole squad of the Watch and was clearly attempting to reason with his Lieutenant. Though Alesin could tell he was having little luck, it didn¡¯t matter. Within the next minute, she and Rolfun were fully out of their line of sight. They began to pick up there pace, going closer to the speed their stats allowed them to move at. Their feet practically flew over the ground.


    ¡°After we find Klarion and safely get him to the Waypoint, you are going to get a nice room in a fancy hotel tonight,¡± she couldn¡¯t resist saying over the wind of their movement, despite her renewed focus on searching for Klarion as they hurried along.


    ¡°Alesin, I lost my temper.¡±


    ¡°And it was so hot,¡± she responded before focusing back on the mission. ¡°But that will come later. First, we need to find Klarion.¡±


    As they came closer to the area they might have lost Klarion, she heard the sounds of shouting and howls. Given the rapidly emptying streets the closer they got to the wall, the sounds of panic died away to be replaced by fighting somewhere up ahead. Without another word, they surged ahead, only to hear a primal, thunderous roar, vibrating with sheer fury and defiance. One they both had heard before.


    Klarion.


    As one, they tried to pick up their pace, but another scattered group of fleeing civilians came running around the corner just as they were reaching the intersection. For the briefest of moments, she considered just rushing bodily through the group, but at the last moment, she saw a gap. Rolfun, rather than try to forge a way through, used his superior strength to throw himself bodily over several people to land on the other side. The crowd behind them now, all Alesin could focus on was each step bringing them closer to the sound of fighting ahead.


    Finally coming around the corner, their momentum nearly caused them to run into the back of another squad of the Watch. They stood in frozen shock, hands slack on their spears not even noticing their arrival. Instead, they stared further down the street where a single man bravely held off two Storm Wolves. For a group so concerned about protecting Thorn¡¯s Reach, a large number of them sure liked standing around while others fought.


    Like Klarion was fighting now.


    Her eyes widened as she saw him, greatsword first swinging around to cut into a charging Storm Wolf¡¯s paw, only to then use the momentum to bring his blade up in an arc to then descend once more straight into the skull of the beast, sending to directly to the ground with a crack of breaking bone that echoed down the street.


    Her feet froze and her heart surged to her throat as she saw Klarion then batted away by the second Storm Wolf to land on the ground near the civilians he was clearly trying to save. Even though he was little better than a non-combatant himself.


    Clearly trying to tap into his training with her husband, he sought to turn the fall into a roll, but as young as the Storm Wolf was, it still had speed beyond what the your lord was capable of.


    A second clawed paw hit out, slamming Klarion to the ground in a cry of agony. Blood sprayed into the air as the claws of the Storm Wolf cut into him. With the human¡¯s back turned, the beast lunged forward, jaws wide to seize his neck from behind.


    The Watch collectively cried out in fear, knowing they could do nothing.


    Rolfun yelled in rage, knowing his strength was useless this far away.


    She pushed fire into her legs, knowing even her enhanced speed would not be enough.


    Then the greatsword emerged from the skull of the descending Storm Wolf.


    Alesin froze, the fire around her disappearing all at once. Shock and awe both washed over her. She had known Klarion had been excelling in the training she and her husband had been subjecting him to, but that was all theory and sparring at most. While his resolve as they had escorted him to Thorn¡¯s Reach had been formidable, it had not yet come up against a true life-and-death battle with only himself to rely on. And rather than wait, like all common sense said he should have, he sought out such a fight himself. And he survived it. It was then, in that moment, that she knew it without a shadow of a doubt.


    Klarion was special.


    And she was so angry at him.


    Alesin did not so much walk as stalk towards Klarion, her husband at her side. Coming behind them, a bit more hesitantly, were the useless squad of the Watch. She did not know why they looked so nervous. At least one of them should have had a sensing skill. Alesin¡¯s was telling her that there were no other threats nearby.


    Rolfun was saying something to her, but she couldn¡¯t hear it through her anger. That brave, but so incredibly stupid young lord had just put himself at risk for no good purpose.


    ¡°What in the Nine Hells were you thinking!¡± Alesin shouted at the young man, practically still a boy, who had pulled himself free of the corpse to lie beside an injured human woman, his hand holding tightly to a makeshift tourniquet around her leg. She did not remember teaching him how to make one, so that must be something he had learned back on his home planet. Two girls, little older than toddlers, were crying quietly next to them.


    At a glance, she could tell the woman was in need of healing soon if she was to survive, but that was secondary to the fact that Klarion himself was bleeding heavily from his back.


    ¡°What in the Nine Hells were you thinking!¡± she shouted again when he did not immediately respond.


    ¡°Alesin, I think you¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± She shouted, shaking her husband off. All she could feel was the fear, even though she knew Klarion would be alright. The young lord needed to know just how close he had come to his own death. ¡°I want an answer!¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression hardened, eyes flaring as he met her furious gaze. For a moment, she felt like she was staring at a young scion, fresh to the System but something else.


    ¡°What was I thinking?¡± Klarion snapped, voice tight. ¡°I was thinking about how vicious Storm Wolves are. I was thinking about a mother and her daughters being in their path.¡± He practically growled out the last words. ¡°I was thinking about how, if I did nothing, they¡¯d be dead.¡±


    She was about to interrupt him, to tell him that was not yet his choice to make, that he was not yet strong enough to take a risk like that, but Klarion plowed on, not giving her a chance to interrupt.


    ¡°You think I wanted to be on the ground here, tasting blood, feeling my back shredded to ribbons? You think I wanted to risk my own life?¡± His voice steel-hard and edged with emotion. ¡°No, Alesin, I did not want to risk it. I had to risk it, because they couldn¡¯t protect themselves.¡±


    ¡°Bu¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Klarion was shouting now as well. ¡°You know what it means to stand between death and the innocent! You have been teaching me for days about what graduating from the Imperial Academy will mean! Of the service to others, to the Empire!¡± He slammed a bloody fist to his chest. ¡°After hearing all of that, all of that, how could you possibly expect me to turn away from those in need!!¡±


    ¡°K¡ªLord Klar¡ª¡± she tried to talk, the fear turning to shame in her chest, but he cut her off again.


    ¡°No, I need to say this.¡± Klarion extended one bloody finger, pointing it up in the air. ¡°I know what I risked. And I know what it could have cost me. But if I am the only thing standing between a monster and an innocent, I¡¯m going to put myself in harm¡¯s way. Every. Single. Time.¡± He turned his exhausted gaze to the two young girls, still crying over their unconscious mother, largely oblivious to the argument happening right next to them. He spoke once more, softly. ¡°I had to protect them, Alesin. I couldn¡¯t¡­I couldn¡¯t just let them die.¡±


    For a long moment, Alesin stared down at Klarion. Yes, he was still barely more than a boy, and still so new to the System, let alone the role he would be asked to play in the Empire as a member of House Blacksword. But for him to have not only figured out the most important role of nobility, but to have embraced it like so many others did not¡­ Yes. She was glad that they would be able to get him to the Imperial Academy before another day outside it relative safety put him at greater risk. The odds were long, how long neither she nor Rolfun would tell him, but even with House Blacksword¡¯s current weakness, Klarion still had a chance to become special.

 Chapter 32 (Interlude 5)

    Alesin was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of hurried running behind her. Though clearly not those of another Storm Wolf, both she and Rolfun were immediately on guard, pivoting away from Klarion to face the potential threat.


    The Watch Sergeant was rushing over, his squad in ragged ranks behind him. They were clearly trying their best to present a front of professionalism, but the way every single one of them was darting worried looks at the surrounding area, likely in search of more Storm Wolves, showed exactly what condition they were in.


    The Watch Sergeant came to a halt in front of her, his eyes darting to her looming husband, then to Klarion and the civilians still on the ground. A look of concern flashed across his face. Or was that anger she saw?


    ¡°Is that one,¡± the Watch Sergeant thrust out with his spear in the direction of Klarion, ¡°with you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she responded politely, pushing down the remaining anger she had been feeling. No matter what city you went to in the Empire, it was always better to start off politely with the Watch. If need be, she had the strength and the noble backing to throw her weight around later. Which she would not hesitate to do if this conversation went the way she was expecting. ¡°Was there something you needed, Watch Sergeant¡­.?¡±


    ¡°Bale, Watch Sergeant Bale,¡± he clarified before gesturing for two of his subordinates to move over to Klarion. Rolfun immediately stepped in their way, arms crossed and face set in a deep frown.


    The two members of the Watch stopped moving abruptly to face the large half-ogre, and turned to shoot almost helpless looks at their leader. Frowning, the Watch Sergeant gestured for them to wait, clearly not wanting to get into anything with Rolfun.


    ¡°I will need you to release him into my care,¡± Watch Sergeant Bale continued, again directing this to her. ¡°That young man disobeyed a direct order from the Watch to stay back from the Storm Wolves. Doing so put us all at risk.¡±


    Alesin gently arched an eyebrow, staring at the Watch Sergeant. Slowly, she shifted her gaze, going from Klarion to each Storm Wolf, clearly dead, and finally coming back to the Watch Sergeant.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said, her voice carrying a hint of contempt. And she did see. It looked like the Watch Sergeant was trying to make Klarion a scapegoat to cover for his own lack of action against the Storm Wolves. She hated those supposed protectors who did nothing but get in the way.


    Her thoughts must have shown on her face because the Watch Sergeant¡¯s eyes were flat with anger. The spear in his hand creaked, and the members of the Watch behind him shifted uneasily. ¡°Will we have to take you both in as well?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Alesin started, a half-grin forming slowly on her face as she stretched out the word. ¡°As both myself and Rolfun are sworn bondsmen of the Imperial Archducal House Blacksword, we are above your petty authority while in the pursuit of our duty.¡±


    While the Watch Sergeant had opened his mouth after she said that first word, his face going red as a furnace, as soon as she stated that they were in service to high-ranking imperial nobility, he slammed his teeth shut with an audible snap. The way his red face immediately transitioned into an ugly, pasty white was so satisfying after having to sneak around for so long.


    ¡°Y-y-you,¡± he stammered, looking at her. Watch Sergeant Bale¡¯s eyes got even wider when he finally realized what that would make Klarion. ¡°That w-would¡­H-h-he is¡ª?!¡±


    ¡°Klarion von Sturmwacht,¡± Alesin said with no small amount of relish, ¡°a scion of the Imperial Archducal House Blacksword.¡±


    With just those few words, the Watch Sergeant completely changed his attitude, the fear almost radiating from him. Immediately, she began to feel a little guilty. Alesin knew from personal experience how so many nobles in the Empire punished their social inferiors for a fraction of the treatment Watch Sergeant Bale had been about to insist upon. Luckily for the terrified man, Klarion was not the type to react to his slight. If he even recognized it as a slight.


    Watch Sergeant Bale swallowed hard and shifted his stance from angry defiance to an almost wary subservience. ¡°Lord Klarion,¡± he said, bowing his head to Klarion. ¡°My apologies for not recognizing your status¡­ I hadn¡¯t realized. I¡¯d never have presumed to issue you an order otherwise. Is there anything we can do for you, my lord?¡±


    For Klarion¡¯s part, he remained focused on the injured woman next to him.


    ¡°There is no need for apologies to me, Sergeant,¡± he dismissed the man¡¯s apology while giving the tourniquet a slight tug to keep it tight. ¡°Could you have your healer take a look at this woman?¡±


    Watch Sergeant Bale straightened, still visibly tense but clearly reassured by the lack of reproach in Klarion¡¯s voice. Alesin realized that his approach to others showing subservience like this would become another thing that would set Klarion apart from the other high imperial nobility.


    ¡°Of course, Lord Klarion. Most wouldn¡¯t¡­ I mean¡­ thank you.¡± The Watch Sergeant clearly struggled to find the right words, but with no lashing out by the young scion, Bale focused on his one request. ¡°Hurst, get over here and heal their wounds!¡±


    A young woman in the ranks of the Watch stepped forward from where she had been leaning against a comrade. Pale in the face, and with her hands slightly shaking, she nervously looked between those she had been ordered to heal and her Watch Sergeant.


    ¡°Ah, Sergeant. I don¡¯t have enough reserves to heal both yet.¡±


    ¡°Then prioritze Lord Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Rolfun,¡± Klarion interjected, ¡°do you have any more of those minor healing potions?¡±


    ¡°Of course, lord. Though this one should be the last for a while since you have been using so many in your training.¡± Rolfun leaned down to pull out one of the potions from his storage ring. Her husband handed it to Klarion, but the young lord refused to take it.


    ¡°A second one?¡± Klarion asked.


    ¡°Lord?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the only one injured,¡± he gestured at the woman lying beside him.


    Watch Sergeant Bale cleared his throat, glancing between Klarion and the injured woman. ¡°My lord, if I may¡­ even if you wish to use the potion, our healer can still tend to the woman¡¯s injuries,¡± he offered, his voice deferential as he gestured the healer, Hurst, forward.


    ¡°No,¡± Klarion held up a hand, halting her before she could get to the woman. ¡°Save your strength. We have extra potions, and if you come across more Storm Wolves, your healing will be needed then.¡±


    The healer hesitated, eyes darting to Sergeant Bale for confirmation. Slowly, the squad¡¯s leader nodded. For Alesin, it was clear to see that both were confused. Nobility in the Empire just did not hand out healing potions, even those as relatively inexpensive as the minor ones Rolfun carried, without demanding something in return. But Klarion hadn¡¯t done that. Instead, he was simply insisting that Hurst save her healing for if the squad of the Watch came across another Storm Wolf.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    With no interruption, Rolfun handed over another minor healing potion. After drinking his own, Klarion took the second and gave it to the injured woman. Apart from a groan, she did not otherwise stir while the hole in her leg sealed. As her breathing eased, her daughters pressed in close, clearly relieved that their mother was going to be alright.


    ¡°We¡¯re in your debt, Lord Klarion. Most nobility wouldn¡¯t¡­ I mean¡­ thank you.¡± Watch Sergeant Bale visibly struggled to find the right words, eyes darting to his men, who looked on with a mix of awe and confusion. It wasn¡¯t every day they found themselves in the presence of the high imperial nobility. Even rarer to see one who put their life on the line to protect innocent civilians like Klarion had done. That Alesin herself could attest to, given her past experiences.


    Klarion waved off the thanks, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s nothing really. I¡¯m simply glad I was able to help in some small way before we head to the Waypoint.¡±


    Watch Sergeant Bale¡¯s posture softened, as did his grip on his spear. His eyes fixed on Klarion¡¯s blood-soaked back. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll make it to the waypoint? My squad and I can escort you.¡±


    Alesin snorted in contempt. Like those of the Watch on the frontier of a border world on the edge of the Empire would be able to do anything should Rolfun and herself be overpowered. She almost said as much, before a sharp look from Rolfun caused her to shut her mouth.


    ¡°I appreciate the offer, Watch Sergeant. But your people need you, and my companions are strong enough to escort me there,¡± Klarion gently declined. ¡°But I would appreciate it if you could do something for this mother and her daughters.¡±


    ¡°We will make sure they get somewhere safe before we continue towards the wall.¡±


    ¡°Then we leave them in your capable hands,¡± Alesin said. She leaned over and pulled Klarion to his feet. As he stood, he winced. Apparently, the minor healing potion hadn¡¯t been enough to fix everything.


    Before they could step away, both little girls stepped over and grabbed Klarion around the legs. Mumbled thanks were spoken, to which Klarion was not sure how to respond. He decided on patting them gently on their heads and whispered back reassurances. Upon his standing to his full height, the Watch Sergeant and his squad banged fists to chests in salute. She looked away with a smile as Klarion clearly struggled to mimic the salute back. Another thing he would have to get used to, especially if he continued engaging in these heroics.


    That thought brought a bit of her anger back, and when they finally were far enough away, she confronted Klarion again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you put yourself at risk like that. You don¡¯t even have a class yet!¡± She growled at him as they broke into a jog, Rolfun leading the way again. ¡°Please tell me you at least spent the stat points you earned from your level-up.¡±


    ¡°Ummm, well¡­No.¡± Klarion responded, increasing his pace to keep up. ¡°I, ah, figured it would be smarter to use them when I have time to train, that I might get used to the changes.¡±


    While his admission of not having used the free stat points he had received on leveling up, Alesin had to admit that his reasoning at least made a little sense. A few stat points added would have made a minimal difference, even this low in level, but if he had dropped all thirty into a single stat, all at once¡­ He probably would have had his combat ability through completely off-kilter.


    ¡°You have to admit that he has sound reasoning, Alesin,¡± Rolfun said from in front of them.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she reluctantly agreed. ¡°But make sure to use those stats the next opportunity you get. You are too low a level, and too weak right now to keep your stats in reserve.¡±


    While she wanted to say more to Klarion, she held her tongue as reinforcements in the uniform of the City Watch came sprinting in their direction from deeper in the settlement. Not wanting to deal with any more interruptions to their efforts to get Klarion to the Waypoint, both she and her husband formed up on either side of Klarion to guide him to the side of the street. It looked like the Watch Sergeant leading the squad was about to step over to them for a moment, but several howls from nearby caused him to call for his men to increase their speed. Even after they disappeared out of sight, the howls and sounds of combat continued. In fact, it seemed to be coming closer.


    Given how much fighting was still going on in Thorn¡¯s Reach, Alesin was beginning to suspect something more dangerous was happening here. The attack had been going on too long for it to simply be an aggressive pack of Storm Wolves. Given the numbers needed to penetrate this far into the settlement, a worrying possibility came to her.


    The Storm Wolves might be the leading edge of a Beast Wave.


    On worlds like Verdant VI, which were still predominantly wild, monstrous beasts were common and multiplied quickly. The settlement, and gradual taming, of these worlds would gradually put these creatures at risk. The dumber ones would quickly be culled. The smarter, more dangerous species, however, would begin to cooperate. They would gradually begin to probe for weaknesses and, if they find any, would work to wipe out the threats that settlements pose. With enough monstrous species involved, a Beast Wave would result. Those that gained too much momentum could wipe a world clean of all civilization. Perhaps she would ask Rolfun if they should come back to help once they saw Klarion safely through the Waypoint.


    With no more reinforcements in their way, Rolfun took off in the lead again. The next few streets were empty. The sounds of fighting were barely discernable this deep into Thorn¡¯s Reach, but it was still loud enough that anyone who would normally be outside had already sought shelter. With no prying ears nearby, Alesin tried one last time to impress on Klarion the need not to put himself at such risk as he did today.


    ¡°Rolfun, Klarion, hold on for a moment.¡±


    They both came to a stop, though only Klarion turned to look at her. Rolfun kept his eyes roving over the street, looking for any potential threats. She could guess he already knew what she wanted to say to the young lord. Since he kept focused on their surroundings, her husband agreed that she needed to talk to Klarion about his recent foolishness.


    ¡°Klarion, we are almost to the Waypoint but there are a few things we need to talk about yet.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°First, how foolish it was to put yourself at risk back there,¡± she held up a hand to cut off his response. ¡°It was not wrong to head off the fight, and that mother and her daughters owe everything to you. But it was still foolish. ¡±


    ¡°Bu¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she firmly cut him off. ¡°As well as you have been doing, you are still not fully trained. Nor do you have any bodyguards to watch your back. Until you have that, at the minimum, any intervention in a fight like that one will be nothing but foolish.¡±


    For a long minute, Klarion was silent, staring down at the ground. When he finally looked back up at her, his jaw was set in a firm line.


    ¡°I thought we had been over this, Alesin.¡±


    ¡°Not enough, we haven¡¯t,¡± Alesin said. ¡°I will keep going over this with you until it finally sinks in. You. Were. Foolish. Don¡¯t do¡ª¡±


    ¡°The strong should protect those who can¡¯t protect themselves,¡± he interrupted her.


    ¡°But you are NOT STRONG YET!¡± Her even response turned into shouting by the end.


    ¡°I will be!¡±


    ¡°BUT YOU ARE NOT YET!¡± Her cloak of flame began to manifest itself about her shoulders. How could he really not get what she was trying to tell him? She didn¡¯t want him to stop protecting others; she just wanted him not to go about it foolishly. Like he clearly insisted on doing right now!


    ¡°Klarion,¡± Rolfun interjected, stepping in between her and the young lord.


    She almost shouted at him, but the look in his eye and a slight shake of his head brought her up short. She took a long, shaking breath, then released it.


    ¡°What Alesin is saying, Klarion,¡± Rolfun continued, eyes focused on him. ¡°Is to keep that focus on protecting others. Throw yourself into all the training you can while at the Imperial Academy. Just don¡¯t be foolish about it.¡± He held up heavy fists to cut off Klarion. ¡°I mean, don¡¯t forget to put the same level of effort into gaining allies that you can trust. And at least a few bodyguards.¡±


    ¡°But wha¡ª¡±


    ¡°Klarion, you can¡¯t help anyone if you die heroically,¡± Rolfun said firmly. ¡°And everything I have seen in training you to this point tells me you will have a massive capacity to help others. Don¡¯t waste it because you are impatient to help.¡±


    ¡°Even if it means sacrificing people now?¡± Klarion¡¯s jaw unclenched, and his voice got low. ¡°Even if it means children would die?¡±


    ¡°Even then,¡± Rolfun nodded grimly. ¡°As hard as it is to say, the reality of life in an Empire constantly under siege from all directions, your potential is far too valuable, for far too many, to exchange it for even a place like Thorn¡¯s Reach. Perhaps not for the whole of Verdant VI, if you work hard enough. So. Can we trust you not only to protect others but also to protect yourself?¡±


    Slowly, reluctantly, Klarion nods his head.


    ¡°Good, now let us get you to the Waypoint.¡±


    They set off again. It was times like these that Alesin was truly appreciative of her husband. Without his intervention, she would likely have kept yelling at Klarion, firm in the belief that shouting would eventually get the words to penetrate his thick skull. Thankfully, Rolfun had intervened. She would have to thank him later. Her thoughts were cut off as they finally came within sight of their destination. Their mission was practically completed.


    The Waypoint was just ahead.

 Chapter 33

    Buildings fell away to either side as Klarion followed Rolfun down the street to what looked to be an open square. Alesin was still close by his side, and while he remained irritated at her for how she had criticized him, he also knew she had only said the things she had said because she was concerned about him. Though he would still have made the same decision to fight against the Storm Wolves, given what Rolfun had said as well, he would make sure to be smarter about things in the future. Perhaps putting some extra stat points into intelligence and wisdom would help with that. He¡¯d have to think a bit about how he wanted to distribute his free stat points. While it had been weeks, that was still strange to think about.


    ¡°We are here.¡±


    In the middle of the square loomed a large, fortified stone building. The structure was intimidating. Round in shape with thick walls, the two-story structure had narrow windows and was surrounded by hastily constructed barricades. Wagons had been overturned and lashed together, piles of crates and barrels filling the gaps. There were even chunks of wood and rubble stacked in places. Nervous members of the City Watch crouched under cover, warily watching the surrounding approaches to the square. A number of them were staring in their direction. A number started to whisper to each other, and one even pointed out his appearance and bloody clothing.


    Alesin tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.


    ¡°Here,¡± she handed him a letter that she had pulled from her storage ring. ¡°Once you are inside, show this to the Waypoint Attendant. They will send you to the capital city of this world. Once you arrive, ask to be taken to the Waygate for the Imperial Academy. Show the letter if you need to, but make sure to keep it in your hand when you cross through. You will need it to gain admission. Do not do anything else, or go anywhere else, until you arrive at the Imperial Academy. Any questions?¡±


    Holding the letter tightly in his fist, Klarion responded, ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Then this is where we part ways,¡± Rolfun said, a hint of sadness in his voice, though Klarion couldn¡¯t see it on his face. ¡°Just remember what we said. Keep your head down; train hard; make allies; and beyond everything else, please don¡¯t be foolish with your safety.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± he said, feeling sad himself.


    In the grand scheme of things, the past two weeks really hadn¡¯t been that long, but the time he had spent with Alesin and Rolfun had been incredibly important to him. Not only had they given him his first taste of experience with the new existence he was heading into, but they had been incredibly kind and, he suspected, went beyond their duties to help better prepare him for what was coming next.


    ¡°Thank you. For everything,¡± Klarion said. Without a word, Rolfun stepped in close to pull him into a full-body hug. The air was pressed from his body as the large half-ogre briefly forgot his own strength. Before he could say a word, another pair of arms wrapped around them both. If anything, they squeezed a bit harder. After a long few moments, both released him to stand back. ¡°Hopefully I¡¯ll see you both again soon.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see. Now, get going,¡± Alesin said, nodding to a Watch Sergeant who had stepped from cover, waiting for Klarion to approach.


    While he felt a bit uncomfortable leaving his escorts behind, he did not glance back as he approached the Watch Sergeant. Without a word, Klarion extended the letter Alesin had given him.


    The Watch Sergeant took it without a word, opening it in a smooth motion. But as his eyes scanned the paper, the man¡¯s expression changed. His face lost color, and his stance shifted subtly, a sign of cautious respect tempered by underlying dread. This wasn¡¯t the first person to react this way, so just what in the hell was written in the letter?


    With a single nod, he motioned Klarion forward, gesturing for the two guards stationed on either side of the heavy, iron-bound door to the imposing building to let him through.


    Klarion looked back down the street to where Alesin and Rolfun stood watching him. He gave them a wave goodbye, already knowing he was going to miss them no matter what came next. His escorts, no his friends, both responded with salutes of their own. Without another backward look, Klairon turned back to the building and pushed open the heavy door to go inside.


    The room he entered opened up into an expansive hall brightly lit with what looked to be some kind of glowing rocks embedded in the walls. Across the floor were four raised platforms, each holding a softly glowing circle on top. Even with his limited experience, Klarion could tell these were the Waypoints. Above each of the walls loomed a raised platform, on which stood guards wearing different armor than the Watch. Each wore dark plate decorated with an emblem of a green tree circled by a thorned crown. Each of the roughly dozen who could see stood still, but the nearest three shifted to watch him as he entered. Almost like they were determining if he was a threat or not.


    ¡°If you are here to use one of the Waypoints, you will actually have to come in, you know.¡±


    A man in blue robes stepped forward into his line of sight. His movements were calm but deliberate, carrying an air of quiet authority. His hood was pulled down, preventing Klarion from seeing his face. Despite that, it still felt like the man was impatient for some reason.


    ¡°So? Where are you bound?¡±


    ¡°The capital.¡±


    The blue-robed figure visibly stiffened. ¡°By order of the lord of Thorn¡¯s Rest, no one is permitted to use the Waypoint to the capital so long as the Storm Wolf threat continues. You will have to wait until then.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s heart rate picked up as he began to experience a mix of panic and anger. Alesin had been clear he needed to go through the Waypoint now, not later.


    ¡°But I have to get to the capital,¡± he insisted, urgency in his voice, ¡°and I was told I need to leave for it. Now.¡±


    The blue-robed man shook his head, his tone remaining firm. ¡°This is not a matter open to discussion. The capital¡¯s safety demands strict control over these Waypoints. The lord ordered the one linking Thorn¡¯s Rest to be shut down until the crisis ends. You can wait here or return from where you came, but you will not be able to go through the Waypoint.¡±


    Recalling Alesin¡¯s earlier instructions, Klarion pulled out the letter she had given him and presented it to the blue-robed figure. ¡°I think you should read this. It explains why I need to leave now, even amid this crisis.¡±


    The blue-robed man looked at the letter skeptically before accepting it. He opened the document with a practiced hand and leaned closer to the letter to read it. Partway through, he stiffened in clear surprise. Taking a small step back, he jerked his hooded head in a nod. ¡°My apologies, Scion Blacksword. I was unaware of your status. ¡±


    The complete change in how the man was treating him was a bit jarring, but Klarion was gradually growing used to the impacts of the letter. While he hadn¡¯t read it, he had his suspicions that its contents were backed up by the might of House Blacksword. That would explain why everyone changed their treatment of him after they read it. He couldn¡¯t wait to learn a bit more about his family.


    ¡°Please, this way,¡± he said, his tone now deferential. ¡°The central Waypoint is the one that will be able to take you to the capital.¡±


    Klarion followed him toward a raised platform at the room¡¯s center. Stepping onto it, he could more clearly see the circle inscribed with symbols of some sort which had been giving off that soft glow when he had first entered the building. Motion to the side brought his attention back to the man in blue robes.


    Making several rapid motions with his hands, the man caused the inscriptions at Klarion¡¯s feet to flare into life. As they did so, the man raised his head and Klarion was finally able to see under the hood. Eyes glowing a soft blue met his own.


    ¡°Safe travels, Scion Blacksword.¡±


    The humming sound nearly drowned out the words. The brightness of the inscriptions at his feet increased once more in a burst of light. A jerking motion nearly took him off of his feet right as he was blinded. Moments later, his feet slammed against the ground, and a massive room filled with movement came into focus around him. His stomach had twisted in protest, but he was able to keep everything down. It seemed being teleported became easier on the body the more you did it.


    The sprawling chamber that he had appeared in came into sharp focus. Circular in shape, much like the chamber he had just come from, this one was almost impossibly large. Vaulted ceilings carved from polished stone gleam under enchanted lights. Beneath sat at least a dozen Waypoints. Intricate marble tiles stretched across the floor around him. Klarion felt very self-conscious at the dark stains of blood on the floor around him. Apparently, his arrival had caused some of the Storm Wolf blood, and his own, to be scattered across the tiles nearest him. Since it couldn¡¯t be helped, he turned his attention to all those moving around him.


    Dozens of people, likely more, moved all around with purpose. Though the activity was jarring, what truly shocked him was the sheer diversity of the people. Meeting Alesin and Rolfun had been his first true experience with there being more than just humans. Thorn¡¯s Reach had built on that, confirming to him that all the classical races of humanoids from Earth¡¯s mythologies likely existed somewhere out here in the multiverse.


    But apparently, the capital of a frontier world on the edge of the Empire he now found himself a part of was a different thing altogether.


    A group of elves, with hair as pale as snow and exposed skin little darker, moved with lithe grace off a neighboring platform to his right. They moved without stopping in the direction of a number of what, in his previous life would have been TSA checkpoints.


    His attention was pulled to the left as two groups of dwarves converged on each other with a cacophony of clashes and clangs. Much like those he had so briefly seen in Thorn¡¯s Reach, the stout figures garbed in heavy leather carried with them stacks of crates and boxes of tools. Apparently, the ones in the front of each group had not been watching where they had been going, leading to the collision unfolding now. Beards of brown and black bristled as they barked orders at one another. Seemingly this happened often enough that no one else nearby, let alone security, was seeking to intervene. Indeed, it seemed like a number of nearby figures wearing uniforms similar to those back in the Thorn¡¯s Reach Waystation were focused on a group of arguing gnomes pointing at some kind of mechanical device that sat on the floor smoking.


    Then there were the stranger races. Ones he couldn¡¯t even begin to name.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A towering creature with the body of a man but the horns of a stag carried a massive pack with apparent ease, its hooves clicking against the marble of the tiles. A trio of beings loomed just behind it, each with glistening, translucent skin, almost like living crystals, glided silently past. Each of their bodies refracted light into rainbows across the floor as they moved. Off to the side, a tiny reptilian figure darted between the legs of a tall human trader, its scaled tail flicking in irritation as it hissed something incomprehensible over its shoulder.


    The scale of the Waystation he found himself in only amplified his sense of awe. These weren¡¯t just travelers moving through - they were builders, merchants, soldiers, and more, each with their own reasons for being here. For perhaps the first time Klarion got the barest bit of insight into the enormity, and complexity, of the Empire.


    He swallowed hard, the weight of his own insignificance pressing down on him, despite the letter that supposedly said otherwise still tight in his fist. For all the training Alesin and Rolfun had worked to give him until they reached Thorn¡¯s Reach, he still felt so incredibly small. Perhaps he should have asked more questions about what it was like to live in the Empire, and not just about weapons and history.


    Before a panic could set its hooks into his chest, Klarion exerted a great mental effort to change his perspective. Yes, he was apparently so very, very far out of his depth. Yes, he barely knew anything about the Empire. But. Yes, but that was something that he would quickly be able to rectify at the classes in the Imperial Academy once he arrived. Yes, curiosity and a desire for knowledge and learning were what he needed to focus on, not how much he was treading in the deep waters.


    Having grounded himself, Klarion looked in the direction of the checkpoints he had seen earlier. At intervals along the walls stood tall desks staffed by harried-looking officials. They seemed to be orchestrating the chaos, their hands darting over papers and glowing crystals as they barked orders and instructions at the lines of people forming before them.


    ¡°Look at this dirty mongrel, dripping filth and blood all over that Waypoint!¡±


    Following the direction the voice was coming from brought Klarion¡¯s attention to a group of finely dressed human merchants standing off to one side, their attention fixed squarely on him. Their silk and tailored jackets gleamed under the lights of the Waystation, jeweled pins and chains catching every glint. One of them, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a sneering face was apparently the one who had spoken, as the others gathered around him were laughing.


    ¡°I can practically smell him from here,¡± a portly man with multiple rings on every finger said in between snorts of laughter. A renewed gale of laughter greeted his words.


    Klarion stiffened, heat rising to his face as their mocking words reached his ears. He could feel their eyes still staring at his bloodstained clothing.


    ¡°Honestly,¡± came a third voice, this one belonging to a sharp-faced woman whose voice dripped with disdain, ¡°do they let just anyone through the frontier Waypoints now? I thought the riffraff would know to stay where they belong.¡±


    The tall man smirked. ¡°Must be some backwater bumpkin. Probably doesn¡¯t even know where to go. Hey, boy!¡± he called, his voice also laced with mockery. ¡°Lost, are we? Maybe you should ask for directions before you bleed all over civilized society.¡±


    The group laughed again, their jeers slicing through Klarion¡¯s growing embarrassment. He clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. His first instinct was to snap back, but he bit his tongue. There was no point wasting energy on their pettiness. Instead, he ignored their laughter and forced his attention back to the lines of people. His jaw tightened as he fought to stay calm. Let them laugh. He had far more important things to worry about than a pack of overdressed jackals. The sooner he could get to his destination, the better.


    Klarion carefully stepped off the Waypoint platform, his boots slick with blood and greatsword shifting on his back. He nearly lost his footing, catching himself in time, but the stumble was enough to send the human merchants into another round of raucous laughter.


    ¡°Careful there!¡± another called out. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want you to fall - though it might improve your appearance!¡±


    Klarion¡¯s jaw tightened further, but he refused to look back at them. Let them laugh. Let them mock. He focused on the task at hand: getting into line so he could figure out where he needed to go. Unfortunately, it was soon apparent that the shortest line leading to the exit of the Waystation was directly adjacent to the group of jeering merchants. The other lines stretched out into the throng of travelers, and Klarion wasn¡¯t about to waste any time here if he could help it. Steeling himself, he moved to the checkpoint.


    The human merchants noticed his approach immediately, their attention sharpening like predators spotting wounded prey.


    ¡°Oh, look at this,¡± the portly merchant said with a grin, nudging the tall woman. ¡°He¡¯s coming closer. Guess he does want our help after all.¡±


    ¡°Careful, darling,¡± the woman said, wrinkling her nose as Klarion passed near the group. ¡°He might get his filth on you.¡±


    Klarion said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed forward as he moved to take his place in the back of the short line. The smell of Storm Wolf blood apparently still lingered around him, as a number of other travelers edged away. The line got shorter, though, which was a relief.


    ¡°Silent now, is he?¡± the tall one spoke again, his voice dripping with mock pity. ¡°Maybe he is smarter than he looks.¡±


    Klarion continued to ignore the taunts, standing stiffly in line as the merchants continued to chuckle at jokes that were progressively more insulting. His heart pounded with suppressed frustration, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. They were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, an obstacle to be endured and left behind.


    He focused on his breathing, on the steady rhythm of his heart, and on the letter clenched tightly in his fist.


    Finally, it was his turn.


    Klarion stepped forward as the official manning the checkpoint that seemed almost an elevated office desk waved him forward. His boots continued to leave faint, bloody smudges on the marble floor. The official, a thin man with sharp features and an expression that spoke of boredom and irritation, wrinkled his nose as Klarion approached.


    ¡°What is this, then?¡± the official snapped, his eyes raking over Klarion¡¯s disheveled and bloody appearance. ¡°By the Seven, you¡¯re tracking blood all over the floor. What is your business here in the capital, vagrant?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s grip tightened on the letter in his fist but kept his voice steady. ¡°I am here to be directed to where I need to go to get to the Imperial Academy.¡±


    The official barked incredulous laughter, leaning back slightly as if Klarion¡¯s very presence offended him. ¡°The Imperial Academy? You?¡± He sneered. ¡°They don¡¯t take beggars. Enough with the poor jokes. What is your name and why have you really come to the capital?¡±


    Rather than answer, Klarion extended the letter to the official without another word. The official hesitated, then snatched the letter with an annoyed huff. Without bothering to look at the seal, he pulled open the letter. His eyes darted across the words, only to freeze within seconds.


    The transformation was almost instantaneous after that.


    The official¡¯s face went pale, the color draining away from his cheeks. His eyes darted back to Klarion, then to the letter, and back again. His mouth opened and closed as though searching for words, but none came. Finally, he managed a hoarse, ¡°You are¡­?¡±


    ¡°Klarion von Sturmwacht,¡± he responded, his voice attempting to carry a weight of authority he still didn¡¯t feel. ¡°Scion of House Blacksword.¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡± the official stammered, his voice catching again. He cleared his throat and straightened abruptly to find solace in formality. ¡°How might I assist you, Klarion von Sturmwacht, Scion of the Imperial Archducal House Blacksword?¡±


    The official¡¯s voice rang loudly, catching the attention of those nearby, including the merchants who had been harassing Klarion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the merchants go rigid. Their laughter died mid-chuckle, replaced by horrified silence. The woman¡¯s face paled, and the portly man fumbled nervously with the edge of his gaudy cloak, bravado evaporating like a puddle in a desert.


    ¡°He¡¯s a scion of House Blacksword?!¡± one of them whispered harshly, but still loud enough for Klarion to see the words cause a ripple through others near them. He grew uncomfortable as he felt more eyes shift in his direction. Just what was the reputation of House Blacksword?


    Again refusing to acknowledge those around him, he spoke directly to the official. ¡°I need directions on how to get to the Imperial Academy,¡± he repeated evenly.


    ¡°Of course, my lord! Right away!¡± The official gestured frantically to a nearby attendant, who scurried over to take the official¡¯s seat as he stepped down. The official then returned the letter to Klarion. ¡°Please, follow me. I¡¯ll ensure you reach the proper Waypoint without further delay!¡±


    As the official came out from behind the elevated desk, Klarion was surprised to see how short the man was. Easily a foot shorter than his own height. When he moved past, Klarion followed along behind. He felt the stares of the merchants boring into his back, but thankfully, the mocking had ceased altogether. Luckily for them, he wasn¡¯t the vengeful type when it came to simple mockery.


    The official led Klarion across the chamber at a good pace, but as they got closer to the other side, the crowd grew thicker, and their progress slowed. He could clearly see that the official was starting to grow panicked at the people getting in their way, so Klarion spoke up.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, I understand the Waystation is busy,¡± he said to the official, causing the man to hesitate and turn to him. ¡°Just lead me where I need to go as best you can, I can be patient.¡±


    ¡°Of course, lord,¡± the official responded, though he did appear a bit reassured. ¡°The Waypoint to the Imperial Academy is in the upper tier of this chamber. Even with your patience, it should only take us a few more minutes to get you there.¡± So saying, the official returned to trying to make progress through the crowd.


    Klarion followed him across the bustling chamber, his boots echoing on the marble as people gradually ceased moving to watch the curious situation unfolding in their midst. Merchants, guards, and even what Klarion expected to be legionnaires all paused to observe the official¡¯s unusual behavior. Conversations began to die off as those observers realized that the official was acting so strangely because he was escorting Klarion.


    The soft roar in the Waystation was starting to die down as Klarion and the official arrived before an ornate doorway set into the far wall from where they had started. Two massive guards, nearly the size of Rolfun, wearing blood-red full plate armor, stood on either side of the doorway. As the official led Klarion to them, a pale elven woman in black leather seemed almost to appear from behind the one on the left. As they came to a stop before the trio, the elven woman spoke.


    ¡°Waykeeper Oswal, what brings you to the entrance to the second tier?¡±


    ¡°I come bringing Scion Klarion von Sturmwacht of the Imperial Archducal House Blacksword into your care. The lord seeks to make use of the capital¡¯s Waypoint to the Imperial Academy.¡±


    At those words, somehow, the whole chamber seemed to sink into a preternatural silence. Klarion continued to try to do the best he could to ignore the shocked stares of all those around him, but he promised himself one of the first things he would do at the Imperial Academy was try to find out just what the hell was going on with House Blacksword that would cause these reactions.


    Oswal turned away from the stunned guards to face Klarion and bow. ¡°My lord, I leave you in the capable hands of the Wayguard Captain.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your help, Oswal.¡±


    Oswal froze, then bowed even deeper. ¡°Your lordship is too kind, I was only doing my duty.¡±


    The elven woman cleared her throat. ¡°If you would follow me, Scion?¡±


    Nodding, Klarion followed behind the elven woman as she made her way through the ornate doorway. Stepping to the right, she led him to a stairwell that spiraled upwards. It was thankfully not an uncomfortable climb for Klarion. The steps were of a decent size, and the spiral was large enough that his greatsword did not scrap or clang against the wall as they went.


    Finally, the Wayguard Captain stepped out onto the second floor, then moved to the side to gesture Klarion through. Stepping past her, he saw a single raised platform in the surprisingly small room. He glanced around, taking in the plain surroundings. The chamber was a stark contrast to the bustling chaos below. No other guards were present.


    ¡°I thought there would be other Waypoints up here?¡±


    ¡°There are,¡± the Wayguard Captain responded politely. ¡°Just not in this area. Direct travel to the Imperial Academy is strictly regulated, and this Waypoint is reserved for only those who have gained permission to travel there. Now, if you would step on the Waypoint, I can send you on to the Imperial Academy.¡±


    Klarion stepped onto the Waypoint platform. It hummed faintly beneath him, the inscriptions carved into its surface beginning to take on the brightened glow of the one he had taken from Thorn¡¯s Reach. Soon, the hum was vibrating up his legs and the light bathed the entire room. He was preparing himself for the teleportation when the Wayguard Captain broke the silence.


    ¡°Good luck at the Imperial Academy.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± he was caught flatfooted, not sure how to respond. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The Wayguard Captain offered a faint smile, then pressed her palm against the wall near where she stood. The platform underneath Klarion¡¯s feet erupted into a burst of light. The world around him again disappeared, but rather than simple brightness, this time everything seemed to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of shifting colors and sensations. Then, with a jarring lurch, the world reassembled itself as his vision was gradually restored. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to bring the world around him into focus.


    He had finally arrived at the Imperial Academy.

 Chapter 34

    The sound of the Waypoint faded, and his new surroundings came into focus. Unlike the previous Waystations he had passed through, this one sat at the heart of an enormous square surrounded by massive buildings of stone. Towering columns surrounded the space, and the nearest ones appeared to show depictions of battles, legendary beasts, and figures that Klarion assumed to be important to the history of the Empire. Between most of the columns stood statues of individuals that he assumed to be nobility based on how they were dressed or armored. The one nearest him depicted an older man in meticulous detail, from the scars across his unarmored arms to the finely etched crest of crossed hammers on his chest plate. The glare captured on the statue¡¯s face seemed almost to be directed at him.


    Pulling his attention away from the statue, Klarion looked around the square itself. Alive with movement, students of various ages and appearances were constantly flashing into being at other Waypoints around the square. The majority were flanked by well-dressed bodyguards or attendants, their clothing immaculate with crests, designed to convey wealth and status. Servants scrambled about carrying bags while the young nobility barked commands about where to go. People in black armor wearing white masks were moving to escort those ready to leave out of the square.


    Klarion felt the difference immediately. He was an anomaly amidst the crowd, with his tattered, bloodstained clothes and his unkempt appearance all marking him as someone who did not belong there. Heads turned as students and their entourages caught sight of him. Conversations faltered in the groups nearest him, replaced by hushed whispers and sidelong glances. One finely dressed young man wrinkled his nose and muttered something to his attendant, who smirked as he whispered back.


    Klarion did his best to ignore them. He had no real interest in engaging with the pomp and spectacle around him. In fact, if the other students could just leave him alone while he got his bearings, that would make it easier for him to keep his head down and avoid attention. Alesin and Rolfun both had made it clear it would be in his best interest to do so.


    He stepped down off the platform, looking for the nearest figure in black armor with a white mask. From what he could tell, those were the people who were helping the arrivals to find where they needed to go. While he looked around, his eyes kept being drawn to the buildings and towers surrounding the square. A few of the towers were especially eye-catching, their golden domes gleaming in the sunlight.


    A group of students passed by him in the wake of one of the figures in black armor with a white mask. Their retainers followed closely behind, carrying all their masters¡¯ and mistresses¡¯ luggage. One of the girls in an emerald cloak glanced at him as they moved along, the conversation she was having with a boy wearing a similar cloak, just loud enough for Klarion to overhear.


    ¡°Another straggler, barely into the low nobility it looks like,¡± the girl in the emerald cloak said, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°It seems like my older brothers were right. They really are increasing in number every year.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, cousin,¡± the boy in the cloak walking next to her said. ¡°This one might have cleaned up a bit before arriving. However, perhaps his family is so low-ranking that they cannot afford cleanliness. Oh well. Best we follow the Sentinel and leave that one behind us.¡±


    The words bothered him a little, but there was not much he could do about his cleanliness at the moment. No, what was getting to him about what they said was that, while the remarks stung and were true ¡ª he did look rough at the moment ¡ª it was yet another reminder of exactly how isolated he was here. Unlike everyone that he could see around him, he was alone. Honestly, he really missed his friends back on Earth.


    That being said, he was thankful for the conversation he had just overheard. Apparently, what he needed to find was a Sentinel. He continued scanning the square for any person in the black armor and white mask that looked to be unoccupied. A commotion off to the side stole his attention. A large entourage was in the process of escorting a short boy dressed entirely in gold who had paused to yell at a smaller group of nobility dressed in orange. Thankfully, the respective groups quickly separated without violence.


    Shaking his head at the distraction, Klarion refocused on his task. He couldn¡¯t afford to waste time. As he made his way further from the Waypoints themselves, the murmurs of the crowd faded into a low hum. His boots clicked against the marble as he made his way in the direction most of the students were heading, only to have one of the Sentinels he was seeking suddenly appear in front of him.


    Up close, Klarion was finally able to get a better look. Encased from head to toe in sleek black armor, the one that stood in front of him lacked any unnecessary ornamentation. A red rod the length of Klarion¡¯s forearm hung down by the figure¡¯s side. What caught his attention, however, was the mask. Pure white and featureless, it covered their entire face, leaving no opening for eyes, mouth, or nose. Its surface was unnaturally smooth as well and even seemed to absorb rather than reflect light. The lack of identifiable features lent the Sentinel an eerie, statuesque quality, making it impossible to discern any emotion or intent behind their blank visage. Which might well have been the point.


    ¡°Apologies, but do you have an admittance letter, sir?¡± a warm, feminine voice came out from behind the mask.


    With a nod, Klarion handed over the letter he had been holding since Alesin had given it to him. Without another word, the Sentinel gently took it, opened it, and then began reading. Or at least he thought they were reading, given how the Sentinel was holding it before its mask.


    ¡°Everything looks to be in order, Lord Klarion,¡± the Sentinel said, only to make the letter disappear somehow. The voice took on a more severe tone, ¡°That being said, this is the Imperial Academy, not a battlefield. Do you have a more appropriate change of clothing for the Induction Ceremony?¡±


    Klarion was only able to give a helpless shrug, beginning to feel nervous. ¡°No. What you see is what I have.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the masked face tilted up and down, apparently looking over what he was wearing in closer detail. ¡°That will not due. It is the job of us Sentinels to escort the prospective first years to the Amphitheater of Induction, but I think a trip to a tailor would be better first. With your permission, lord?¡±


    It took Klarion a moment, but he realized that the Sentinel was asking if they might escort him to a tailor before the Amphitheater of Induction, whatever that was. ¡°Of course. Please, lead on.¡± A worrying thought struck him. ¡°But if this is going to cost me anything, I don¡¯t have any money on me.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem,¡± the Sentinel replied, already moving to lead him out of the Waystation. ¡°I¡¯ll simply mention you need your school uniform early. Now, if you would follow me?¡±


    Rather than be left behind, Klarion stepped up to walk beside the Sentinel. Given how the rest of the groups in the Waystation generally followed behind their Sentinels, it felt strange at first, but he quickly pushed through it. He had too many questions to just walk in silence.


    ¡°Excuse me, Sentinel¡­?¡±


    ¡°Just Sentinel,¡± they responded, white mask still fixed in the direction they were walking.


    ¡°Of course. I was wondering if you might explain a bit more about the Imperial Academy as we walk?¡± His tone grew bitter, ¡°My¡­ family did not tell me much about it.¡±


    The Sentinel¡¯s pace did not change, but they did tilt their head slightly, as though considering his request. The warm, feminine voice spoke, ¡°I can answer some of your questions, Lord Klarion, but I cannot provide information that verges on instruction or teaching. That is reserved for the faculty.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I understand,¡± Klarion nodded gratefully. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    As they strolled towards the edge of the square, Klarion took in some of the other monumental statues. Cast in bronze, each showed a depiction of a man or woman of a range of races standing in commanding postures. They almost seemed to be staring down at the students as they arrived. Before he could focus on any one of them, the Sentinel began to speak, their tone formal yet patient.


    ¡°You are currently within a self-contained pocket plane ¡ª a unique planar space constructed millennia ago to serve as this branch of the Imperial Academy¡¯s foundation. It is accessed exclusively through Waypoints like the one you just arrived from. Students and faculty are drawn from the western regions of the Empire, with priority given to the nobility.¡±


    ¡°A pocket plane?¡± Klarion echoed, his curiosity piqued. He¡¯d come across references to pocket planes in some of the games he had played while he was younger, and while he had some idea of what they were, it did not mean that everything was the same here in this new reality he was in.


    ¡°Yes. This branch of the Imperial Academy was established at the confluence of several interdimensional ley lines. Such locations are rare and highly advantageous for those seeking to gain strength and wealth. Here, early-stage dungeons spawn frequently. Your teachers will explain more about them in time, but suffice to say they will be ideal for your training and education so long as you are here.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Dungeons?¡± Klarion asked, puzzled. It was another term he was familiar with from the games he had played with his friends in the past, but again, that did not mean he understood what they were here.


    ¡°You will learn about them later,¡± the Sentinel replied simply, making it clear they would not elaborate. ¡°Everything here is geared toward training and educating the leaders of tomorrow. Basic education and training are provided to all students, but advanced classes, access to certain resources, and specialized training all require contributions.¡±


    Klarion frowned in thought. He might have expected that to be the case, given everything that Alesin and Rolfun had hinted at in their discussions with him. He would need to figure out quickly everything that he needed to do to get access to those things. He expected they would be necessary to get strong enough to make a difference for Earth.


    ¡°A natural means of grooming the strong,¡± the Sentinel continued when Klarion did not interrupt. ¡°Whether through material support, magical talent, or strategic alliances, only those who prove their worth rise to the top in the Empire.¡±


    As they finally passed through the arched colonnades that surrounded the edges of the square, Klarion found his attention going to the buildings lining a wide boulevard. The nearest were constructed primarily of white marble with veins of gold and silver running through the stone, they gleamed under the sunlight that bathed the pocket plane. Each of these first few buildings they passed seemed to be administrative in nature, their entrances guarded by Sentinels in slightly more ornate armor. Which is to say there were actual patterns on their armor, though what it represented, he had no clue.


    The buildings beyond these initial few were more what he had expected. Made of various woods and stones, many but not all had banners of various kinds on their rooftops. If he had to guess, they were the various noble houses that claimed them. His thoughts were confirmed moments later when the Sentinel continued talking.


    ¡°Students live within a community structure. Based on the rank of your family within the Empire, you will be assigned a house to call your own. Though you cannot see the walls from here, know that beyond them are areas also considered a part of the campus, which will afford you plentiful opportunities for practical applications of your studies.¡±


    It was a rigid, meritocratic system, but one that made sense to Klarion based on what he understood to be the Imperial Academy¡¯s purpose: strengthening the Empire. ¡°And I suppose the surrounding areas include dungeons?¡±


    The Sentinel¡¯s silence on the matter answered him well enough.


    They soon arrived at a grand wooden building of three floors adorned with intricate carvings of needle and thread. A carved sign above the entryway read, ¡°Ward and Weave: Imperial Academy Tailors.¡± At the Sentinel¡¯s gesture, Klarion stepped past them to go inside and, much like he had with everything else so far, felt out of place.


    The bottom floor was a combination lounge area and a series of mannequin displays of various kinds of clothing, the most prominent being what Klarion took to be the school uniforms. Even from the door, he could tell the suit-like outfits were woven of fine cloth. Stepping further inside, the Sentinel right behind him, he picked up the scent of fresh polish in the air. Pulling his eyes from the uniforms on display, he glanced to the far wall where several finely dressed students stood at counters, attendants hovering behind them as they finished paying for the uniforms they just purchased. Conversations were low and cultured, punctuated by polite laughter.


    Almost as soon as Klarion entered, however, the atmosphere changed. A number of eyes glanced in his direction, and he could practically feel the uncharitable thoughts being directed his way. He grit his teeth. Hopefully, he could get rid of what he was wearing soon; then, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have to deal with attention like this.


    ¡°By the Seven!¡± One of the young nobles exclaimed loudly after looking back in his direction. ¡°Did he come straight from a ditch? Look at the state of him! Surely he must be one of those beggar soldiers here on scholarship?¡±


    Cruel laughter greeted the young man¡¯s words. Given the glint in his eyes, Klarion had expected as much as soon as he had opened his mouth. Really, this treatment was starting to get old. Thankfully, all he had to do was ignore these jabs one last time, and he could be fitted to receive a school uniform and finally blend in. He repeated that thought in his mind multiple times, but he knew that his face still burned with embarrassment.


    The gloating smile on the young noble¡¯s face began to fade as Klarion came closer, the Sentinel close behind. Soon looming above him, and the blood that covered him now clear to the joker, the young noble tried to find anywhere else to look but at who he had just been joking about.


    Ignoring him, Klarion stepped past to stand before the counter and the immaculately dressed, severe-looking man who stood behind it. The man, who Klarion assumed to be a tailor, was staring at the clothes he was wearing as if they were about to jump off his back and begin murdering everyone in the shop. So distasteful did the tailor find what he was wearing, that he didn¡¯t even ask why Klarion was there in the shop.


    ¡°Alecto,¡± the Sentinel behind Klarion prompted.


    The old tailor blinked, visibly resetting himself. Clearing his throat, he asked, ¡°How might I help you?¡±


    ¡°As you can see,¡± Klarion gestured down at himself, ¡°I need to be fitted for a school uniform.¡±


    ¡°Of course. If you would follow me,¡± Alecto said, stepping out from behind the counter. He then led Klarion to a stairway carefully constructed to be mostly hidden behind the display mannequins so that it wouldn¡¯t be seen by those just entering the shop. Following Alecto up the stairs, Klarion went inside the nearest room on the second floor when the old tailor pulled it open and gestured him inside.


    The room itself was plain except for the stacks of cloth and other materials around the room. Not being sure how this worked, since he had never been fitted for any clothing before while back on Earth, Klarion turned to Alecto as he closed the door behind the Sentinel as they entered the room.


    ¡°Would you like me to stand somewhere in particular?¡±


    ¡°No, right there is fine,¡± Alecto said. He rummaged around in his pocket for a moment, a frown on his face. Finally finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a strange needle. Before he could get more than a glance at it, Alecto snapped the fingers on his other hand to get Klarion¡¯s attention. ¡°The sooner you disrobe, the sooner we can begin.¡±


    ¡°Disrobe?¡± Klarion asked, startled. When Alecto nodded in confirmation, Klarion¡¯s eyes shifted to the Sentinel leaning against the wall by the door.


    ¡°As you are in my care, and not yet delivered to the Amphitheater of Induction, my duty requires that you not leave my sight,¡± the Sentinel responded to Klarion¡¯s unspoken question.


    Seeing Klarion was still somewhat uncomfortable, Alecto kindly asked, ¡°Have you never done a fitting before?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klarion responded with a wince. ¡°And I have no idea how this works.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem, not a problem,¡± Alecto said, trying to reassure him. ¡°Simply take off your outer layer of clothes, and my magic will do the rest. I have been doing this work for decades now, so I can assure you, it will be over in but a moment.¡±


    Not seeing any other option and acutely aware of how everything was sticking to him due to old sweat and the blood from fighting the Storm Wolves, Klarion raised his arms to begin taking his clothes off. Immediately, he ran into problems. There must have been something special about Storm Wolf blood, as every seam or button it had dried on was stuck.


    ¡°Um, I might need a little help.¡±


    Seeing how much Klarion was struggling, Alecto raised the needle he was holding and muttered something under his breath. An incantation. Threads of light shimmered over Klarion¡¯s body, slicing away the bloodied, tattered remnants of his clothing. As it fell away, it disintegrated into harmless ash, leaving Klarion standing bare save for his undergarments.


    Both Alecto and the Sentinel froze.


    The old tailor¡¯s sharp eyes widened as they traced the convoluted network of scars crisscrossing Klarion¡¯s back, chest, arms, and legs. The vast majority were old now, but some, the ones inflicted by the Storm Wolves, still showed an angry red. Klarion watched as Alecto¡¯s eyes traced the patchwork of thin and faded lines to where they overlapped with thick, gnarled ridges of the more brutal injuries he had barely survived weeks ago.


    Alecto¡¯s mouth tightened. ¡°You¡¯ve had¡­ quite the hard life, haven¡¯t you.¡± His previously almost gruff voice softened by something almost akin to respect. His hands hovered for a moment before resuming their work. ¡°A bit young for so many stories written on your skin.¡±


    The Sentinel, still and silent as ever, didn¡¯t speak, but her stance shifted imperceptibly. Her white mask gave nothing away, but the slight tilt of her head suggested she was studying him. Perhaps reassessing.


    Klarion stiffened under their scrutiny, his fists clenching at his now bare sides. He avoided their eyes. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with discomfort.


    ¡°Nothing?¡± Alecto¡¯s voice turned wry, though not unkind. ¡°Young lord, you have more scars on one of your arms than every other first-year noble I fitted for school uniforms this year. That is not nothing.¡±


    The Sentinel¡¯s gaze lingered a moment longer before they resumed their silent vigil. Despite their silence, Klarion suspected that all their attention was still fixed upon him.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Alecto said, raising the needle high above his head. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡±


    New threads of light appeared above and around Klarion, though these were the color of the blackest night. They began to swirl around him, seeming to measure as they did so. As the threads continued their work, Klairon marveled as they began to form a translucent image of a school uniform around him. The lines sharpened, detailing what Klarion assumed to be the distinct features of the Imperial Academy attire: a silk undershirt beneath a high-collared coat with silver trim, a modified emblem depicting the crest of his house set into a shield under a triple crown embroidered on his shoulders. Below the coat, finely tailored trousers and polished boots took shape.


    Alecto hummed to himself as he adjusted the fit with precise gestures. Each wave of his hand and the needle smoothed an invisible wrinkle, tightened the cuffs, or altered the coat¡¯s length until he was satisfied.


    ¡°Functional, elegant, and durable,¡± Alecto muttered as if speaking to himself. ¡°Only the best for those attending the Imperial Academy.¡±


    Finally, with a flourish, Alecto clapped his hands, and the black threads solidified. The fabric shimmered into being, cascading over Klarion¡¯s shoulders and down his form like water. The uniform fit perfectly as if it had always been his.


    ¡°Done, done,¡± Alecto said, leaning back and inspecting his work with a critical eye. He nodded in clear satisfaction. ¡°That¡¯ll do for now. Just try not to bleed all over this one.¡±


    Running his hands up and down his sides, Klarion could say with absolute certainty what Alecto had just created for him were the finest and most comfortable clothes he had ever owned. Given the fit and feel, this uniform would likely go for many thousands of dollars back in Volksturm on Earth.


    Alecto opened the door and stepped back out to the hallway. The Sentinel stepped to the side, allowing Klarion to leave the room first. They inclined their head to him slightly, as if to acknowledge the transformation. As he moved to follow Alecto back down the stairs to the front of the shop, Klarion had to admit that he felt like an entirely new man.

 Chapter 35

    Klarion adjusted the high collar of his new uniform as he followed Alecto down the staircase to the front of the shop. Behind him, the Sentinel descended in silence.


    ¡°The first uniform is free,¡± Alecto said as they reached the floor. He turned to glance at Klarion. ¡°You will likely need to purchase more and varied outfits in the months ahead. I hope you will consider our services.¡±


    Given the magical precision of the tailoring he had just witnessed and the quality of the clothing that he now wore as a result, Klarion knew he would want additional sets of clothing from Alecto¡¯s shop in the future but for one thing.


    ¡°Given the quality of your work,¡± Klarion said sincerely, ¡°I do hope to be able to purchase some more clothing from you in the future. It might be a while, however, since I will need to figure out how to make some money to pay you.¡±


    Alecto chuckled. ¡°Young lord, I must say, I don¡¯t often hear nobles talk about earning their coin.¡± He gave a slight bow, a smile still on his face. ¡°But given your compliments, I want you to know that you are always welcome in my shop.¡±


    Nodding once more in thanks, Klarion made to leave the shop, but as he made his way towards the door, the faint sounds of activity near the back of the shop ceased. Hoping that the sudden silence had nothing to do with him, Klarion simply kept walking.


    ¡°Lord Blacksword!¡±


    Well, there went that hope.


    Turning to face the voice, Klarion saw the young noble who had mocked him earlier standing awkwardly, the rest of the nobility in the room behind him, clearly trying to avoid attention. His face was pale as he stared at Klarion, or more aptly, at Klarion¡¯s shoulder where the mark of his House was depicted. The longer Klarion stood there without answering, the more panic began to twist the young lord¡¯s features.


    Not knowing what to do, Klarion looked to the Sentinel that had been escorting him, a silent plea for help in his expression.


    ¡°Lord, the son of a Baronet is seeking permission to approach,¡± the Sentinel said.


    Oh, was that what he was waiting for?


    Klarion awkwardly beckoned the young noble forward.


    ¡°L-lord Blacksword,¡± the young man stammered as he rushed over, only to duck into a low bow so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. In trembling hands, he held a velvet pouch, which he thrust at Klarion. ¡°P-lease accept this humble gift as an apology for my earlier¡­ foolishness at not recognizing you.¡±


    Klarion blinked at the young man, his brow furrowing. What? ¡°A gift?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lord Blacksword,¡± the young man said, his voice still quaking. ¡°A token of respect and, uh, goodwill. Yes, goodwill. I meant no offense earlier. It was a misunderstanding on my part.¡±


    While the words he had said earlier had bothered Klarion, even upset him, he also had not felt the need to do something to the young noble in revenge. But then again, he might be atypical in that regard. Every interaction with the upper classes for Klarion so far had carried with it a heavy focus on the importance of rank. He did not yet know exactly how important House Blacksword was in this portion of the Empire, but given how everyone kept throwing themselves at his feet once they found out what noble family he was connected to, it was likely higher than he expected. Just how many Archducal noble houses were there in the Empire?


    Klarion brought his attention back to the young noble, who now was tearing up in fear. No, that question would be something he worries about later. He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t need your gift.¡±


    The young noble¡¯s jaw fell slack. ¡°B-but¡ª¡±


    ¡°It is fine. Keep your pouch,¡± Klarion stated firmly. ¡°Just be better.¡±


    The expression on the young noble¡¯s face began to shift to confusion as Klarion turned away to leave the shop. The last he saw of the young man, he was still holding the pouch outthrust and unopened in still slightly trembling hands. The murmuring of the others in the shop began to pick up as Klarion stepped outside, the Sentinel falling into step beside him, though stepping slightly faster to take the lead. Few people were around for some reason, and truthfully he was thankful for that.


    As he followed the Sentinel along the cobbled street, Klarion eventually broke the silence. ¡°Are most nobles like that?¡±


    The Sentinel tilted her head slightly, the white mask again betraying no emotion but kept walking. ¡°Most,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°Power and privilege often breed arrogance. The weaker ones cling to status symbols to mask their insecurities.¡±


    After a moment to digest what the Sentinel had said, Klarion spoke again. ¡°My family did not exactly prepare me for what to expect here. Could you tell me about the different ranks of the nobility? I think that might help me¡­ fit in better.¡±


    The Sentinel turned her head slightly to him. ¡°You weren¡¯t told about the tiers of nobility?¡± her voice was tinged with confusion.


    Klarion almost blurted out that he hadn¡¯t even known he was a noble until an Imperial Pathfinder had found him on Earth a few weeks ago, but held his tongue just in time. It had been the advice of Alesin and Rolfun to keep that secret as close to his chest as possible for now. He trusted them to have his best interests in mind.


    ¡°No, I guess my family had other priorities in teaching me, I suppose,¡± he said instead.


    There was a brief pause before the Sentinel nodded. ¡°Very well. It is more than uncommon that someone of your station not know these things, but as this information is not something that the faculty here would be expected to teach, I will explain.¡±


    She gestured that they take a sidestreet, perhaps for discretion, then spoke in a calm yet instructive voice. It had the air of being memorized. ¡°The nobility of the Empire is divided into three primary tiers: the low nobility, the middle nobility, and the high nobility. Though there is some nuance, each tier has its own roles, responsibilities, and expectations within the Empire.¡±


    Klarion stepped around a puddle, steps keeping pace with the Sentinel as he listened intently to what she was saying. He didn¡¯t want to miss anything given his expectation that this information would not only help him adapt to life here but also better avoid trouble.


    ¡°The low nobility,¡± the Sentinel began, ¡°forms the foundation of the Empire¡¯s feudal structure. Knights, Baronets, Barons, and Viscounts fall into this category. Knights are the most basic noble title ¡ª often granted for exceptional service, though not always hereditary. Baronets hold a similar rank but often also oversee small parcels of land or estates. Barons and Viscounts are a step above, responsible for administering larger regions or serving as key advisors to the middle nobility. Their power is localized, often limited to single worlds, and they are generally more concerned with maintaining stability within their territories.¡±


    ¡°So, they are like local governors or military leaders?¡±


    ¡°In a way,¡± the Sentinel replied. ¡°Their focus on their local region also explains why most generally try to steer clear of the higher politics of the Empire. Such as what the young noble attempted to do in the tailor¡¯s shop once he learned of your true background.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°So that was an offering in hopes that I might leave him and his family alone?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Sentinel responded. ¡°The fact that you let him off with a simple admonishment and declined his offering as well will likely have him praying to his ancestors in thanks of your mercy for weeks to come.¡±


    ¡°Well, it didn¡¯t feel right to take it,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°After all, he just said some stupid insults. No harm done.¡±


    The Sentinel was silent in response. When it was clear that she was not going to continue talking, Klarion paused in the street. ¡°Do you disagree with me?¡±


    The Sentinel turned, her mask fixed on him. ¡°Yes, I disagree. As would most any other noble scion in this Empire, especially those of your rank. Words have power. Within the realms of the nobles, an insult or word of praise can lead to the damnation or salvation of entire worlds. To be so casual about the potential harm they might bring on the speaker, or the target, is to tempt fate.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s brows furrowed as he considered the Sentinel¡¯s words. ¡°I suppose I understand what you mean,¡± he admitted, his tone thoughtful. ¡°But where I grew up, people toss around insults all the time, usually without much consequence. It¡¯s how you prove you¡¯re tough enough to shrug them off. I guess it is hard for me to see how mere words could cause so much¡­ devastation.¡±


    The Sentinel remained motionless, her mask obscuring any reaction to his response. ¡°Your experiences may have insulated you from the intricacies of noble society, but make no mistake ¡ª words in these circles are not spoken lightly. An insult from a scion of an Archducal House is not a small matter. It can cast doubt on the reputation, alliances, or even the legitimacy of those targeted. ¡±


    Klarion¡¯s gaze dropped to the cobblestones of the street. ¡°Then maybe I should have taken his offering. But it still feels wrong. I don¡¯t want to be someone who twists every word into a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Your ideals may serve you well, Lord Blacksword, but tread carefully,¡± the Sentinel¡¯s voice softened, though it remained firm. ¡°The Imperial Academy will not always reward restraint or kindness.¡±


    Point made, the Sentinel continued walking in the direction she had been leading him. As soon as Klarion moved to follow, she began speaking about the tiers of nobility again.


    ¡°The middle nobility is where true power begins to accumulate. Counts, Marquises, and Dukes hold significant influence as well as control over members of the low nobility. Counts oversee sizable regions that often encompass multiple baronies. Marquises are similar but typically govern border territories and are charged with defending the Empire¡¯s frontiers. Dukes are the highest ranks within the middle nobility, often commanding vast regions across multiple worlds or more. As a result of their influence and reach, they also often serve as intermediaries between the low and high nobility.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°So they act as a bridge between the two?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± the Sentinel confirmed. ¡°Occasionally, they might wield enough power to challenge members of the high nobility, though such actions are rare and¡­ inadvisable.¡±


    As she finished talking about the middle nobility, the Sentinel led him back onto a main street. Much like the previous streets they had walked, very few people were in sight. But he only noted their general lack in passing, as his eyes were immediately drawn to the towering structure that the Sentinel was leading him towards. It could only be the Amphitheater of Induction he had been told about.


    It was constructed from gleaming white marble veined with threads of shimmering gold; he could even see this as far away as he was. The structure itself was circular, with massive arches carved into its side, each adorned with what he assumed to be bas-reliefs. Pillars flanked these entrances, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly with a soft light. A small line of people waited to enter while Sentinels had taken up station around the perimeter.


    ¡°And then there is the high nobility ¡ª the pinnacle of the Empire¡¯s hierarchy but for the Imperial household, the Seven Imperial Princes, and the Emperor himself. Archdukes, Princes, and Kings comprise this tier. Archdukes are second only to royalty, governing dozens of worlds or more, their loyalty to those few above them and the Emperor alone. The difference between them and the Princes and Kings is that the latter two possess more territory and by extension power. All, however, are still subject to the Emperor.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s shoulders stiffened at the mention of Archdukes, his family¡¯s rank. ¡°And what¡­ what distinguishes them from the others, aside from the scale of their power?¡±


    ¡°The high nobility is defined not just by their territories but by their political influence. They help shape Imperial policy, negotiate treaties, and oversee entire multiversal regions. Their actions ripple through the entire Empire.¡±


    As the Sentinel continued walking in the direction of the Amphitheatre of Induction, Klarion moved to follow. ¡°And I suppose being part of an Archducal House means I¡¯ll be under even more scrutiny.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Though the Sentinel remained facing ahead as they walked, Klarion could see the slight nod of agreement. ¡°It is rare for an Archduke¡¯s scion to go unnoticed, even here. Your rank will command both respect and expectation. Many will look to you as a nascent leader, whether you wish it or not.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what worries me. I came here hoping to keep my head down, to focus on my studies and training. But it seems like my rank will make that difficult.¡±


    ¡°It will,¡± the Sentinel agreed bluntly. ¡°But is also may afford you opportunities others can only dream of. Your rank opens doors ¡ª whether to alliances, resources, or knowledge. How you use that is up to you.¡±


    They resumed walking, Klarion¡¯s mind whirling as he thought things through. The thing he was having the hardest time with was how there had been very little discussion about any of these basics on his way to Thorn¡¯s Reach. He didn¡¯t think Alesin and Rolfun had done so maliciously, however. Thinking it over, it¡¯s likely their own experiences in the Empire had pushed them to focus on increasing his strength as much as possible to survive initial contact with other members of the nobility, with the expectation knowledge would come later. Klarion did not entirely agree, but what happened had happened. Better to just take the new knowledge he had gained into account going forward.


    ¡°Thank you. For explaining all of this. I can¡¯t imagine it¡¯s part of your usual duties.¡±


    The Sentinel inclined her head slightly. ¡°It is not. But it is clear you are trying to understand, and that effort is worthy of respect.¡±


    Klarion offered a small, appreciative smile, though his thoughts remained troubled. The weight of his rank, the attention his scars already drew, and now the complexities of navigating the Imperial Academy made the odds of keeping his head down pretty long. If he wanted to succeed here and grow strong enough that he might be able to help those he cared about back on Earth, he would need to find a way to balance the weight of his rank with the person he wanted to be. He would just have to take it one step at a time.


    They approached the nearest entrance of the Amphitheater. Everyone else that had previously been in line had already made their way inside, leaving only him and the various Sentinels around. He turned to the one that had escorted him, ¡°And how many Archduchies have scions attending the Imperial Academy this year?¡±


    ¡°Five,¡± the Sentinel said. ¡°The Silverwind, the Ironclaw, the Oakfrost, the Brightcoin, and, of course, the Blacksword. No houses of higher rank have any scions seeking admission this year.¡±


    Klarion nodded slowly, his mind racing to memorize the names. ¡°That¡¯s more than I expected.¡±


    ¡°It is rare for so many Archducal houses to send their scions in the same year. The presence of these five houses in this cohort will likely shape the coming years of your time here.¡± The Sentinel visibly hesitated, then leaned in closer to Klarion to speak in a voice that held a trace of worry. ¡°The scions of the Archduchies are not like the rest of the student body, Lord Blacksword. They represent the pinnacle of imperial nobility here. Whether you seek it or not, your presence will command attention. Behave accordingly.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not disappointed.¡±


    ¡°That is also why the Imperial Academy exists ¡ª to mold those with the potential into true leaders.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s something to strive for.¡±


    The Sentinel did not respond, but the slight nod of her head said enough.


    Klarion made to head to the entrance, when the Sentinel spoke once more, pulling him up short.


    ¡°This is where I leave you,¡± the Sentinel said, her voice even and her posture rigid. Her blank, white mask tilted slightly as if she was appraising the Amphitheater of Induction, or perhaps him. ¡°Only the first-year students are permitted beyond this point.¡±


    Klarion nodded, glancing at the ornate arches and wondering what would happen inside. He faced the Sentinel, all at once realizing he had nearly forgotten something important. ¡°I feel like I should thank you properly,¡± he said, hesitating. ¡°But I don¡¯t even know your name.¡±


    The Sentinel shifted, almost as if considering how to respond. ¡°I am J-65,¡± she said finally, the clipped nature of her reply suggesting she was unaccustomed to such questions.


    ¡°J-65?¡± Klarion repeated brows furrowed.


    ¡°It is my designation,¡± she clarified. ¡°For those of my rank and station, a name would only interfere with our duties. We are trained to serve, not to be known.¡±


    He regarded her thoughtfully before nodding. ¡°Well, J-65, thank you. For everything.¡±


    Her mask dipped once in acknowledgment. ¡°Walk with purpose, Lord Klarion. What you face inside will set the tone for your time here. Carry yourself as the scion you are.¡±


    Klarion nodded, taking a deep breath, then turned to the entrance. Though he wanted to, he did not hesitate before stepping towards it. Behind him, J-65 remained a silent, stoic figure, a watchful presence at the threshold of his next step into an uncertain future at the Imperial Academy.

 Chapter 36

    Klarion stepped through the towering archway into the Amphitheater of Induction. As he did so he was startled to find his greatsword was suddenly no longer with him. With no obvious explanation, he could do nothing but continue ahead, hoping that it would be returned somehow later. The low murmur of hundreds of voices washed over him like a tide. The sheer size of the chamber was staggering. Above, a colossal dome of shimmering glass allowed sunlight or starlight to flood in, depending on the time of day. Around the periphery of the chamber were pillars of gold and obsidian, in which were carved yet more of the bas-reliefs Klarion had seen near the Waystation. Young nobility filled rows upon rows of seats, which were crafted from the same marble that had been used in some of the buildings he had passed on the way here, and all spiraled down toward a central stage. The stage itself was a monumental slab of stone, inlaid sigils that even Klarion could sense humming with latent energy, but for what purpose, he was not sure.


    Looking around, he began to feel a bit nervous. All the rows near the entrance from which he had entered were already full. Everywhere he looked, he tried to spot an open seat.


    Nothing.


    He began to feel nervous. The thought of standing out ¡ª or worse, being forced to sit in the aisle ¡ª started gnawing at him.


    A voice cut through the chatter, calling out softly nearby.


    Klarion turned to see a young noble boy with striking blue hair and round glasses. The boy was gesturing toward Klarion and then to the front of the Amphitheater of Induction. Following where he was pointing, Klarion could see a cluster of unoccupied seats near the floor-level section. The boy met his gaze when Klarion turned back, then mouthed clearly, ¡°There.¡±


    Klarion blinked, then nodded, mouthing back, ¡°Thank you.¡± Maybe not all nobles here would be like those he had already encountered. Perhaps there were some who could possibly become trustworthy allies and friends.


    The boy smiled faintly before returning his attention to those sitting near him who had animatedly started an argument of some sort.


    Klarion walked forward down the gently sloping aisle. As he moved, Klarion began to notice how all the nobles around him ¡ª many around his own age, though some were noticeably younger ¡ª sat in clusters. The bodyguards, escorts, and attendants had all been left outside, likely due to what the Sentinel, J-65, had said about this space being meant only for those members of the nobility who would be enrolling in the Imperial Academy. Without the entourages they had arrived with, the nobles appeared smaller somehow to Klarion.


    As Klarion continued moving in the direction of the floor seating, his eyes caught on an empty section near the front that had the Blacksword crest plainly visible. Four other sections that spread out to the right of the Blacksword seating had the crests to what Klarion assumed to be the other four Archducal houses that had scions enrolling this year.


    As Klarion moved closer to the front, the murmurs around him grew louder. Students sitting in the upper and middle rows turned to stare as he passed. Whispers floated through the air, some hushed, others less so.


    ¡°Who is that?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the Blacksword crest?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know anyone from House Blacksword was coming this year, what with¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªthose scars. What happened to him?¡±


    Klarion ignored the comments as best he could, keeping his steps measured and his expression neutral as he made his way down to the floor seating. He was used to the whispers right now. He had made his peace with the fact that the scars that marked his face were not easily ignored, but he was still curious as to why he continued to attract so much attention.


    He finally reached the floor level, where the five distinct sections he had seen radiated outward from the central stone platform like the spokes of a wheel. Closer to them, he could now clearly see how each set of two rows was marked by banners representing the five Archducal Houses he had been told about. The Blacksword banner hung over the seating to the left, but unlike the other sections at this level, it made him nervous.


    The section was entirely empty, its rows of seats pristine and untouched.


    Klarion¡¯s jaw tightened as he stepped into the space. The silence in the immediate vicinity was deafening compared to the growing buzz in the rest of the Amphitheatre of Induction. Sliding into the first row of seats, Klarion sat upright, shoulders square, trying his hardest to ignore the weight of countless eyes on him.


    Across the floor, Klarion could see out of the corner of his eye students in the seating of the other four Archducal sections craning their necks to get a better look at him. Much like those he had already passed, a few of the nobles whispered amongst themselves.


    ¡°¡ªhe alone? No one else from Blacksword?¡±


    ¡°Look at his face. It¡¯s covered in¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªsurprised they sent anyone, given everything that has been happening to House Blacksword, especially¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to put him where he truly belongs.¡±


    That last voice dripped hostility, but even shifting slightly in his seat to get a better glimpse of the other nearby scions was not enough to help him identify who had spoken. Turning more fully, he met their gazes briefly, forcing his expression to remain calm. Whatever expectations they had of him ¡ª whether because of his scars, his isolation, or his House ¡ª he would do whatever he could to make sure he would meet them on his own terms. No more would he just react to whatever came his way.


    The muttering grew louder despite occasional attempts to hush it. Klarion continued to struggle to make out most of what was being said, but the tone was clear enough. He continued to force his back straight and clenched his knees with his hands. Trying to ignore what was being said as much as possible, Klarion forced himself to focus on the central platform rather than the sea of nobility around him. Even then he could still hear some of those not bothering to keep their voices down.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Klarion exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His scars might invite speculation, but he was finding it hard to find their ignorance at their cause anything but amusing. What even was a Dusselgras? Whatever, it did not matter. He was there for a reason, and as soon as this induction ceremony, whatever it was, finished, he would be able to move on to what actually mattered: getting stronger.


    Though the central stage remained empty, the faint hum of what he assumed to be magic of some sort was beginning to pick up. Something significant was likely about to begin. As he settled deeper into his seat, the energy in the air seemed to swell again. The murmurs grew into a hum of activity.


    Then, the air shifted.


    From an archway at the rear of the stage, a figure strode forward, and the remaining whispers died away like a flame smothered by wind. The figure had an intangible presence about him. He moved with a deliberate, ominous grace, clad in heavy black armor that gleamed with a faint metallic sheen under the light. Strapped across his back was a massive, wickedly serrated two-handed sword, the very sight of which caused a ripple in the nobility behind Klarion as a chill swept through the assembled students.


    The man¡¯s face was fully obscured by a white mask streaked with crimson lines, as though painted with blood. The red streaks radiated from the mask¡¯s eye slits and mouth, accentuating the air of menace that hovered around him like a cloak. Every step he took echoed in the vast Amphitheater of Induction.


    He stopped at the center of the stage, his halt commanding absolute silence. His gaze ¡ª or what Klarion could feel of it beneath the mask ¡ª swept over the gathered ranks of nobility, lingering on each of the Archducal sections as if weighing them. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and resonant, amplified by the stage itself to carry effortlessly throughout every corner.


    ¡°I am the Lord Sentinel,¡± he began, his tone grave. ¡°Leader of the Sentinels of this branch of the Imperial Academy. My duty is simple: to ensure the balance of power within these hallowed grounds and to punish those who violate the sacred rules of the Empire.¡±


    He shifted, his sword clinking faintly against his armor. ¡°You are here because you are scions of the Empire¡¯s nobility. Whether your bloodlines are ancient or newly risen, your presence in this Amphitheater of Induction is no accident. Each of you carries the weight of the Empire¡¯s future upon your shoulders. As future lords and ladies, your duty is not merely to yourselves or your families by the Empire as a whole.¡±


    Klarion sat straighter, the gravity of the Lord Sentinel¡¯s words sinking in. Around him, students glanced at one another, some nodding, others visibly nervous under the intensity of the speech.


    ¡°The Empire is vast,¡± the Lord Sentinel continued, ¡°stretching across worlds, bound by laws older than your grandfather¡¯s grandfathers and maintained only by the strength of the noble houses. It is not enough to inherit your titles or lands. You must earn them. Prove that you are worthy to lead. Prove that you have the strength, the intelligence, and the resolve to guide those who will one day call you lord or lady.¡±


    The Lord Sentinel paused, letting the weight of his words settle. Then, with a faint incline of his head, he added, ¡°How far you rise, how much you achieve, will depend entirely on you. The Imperial Academy offers unparalleled opportunities. Here, you will learn, grow, and forge bonds ¡ª or rivalries ¡ª that will shape your futures. But know this: nothing will be given to you. Everything must be earned.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s heart thudded in his chest. He knew that the Imperial Academy would be challenging, but the sheer expectations laid out by the Lord Sentinel ratcheted up the pressure still further. He would need to focus extra hard in the days and weeks ahead to figure out his best options to get ahead.


    The Lord Sentinel¡¯s gaze swept the Amphitheater of Induction again, lingering once more on the scions seated at the front. Klarion could feel the weight of his attention, even if the man¡¯s face remained hidden. ¡°To ensure that you are worthy of this place, the first task before you will be to unlock your birthrights.¡±


    A murmur of sound rippled through the gathered nobility, but it was quickly silenced by the Lord Sentinel raising a gauntleted hand.


    ¡°Each of you, if truly nobility, carries within your blood the latent potential of your lineage,¡± he said. ¡°This potential is both a privilege and a responsibility. Unlocking it is not merely a ceremonial act; it is the foundation upon which your education will be built. Some of you may even experience changes ¡ª physical, mental, or otherwise. Do not fear them. They are simply a part of the ceremony to unlock your truest self.¡±


    Klarion frowned slightly, his mind spinning with questions. Changes? While he had expected to go through something here, he had not expected any changes like the Lord Sentinel was hinting at. Whatever was about to happen, it was clear that this would not be a quick recitation of words.


    ¡°That being said, the process is not without risk,¡± the Lord Sentinel continued, his voice once more unyielding. ¡°Some of you may find this more difficult than others. But rest assured, the Imperial Academy is prepared to guide you through it.¡±


    The Lord Sentinel stepped forward, his sword once more shifting slightly on his back. ¡°This ceremony is only the beginning. Here at the Imperial Academy, you will need what you gain today in order to survive challenges that will push you to your limits and beyond. But for those of you who seek power without regard for the laws of the Empire¡­¡± His voice dropped, cold and sharp as the blade on his back. ¡°You will answer to me.¡±


    As the Lord Sentinel finished his speech, he took one final sweeping look across the gathered nobility. ¡°Remember this moment,¡± he said. ¡°Today marks the beginning of your journey in service to the Empire. How it ends is entirely up to you.¡±


    The heavy black armor he wore shifted with a metallic groan as the Lord Sentinel lifted his left hand high. A tense, anticipatory energy surged through the air. Then, with a sudden, violent gesture, he thrust his arm downward.


    A shockwave of silent sound and cold heat rippled through the Amphitheater of Induction, rattling the very stones beneath their feet. From the center of the stage, the ground seemed to crack apart, revealing a massive crystalline alter that erupted upward with an ear-splitting screech of grinding stone and metal. The altar was unlike anything Klarion had ever seen. Its facets shimmered with an otherwordly brilliance, and as it settled into place, green flames sparked and roared to life at its apex. The eerie light cast flickering shadows across all the gathered nobles.


    The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying for Klarion. The green flames seemed alive, pulsing with a rhythm that felt almost sentient, as though it was the alter itself watching the gathered nobles now.


    Attention shifted again as the Lord Sentinel stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow. ¡°This,¡± he said, his voice now low and reverberating with an almost unnatural weight, ¡°is an Altar of the Foresworn. It is here that your noble heritage will be laid bare. Your bloodline¡¯s power, your potential, and your right to stand among the elite of the Empire will be revealed. And you will be bound to both the Emperor and the Empire.¡±


    A murmur spread through the students, but not about being bound to the Emperor and the Empire. Except for Klarion, they had all grown up being told about the expectations made for their futures. Klarion¡¯s hands clenched at the armrests of the chair, his scars itching under his new uniform. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was nerves or something deeper, but he felt a strange pull toward the altar, as though it was calling to him personally.


    The Lord Sentinel raised his sword high, the wickedly jagged blade glinting in the green light. ¡°The flames of the Empire are eternal,¡± he said, his tone both reverent and commanding. ¡°They will burn away weakness, forge strength, and reveal the truth about yourselves. Beginning with the Knights, step forward and prove that you are worthy by reaching into the flames.¡±


    The gathered nobles sat frozen, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all. Klarion felt his breath quicken as he heard those near the entrance climbing to their feet to obey the command that still rang throughout the Amphitheater of Induction.


    The Lord Sentinel gestured violently toward the Altar of the Foresworn once more. The green flames flared higher, frantically picking up the pace at which they danced over the stage.


    ¡°Let the ceremony begin.¡±

 Chapter 37

    The Amphitheater of Induction had descended into an oppressive silence, a quiet so deep it seemed to press against the ears of all the young nobility present. Every whisper of movement, every shallow breath, felt amplified in that quiet. It was all Klarion could do to avoid fidgeting.


    The Altar of the Foresworn now pulsed like a heartbeat, casting shifting hues of green flame across the seated rows of nobility. In the almost ethereal glow, tense faces will filled with equal parts awe and apprehension.


    While the flames attracted the attention of the majority present, Klarion could not take his eyes off the Lord Sentinel. Standing so close to the flames made the black armor he wore lose its pristine appearance. Revealed by that green light, the dark metal plates now bore the wear of countless battles, its surface scratched and dulled in places. Yet this almost seemed to add to the aura of strength around the Lord Sentinel.


    Above the Altar of the Foresworn, the green flame pulsed again, brighter this time, as though it were alive and growing impatient. More than a few nobles flinched at the sudden surge, their collective unease deepening. In the seats near the front, the scions of high-ranking houses sat with carefully schooled expressions, though rigid postures held by many of them betrayed the presence of some of that same tension that rippled through the rows further back from the stage.


    Perhaps that was the reason why no one moved at first.


    The Lord Sentinel¡¯s mask was still, but Klarion could sense a subtle shift in the man. It was as if the commanding presence he had exerted before had become colder, more oppressive. Klarion¡¯s heart rate quickened.


    With a single deliberate movement, the Lord Sentinel stepped, the force behind it, undeniable. The Lord Sentinel¡¯s voice, when it came, was low ¡ª almost a growl.


    ¡°Do you think the Empire will wait for you?¡± His words were like thunder, reverberating off the stone walls. Klarion felt a chill run down his spine, and though he had not moved, the sensation of being caught in the Lord Sentinel¡¯s gaze was overwhelming. The question he had asked settled almost like a physical weight on Klarion¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°You have been given a command, and yet you hesitate.¡± The Lord Sentinel¡¯s voice rose higher, cutting through the tension like the blade he held. ¡°You are heirs to the Empire, scions of noble houses. You are not children, waiting to be coddled. You are here to prove your worth, to show that you can stand as future leaders. The Empire does not, will not, wait for those who falter.¡±


    The silence returned and began to stretch again, like the calm before the storm. Klarion looked around at the other nobles around him. None of them made to stand.


    They were all waiting for someone else to make the first move.


    The Lord Sentinel stood unmoving for several long moments, his mask fixed on the room with unsettling intensity. Though Klarion could not see his eyes, he knew that he was watching them all, waiting. Still, no one stood.


    Waiting.


    They all continued to wait, Klarion among them.


    And then, in a voice that held no room for argument, the Lord Sentinel spoke again, even more commanding than before.


    ¡°Move! Those within the ranks of the low nobility will begin,¡± he ordered, his voice crackling with authority. ¡°The ceremony does not wait for you.¡±


    It was not just an order. It was a command forged of iron. And in that instant, Klarion realized the true nature of what was happening. This wasn¡¯t just a ceremony; it was a trial. A test of their resolve, of their courage. Those who hesitated, who faltered now, might survive the Imperial Academy. But they would not make it past what came after. The Empire demanded those who would take action. And the Lord Sentinel would accept nothing less.


    Almost as one the young nobility sitting in the largest section of seats, those furthest away from the stage, rose to begin making their way to the stage. Those leading were those from the ranks of the families that possessed knighthoods. At the front was a young woman whose determined expression was not enough to distract from the tremble in her steps. Even from this far away, Klarion could see her brown eyes darting nervously between the Lord Sentinel on the stage and the green flames of the Altar of the Foresworn. For her part, she didn¡¯t hesitate to climb the five steps to the stage itself.


    Her uniform, adorned with the modest insignia of her rank, stood in stark contrast to the brilliant emerald flames before her. As she grew closer, the flames leaped higher and almost seemed to bend down over her form. Despite the tension in the air, she held her head high, her resolve carrying her forward.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    As she stopped before the crystal altar, the Lord Sentinel¡¯s gaze seemed to weigh her worth, his masked visage inscrutable. With a slow, deliberate motion, he gestured with his gauntleted hand for her to kneel.


    With a deep breath, she sank to one knee, her head bowed in submission. The green flame surged higher, its intensity illuminating her with a glow that seemed almost alive. Though shadows played across her features, those who watched her could see the look of determination on her face.


    ¡°Do you accept the birthright bestowed by your noble lineage, swearing loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡± the Lord Sentinel intoned, his voice echoing over the gathered nobility.


    The young woman, eyes still fixed on the dancing flames above her, hesitated as she tried to find her voice. Visibly steadying herself, she spoke. ¡°I accept.¡± Though the words were quiet, they carried through the amphitheater.


    The emerald flames reared, then plunged down to consume her.


    Several people in the audience screamed as the young woman was completely obscured by the fire. But the flame did not burn her to ash. Instead, in surrounding her, it seemed also to be caressing her form, perhaps examining her. It danced and coiled, forming strange shapes as it sparked in the air.


    The moments stretched, but as suddenly as it had begun it was over. The green flame pulled itself free from the young woman. She remained kneeling, untouched by the fire, yet something about her had visibly changed. When she rose, her posture was straighter, as if the ceremony had awakened something within her to grant her more confidence. She opened her eyes, and for a moment Klarion could have sworn they gleamed with a silvery light. But then it was gone, and he was unsure if he had actually seen anything.


    A collective exhale swept the amphitheater as the gathered nobles released their tension, a low murmur picking up. At the direction of the Lord Sentinel, the young woman turned and left the stage, her steps quicker than when she had gone to the crystal altar. Whispered congratulations followed her back to her seat at the rear of the amphitheater.


    The tension about what might happen being broken, the line of low-ranking nobles moved forward, one by one stepping over to kneel by the crystal altar. They too were asked the question by the Lord Sentinel, and without exception, they answered their acceptance and braved the emerald flames. Some hesitated, their voices trembling as they spoke their vows, while others answered with the determination of the first. The emerald flame, impartial and unyielding, judged them all the same.


    However, the ceremony was not without its darker, more harrowing moments.


    As the ranks of those from families with knighthoods transitioned into those who descended from barons and then viscounts, a young man with red hair strode forward with a confident swagger out of place with the solemnity of the ritual. His uniform was immaculate, adorned at the shoulder with the insignia of his rank and his family¡¯s house, but something about him was off to Klarion. He couldn¡¯t quite place why, but looking closer at him showed that his steps were exaggerated, his grin a bit too wide, and his posture a bit too casual.


    When it was his turn, he stopped before the crystal altar to kneel before pulsating emerald flames. Klarion was not the only one whose face reflected shock as the young noble cut off the Lord Sentinel to give his response to the partially unstated question.


    ¡°Yes, I accept!¡± he declared before the crystal altar, his voice loud, almost demanding. At being cut off, the Lord Sentinel¡¯s mask turned ever so slightly to the young noble, but he did not say anything else, not even a rebuke.


    The flame reacted as it had with all the nobility swearing their loyalty, surging upward and then plunging down to engulf him in its embrace. Despite the rudeness of his response, the flame danced along his limbs and did whatever it had with all the others that had been before him.


    Then the flame shifted.


    The vibrant green turned a deep, menacing black. A bloodcurdling scream was ripped from the kneeling noble. He bent over, clearly trying to use his arms to push himself to his feet and out of the flames, but the fire was too intense. He writhed within the flames, his cries of agony growing fainter by the second as his body was consumed. In a final burst of blackened flame, the fading figure within its grasp flared into ashes. Black returned to green as the flames rose up above the crystal altar once again. The young man was gone, not even ashes left behind.


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Klarion found himself saying in horror as panicked voices started rising all around him. The sound of crying came behind him, but he did not turn to look as the Lord Sentinel seized his attention.


    Stepping forward before full-blown chaos could descend on the amphitheater at what everyone had just witnessed, the Lord Sentinel¡¯s voice, cold and commanding again, cut through the noise like the sharp edge of his massive sword.


    ¡°Let this be a reminder,¡± he said, his tone demanding their attention. ¡°The flames do not lie. Deception is treason, and treason is death.¡±


    The words settled over the gathered nobles like a death knell, chilling in their finality. Many froze, some averting their gazes from the Lord Sentinel, while others glanced at their peers, likely wondering who else among them might harbor secrets that could end in such a gruesome fate as what they had just witnessed. For his part, Klarion was not too worried. Horrified, yes, as who wouldn¡¯t be at witnessing such an abruptly violent death. No, he was not worried because he had already made up his mind multiple times over that he would do whatever he had to do to be able to make it back to Earth to save his family and friends. Since that would mean he would have to grow to become strong enough to be an asset to the Empire, he did not think there would be any clash between what he aimed to do and what the Empire would expect of him.


    The Lord Sentinel stood unmoving a moment longer, perhaps ensuring that those gathered fully understood his warning. He then gestured for the next young noble scion in line to step forward. The ceremony resumed, but the air remained heavy even as those in line shifted into a smaller group composed of the middle nobility. No one else died, and the second group was almost done as well.


    Soon, it would be Klarion¡¯s turn.

 Chapter 38

    The progression of the middle nobility of the Empire, the scions of counts, marquises, and dukes, had caused the atmosphere of the ceremony to shift yet again. The green flames had appeared to burn a little brighter, the dance seeming to be that much more the result of a living intent behind their movement. To Klarion¡¯s surprise, a few of them had even undergone noticeable transformations during their judgment by the emerald flames. Among slight changes in size and build, some emerged with eyes gleaming with newfound colors, hair different or streaked with silver or gold, and even a palpably charged presence. Given his still shockingly lack of knowledge, all Klarion could guess was that their character sheets had been altered to reflect their changes in some way. For his part, he was both excited and worried about what he might himself experience when it was finally his turn.


    The last scion of a dukedom, a tiny boy with blonde hair that stood straight up no matter how much he had fidgeted with it before approaching the emerald flames, successfully completed the ceremony and rushed back to his seat. With no one else left in line for the middle nobility, the Lord Sentinel stepped forward again, his booming voice ringing out.


    ¡°We have come to the final stage of the ceremony,¡± he declared. ¡°The scions of the Archducal Houses, bearers of the Empire¡¯s greatest legacies in western reaches absent any representatives of higher ranks, shall now approach the altar.¡±


    Klarion could feel the crowd shift behind him, and he could guess what was happening. Every gaze had just turned to the front, where the sections for the scions of Houses Silverwind, Ironclaw, Oakfrost, Brightcoin, and his own Blacksword sat.


    ¡°You will kneel before the Altar of the Foresworn,¡± the Lord Sentinel continued, his tone sharper now, ¡°to be judged and to swear your loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire itself. The flame reveals all ¡ª strength, treachery, and truth. Let none approach unworthy, for the Empire does not forgive deceit.¡±


    A black armored finger extended to point at the seating furthest from where Klarion sat by himself. ¡°Step forward, scions of Archducal House Silverwind.¡±


    Almost before the Lord Sentinel finished talking, the small group of young nobles with silver hair sitting in the Silverwind section stood as one to make their way to the stage. Based on their appearances and expressed confidence, Klarion guessed the lower-ranking members of the house were being sent up to the flame first. Much like what had gone on before, each scion swore their agreement to the question the Lord Sentinel asked, then braved the emerald flames. What was different, however, is that each and every one of them changed in some way upon their emergence from the fire. At first glance, it was mostly reflected in hair becoming more silver and bodies becoming more lean, but Klarion expected other, less noticeable changes had happened as well.


    Then the Lord Sentinel did something that he hadn¡¯t done to this point. He announced the final figure of House Silverwind by name.


    ¡°Seraphina Valenor Silverwind. Step forward and swear yourself to the Empire.¡±


    Unconsciously, Klarion leaned forward in his chair to watch as a young woman with striking silver hair that shimmered like captured moonlight stepped onto the stage. Her expression was serene, her steps precise and unhurried. When she reached the crystal altar, the Lord Sentinel gestured silently for her to kneel. Seraphina lowered herself gracefully to the ground, the emerald flame above her surging in response to a height that no one had yet seen. It practically touched the ceiling.


    ¡°Do you, Seraphine Valenor Silverwind, scion of the Archducal House Silverwind, swear unwavering loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡±


    Without hesitation, Seraphina¡¯s clear voice rang out like a bell, ¡°I swear.¡±


    The emerald flame plunged down to envelop her fully. For a moment, the brightness completely obscured her form. Then, the flame receded, revealing Seraphine unchanged in body but radiating a quiet, unassailable presence. A faint, silverly glow encircled her as if the wind itself had embraced her. She stood, pale blue eyes gleaming, and gracefully returned to her seat amidst whispered admiration.


    What happened with House Silverwind became the pattern for the rest of the ceremony. The other Houses, Ironclaw, Oakfrost, and Brightcoin were all called with all but one of their members not being addressed by name by the Lord Sentinel. Given that this likely meant that these four individuals would be those he would need to avoid above all others while at the Imperial Academy, Klarion did his best to pay attention to them as they were called onto the stage.


    Garrick Dain Ironclaw was the next named noble scion to be called onto the stage. Where Seraphina¡¯s approach had been elegant and calm, Garrick had stepped with forceful and resolute strides. Long dark hair hung over broad shoulders, adding to his imposing figure as he marched toward the crystal altar.


    While the emerald flame had risen high for Seraphina, for Garrick it instead flickered wildly. Garrick knelt before the altar with a defiant confidence, his head bowed only enough to show respect but not submission.


    ¡°Do you, Garrick Dain Ironclaw, scion of the Archducal House Ironclaw, swear unwavering loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡±


    Garrick¡¯s voice responded deep and steady, ¡°I swear.¡±


    The emerald flame engulfed him with an almost feral intensity, roaring like a beast unleashed. So violent was the rush at the young scion that some in the audience recoiled. When the flames receded, Garrick was left transformed as well. His shoulders seemed broader, his stance more unyielding. The faint image of spectral claws shimmered briefly around his hands before vanishing. He stood, piercing green eyes alight with a newfound ferocity which he fixed immediately in the direction of Klarion when he turned away from the crystal altar.Klarion could practically feel the anger directed his way, though he had no idea why Garrick would feel that toward him, a stranger. It likely had something to do with House Blacksword. He made up his mind then and there to do everything he could to avoid interacting with the leading scion of House Ironclaw. Without a glance at the crowd, Garrick then strode back to his seat.


    Next had come Liora Arden Oakfrost. Unlike the other members of her house, her hair was not the white of pure winter snow, but an auburn that looked almost warm. Upon being called, she had risen from her seat with a quiet grace, her auburn braid swinging gently behind her as she made her way to the crystal altar. When she reached it, she had knelt smoothly, her head fully bowed in solemn respect.


    ¡°Do you, Liora Arden Oakfrost, scion of the Archducal House Oakfrost, swear unwavering loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡±


    Liora¡¯s voice responded softly, ¡°I swear.¡±


    Unlike the previously named scions, the emerald flame swirled around her in graceful patterns prior to slowly coalescing around her. Rather than a roar, or even a crackle, the flames almost seemed to hum as they roiled around her. As slowly as it had begun, it was soon over. Liora stood, auburn hair now gleaming with golden highlights, her moss-green eyes now glowing faintly, almost like they were infused with the vitality of some ancient forest.


    She rose with quiet dignity and returned to her seat, but not before Klarion thought she glanced in his direction. He wasn¡¯t sure because as soon as he thought he made eye contact, she was again looking ahead to her own house¡¯s seating. Hopefully, if she had looked at him, it had been due to something like idle curiosity rather than intentional focus for some other reason.


    Finally, there was only one last remaining group before it would be his turn. The Archducal House Brightcoin. Each and every one of the scion possessed golden-blonde hair and, for some reason, bright white smiles they directed all around themselves as they made their way onto the stage. Even then, they somehow seemed to pale in comparison to the highest ranking scion of their house. Caspian Alaric Brightcoin was, in a word, charismatic. His smile, his golden-blonde hair just a shade brighter than the others, even his golden eyes, all drew the attention of everyone in the amphitheater as he answered the summons of the Lord Sentinel. His gait was confident, almost jaunty, as though he were walking onto the stage to accept a prize rather than undergo a trial.


    ¡°Do you, Caspian Alaric Brightcoin, scion of the Archducal House Brightcoin, swear unwavering loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡±


    Caspian¡¯s voice was smooth and confident in response, ¡°I swear.¡±


    The emerald flames then did something that hadn¡¯t happened before. With the others they had changed shape or approach, but the color had remained the same. For Caspian, however, faint streaks of gold appeared. The fire danced around him with a playful energy, and all could clearly make out the smile on Caspian¡¯s face even as the flames pressed in close to him. When they evertually pulled back to reveal the young scion of House Brightcoin, his already radiant features seemed just a bit more defined, his hair still brighter, and his golden-eyes possessing a captivating glow for a moment, only for Caspian to blink it away. He rose, flashing a charming smile at the crowd, then returned to his seat with a stride that spoke of supreme confidence. While Klarion could tell that many in the audience seemed to be drawn to the young man, for him something just seemed a little off. Before he could examine the thought further, the words that he had been hoping, dreading, were spoken by the Lord Sentinel.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Klarion von Sturmwacht of the Archducal House Blacksword. Step forward and swear yourself to the Empire.¡±


    The Amphitheater of Induction fell utterly still. All at once, Klarion knew that every gaze was fixed on him. As he stood to follow the Lord Sentinel¡¯s command, he got a look at the ranks of nobility that sat behind him. Some eyes were filled with curiosity, but the vast majority were filled with wariness or even outright suspicion. The murmurs that had followed his early walk to the Blacksword section returned, sharped and more insistent. The whispers carried questions, judgments, and disbelief.


    Klarion felt the weight of their eyes, the impact of their whispers, like a physical force pressing down on him. His pulse quickened, and he fought to keep his expression neutral. He stepped into the aisle, the echo of his boots against the floor sounding loud in his ears. Each step he took closer to the crystal altar, the Altar of the Foresworn, felt heavier than the last.


    As he walked, fragments of conversation again reached his ears. Those that he could most clearly figure out came from the seats of the other Archducal houses.


    ¡°¡ªso strange¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªBlacksword? I thought they wouldn¡¯t send anyone this year.¡±


    ¡°¡ªthe scars. How did he¡ª¡±


    The words swirled around him, but Klarion forced himself to focus. Stepping onto the stage, he approached the crystal altar. The emerald flame hovering over it pulsed with an intensity that seemed to pick up the closer he came.


    When he reached the spot just in front of the altar, Klarion paused. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the sound of his own breathing and the emerald flame that loomed before him. Slowly, deliberately, Klarion knelt, posture held rigid as he lowered his head.


    ¡°Do you, Klarion von Sturmwacht, scion of the Archducal House Blacksword, swear unwavering loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire?¡±


    Klarion felt a voice emerge from his throat that spoke deep and resolutely in response, ¡°I swear.¡±


    The emerald flames exploded, surging like a living thing to fill fully half of the massive stage, its roar shattering the silence of the amphitheater.


    Klarion heard the briefest of gasps from the crowd before the fire slammed into him from all sides. Heat danced across his body, yet lingering ever so slightly on his scars as it moved. Far less intense than he expected, it felt only uncomfortably warm. For long minutes, the flame seemed to slow, almost as if focusing on probing the depths of his being. The heat faded enough that he was able to get a glimpse of what was happening outside the fire around him.


    The Lord Sentinel watched intently, his masked face revealing nothing, but for those who cared to look closely, there was a tension in his stance that spoke volumes. This was no ordinary induction ceremony. Even the other Archducal scions, seated in their respective sections, leaned forward, their gazes fixed on Klarion with a mix of interest and apprehension. But before he could look farther afield, it happened.


    Words appeared in front of him, formed of the emerald flame.


    Do you, Klarion von Sturmwacht of the Archducal House Blacksword, swear your loyalty to the Emperor, the Seven Princes, the Imperial Family, and the Empire of Treverorum? Do you vow to uphold your duties as a scion of Archducal blood, to lead, protect, and serve at the highest levels of the Empire?


    Accept to awaken the Treverorum Empire nobility system.


    Refusal will result in forfeiture of your bloodline status.


    Accept: Yes/No


    Error: Authority Conflict Detected. Swearing loyalty¡­ failed.


    What did that mean? The ceremony had proceeded flawlessly for all but one of the young noble scions that were there to enroll in the Imperial Academy. All but one had sworn their loyalty, received the blessing of the flame, and unlocked their noble birthright. Yet here he was, caught in the middle of something that felt dangerously out of place.


    Error: Loyalty override applied.


    Nobility System unlocking¡­ complete.


    stronger.


    Noble Awakening: Success


    Bloodline Validation: Success


    Character Sheet Modification: Success


    Error: Unbound from Imperial Loyalty Constraints


    Error: Inherited Prerogatives Locked

 Chapter 39

    Klarion was hard-pressed to keep his calm when his character sheet appeared in a status window in front of him. To say there were some changes was an understatement.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 1 (Free Points = 30)


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Aura: -


    Majesty: -


    Eminence: -


    Strength: 24 => 54


    Dexterity: 19 => 49


    Vitality: 35 => 65


    Endurance: 43 => 73


    Intelligence: 27 => 57


    Wisdom: 17 => 47


    Charisma: 10 => 40


    Luck: 6 => 16


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: N/A


    Abilities: N/A


    According to how much his stats had grown, the ceremony had led to him gaining slightly more than seven levels worth of stat points. That was an insane number of stats for his level, given what Alesin and Rolfun had explained to him. While he did not feel that different, Klarion knew that he would need to engage in some serious training later to make sure he had a handle on his new capabilities. But he would have to set that aside for now.


    The Lord Sentinel lifted a gauntleted hand from the hilt of his greatsword to gesture at the crystal altar. A low chime, pleasant to the ear, echoed throughout the amphitheater as the green flame over the altar flickered and faded from sight. A faint crackling came as the crystal altar began to shimmer, its solid form unraveling into thousands of tiny hards that hung suspended in the air, glinting like stars. With a sweep of his hand, the shards coalesced into a swirling vortex, then vanished entirely, leaving only an empty spot on the stage where the altar had previously stood.


    With the attention of most of the scions of nobility fixed on the Lord Sentinel, Klarion turned his attention back to his status window, focusing on the three additions to his character sheet. While he had a general idea of what Aura, Majesty, and Eminence meant as words back on Earth, that did not mean they would mean the same thing under the System. Mentally, he selected each in turn, asking for additional information. Thanking, three pop-ups appeared that clarified a few of his questions but did not fully address how each worked in practice.


    Aura


    The manifestation of your physical and martial presence. Aura influences those weaker than you, compelling awe, fear, or submission. Wielded actively in combat or intimidation, Aura allows you to project overwhelming force without needing to lift a finger. It can make even the faintest gesture with a weapon carry an air of undefinable dominance.


    Majesty


    The intangible power of respect and fortune that flows to and from your lands, people, and position. Majesty governs the respect you command as a noble and the prosperity you bestow upon your domains. It affects how others perceive your authority and inspires loyalty in followers. Majesty can be employed as a charm-like force, persuading or calming those weaker than you. Its influence enhances your ability to sway individuals and govern effectively.


    Eminence


    The enduring reputation and renown of your noble station. Eminence represents your legacy and the weight of your name. It passively enhances the benefits and gifts granted to you by others, as well as your overall standing in the social and political spheres. Eminence does not require active use; instead, it ensures preferential treatment, better opportunities, and heightened respect in dealings with peers and subordinates alike.


    While he wanted to look more into each, Klarion¡¯s attention was pulled back to the stage as the Lord Sentinel moved to the edge to address the gathered scions. Klarion leaned forward in his seat, doing his best to make sure he missed nothing.


    ¡°My sincerest congratulations to you all for successfully unlocking the benefits inherent to those of the nobility who have sworn loyalty,¡± The Lord Sentinel¡¯s voice was tinged with pride. ¡°We now turn to the next phase of your induction into the Imperial Academy as first-year noble students. I present to you, Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus.¡±


    A figure stepped forward from the shadows along the back of the stage. Moving with slow, deliberate steps, the figure was gradually revealed to be an old man. His face was marked by deep lines and scars; his skin was weathered as though it had been carved of old leather. Though frail in appearance, he wore a dark, tattered cloak with the insignia of the Imperial Academy emblazoned upon his chest. The Vice-Chancellor¡¯s eyes were piercing, a cold grey that seemed to see through the very souls of those he looked at. This was a very dangerous man.


    Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus stepped forward to the edge of the stage, his presence commanding the attention of the entire amphitheater. His scarred, weathered face looked out over the sea of first-year nobility, many of them still reeling from the vents of the ceremony, their expressions a mixture of awe, nervousness, and uncertainty. His piercing grey eyes swept over them slowly, assessing their every movement, their every expression. The silence stretched as he took his time, letting the tension build, before finally breaking it with a deep, rumbling voice that carried across the vast chamber.


    ¡°Young scions of the Empire, my congratulations to you all for passing your first test,¡± the Vice-Chancellor said, his voice calm yet imbued with an undeniable authority that immediately drew every eye. ¡°You are now all officially first-year students of this Imperial Academy.¡±


    Klarion raised his hands to clap, as that was what generally was given in response to congratulations like the one they had just received. Apparently, that was only a thing that happened on Earth, as no one else moved to do so after Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus paused. Klarion awkwardly lowered his hands, glad no one else had seen what he had been about to do. Thankfully, the Vice-Chancellor chose to continue his orientation speech at that moment.


    ¡°The Imperial Academy is not merely a place of learning,¡± Thaddeus continued. ¡°It is the crucible through which the future leaders, warriors, and scholars of the Empire are forged. Each of you is here today because of your descent from those who succeeded in fulfilling these roles in the past. The potential you possess through your bloodlines will either be nurtured to greatness or crushed beneath the weight of your own inadequacies.¡±


    The words coming from the Vice-Chancellor hit Klarion hard. The weight of expectation pressed heavily on him already, and here was one of the leaders of the Imperial Academy saying on day one, before classes had even started, that there was a very real possibility that he might not make it. Forcing himself to set those concerning words aside, Klarion focused on the fact that the green flames had judged him worthy and, the strangeness of the other messages of the System aside, had unlocked his access to the benefits of being nobility within the Empire. Yes, that was how he needed to think about it. If the Imperial Academy was a crucible, Klarion would just need to exert every effort he could to emerge from it as tempered steel ¡ª stronger, sharper, and ready to prove himself worthy of participating in whatever was coming for Earth in its looming integration into the System.


    ¡°The Empire spans not just worlds but entire realms of existence. It faces challenges from countless hostile races, emerging threats, and cataclysmic events across the multiverse. This Imperial Academy¡¯s mission is to prepare you, the next generation, to confront and overcome these dangers. Here, you will learn to master your access to the System, to wield your skills and abilities as weapons, and even earn special traits, all to sharpen your capacity to defeat those who seek to destroy the Empire. By the time you leave this Imperial Academy ¡ª if you survive the training ¡ª you will no longer be the same person who entered. You will be stronger, faster, more capable, and ¡ª above all ¡ª indispensable to the Empire¡¯s future.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    With a sweeping motion of his gnarled hand, Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus conjured a massive sigil that glowed faintly in the air over the center of the stage. In a twisting motion with his fingers curling, he spun his hand, causing the sigil to shift into a floating, semi-transparent board. A final snap of his fingers sent words racing across its surface. As words were constructed into sentences, it began to become clear that what the Vice-Chancellor had called into being was a detailed list of rules and expectations for first-year students at the Imperial Academy. As the words finished appearing, the Vice-Chancellor continued speaking.


    ¡°Let me make one thing abundantly clear: the Imperial Academy does not tolerate failure, weakness, or insubordination. Each of you is expected to adhere to the rules and regulations of this institution, and infractions will not be met with leniency,¡± Thaddeus¡¯ gaze settled on those who sat nearest the stage, in the seats set aside for those of the Archducal houses, ¡°regardless of your rank.¡±


    Thaddeus gestured above and behind himself at the board that remained hovering in the air. Words shifted to simple animated figures, which began to act out the various rules. Klarion would have been entertained, but for the fact that what the Vice-Chancellor was covering was so important to his future at the Imperial Academy.


    ¡°When an instructor, professor, or Dean gives you a command, you will follow it without hesitation,¡± Thaddeus said firmly. ¡°Defiance will lead to swift disciplinary action.¡±


    The figures shifted on the board to show one clearly giving a large box to another in the uniform of a student. As soon as the student received the box, another figure dressed like a Sentinel appeared on the board to take it.


    ¡°The Imperial Academy is about pushing its students to excel under their own merits and efforts. No outside assistance will be tolerated.¡±


    The figures shifted again, this time into two clearly wearing armor and wielding swords. They began to clash as another figure looking like what Klarion assumed to be a professor stood nearby.


    ¡°Dueling between students is allowed but must be conducted in designated arenas with proper supervision.¡± Thaddeus¡¯ face took on a grim expression. ¡°Unauthorized combat on the grounds of the Imperial Academy will result in immediate punishment, up to expulsion or worse.¡±


    With a perfunctory wave of his hands, the glowing board of rules hovered for a moment longer before dissipating into streams of golden light. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd of assembled first-years, lingering briefly here and there for reasons Klarion was not able to determine. He was just thankful that he had not been one that attracted the extra attention of the Vice-Chancellor.


    ¡°Though there are others you will learn of in the months ahead, these are the most important rules by which you will abide,¡± Thaddeus stated, his gravelly voice again echoing through the amphitheater. ¡°I will reiterate: fail to follow them, and the consequences will be swift, severe, and inescapable. Yet, for those who adhere to them and excel, the rewards you will find here are boundless. Know always that the Imperial Academy is a meritocracy, but merit is not just about your power or abilities. It¡¯s about discipline, respect, and responsibility. ¡±


    It was at that moment that the Vice-Chancellor turned grim, and the lighting of the amphitheater almost seemed to dim as he spoke again. ¡°Not all of you will make it through the first year. Some will fail to keep up with their classes; others will break under the pressure or worse. Do not take your time here lightly.¡±


    ¡°Now. There is one final thing you, as new first-year students, need to be aware of: the Imperial Academy Exchange.¡± The Vice-Chancellor¡¯s grim expression returned to a more neutral one, and the amphitheater seemed to brighten again. Raising his gnarled hands high, his sleeves slid down his bony arms to reveal intricate tattoos of shapes and whorls interspersed between words and symbols that Klarion could not make out the meaning of. Thaddeus¡¯ hands began to move in rapid motion before coming to a sudden halt when he slammed both fists together in a burst of green light that flashed across the amphitheater. Without warning, a System window appeared before Klarion.


    Imperial Academy Exchange


    Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus has granted you acces to the Imperial Academy Exchange. An internal currency tracking system, as a student you are now able to earn special seals and coins via the completion of assignments or activities that you can exchange for special items, training, opportunities, bonds, and more! Just remember: the Imperial Academy is always watching.


    Rare Currencies


    Seals of Valor (0): Earned through acts of honor and justice.


    Seals of Cunning (0): Earned through acts of subterfuge and subversion.


    Seals of Brutality (0): Earned through acts of ruthlessness and viciousness.


    Seals of Discovery (0): Earned through discovering secrets and hidden things.


    Seals of Arcana (0): Earned through contributions of spellcraft and magical study.


    Common Currencies


    Coins of Knowledge (0): Accumulated through participation in classes, top exam scores, mentoring, and leadership roles.


    Coins of Service (0): Accumulated through the exchange of items, loot, and resources at the Hall of Bonds.


    Klarion¡¯s red-gold eyes quickly skimmed through the details of the Imperial Academy Exchange. At first, he was struck by the complexity of the various seals and coins, but then he considered the deeper meaning behind the classifications. The wide range of possibilities and approaches to one¡¯s time here at the Imperial Academy, as reflected by the various seals and coins, showed him that this was not just a currency system but also a map of pathways to dominance during his time here.


    His mind buzzed with the possibilities. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He wasn¡¯t yet sure how to go about earning these seals, but he knew that he would work as hard as possible to navigate the process successfully so that he could carve out his own place here. When he shifted his gaze to consider the coins, his grin faltered, replaced with a thoughtful frown. Knowledge Coins, tied to academic success and responsibilities, seemed straightforward enough, though the idea of his performance being so openly tracked still unsettled him somewhat. Service Coins, on the other hand, carried a weight he didn¡¯t fully understand. Items and training he got, but the notion of trading resources and loot, whatever those ended up being, for servants at the Hall of Bonds made him uneasy. It suggested that loyalty here was transactional. Apparently, the warnings Alesin and Rolfun had given him about the need to focus on loyalty and trust were truer than he thought they would be.


    His eyes returned to the final words at the top portion of the System window: the Imperial Academy is always watching. Given everything he had experienced so far, he did not think those words were anything but literal. He would be judged not just by his professors and instructors, but also by an invisible, omnipresent force at the Imperial Academy. Moreover, while he did not expect that he would feel any need to violate the rules that the Vice-Chancellor had touched on, he would still have to be careful. Unfortunately, given everything that had happened in the ceremony, the odds of him being able to float by under the radar were already much lower. And that was before he even knew that he was going to be one amongst only a few dozen associated with an Archducal House, as compared to the literal hundreds of scions coming from the middle and lower nobility.


    No, despite the spectacle of his ceremony, his goal of avoiding unnecessary attention still held. While what had happened with the green flame, and his own transformation, had made him a focal point, he still hoped he could attempt to blend into the sea of other first-year noble scions even if it required significant effort on his part. His own rank compared to so many others was a curse in this regard, but if he could find ways to avoid overt displays of power or ambition, then it still might be possible to avoid at least some potential enemies.


    Then again, given how the lead scion of House Ironclaw had glared at him right after his own ceremony, his efforts to avoid attention might not even matter. If that was the case, he resolved that he would do everything in his power to get ahead of his potential enemies as soon as possible. Klarion dismissed the window, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. Yes. If the Imperial Academy wanted to forge its students through fire and pressure, he would have to meet it head-on.


    Vice-Chancellor Thaddeus remained standing at the edge of the stage, apparently patiently waiting for the remaining students to finish examining what being granted access to the Imperial Academy Exchange meant. How he was tracking that, Klarion had no idea, but it was the only explanation that made sense for why he was still standing there. Thankfully, Klarion did not need to wait long.


    Clasping his hands behind his back, the Vice-Chancellor¡¯s voice boomed once more across the amphitheater, ¡°Now, our ceremony draws to a close. You will proceed outside where you will be given a campus tour by the Sentinel that escorted you to this amphitheater. After you familiarize yourself with the grounds, halls of learning, and the residences you will be staying in, you will have the opportunity to engage in various orientation events that will help prepare you for life within the Imperial Academy.¡±


    The Vice-Chancellor began backing up in the direction from which he had emerged onto the stage. ¡°When you retire to your residences tonight, you will find detailed information regarding the courses you have been assigned and your class schedules. Classes begin tomorrow. There will be no leniency for tardiness or lack of preparation, so I encourage you to get a good night¡¯s sleep and arrive early.¡±


    Halfway back down the stage, the shadows of the far wall reached out tendrils to twist up around the Vice-Chancellor. While gasps came from many of the gathered first-years, Thaddeus did not react except to smile. Just after the shadows reached his head, they ripped apart to return to the wall, the Vice-Chancellor gone like he had never actually been on the stage.


    Given that sometime after the arrival of the Vice-Chancellor the Lord Sentinel had left the stage, all the first-year students took this as permission to leave the Amphitheater of Induction. The mention of orientation events, which likely included eating and drinking, had clearly seized the attention of the majority, as many were already heading out toward the exits. Relieved to no longer be the target of so much attention, Klarion let out a slow breath and settled in to wait a few minutes to avoid the rush.


    His brief respite was shattered when a whisper came from behind him.


    ¡°Welcome to the Imperial Academy, Klarion.¡±

 Chapter 40

    The voice had come from behind him, and Klarion turned to see who had spoken. Standing a few steps back at the edge of the seating for the middle nobility, hands clasped neatly behind his back, was a young man with the look of someone who was too confident for his own good.


    The grin on his face turned a bit sheepish as he raised a hand in a gesture of apology. ¡°Ah, my excitement got the better of me,¡± he said smoothly, his tone light. ¡°It¡¯s not every day one gets to meet someone who causes such a stir before classes even begin. Allow me to correct myself ¡ª welcome to the Imperial Academy, Lord Blacksword.¡± He dipped his head slightly, the movement subtle yet respectful, as if to acknowledge the gravity of Klarion¡¯s rank, or at least the House he came from, without overdoing it. ¡°I trust you will forgive my earlier lapse in decorum.¡± His smile returned, sharper this time, as he waited.


    Completely caught off guard, Klarion froze for a long moment. He cursed the fact he was still lacking in experience interacting with nobility. Deciding to take the out offered, Klarion gave a short nod, his expression as calm as he could keep it as he replied, ¡°No offense taken. I appreciate the welcome.¡± He kept as neutral a tone as possible, while still being polite. Inside, his thoughts continued to churn. He wished he had received even a fraction of the training in courtly decorum that most noble scions attending the Imperial Academy likely had. Navigating even this interaction felt a little like walking on the edge of a blade ¡ª one wrong step and he could offend or reveal his inexperience. No, until he was able to deal with this weakness, the best thing to do would be to take his cues from others and simply try to be as polite as possible. Crap. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being rude. Your name is...?¡±


    ¡°No apologies necessary, I can tell I inadvertently startled you,¡± the stranger continued, his expression still polite. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself. Hector Draven, scion of House Draven, a viscountcy, at your service.¡± He gave a shallow bow.


    Klarion studied him with a measured gaze. Hector was dressed impeccably, his uniform tailored much like his own had been to reflect perfection. The crest of the viscountcy sat at each shoulder ¡ª an intricate design of crossed blades encircled by a coiled serpent. His dark hair was neatly combed over a symmetrical face of almost classical handsomeness like what Klarion had seen in old museums when he was younger. But it was Hector¡¯s eyes that drew Klarion¡¯s attention the most. At odds with the polite, almost welcoming introduction he had extended, to Klarion his eyes were a sharp, calculating grey, flickering with an intelligence that seemed to assess and weigh every detail about their surroundings ¡ª and Klarion.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Lord Draven,¡± Hector¡¯s eyes seemed to sharpen, and Klarion knew at once he had made a mistake somehow, ¡°but if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­?¡±


    ¡°That display at the Altar of the Foresworn was¡­ memorable,¡± Hector said, not taking Klarion¡¯s hint. ¡°I doubt anyone here will forget it anytime soon.¡±


    Unwillingly, Klarion¡¯s face grew tight. He didn¡¯t particularly want to discuss the bizarre and unsettling events of the ceremony, much less with a stranger. ¡°It is not something I care to dwell on,¡± he replied curtly. Maybe being a bit short would get Hector to leave him alone. ¡°I assume you are here talking to me for a reason?¡±


    Hector¡¯s smile widened slightly as though he had expected the brusque response. ¡°Straight to the point. I like that.¡± He leaned closer, his voice going lower but still keeping a slight smile on his face. ¡°I am here for a reason, yes. Let¡¯s just say your¡­ unique outcome piqued my interest. For many of us in the nobility, the flames bring about slight changes. Some few, usually in the higher ranking Houses, see more. But very rarely is someone as changed as you were. ¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Hector responded smoothly, ¡°I¡¯m curious. You¡¯ve already caught the attention of nearly every noble student, especially your rivals in the other Archducal Houses, whether you like it or not. I simply approached you first.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Klarion said after Hector ceased speaking, perhaps hoping to gauge Klarion¡¯s reaction. ¡°You¡¯re here to make me some kind of offer, aren¡¯t you?¡±Stolen story; please report.


    Hector¡¯s laugh was soft, almost conspiratorial. ¡°Not quite. I¡¯m not foolish enough to approach someone like you with an offer before I understand what it is you truly want. But I will admit I see your potential ¡ª potential that, if nurtured correctly, might benefit us both.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡± Klarion echoed, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°You don¡¯t even know me.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Hector admitted, ¡°but I¡¯ve always been pretty good at reading people. It¡¯s a skill I¡¯ve honed out of necessity.¡± His gaze roamed over Klarion, lingering on his scars, almost like he was memorizing every detail that he could see. ¡°You are not exactly what I expected from a scion of House Blacksword,¡± he remarked, his tone intrigued. ¡°From what my family¡¯s tutors taught me, scions of your family are generally stern and commanding in presence. Since I have no reason to doubt them ¡ª my family paid quite well for their highly recommended services ¡ª I would say you are almost out of place, even. The fact you did not correct me on calling you anything but your first name and even addressed me as ¡®Lord Draven¡¯ despite all scions being of equal rank so long as we are officially students, tells me you have very little idea about the specifics of the Imperial Academy.¡±


    Once again, Klarion fought to keep his expression neutral, masking the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. So he had messed up with how he had addressed Hector. He shifted awkwardly on his feet until he realized Hector was watching him even closer. Klarion stopped moving all at once. Damn. He had hoped to fade into the background after the ceremony, especially in the wake of how the Vice-Chancellor had disappeared. While he knew he would have to eventually get to know other members of the nobility, he had hoped for a little more time to adjust to being here. But perhaps that was too much to ask. All he could do was try to salvage the situation.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to make an impression,¡± Klarion said lamely. It was the best he could come up with, as there was no way he was going to tell a stranger about any part of his background.


    Hector¡¯s smile grew bigger, almost as if he didn¡¯t believe a word of what Klarion was saying. ¡°Whether you intended it or not, Klarion, you¡¯ve captured quite a bit of attention. The question is, how do you plan to handle it?¡±


    ¡°I doubt anyone will care that much over the next few days as classes begin,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure most will move on to something else soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Hector responded, but his voice carried more than a hint of doubt. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t count on it. This is the Imperial Academy, after all. Ambition is the lifeblood of this place. Even our non-noble classmates will be filled with it. The more exceptional you appear, the more people will want to align with you. Or tear you down.¡±


    Klarion red-gold eyes met Hector¡¯s gaze, ¡°And which are you?¡± he asked quietly. ¡°Someone looking to align with me, or someone waiting for the right moment to tear me down?¡±


    Hector chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. ¡°Once again your directness is a breath of fresh air,¡± he said. ¡°But I assure you, I¡¯m not looking to be your enemy. Quite the opposite, in fact. Like I said, I think you have potential and I think a working relationship might help us both. What do you say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Klarion said finally, though he was not sure yet what it was that he might be considering to agree to.


    Hector inclined his head, as though he had expected that response. ¡°Of course. Take all the time you need. We¡¯ll be seeing more of each other in classes, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing softly in the now-empty amphitheater. Apparently, while Klarion had been absorbed in the conversation, the rest of the scions, even those of the other Archducal Houses, had already stepped outside.


    Klarion watched him go, his mind racing. His first day on campus had already been far more eventful than he could have hoped for, and this encounter with Hector only drove home how much uncertainty he had to look forward to.


    He stepped out of the House Blacksword seating to follow Hector outside. He couldn¡¯t shake the sense that the encounter he had just had was more significant than it appeared. Hector¡¯s sharp gaze and calculating demeanor, even if covered by a welcoming smile, left Klarion wary of manipulation. He replayed Hector¡¯s words in his head, considering whether they were a subtle way to provoke him or if they were truly an attempt at an olive branch. Regardless of which one was true, the fact remained that Hector had already made clear to him one of the things he had been previously worrying about since his time with Alesin and Rolfun: that he did not fit the mold of what others expected for a scion of House Blacksword.


    While part of him wanted to figure out what the more typical Blacksword scion was like, that he might adopt a similar persona to stand out less, the other, greater part admitted he would likely not be able to do that for long. If he could even pass in the first place. He never had been a very good actor, and his friends had always been able to tell when he was lying. No, he would still try to keep his head down, but he also didn¡¯t think he would be able to play at being someone he was not.


    He reached the entrance he had come in through and, with no one else in the way, made his way outside for the rest of the orientation events.

 Chapter 41

    Apparently, he had been inside the Amphitheater longer than he had thought, as when Klarion emerged back outside, it was to a cool evening air brushing against his face. Then again, given how many young scions had needed to go through the ceremony, it made sense that it would be quite a bit later. As he stepped fully out of the archway that led back into the Amphitheater, he nearly staggered at the returning weight of the greatsword on his back. Catching himself, he breathed out a sigh of relief that nobody had seen him almost fall over. Straightening his weapon, he made his way further outside.


    Students had moved into clusters outside the amphitheater, many striking up conversations as they waited to be approached by Sentinels to be led on tours of campus. Looking around, Klarion saw no one he recognized, not even Hector whom he had just been speaking to. Likely he had already found another group to go on the tour with. For a moment, Klarion felt a pang of isolation. Based on the behavior of most of the other first-years, many were already on their way to forming groups, perhaps even alliances based on shared houses, histories, or ambitions.


    He, on the other hand, was alone.


    Klarion hesitated on the edge of the milling students, scanning the various groups that stood nearest him. He hadn¡¯t noticed inside, what with the stress of everything, but now that he was paying closer attention, it wasn¡¯t hard to see the divisions. Lineage seemed to be the most important factor in terms of who grouped with whom, as most of the scions nearby gravitated towards those possessing similar ranks, though there were a few groupings that seemed based on race, though those overlaps blurred the lines somewhat. From what he could tell, humans formed a slight majority of the scions, with elves and dwarves being the next most common, and then members of other races like beastkin being a bit rarer.


    While the majority had found groups, there were outliers, like Klarion himself. Lone figures or pairs who had yet to find their place, hovering near the edges like scattered pieces of a puzzle. Some seemed content in their solitude, while others darted nervous glances, looking for a group to join. Time was running out, however, as already those groups farthest from where he stood had begun being escorted off by Sentinels that had been waiting outside. Apparently, tours of the Imperial Academy did not count as teaching.


    For Klarion¡¯s part, he remained at the edge of the milling students. His red-gold eyes caught furtive glances thrown his way, whispers darting between lips like invisible arrows. Everything that he was able to make out just seemed to further confirm what Hector had told him back in the amphitheater. Klarion exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. Joining one of these tour groups now would be opening himself up to questions he didn¡¯t want to answer right now. At least until he had a chance to get his story straight.


    He turned slightly, intending to wait in the shadow of the amphitheater until the groups had dispersed somewhat before he figured out what he wanted to do, when the sound of approaching footsteps made him stop. At first, he half expected it to be Hector approaching, but as he turned he saw the black-armored figure of the Sentinel who had escorted him earlier: J-65.


    Though her featureless white mask still betrayed nothing, her movements in his direction were fluid, almost unnaturally so, as though she glided rather than walked. Klarion instinctively straightened as she approached.


    ¡°Lord Blacksword,¡± her voice was even and precise. ¡°You appear lost.¡±


    Klarion chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Not lost. Just¡­ considering my options.¡±


    He glanced toward the nearest group, a number of Sentinels forming up to lead them on a tour. A few of the students still shot him glances. Yeah, there was no way he would be joining a group.


    ¡°Actually¡­¡± he began, then faltered. How could he phrase this without sounding foolish? He squared his shoulders and looked back at J-65. ¡°Would you mind escorting me instead? By myself? Just a brief walk around campus. It would be¡­ easier.¡±


    For a moment, J-65 said nothing. Her silence stretched, heavy and unreadable, until she finally responded. ¡°Very well. Follow me.¡±


    Relief swept over Klarion, though he only nodded in thanks to J-65. She turned without another word, moving between the groups of first-years that still remained outside the amphitheater. Klarion fell into step behind her. They continued down the main pathway, but where the majority of groups were going left, J-65 led him right. The murmurs and bustle of the other students quickly began fading behind them.


    As they walked, J-65¡¯s voice was calm but carried a tone of authority as she began to explain the layout of the Imperial Academy to him. He did his best to listen as closely as he could since he knew he would soon have to begin finding his way around for classes once they started.


    ¡°The campus of the Imperial Academy is structured like a vast city unto itself, Lord Blacksword,¡± she began. ¡°At the heart is the central square, where major events, announcements, and gatherings occur. From there, the grounds radiate outward in a rough spiral, with facilities organized by function and importance. The remainder of the campus is given over to various specialized facilities and the residences of all those, which I won¡¯t have time to show you tonight.¡±


    When she turned her mask to him, probably to make sure he was paying attention, Klarion nodded for her to continue.


    ¡°The central ring houses the administrative buildings, the Grand Forum, and the Central Archives ¡ª a repository of the Empire¡¯s accumulated knowledge. The next ring out contains the various academic buildings, where students of all years spend much of their time.¡± She gestured to their left, down a side street that Klarion saw led to the next ring out. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the Lecture Hall, Martial Hall, and Arcane Hall set aside for the first years, which are clustered together in the quadrant ahead. These buildings will be where you go for your classes, starting tomorrow.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The Lecture Hall came into view first. It was a massive building of pale stone, its fa?ade adorned with intricate carvings depicting what Klarion assumed to be instructors in the act of teaching. Towering pillars flanked the grand entrance, each inscribed with words and phrases that he could not quite make sense of. Large, arched windows reflected the evening light, their stained glass depicting crests of noble houses alongside symbols of learning. House Blacksword featured prominently in several places.


    After giving him a few minutes to look, J-65 continued to walk, motioning for Klarion to follow. ¡°The Lecture Hall is where more traditional instruction occurs. You¡¯ll have your Foundations of History and your Etiquette and Courtly Manners courses here.¡± She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he could practically feel how hard she was staring through her mask. ¡°You will need to pay close attention.¡±


    ¡°I thought the Imperial Academy would be a less traditional. I expected something more¡­ unconventional for classes.¡±


    J-65 spoke over her shoulder, ¡°Unconventional is earned. For now, you will learn as all first-years do: in lectures, debates, and practical activities.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, she led him over to the next building. Though J-65 did not say a word, Klarion could immediately tell that it was the Martial Hall. If the Lecture Hall was a temple to the mind, the Martial Hall was a fortress of discipline and power. The building was rectangular and solid, its walls hewn from dark grey stone. Hanging from the front of the building were banners that Klarion saw belonged to specific legions. Along the far side of the building was a massive metal fence, beyond which were what Klarion assumed to be sparring pits and training grounds. Though it was getting late, he thought he could hear someone out in one of the sparring pits.


    ¡°The Martial Hall is where you will begin to hone your proficiency in combat. All noble scions are required to learn the arts of war, regardless of the future roles they pursue within the Empire. As such, you will attend your Combat Studies class here. Whether you become a leader of legions, a frontline fighter, or simply a defender of your house, the training you will receive there is non-negotiable. Expect it to be both grueling and eye-opening.¡±


    Klarion absorbed the information in silence, but his mind turned over the combat experience he had gained so far. Not a lot, given what Alesin and Rolfun had tried to explain to him about the threats always bearing down on the Empire. And he would need a lot more going forward if he was to have any chance when the System came for Earth.


    ¡°Live combat training?¡±


    ¡°Among other things,¡± J-65 confirmed. ¡°Even the most learned scholar must know how to defend themselves against the kinds of threats that plague the borders of the Empire.¡±


    Klarion frowned slightly. ¡°And if they don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°They either learn,¡± J-65 responded flatly, ¡°or they will wish they had.¡±


    Finally, the Sentinel led him to what could only be the Arcane Hall. Klarion couldn¡¯t help but slow his pace as his eyes widened. The building stood apart from the others, its design a sharp contrast. Tall and angular, the structure was capped by a large spire that covered what he could only assume to be magical lights of some sort. They flickered into different colors and shapes as he watched. The air outside the building even felt different ¡ª charged with some undercurrent of energy that made the hair on his arms stand on end.


    ¡°The Arcane Hall is dedicated to the study and practice of magic. For those with talent ¡ª or determination ¡ª it offers a place to unlock and refine their abilities. This will be where your Essence Studies class is held.¡±


    While he was more than a little excited at the prospect of learning magic, real magic, there was one thing that had been bugging him as J-65 had been showing him the buildings he would be taking his classes in. Just where were all the other students? Shouldn¡¯t there be hundreds of other first-year students on their own tours?


    Klarion turned to J-65 as they paused near the towering Arcane Hall. The shimmering lights faded from his focus as he addressed her.


    ¡°Thank you for the tour,¡± he said sincerely. ¡°It¡¯s been helpful. But I can¡¯t help but notice that there are not other students going about their own tours here. Given that there were hundreds at least in the Amphitheater of Induction, I thought there would be at least several dozen being shown the same buildings you have been showing me. Is there a reason for that?¡±


    The Sentinel¡¯s posture stiffened slightly, the faintest hint of hesitation in her usually fluid movements. She shifted her weight and tilted her masked face toward him, her voice carefully measured when she finally replied.


    ¡°I assumed you might prefer it that way,¡± she began, the faintest nervous edge creeping into her tone. ¡°When you returned outside after the ceremony in the Amphitheater of Induction, your body language seemed¡­ tense. Like you didn¡¯t want to deal with anyone else. I thought it would be better to avoid the crowds of other students for now, so I adjusted the route. I¡¯ll be taking you back to the Central Archives after this, where most of the tours started.¡±


    Klarion blinked, completely caught off guard by her admission. And why was she nervous?


    ¡°You adjusted the tour? For me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± J-65 said, almost too quickly. ¡°If I was mistaken, I ¡ª I¡¯m sorry if I made an error in judgment.¡±


    The unexpected vulnerability in her voice struck Klarion. For someone who had been so composed and capable with him up to this point, her unease felt out of place, almost alien.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t done anything wrong,¡± he was quick to assure her, the words flowing instinctively. ¡°In fact, I really appreciate it.¡±


    She straightened, the tension in her stance easing slightly. ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion said, offering her a small but genuine smile. ¡°I wasn¡¯t looking forward to navigating awkward introductions or dealing with still more whispers behind my back. This,¡± he gestured to their quiet surroundings, ¡°was better than I had hoped it would be. Peaceful even.¡±


    For a moment, J-65 seemed to relax. ¡°I¡¯m glad you found it suitable, and that I was able to assist you, Lord Blacksword.¡±


    Klarion flinched at the formal address but said nothing. The title still felt alien to him, but he could hardly fault J-65 for using it. After all, it was likely the case that she was trained to address any of the scions formally. Rather than bring attention to it, he shifted his focus.


    ¡°So, after the Central Archives, what happens?¡± he asked, glancing at her mask.


    ¡°The formal tour concludes. You¡¯ll be expected to attend the evening social events, but those are not mandatory. The rest of the night is yours.¡±


    ¡°Social events,¡± Klarion muttered, his lip twisting in faint displeasure. ¡°Sounds fun.¡±


    Her tone lightened with a trace of humor. ¡°If you find yourself avoiding them as well, I can provide further assistance.¡±


    Klarion chuckled despite himself. ¡°I might hold you to that.¡±

 Chapter 42

    The Central Archives loomed ahead. Thankfully the area in front of it that they had to walk through was completely empty. Looked like J-65 was right that his modified tour had meant he would miss running across most of the other students.


    Much like many of the buildings he had passed so far, it had towering columns and intricate stonework. In fact, it looked more like a sacred temple than a mere library. As they walked up towards the main entrance, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but stare at the statues that flanked it. On the left side, a human scholar stood tall and regal, holding an open tome in one hand and a quill in the other, their robes carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift subtly under the evening light. On the right, a lithe elf was depicted bent over a large book, their free hand extended up as though offering knowledge to any that would grasp it.


    While the statues were impressive, easily the equal of any that he had heard about on display in the Vatican back on Earth, it was the smaller bas-reliefs in the walls behind them that seized his attention as J-65 moved to lead them inside. They were dense with people of all different races, those he had come to recognize as well as more than a few he had yet to learn about. Every single one was holding a book of some sort, though the poses they took varied. Many were bent over, appearing to study the works they held, while others were engaged in what looked to be vigorous debate.


    Before Klarion could get a closer look, he was beyond the entrance and into the Central Archive itself. The moment he stepped through the arched doorway, a cool, dimly lit space enveloped him, and he could almost feel the accumulated weight of centuries of knowledge. Even this close to the entrance, he could pick up the faint smell of old paper and leather mixed with the cool scent of stone. Out of all the buildings he was excited to spend time in this year, the Central Archive was probably the one he most looked forward to. While combat training and magic were undeniably important for him going forward, the idea of being able to immerse himself in the vast wealth of knowledge housed within the Archives resonated with a deeper part of him. Klarion had always loved to read, especially science fiction and fantasy stories, when not trying to study for a degree that didn¡¯t matter anymore.


    Perhaps just as important as the books was how Klarion hoped that the Central Archives would offer solace. Its quiet, its books, and its unassuming guardianship of knowledge appealed to his more introverted nature. Among the stacks, he could think, learn, and perhaps briefly escape from what he was already beginning to suspect would be cutthroat competition.


    J-65 did not speak as she led him through the entry hall, but Klarion did notice the occasional glance she gave him, even if it was covered up by the mask she wore. He did not want to ask too many questions ¡ª especially given her earlier warning that she could not engage in anything that verged on teaching ¡ª but there was something about the silence, the way she moved through this space with ease, that told him there might be much more to her than he could discern at first glance.


    Finally, they were beyond the entryway and Klarion¡¯s first glimpse of the Central Archives itself was everything he had hoped it would be. The rows of bookshelves stretched in long rows that he could not quite see the end of, and from where he stood, he could see that there were stairways that went up and down to other floors.


    J-65 stepped over to a large marble pedestal, upon which lay a glowing orb. She did not touch it, but her presence seemed to prompt the orb to pulse with light, and a map of the Central Archives unfolded in the air before her. The map itself was vast, stretching in all directions, and showed what he thought to be at least eight floors. Sections were marked with labels, which he could not make out without looking at the map closely, and he realized that the layout of the Central Archives was too complex to comprehend in a single glance.


    Klarion had been in libraries before, but none of them were as amazing as the one he stood in now. The fact that it was open to him, a first-year student still so raw and uncertain about so many things, felt both exhilarating and disorientating. Leaving J-65 near the orb, he walked deeper into the space, heading over to the nearest shelves. The books on the shelf that was chest height to him were staggering in their variety. Tomes bound in leather or velvet sat next to scrolls tightly wound in protective cases. In tiny writing on a small copper plate on the shelf were the words, Early Imperial History - Wars of the Founding. He reached out and pulled a heavy book from where it sat, its weight heavy in his hands. He had just begun to flip through the pages when he heard a soft voice behind him.


    ¡°Can I help you find something?¡±


    Startled, Klarion spun around the face the source of the voice. Standing a few steps away was an old librarian in robes of faded gray, his spectacles perched precariously on the end of his nose. His hands, though bent with age, moved dexterously as he straightened some books on a nearby shelf.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Klarion said without thinking. He had been so absorbed in looking at the books he hadn¡¯t even realized someone else had been nearby. ¡°I was just looking around. I hadn¡¯t expected the Central Archive to be so vast.¡±


    The librarian smiled kindly, though his eyes twinkled with a knowing amusement. ¡°Ah, yes. The Central Archives have that effect on many. It¡¯s easy to lose oneself here, even if you don¡¯t mean to. Based on your uniform, you are a new student, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am a first-year student,¡± Klarion confirmed. ¡°I hope to be spending a lot of time here.¡±


    The librarian¡¯s eyes flickered briefly as if assessing him, lingering on the scars that covered his face. He then motioned to the rows of bookshelves surrounding them. ¡°While you are free to explore, there are important rules as well.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I wouldn¡¯t want to cause any trouble.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The librarian gestured for Klarion to follow him back to where J-65 still stood by the orb that was projecting a map of the Central Archive.


    ¡°The rules of the Central Archives are simple, but they must be followed by all. First and foremost: no fighting. Ever.¡±


    Klarion raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°Fighting?¡± he asked, incredulous. ¡°Why would anyone fight in a place like this?¡±


    The librarian chuckled. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. Young people, especially scions, tend to be a little more¡­ passionate about their studies and the inherent competition of the Imperial Academy. Sometimes tempers flare, and one can forget where they are. So remember this: no fighting in the Central Archives. Not only is it disruptive and will require the Sentinels to step in, but it also puts the books at risk.¡± The air around him felt heavier all of a sudden. ¡°And I am sure you wouldn¡¯t want to be responsible for damaging them.¡±


    Klarion nodded in response, making a mental note of the rule. Not that it would be hard to follow. His current plans of trying to avoid making enemies lined up with using the Central Archive for reading instead of a place to attempt to attack others. The last thing he would want was to get into trouble here.


    The librarian came to a stop next to J-65, who simply stood there silently. ¡°Secondly,¡± the librarian continued, ¡°no loud noises. The Central Archives are meant to be a place of quiet contemplation. You¡¯ll find that the majority of students that come here do so to study in peace.¡± He held up a finger. ¡°While you are free to engage in conversation, keep it respectful and at a low volume. Not everyone shares the same interests or the same approach to learning. If unable to control your voice, or if you seek to engage in arguments, you will need to reserve one of the private study rooms.¡±


    Klarion nodded again, understanding the point he was trying to make. It was all about maintaining an atmosphere of focus. He appreciated that the rules weren¡¯t so harsh or unreasonable that no conversation could happen whatsoever, but he still had a feeling that many students would largely avoid engaging in any. Or they would use one of the private study rooms the librarian mentioned.


    ¡°And lastly,¡± the librarian said, his voice taking on a more lighthearted tone, ¡°no eating or drinking. The books are delicate, and you will not want to risk any spills or crumbs finding their way into the pages. Nothing worse than trying to clean up a spill on an ancient scroll while one of the Associate Librarians looms over you. Trust me, you¡¯ll thank me for this one. ¡±


    Klarion awkwardly shifted in place, remembering more than a few of his own books that he had accidentally given coffee stains or opened after weeks of not using them to find exactly the kind of crumbs that the librarian was likely referring to. He would have to make sure not to bring anything with him when he was looking through the stacks.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to follow the rules.¡±


    The librarian smiled approvingly. ¡°Good. You¡¯ll be one of the smart ones if you do. The last thing I should mention is that many things will not be immediately accessible to you here. Some knowledge is reserved for students further along in their educational journey, while others require certain requirements to be reached. Don¡¯t let that dissuade you. With proper effort and diligence, you will get access to everything you need in time.¡±


    Klarion pondered the librarian¡¯s words. Given what he seemed to be saying, there likely were year restrictions for each floor displayed on the map the orb was projecting. While a little disappointed that he couldn¡¯t just wander wherever he wanted in the Central Archive, he had to admit that was probably for the best. If things worked anything like some of the games he had played growing up, sprinting to the end-game content would cause only problems. Better to follow the rules.


    ¡°I understand. I am sure I¡¯ll find plenty to keep me occupied.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will.¡± The librarian¡¯s voice then took on a tone of admonishment. ¡°But you should also know that the first night at this Imperial Academy isn¡¯t meant to be spent entirely at the Central Archives. There are social events, as you¡¯ve no doubt heard, and you¡¯ll be expected to attend. The social aspect of your education is just as important as the academic one.¡±


    Though he knew the librarian had a point, a knot still formed in Klarion¡¯s stomach. The idea of attending social events, mingling with other noble students, and participating in endless conversations where he might make a mistake with every response did not appeal to him. He had already seen how many of the students had interacted with each other after the ceremony at the Amphitheater of Induction ¡ª clustering together based on their race and rank, likely sizing each other up in an attempt to secure alliances or future advantages. It was the kind of behavior that made him more than a little uncomfortable. But that didn¡¯t matter. After his conversation with Hector, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he could not avoid all the other students. He had gained too much attention, too quickly which, when combined with his rank, meant he was likely on everyone¡¯s radar. While he had been a bit of a loner back in high school on Earth, he did not think he would be able to get away with that approach here at the Imperial equivalent of a finishing school and graduate school combined. If he wanted to get ahead, he would have to figure out some balance between his traditional solo pursuit of learning and the socializing that was integral to success, and survival, at the Imperial Academy.


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to attend, won¡¯t I?¡± Klarion asked, trying to keep a slight edge of irritation out of his voice.


    ¡°Socializing is part of the experience,¡± the librarian confirmed. ¡°The Central Archives will be here when you are able to return. Just remember, no fighting, no loud noise, and no eating or drinking.¡± The old man then turned back to his duties.


    ¡°Are you ready to leave?¡±


    Klarion turned to J-65 as she asked her question. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was ready to face the social obligations that awaited him outside the Central Archives, but he knew he had already delayed long enough. ¡°Yes, as much as I would like to continue putting it off, I think I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°But you would rather stay here?¡±


    ¡°Of course, I would,¡± Klarion said, smiling at the tilted mask of J-65. ¡°But the librarian is right. I can¡¯t spend all night with books. As much as I¡¯d prefer it, I have to get used to the social expectations of my rank.¡±


    ¡°Very well. But if you tire of the festivities, I will remain close by to escort you to your residence.¡±


    Klarion offered her a grateful glance. While it had been less than a day, he had already come to appreciate the Sentinel¡¯s help. Too bad her position at the Imperial Academy appeared to preclude her from helping him in a more full-time capacity. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it for the moment. However, perhaps tonight, he would be able to find some friends who could.


    As they emerged back into the soft light of the evening, the pressure of the coming socializing was still there, but his new focus on finding some new friends helped alleviate it to a degree. Besides, if things didn¡¯t work out tonight, J-65 had already indicated she would be nearby whenever he was ready to call it a night.


    He shot one final look back at the Central Archives as he followed J-65 to where the other first-year nobility had ended their own tours.

 Chapter 43

    The square that J-65 ended up bringing him to was an elegant yet understated space, framed by low stone walls engraved with various symbols of the Imperial Academy. Gently glowing lanterns hung from iron posts, casting a warm golden light over cobblestones that were arrayed in patterns with a large fountain at their center. The fountain itself was a masterpiece, sculpted to show what Klarion took to be a human nobleman surrounded by individuals of various races armored as legionnaires, weapons pointed outwards, shooting gentle streams of water.


    Leaving his escort behind, Klarion turned his attention to the small tables and cushioned benches that were scattered around, most bearing refreshments and snacks, that dozens of first-year scions were currently socializing around. The murmur of mingling voices filled the air, mixing with the faint soothing sound of the fountain. He thought at first many had not yet arrived, but when he saw a handful going in and out of various buildings on the other side of the square, he guessed that those buildings were proper restaurants and many more students were already inside eating.


    After the quiet of the Central Archive, the noise and bustle were a bit overwhelming. He stood for a moment, just taking it all in, doing his best to adjust. A few deep breaths, and he began walking into the square, glancing around to figure out if there was anyone who seemed open to being approached. As he walked in, he overheard bits and pieces of conversation. Students talking about their connections. Students talking about the factions they were already a part of. Even students talking over alliances they hoped to cement by the time graduation came around. He overheard the words ¡°House Brightcoin¡± multiple times, though ¡°House Blacksword¡± was mentioned nearly as often.


    His steps began to falter somewhat as he realized that it was clear from looking around that the majority of students were already grouped into cliques based on status and rank. Klarion felt a pang of exclusion as he watched the interactions unfold before him. While he could not always make out what was being talked about, the body language of those around him spoke volumes. The subtle glances, the turned backs, the sidelong looks ¡ª they were all enough to tell him that he was not welcome with any of the groups around him. He was not welcome to join their circles, and they were making sure he knew it.


    Ultimately, Klarion ended up standing awkwardly at the edge of the small square. Leaning against one of the iron posts next to a bench, he slowly sipped at a cup of juice he had been able to snag from an unattended table. While the juice helped, his stomach still gurgled with hunger. As much as he wanted something to eat, he wasn¡¯t sure if he could go into one of the restaurants now, and the snacks that had been laid out across the exterior tables in the square were all gone. He wasn¡¯t sure what he could do. First, the ceremony, then the veiled hostility from some of the students and the clear divisions among the factions, all of it was overwhelming and he felt more out of place than ever.


    His brooding was interrupted by the sound of deliberate footsteps approaching. He turned to see a young elf with short, pointed ears underneath a shock of hair so blue it was almost white. Eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses were fixed on him as the scion came closer to Klarion, his school uniform showing the ranking of a baronial house. Klarion nearly gripped the hilt of his greatsword when he saw who strode behind him.


    A stocky, red-skinned hobgoblin with sharp features, dark hair, and a school uniform that was, somehow, already scuffed and dirty. It was the last, despite their rough appearance, that led to Klarion doing little more than shifting his drink to his opposite hand, so that he could draw his greatsword if needed.


    ¡°Mind if we join you?¡± the elf asked, his voice polite.


    Klarion blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. ¡°Of course not. I wasn¡¯t really doing much.¡±


    Without hesitation, the hobgoblin plopped onto the nearby stone bench with a grunt of satisfaction. ¡°Not exactly the friendliest, are they?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°I take it you both have had the same experience?¡±


    The elf adjusted his glasses and sat down beside the hobgoblin. ¡°You could say that. The name¡¯s Valdre, scion of House Emarion. This is Redrek.¡±


    Redrek raised a hand in a lazy wave. ¡°Knight¡¯s son. Not that it does me much good here.¡±


    ¡°Klarion, scion of House Blacksword,¡± he offered, glancing between them. ¡°So you¡¯re not¡­ part of one of the bigger groups?¡±


    Valdre gave a dry laugh. ¡°Not exactly. I don¡¯t fit neatly into their ranks and priorities. Half-elves of the frost lineages aren¡¯t exactly the first choice for alliances or friendships, even if I come from a family with a baron¡¯s title.¡±


    Without thinking about it, Klarion glanced back at Valdre¡¯s ears. The majority of elves he had seen so far had longer ones that were longer than Valdre had, but that would make sense if he was only a half-elf. At least it would if the logic that held in the games he had played growing up held here as well.


    Redrek leaned back, resting an arm on the bench. ¡°And me? Well, let¡¯s just say hobgoblins aren¡¯t a noble favorite either. Doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯ve got a crest or not.¡±


    Klarion nodded, understanding a bit more of what Redrek was hinting at simply from his own experiences getting to the Imperial Academy from Verdant VI. ¡°Seems like we¡¯ve got something in common, then.¡±


    ¡°Outsiders,¡± Redrek agreed with a toothy grin, raising a red hand in agreement.


    Valdre adjusted his glasses, the lamplight glinting of the wire rims as he leaned forward slightly. ¡°Klarion,¡± he began carefully, his tone measured but direct, ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this is presumptuous, what with just meeting you and all, but I wanted to say something on behalf of myself and Redrek.¡± He glanced at the hobgoblin beside him, who nodded silently but kept his arms crossed in an almost defense gesture.


    Klarion tilted his head, curiosity piqued. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Valdre cleared his throat, the faintest trace of hesitation betraying his previously composed demeanor. ¡°The truth is, we don¡¯t have much chance of joining one of the other Archducal factions here at the Imperial Academy. For reasons that, well¡­ we can explain later, neither of us exactly fits their mold.¡± He offered a rueful smile as he awkwardly ran a hand through his blue hair.


    Redrek let out a long sigh, though his expression remained guarded. ¡°What my half-elf friend is saying, Klarion, is that we¡¯re not just here because we are interested in the story of your scars.¡±


    Valdre shot him a look before continuing. ¡°We¡¯ve been watching the way things work here, much as I expect you have been. Even in the short time we¡¯ve been on campus, it has been clear that connections are everything. And we couldn¡¯t help but notice the way you¡¯ve carried yourself, and especially the way you have interacted with the Sentinel you were with earlier. You didn¡¯t treat her as just another faceless servant. You were kind and respectful. That stood out.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Klarion blinked, taken aback by the observation. ¡°You approached me based on how I treated J-65?¡±


    ¡°The fact you even know her designation proves my point,¡± Valdre shrugged, a grin coming to his face. ¡°It might still be a gamble, approaching you like this. But you¡¯re the first scion from an Archducal house that we¡¯ve seen tonight who didn¡¯t seem completely consumed with their own self-importance. Call it instinct, but we figured it was worth the risk.¡±


    Redrek nodded. ¡°We¡¯re looking for someone we can trust, someone who might be willing to build something of their own here ¡ª something that doesn¡¯t require us to start at the very bottom of the rigid hierarchies that dominate this place.¡±


    For a moment, Klarion was silent, his mind racing as he considered their words. Trust and alliances were both important and, he suspected, dangerous, especially for someone like him, who was still completely unaware of so many of the rules that governed the games that nobles played. Yet as he looked at Valdre¡¯s earnest expression and Redrek¡¯s wry grin, he didn¡¯t feel a flicker of worry but rather one of hope.


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Klarion said finally, his voice steady. ¡°I should be thinking about gathering supporters and allies, given my position as the only scion of House Blacksword amongst the first-years. But, honestly? Right now, I¡¯m more interested in finding some friends.¡±


    Redrek raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward to show a large fang. ¡°Friends, huh? That¡¯s not exactly the typical noble mindset. Especially from someone like your background.¡±


    Klarion shrugged at that pointed response. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never been a typical noble.¡± He made sure not to elaborate on just how much that was the case. Better to keep any more details than that secret for now.


    Valdre gave a larger smile, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. ¡°Then perhaps we¡¯re in good company.¡±


    Klarion couldn¡¯t help but smile in return, as he started to actually feel somewhat comfortable for the first time all night.


    Which was why, of course, that feeling could not last.


    A ripple amongst the more crowded tables further into the square seized the trio¡¯s attention. A group that had recently left one of the restaurants on the opposite side was cutting through, clearly headed in Klarion¡¯s direction. At the center of the group was a young man with striking golden-blonde hair wearing a school uniform that, even from where he stood, Klarion could make out as having the crest of the Archducal House Brightcoin on it. Flanking him were other noble scions, though their presence was not quite as attention-grabbing as the lead scion of House Brightcoin. They moved together, their every step exuding an air of dominance.


    Caspian¡¯s sharp gaze landed on Klarion, and his lips curled into a predatory smile. He stopped a few paces away, his entourage halting just behind him.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the newest scion of House Blacksword,¡± he said, his voice smooth but laden with condescension. ¡±I wasn¡¯t sure I believed the whispers that your family would be sending someone to the Imperial Academy this year, but here you are. On behalf of House Brightcoin, I welcome you, Blacksword.¡± Caspian dipped into a clearly mocking bow, his supporters behind him not bothering to cover their laughter.


    Klarion¡¯s jaw tightened at the mocking. While he still knew next to nothing about proper noble behavior, he did have some experience with bullies. The most important thing he could do was not rise to his baiting.


    ¡°Thank you for the kind welcome,¡± he nodded in response. ¡°My name is Klarion.¡±


    The Brightcoin scion snorted, the amused look souring on his face when Klarion did not rise to his baiting. ¡°Klarion? Is that what you think you are? No, you¡¯ll only ever be a Blacksword. A name that carries infamy and a stench that can¡¯t be scrubbed clean.¡±


    Valdre shifted nervously on the bench that stood beside Klarion, while Redrek leaned slightly closer, clawed hands drifting to his side as his lips pressed into a thin line. Klarion¡¯s pulse quickened as he recognized Caspian was still trying to goad him into reacting, but he forced himself to remain calm.


    ¡°While I wouldn¡¯t know anything of infamy, I¡¯ll admit I am looking forward to a bath after the long day I have had,¡± Klarion responded evenly. ¡°Perhaps we can continue this conversation later, Caspian.¡±


    Caspian¡¯s eyes flashed in anger, and his expression darkened at Klarion using his name. ¡°Your House has been an enemy of mine for generations, Blacksword. You do not belong here. And if you think for a moment that anyone of any importance will side with you, you¡¯re more deluded than the majority of your House. I have already begun spreading the word that so associate with you will come with¡­costs.¡±


    The tension in the square thickened, conversations around them dwindling as the standoff between two of the most important scions in the incoming class drew attention. While still outwardly calm, Klarion felt nothing but rage. He hadn¡¯t even done anything yet but go through the ceremony at the Amphitheater of Induction, and he, apparently, already had an enemy willing to threaten the entire first-year class in an attempt to isolate him. Klarion held his ground, but the weight of this confrontation pressed heavily on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Valdre¡¯s visible anger on his behalf while Redrek seemed almost to be psyching himself up for conflict. A small kernel of happiness grew in the ball of anger he was feeling. Despite the threats being voiced by Caspian, it looked like he might have made two friends willing to back him up.


    Thankfully the three of them wouldn¡¯t have to find out what they would do today.


    Before the situation could escalate further, the distinct sound of armored footsteps cut through the tension. A trio of Sentinels, their polished white masks glinting in the lantern light, approached swiftly. The lead Sentinel raised a gauntleted hand that gripped some sort of red rod. Klarion vaguely recognized it as being similar to one J-65 had carried.


    ¡°Enough,¡± the Sentinel said, their voice holding an edge of anger. ¡°This gathering is for socializing, not posturing. Disperse. Now.¡±


    Caspian hesitated, his jaw tightening in frustration. With a last, venomous glare at Klarion, he turned to the group of scions that had followed him. ¡°Let¡¯s go. The Blacksword isn¡¯t worth my time.¡±


    The group stepped around the Sentinels, going slowly as if to prove a point. Soon they were heading out of the square on the opposite side. The potential fight ended before it could begin, the three Sentinels returned to where they had been keeping watch over the square.


    Klarion exhaled, the tension and anger of the moment passing.


    ¡°You should be careful.¡±


    J-65¡¯s voice coming from behind them caused all three of the scions to jump. She had come to a stop behind Klarion, her mask still fixed in the direction Caspian had left.


    ¡°Careful? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Redrek asked.


    Valdre¡¯s eyes flicked between Klarion and J-65, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in his gaze. Klarion gave a small shake of his head, dismissing the half-elf¡¯s unspoken question for now. His thoughts continued to churn, the encounter with Caspian leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.


    ¡°I need to get out of here,¡± Klarion muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    J-65 turned her mask to him. ¡°Where would you like to go?¡±


    ¡°Anywhere but here,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°Someplace quiet. Preferably with food.¡±


    J-65 nodded, then turned to face Valdre and Redrek. When she did not say anything, Klarion figured out what she wanted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you both would care to join me for dinner somewhere else?¡±


    The half-elf and hobgoblin shared looks, then nodded in agreement and said together, ¡°Sure.¡±


    J-65 nodded and gestured for the trio to follow her. They wove through the square and onto a quieter side street, thankfully some distance away from the one Caspian and his group had taken. The ambient noise of the other first-years faded, replaced by the softer hum of lanterns and what Klarion suspected to be crickets of some sort. They sounded a bit bigger though.


    After a few minutes, they arrived at a modest restaurant tucked into a corner of the campus. Its warm, inviting light spilled out into the street, and the faint scent of roasted spices wafted from within. A handwritten sign on the door read Open, though the seating area outside was empty.


    ¡°There are other restaurants open?¡± Valdre asked, surprised.


    J-65 nodded. ¡°It¡¯s one of the few establishments that remains operational year-round. Few, if any, students of your year know about it yet. Welcome to The Hearth & Ember. ¡±

 Chapter 44

    As they stepped inside, the trio was greeted by not only the smell of roasted spices but also the soothing scent of roasted meats and baked bread. The interior was simple yet inviting, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and tables crafted from polished mahogany arranged in snug clusters. A stone hearth dominated one corner, its crackling fire casting flickering shadows across the room empty of patrons. Shelves lined with books and jars of preserved spices gave the place a homely, lived-in feel. It was completely different from what Klarion assumed most nobility would be caught dead in.


    A portly, grey-bearded dwarf emerged from behind the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of J-65 before softening as he apparently recognized her. ¡°Back again, eh? And with company this time,¡± he remarked in a gravelly voice, gesturing for them to sit where they pleased. J-65 inclined her head slightly but remained silent.


    When none of the others moved, Klarion moved to sit at a corner table near the fire. A bit more worn down than the other tables, and having mismatched chairs compared to the complete sets elsewhere, for some reason he just felt it was the right spot to sit.


    Klarion glanced at J-65. ¡°Thank you for bringing us here.¡±


    She gave a small nod in response. ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside until you are ready to head to your residence.¡±


    Exchanging a nod with the departing J-65, the portly dwarf approached the trio¡¯s table with a swagger, his heavy boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. He wore a leather apron across his broad chest that had a dusting of flour on it.


    ¡°Well now,¡± he began, his deep gravelly voice carrying a pleasant tone as he stopped at their table. ¡°What¡¯ve we got here? A trio of fresh-faced young lords gracing The Hearth & Ember tonight, eh? Welcome, welcome.¡±


    Klarion glanced at Valdre and Redrek, who exchanged amused looks before turning back to the dwarf. His bright green eyes twinkled as he sized them up, clearly used to noble clientele, but treating them with the ease of an equal. Perhaps their arrival with J-65, even if she had left to go outside, had something to do with that.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Ordran,¡± he continued, ¡°owner, chef, and occasional bouncer for The Hearth & Ember. Now, what can I get for ye? Specials tonight include a stew I¡¯ve got simmerin¡¯ that¡¯d make an orc weep for joy, fresh-baked bread with butter to match, and roasted greens for those wantin¡¯ somethin¡¯ lighter. Drinks too, o¡¯course ¡ª tea, ale, or something stronger?¡±


    Klarion took a moment to glance at the options scrawled on a chalkboard behind the bar before turning his attention back to Ordran. The dwarf¡¯s expectant gaze felt almost like a test of character, through his twinkling eyes suggested he¡¯d be equally pleased no matter what Klarion chose.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the stew,¡± Klarion said, deciding to go with something hearty. It had been a very long day. ¡°And some of that bread you mentioned ¡ª sounds like it¡¯s exactly what should be going with a stew like you described.¡± He hesitated before adding, ¡°Just water for now.¡±


    Ordran gave him a brief nod. ¡°Solid choice, young lord. Can¡¯t go wrong with the stew. Now, how ¡®bout you two?¡±


    Valdre, adjusting his glasses with a thoughtful expression, leaned slightly forward. ¡°Do you have a vegetarian option for the stew? If not, I¡¯ll just take the roasted greens and bread.¡±


    ¡°Vegetarian stew?¡± Ordran raised a bushy eyebrow. ¡°I can whip somethin¡¯ up ¡ª might take a bit longer, but I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s worth the wait. ¡±


    ¡°That would be perfect,¡± Valdre said with a smile. ¡°And tea, please.¡±


    Ordran had barely turned to Redrek before the hobgoblin was already giving his order.


    ¡°Give me the biggest cut of meat you¡¯ve got,¡± Redrek said with a grin that put all of his sharp teeth on display. ¡°And some ale to wash it down.¡±


    Ordran chuckled. ¡°A lad after me own heart. Coming right up, young lords.¡±


    The dwarf wasn¡¯t kidding. Barely had they gotten their orders in before the food was already at their table. Since neither of his new friends seemed surprised, Klarion put it down to some skill or ability that Ordran had, or perhaps magic of some sort. He could not wait until he finally got a better handle on what everyone else in his class would likely consider common knowledge. Regardless, it was easily the best stew he had ever tasted. The meat and vegetables were spiced to perfection and practically fell apart in his mouth. The bread was even better, especially with the sweetened, whipped butter it came with.


    As they worked through their first bites, Valdre broke the silence with an observation. ¡°You know, Klarion, that Sentinel is¡­ different.¡± He dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin before continuing. ¡°I¡¯ve seen plenty of Sentinels today, but none as engaged as yours. Escorting us here? Waiting outside? That¡¯s not typical, especially since, as far as I can tell, their sole duties for the day were to get us all to the Amphitheater of Induction, take us on the tour, and then bring us to the socializing in that square we just left. That¡¯s it.¡±


    Klarion glanced toward the window where the faint silhouette of J-65 was visible, standing vigil outside the restaurant. He shrugged, a little self-conscious. ¡°Perhaps she just takes her duties seriously. She¡¯s been helpful since I arrived.¡±


    Redrek chuckled, his sharp grin flashing briefly. ¡°Helpful, sure, but from what I noticed, Sentinels aren¡¯t that friendly. While I admit to having limited experience with them, I don¡¯t think they are supposed to linger or escort students to cozy taverns.¡± He leaned back in his chair, gesturing with his fork. ¡°That Sentinel is almost acting like she¡¯s got a personal stake in your safety.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it has something to do with me being from an Archducal House,¡± Klarion suggested, though even he didn¡¯t sound convinced. He had noticed J-65¡¯s attentiveness but hadn¡¯t given it much thought until his new friends brought it up. ¡°I was just respectful. Isn¡¯t that how you¡¯re supposed to treat someone who is helping you?¡±


    Redrek snorted. ¡°Clearly you didn¡¯t grow up hearing anything about the Sentinels of the Imperial Academy. They¡¯re more like tools than people in the eyes of the administration here, let alone the nobility. Your Sentinel isn¡¯t acting like a tool, though. She is acting¡­ invested.¡±


    Valdre leaned forward, pushing his empty plate aside. ¡°It¡¯s intriguing, to say the least.¡±


    ¡°Enough about Sentinels,¡± Klarion said, eager to change the topic. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about something less mysterious. For example, what do you two think of the Imperial Academy so far?¡±


    Valdre sighed dramatically but obliged in changing the subject. ¡°I¡¯ve been here less than a day, and I already feel like I¡¯m swimming with sharks. It¡¯s all posturing and alliances. Honestly, if it weren¡¯t for finding Redrek, and now you, I¡¯d have long ago gone to hide in the apartment set aside for me.¡±


    Redrek laughed at the dramatic half-elf. ¡°Hiding in your apartment? That doesn¡¯t sound like the great Valdre, seeker of ancient knowledge.¡±


    Valdre flushed slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that seeking ancient knowledge doesn¡¯t require dealing with arrogant noble scions and their endless power plays.¡±


    Klarion chuckled at the duo. ¡±For my part, I hope that is the case. What about you, Redrek? Any grand ambitions at the Imperial Academy?¡°


    Redrek smirked, pushing his own empty plate away. ¡°Grand ambitions? Not exactly. I¡¯m here because my father thinks it¡¯s a good idea for me to ¡®expand my horizons¡¯ before joining the family business.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the family business?¡± Klarion asked, genuinely curious.


    ¡°Information,¡± Redrek replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp. ¡°We trade in secrets, mostly beyond the territory of the Empire. My father thinks I need to learn how to navigate Imperial politics if I¡¯m going to help expand our network.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°That sounds intense.¡±


    Redrek shrugged. ¡°It can be. But I like it. People are fascinating, and everyone has something they want to keep hidden. Finding out what that is? That¡¯s the fun part.¡±


    While Klarion smiled and nodded in response to what the hobgoblin was saying, he was already thinking that he would have to be extra careful around Redrek in order to protect his own secrets. At least until he knew him better and was sure he could be trusted.


    ¡°Remind me never to tell you anything incriminating.¡± Valdre grinned.


    ¡°Too late,¡± Redrek shot back, his grin matching Valdre¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ve already got dirt on you, Valdre. Don¡¯t worry, though. Your obsession with ancient tombs is safe with me.¡±


    The group burst into laughter, and Klarion found himself truly relaxing in their company, the easy camaraderie a welcome break from all the pressures he had experienced since arriving at the Imperial Academy.


    As the conversation lulled, Klarion leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. ¡°You know,¡± he said slowly, ¡°when I first arrived, I wasn¡¯t sure I would be able to make any friends here. Everyone seemed so¡­ intense.¡±


    Redrek raised an eyebrow. ¡°And we¡¯re not intense?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re different, I¡¯ll give you that, but genuine. I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it,¡± Valdre chuckled. ¡°Once the semester starts, I¡¯ll be too busy studying to be your friend.¡±


    ¡°Liar,¡± Redrek said, rolling his eyes. ¡°It may have been less than a day since we met, but I know you are already planning how to drag Klarion into your tomb-raiding fantasies.¡±


    Valdre opened his mouth to protest but paused, considering. ¡°Actually, that¡¯s not a bad idea. Klarion, what do you think? Want to go tomb raiding at some point?¡±


    ¡°If Caspian leaves me out of his games, I¡¯ll be happy to join you.¡±


    The mood of the table quickly grew somber at Klarion¡¯s words, and he kicked himself for it. He wasn¡¯t sure where that response had come from. It had just fallen out. But he couldn¡¯t deny the fact he was worried about Caspian, and the other Archducal House scions if they felt similar to House Brightcoin.


    ¡°Games? They¡¯re not games, Klarion,¡± Valdre grimly said. ¡°That¡¯s real competition. House Brightcoin and House Blacksword ¡ª rivals for centuries.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Redrek added, a little too cheerfully, ¡°House Brightcoin doesn¡¯t take kindly to anyone who might challenge their path to ever greater power, even if you haven¡¯t done anything to them personally.¡±


    Klarion let out a bitter laugh. ¡°Well, that much I¡¯ve gathered,¡± he said, staring down into his mostly empty glass of water. He mumbled, ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for this. I didn¡¯t even know, but apparently my mere existence is enough to make me a target.¡±


    Valdre and Redrek exchanged a glance, then broke into laughter. At first, Klarion didn¡¯t understand why, and it only deepened his sense of isolation. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± Valdre asked, wiping a tear from his eye as he composed himself.


    Klarion looked at his new friends, their mirthful looks slowly starting to turn to confusion and concern as he did not respond at first. No. His reasoning from earlier still held. He liked them both, but he didn¡¯t know enough about them yet. Perhaps later he would tell them the truth.


    ¡°All I can say is that I had an atypical upbringing for a scion of House Blacksword, which is why I might not know as much as I might wish.¡± That was not quite a lie, but still not close to the dangerous truth he wanted to keep hidden. For now.


    ¡°Ah, I get it now,¡± Valdre said. ¡°You¡¯ve been kept in the dark. Redrek?¡±


    Redrek leaned in, nodding that he would take over. ¡°See, Klarion, there¡¯s been a battle for influence and power over this region of the Empire since it was founded, but it has really surged in the past few centuries as House Blacksword and House Brightcoin went at it. The other Archducal Houses take part as well, just to a lesser degree. Regardless, whoever wins, House Blacksword or House Brightcoin, will climb in rank and power, possibly even into a position higher than Archduke.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why they don¡¯t only engage in honorable competition,¡± Valdre added. ¡°Make no mistake: the animosity runs deep.¡±


    Klarion his stomach tighter uncomfortably, especially given the meal he had just eaten. He had never heard of any of this, though in hindsight, he should have expected it. Every bit of history from Earth that he knew of involving the nobility and royalty of Europe had focused on the constant conflict and wars between them over wealth and power. To expect it to be any different here would be naive at best. He would need to add to his ever-longer list of things to do the goal of shifting how he looked at other members of the nobility as being not just someone to make friends with or to avoid but also potential allies or threats based on their goals and desires. If he wasn¡¯t able to do that by himself, he would need to figure out if hiring a trustworthy tutor was possible. But that was a problem for another day.


    ¡°So,¡± Klarion said, his voice resolute despite the turmoil inside, ¡°with peace not possible, I will need to get stronger. If I don¡¯t, I can expect they will just keep pushing me around. Or arrange an accident to take me off the board.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes, those are your options,¡± Valdre agreed. ¡°It¡¯s times like these I am glad I only stand to inherit a barony.¡±


    At Klarion¡¯s frown, Redrek jerked his leg under the table, causing the half-elf to yelp in pain.


    ¡°Of course, that is where we would come in, as your friends,¡± Valdre said wincing, clearly rubbing his leg underneath the table. ¡°We are not a true faction yet, but I¡¯d like to think I have a bit to offer.¡±


    ¡°We both do,¡± Redrek chimed in. ¡°We might not be glamorous allies, but I think we can be very resourceful. And I won¡¯t mind getting my hands dirty,¡± the hobgoblin said with a feral grin. ¡°I¡¯m sure the experience of helping you out, Klarion, will help me get that much closer to the goals my family seeks for me to achieve.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valdre hastened to add, placing both hands firmly on the table. ¡°I believe the same.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Klarion responded, and he did. While he knew he had a long way to go to get strong enough that he would not worry about Caspian, let alone the threats coming for Earth, he felt just the slightest bit more confident with his new friends at his side. Time will tell if that would be enough.


    Ordran appeared at their table again, carrying a cloth and a pitcher in one hand, his other hand ready to gather their emptied plates. His approach was accompanied by a jovial grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes.


    ¡°Well, would you look at this!¡± Ordran exclaimed, his voice full of good humor. ¡°Three empty plates and three young lords lookin¡¯ content. Warms an old dwarf¡¯s heart to see customers appreciate the food.¡±


    ¡°Everything was excellent,¡± Klarion said earnestly, lifting his bowl and plate toward Ordran. ¡°The stew was exactly what I needed.¡±


    Valdre nodded in agreement, lifting his own plates to be taken as well. ¡°I really appreciate you accommodating me with the vegetarian option. It was incredible.¡±


    ¡°And the meat was perfect,¡± Redrek added, setting his plate on top of the others in Ordran¡¯s hand. He then leaned back, hands going to his stomach, which swollenly pressed through his school uniform. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of meal I could eat every day.¡±


    Ordran gave a chuckle as he took their plates. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, young lord. Splendid customers you¡¯ve been, not like most first-year nobles who come storming in here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Klarion asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Ordran leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. ¡°Most o¡¯ the young scions that wander in are too busy throwin¡¯ their ranks around. Act like they own the place and try to order folks about. Always ends the same way ¡ª someone knocks ¡®em down a peg. They usually learn quick, or they don¡¯t last long.¡±


    Ordran straightened back up. As he did, his sleeve slipped slightly, revealing a faded tattoo on his forearm. Though light, it still was unmistakable in appearance in the light of the tavern ¡ª a shield surrounded by a laurel wreath with fifty written below it. Klarion had no idea what it meant, but given how both Valdre and Redrek grew still at seeing it, he guessed they had some idea.


    ¡°You served in the Legions?¡± Valdre asked, his tone respectful but curious.


    Ordran caught the direction of their gazes. He pulled back down his sleeve but gave a brief nod. ¡°Aye, that I did. Fifty years too. Saw more than my fair share of battlefields and learned just as many lessons the hard way.¡± His gaze lost focus for a second, as though remembering his time in service to the Empire. Shaking his head, he focused back on the scions. ¡°But that was a long time ago. These days, I keep my blade sharp in the kitchen.¡±


    Redrek shifted in his seat, his tone full of respect. ¡°Fifty years of service. That¡¯s impressive.¡±


    ¡°Not much to it,¡± Ordran said modestly. ¡°Just doin¡¯ my part. Same as any dwarf of the Empire worth their salt. But enough about me.¡± He topped off their glasses with something that had an amber hue, then gave a sly grin. ¡°You three have been fine company tonight, and I¡¯ll remember that. If you ever find yourselves of a quiet meal or a friendly face, just know you can come back to The Hearth & Ember any time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Klarion said sincerely. ¡°For my part, I will definitely take you up on that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a rare find,¡± Valdre added, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s not every day I meet someone who treats young nobility like people and not titles.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s to Ordran,¡± Redrek said loudly, raising his glass. Both Klarion and Valdre quickly followed suit. ¡°The best chef and barkeep in the Imperial Academy!¡±


    Ordran chuckled, but he was clearly pleased. ¡°Flattery will get you everywhere, lads. Now, enjoy the rest of your evening.¡± The dwarf turned to leave, carrying the stack of plates back to the kitchen.


    Klarion took a gulp of what Ordran had poured, expecting it to be a different ale than Redrek had tried earlier. He nearly sputtered when it turned out to be a bit harder than that. He could feel the heat going to his face already. It was certainly good though.


    Valdre and Redrek chuckled in amusement at his face, clearly having thought to try a sip of the drink before going for a full gulp like Klarion. For a few minutes, they just enjoyed the taste of a good, stiff drink and the company that came with it. But as the glasses emptied, Valdre raised his glass in another toast.


    ¡°To unlikely friendships and surviving the Imperial Academy.¡±


    Redrek clinked his glass against Valdre¡¯s. ¡°And to making life just a little harder for House Brightcoin.¡±


    Klarion joined him, his smile the most genuine it had been all night.


    ¡°To new beginnings.¡±

 Chapter 45

    After saying goodnight to his new friends, and thanking Veldre once more for covering the bill, Klarion found himself once being escorted by J-65. As he followed her, he couldn¡¯t help but think about how much better the day had ended than it had started. The Hearth & Ember had been the kind of place he hadn¡¯t expected to find at the Imperial Academy ¡ª welcoming and unpretentious ¡ª and his new friends had made the experience even better. The easy camaraderie and acceptance had lifted the weight that had settled on his back as soon as he arrived. Klarion smiled, thinking of the laughter over dinner and the shared understanding that had formed so quickly between them. For the first time, the Imperial Academy felt just a little less daunting.


    J-65¡¯s footsteps were steady and measured as they walked down the street toward where Klarion would be staying. It turned out that the route they were taking was not a long one, but given the silence that the Sentinel kept as they made their way there, it seemed to take longer than it actually did. Klarion was starting to get the sense that it was out of the way when J-65 led him down a side street and he saw it for the first time.


    The apartment he had been expecting was a manor instead. A towering structure, it stood at the end of the dead-end street behind a tall, heavy metal fence with bars that were capped with the crest of House Blacksword. It looked like something out of a forgotten age, solid and intimidating, yet eerily quiet. Given how late it was, and that there were no lights within any of the windows he could see from the street, Klarion guessed he would have to entire place to himself. While the estate was undeniably grand, there was no denying its somber aura.


    On either side loomed buildings that Klarion could tell at a glance to be abandoned. Windows were broken or boarded up, ivy crept along the walls, and from what he could tell, the roofs were in need of a bit of work. The silence around the whole street was oppressive, as though the entire area was holding its breath.


    It was not what he had expected.


    J-65 slowed her pace as they reached the gates. The metal crest of House Blacksword gleamed faintly, almost as if struggling to share with anyone unfamiliar with the manor the strength of the scions that lived there. If any had lived there. Without ceremony, the Sentinel pushed them open, causing the metal crest to part down the middle. The high-pitched, scrapping creak as it opened told Klarion that no one had been by the manor in a while.


    ¡°This place is¡­ large,¡± Klarion remarked, breaking the silence as he followed the Sentinel to the front door. ¡°A bit too large for just me.¡±


    J-65¡¯s mask turned toward him for the first time since she had begun escorting him since the end of his meal. ¡°This estate was built with purpose, but it has not been fully utilized. You are the first scion of your House to occupy it in quite some time. While owned outright by your family, the dorms on either side were taken from House Blacksword through various means and then allowed to sit empty as a way to drive a wedge between your House and the rest of the noble scions. As such, those that would have previously considered living here during their time at the Imperial Academy have been forced to live elsewhere. Only the residence for scions of House Blacksword remains.¡±


    Klarion nodded, processing the information. ¡°So, it¡¯s not a deliberate choice of my family?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± J-65 replied, her tone matter-of-fact. ¡°As the rules of the Imperial Academy prevent outside interference, your family had very little say in the matter. It¡¯s simply an extension of the rivalry that has existed for centuries. It will be up to you to fill this space, lord, not just with wealth, but with the power of your name. Work hard, and eventually, you will be able to afford staff, tutors, and perhaps ¡ª when the time is right ¡ª restore your influence over this portion of campus.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± And he did. Sort of. The school currency system helped fill in some of the gaps, and he already knew it was largely up to him how, if, the House Blacksword faction was restored. ¡°It comes down to working hard to make the changes I want to see.¡±


    J-65 nodded again, her posture never wavering. ¡°Indeed. Your instructors will provide more details on that, and as you progress, you¡¯ll learn what¡¯s necessary to gain the resources you need.¡±


    They reached the front door, and J-65 pushed it open. Inside, Klarion looked at an impressive yet somber interior. At first glance, the manor had the feel of a fortress more than a home. A stone floor and a tall ceiling seemed to reinforce that impression with each step he took. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and reliefs that depicted battles, victories, and family triumphs. All faded with age and covered with dust. The faint scent of old wood and stone lingered in the air, and the silence was even more present than it had been outside ¡ª broken only by the soft echo of their footsteps.


    J-65 directed his attention to a small table that sat against the wall. Upon it was a neatly arranged stack of documents, and resting atop the pile was Klarion¡¯s class schedule. As soon as his fingers touched the paper, it disappeared in a burst into green light and a System screen appeared in front of him.


    1. Foundations of History ¡ª held in the Lecture Hall, Rm. 101.


    2. Essence Studies ¡ª held in the Arcane Hall, Rm. 101.


    3. Combat Studies ¡ª held in the Martial Hall, Rm. 105.


    4. Etiquette and Courtly Manners ¡ª held in the Lecture Hall, Rm. 113.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    had decided to be so helpful. Since his arrival at the Imperial Academy, she had been professional, but more than that, she had been quietly supportive. Almost as if she had a vested interest in his success. From everything he had learned, the Sentinels were tasked to be the ever-present but not always visible guarantee of Imperial Academy security, tasked with ensuring that the students, especially the noble scions, remained safe and followed the rules. But J-65 seemed different. She had not just been efficient; she had gone out of her way to explain things, and to answer his questions, despite her earlier admonition that her role precluded her from doing anything that verged on teaching. The thought gnawed at him, but he hadn¡¯t gotten an opportunity to ask her.


    The Hearth & Ember. Leaving the kitchen for now, he continued his exploration of the manor.


    Noble Awakening: Success


    Bloodline Validation: Success


    Character Sheet Modification: Success


    Error: Unbound from Imperial Loyalty Constraints


    Error: Inherited Prerogatives Locked

 Chapter 46

    Klarion¡¯s dreams were strange and vivid, to say the least. What little he could remember started with him entering the manor to find a towering Storm Wolf in the kitchen, somehow wielding oversized utensils with finesse, growling as it stirred a bumbling pot. Apparently, the beast had a chef class, because Klarion had tried to eat from the pot several times, but each attempt caused the Storm Wolf to move it with a growl. Then, to his frustration, a Sentinel¡¯s mask had drifted into the kitchen, expressionless but persistent, somehow pressing spoonfuls from the pot directly against its surface in a pantomime of eating. The dream had ended with him wrestling one of the spoons out of the intangible grip of that mask.


    Setting the weirdness aside, Klarion rolled out of bed, stretching away the stiffness of the previous day¡¯s events. His many scars were pulled tight across his body, but in the long weeks since he first met Alesin and Rolfun, he had grown accustomed to the pulling. Once he got up and moving, he would cease to notice them. After pulling back on his Academy uniform, which for some reason still felt fresh against his body, he secured his greatsword in its harness across his back and made his way down the hall to where he remembered the kitchen to be.


    Only navigating the manor proved more challenging than that. The hallways looked much the same with no one else living in the manor. As a result, he ended up taking several wrong turns, opening doors to several rooms filled with nothing but dust and cobwebs. Eventually, he was able to find the kitchen, and this time, he made sure to remember what hallway connected it to the room he had slept in last night. He hoped he would not have issues finding his way around later that night when he came back, but it would likely be a few days before he was comfortable in his new home. It was just that much bigger than his apartment back on Earth.


    More deeply exploring the cabinets and pantry that he had only given the most cursory looks into last night quickly led to him finding the ingredients he was looking for: eggs that looked like they came from a chicken, a loaf of bread, and some spices. He wasn¡¯t sure who had stocked the kitchen and left the rest of the manor in its abandoned state, but he was thankful he could make his own breakfast in the peace and quiet.


    He approached the stove, its sleek, polished surface embedded with faint runes of some sort. Hoping it was similar to the stove he had used back on Earth, he tried to figure out which one to press. Tentatively, he touched one, and the nearest corner, just large enough for a small pan, flared to life. Encouraged and relieved he hadn¡¯t accidentally set the kitchen on fire, he retrieved a pan from the rack and set it on the stove to heat up. He wasn¡¯t the best at cracking eggs, and since he didn¡¯t want to pull shell pieces from a pan sitting on what he assumed to be magical flames, he broke them in a bowl first. He couldn¡¯t help but have a sense of bitter satisfaction when the very first egg yolk took a full quarter of the shell with it into the bowl. Maybe one day he would get better at breaking eggs.


    Once all the eggs were broken, yolks in the bowl without any pieces of shell, he dropped in a few pinches of salt and pepper, and then poured it into the pan. The eggs began to sizzle almost immediately, the pleasant aroma filling the kitchen. While the eggs were cooking, he sliced a few pieces of bread off the loaf. Not wanting to risk pressing a wrong rune on the stove, he speared each piece of bread on a knife and held it low over the flames cooking his eggs. He smiled as the bread started to get brown and crispy. Once everything was the way he wanted it, he hit the rune again to turn off the stove. It was at that moment that he realized he had no idea where the butter was. Or even if there was butter in the kitchen in the first place. With the eggs already starting to cool, he pivoted away from the eggs and buttered toast he had been planning to have to instead pile the eggs onto a piece of toast and then covered it with the other piece to make an egg sandwich. The first bite was not bad, especially as there had been no small pieces of shell that snuck into it. In no time the sandwich was gone and, after setting the dish pan in the sink, Klarion was ready to head out for the day.


    He walked to the front door of the manor, only getting lost once along the way. On the inside of the door, a small hook caught his eye. Hanging from it was a keyring that held a heavy iron key and several smaller ones, all inscribed with the crest of House Blacksword. Apparently, he had missed last night when J-65 had left. Taking the keys off the hook, he tried the largest one in the front door once he was outside. It turned easily, locking it with a satisfying click. While he was curious as to what the smaller keys went to, he had class to worry about first, so he simply put the whole keyring in his pocket.


    The side street the House Blacksword manor was on was empty of life. Though, given the empty apartments on either side, Klarion had to admit that he was not surprised. After a few turns, he arrived back on a street he recognized from having walked down it with J-65 yesterday. Though it was still early in the morning, he recognized several other first-year nobles by their uniforms. Apparently he was not the only one who had thought to get an early start today.


    Thankfully, the walk to the Lecture Hall where his Foundations of History course was being held was uneventful. Individual students gradually turned into small groups, all heading in the same direction Klarion was. While most of the students still seemed to give him a wide berth, he also didn¡¯t sense any outright hostility from them. He thought it was the greatsword across his back at first, but some of the other students were carrying weapons of various sorts as well. Remembering his interactions with the Brightcoin scion yesterday, the general reluctance to engage with him made some sense. While still frustrating in some ways, at least now he didn¡¯t have to worry about fending off barbs or glares, and could instead focus on what really mattered right now: his education.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When he finally got to the Lecture Hall, he ignored the students who paused to mingle outside and instead went right up to the nearest heavy oak door to go inside. His first time inside the building revealed the interior to be as impressive as the exterior, with tall ceilings and even more works of art along the walls showing the history of learning in the Empire. While part of him wanted to linger for a closer look at some of the paintings near him, as soon as he saw a large board on the far wall that appeared to list classrooms and courses, he quickly set that desire aside. Ignoring the other few students that had started to trickle in, he stepped over to the board and quickly found where Room 101 was. Following the designated arrow soon brought him to the door of the first class he would be taking as a recognized scion of an Archducal House sworn to an Empire built on might and magic that he hadn¡¯t even known existed only a few weeks ago. Strange how quickly life can change.


    Setting the thought aside, Klarion pushed the door open only to immediately pause upon entering the room. Rows of polished wooden desks stretched out in semi-circular tiers. Since he was the first in the room, all the seats were still open, so he had his pick of where to sit. Considering his options, he went with a seat near the back. Not having much of a choice about where to put it, he leaned his greatsword against the back of the chair then he sat. Turning in the seat, he knew he had picked the right spot in the room. There, he would be able to not only focus on the professor but also observe his peers without drawing undue attention. That, and maybe his classmates would ignore him as well. As he settled in to wait for the start of the class, students started to trickle in in ones and twos. Klarion eagerly scanned each new face, but as the room started to fill up and neither Valdre nor Redrek appeared, he grudgingly concluded that the half-elf and hobgoblin probably had a different class schedule from him. On the other hand, none of the scions of the Archducal Houses appeared to be enrolled in the course either, unless they planned to be late.


    Of course, both those realizations were completely overpowered by the fact that everyone around him was pulling out various styles of notebooks and writing implements, and he hadn¡¯t thought to bring anything in his haste to get to class.


    Frustrated with the fact he forgot anything to take notes with, and bored with the watching, now that he figured neither of his new friends would be coming, he opted to look outside until class started.


    Just as he was settling in to watch a beetle crawl over the exterior of the glass window, a figure slid into the seat next to him. Turning in his seat brought him nearly face to face with Hector, the scion who had waited to talk to him yesterday in the Amphitheater of Induction. Hector offered a polite smile, his bearing every bit as composed and confident as it had been when they first met.


    ¡°Good morning, Klarion,¡± Hector said, his tone courteous.


    Klarion hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Good morning, Hector.¡±


    ¡°Ready for your first class?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± Klarion replied, but gave a slight shrug. ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure what to expect.¡±


    Hector leaned to the side, eyes glancing around the room at the other students present. Apparently finding what he wanted, he turned back to Klarion with a smile. ¡°I have a distant cousin who attended this course a few years ago, so before I came, I asked them some questions. From what they said, Foundations of History is straightforward, but it can be dense. Depending on what professor is assigned the course this year, we might get off easy or we might be drowned in an overwhelming amount of material every lecture.¡±


    When Klarion didn¡¯t immediately respond, Hector leaned a bit closer to him to set a blank notebook and pencil on his desk, his voice dropping in volume as he did so. ¡°Let me offer you some advice ¡ª focus less on trying to write down everything the professor says. Summarize key points, especially dates, names, and how events connect.¡± He smiled. ¡°Based on what my cousin said, history professors live to test how well you grasp the bigger picture.¡±


    Despite himself, Klarion listened carefully, grateful for the insight. While he still held some reservations towards Hector, his continued friendly attitude towards him was beginning to change his opinion of the other scion. Perhaps he should give Hector the benefit of the doubt? With neither Valdre nor Redrek in this class with him, maybe he should consider seeing if Hector could be a friend as well.


    ¡°And one more thing,¡± Hector said, leaning back into his chair. ¡°You¡¯ll want to form a study group at some point, too. The sooner the better. And not just for sharing notes ¡ª though that helps too ¡ª but for discussing concepts and theories. My cousin said the professors here are subtle, and that half the time, what they don¡¯t say is more important than what they do. A good group can help you catch things you¡¯d miss on your own.¡±


    Klarion tilted his head slightly, his voice low as he mused aloud to himself, ¡°A study group¡­ might actually be a good idea. I mean, it could help me with ¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to join,¡± Hector interjected, cutting Klarion off mid-thought.


    Klarion blinked, turning to face his fellow scion. Hector¡¯s sharp smile was firmly in place, radiating confidence, but there was an undeniable twinkle in his eye ¡ª one that betrayed his awareness that Klarion had not actually been addressing him directly.


    That¡¯s not exactly what I meant,¡± Klarion said, awkwardly shifting in his seat. ¡°I was just thinking out loud. I haven¡¯t decided anything yet.¡±


    Hector once again leaned closer, resting his chin on one hand as if he were sharing a private joke. ¡°Of course, of course. But if you do decide, consider me interested. A proper study group should have at least one person who knows how to get things done.¡± His tone was light, but there was a trace of smugness woven in. ¡°And I do so love to volunteer.¡±


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    Hector¡¯s grin widened as if Klarion¡¯s guarded response had been a small victory. ¡°Take your time. But don¡¯t wait too long ¡ª success here is all about the timing.¡±


    Having made his pitch, Hector returned his attention to his own notebook, idly drawing abstract shapes across a page and leaving Klarion to mull over the unexpected interaction they had just had. For all that the initial interaction with the grey-eyed scion had set off internal alarms, the conversation that they had just shared had been better. Almost like interacting with someone who might become a friend. Maybe he¡¯s not so bad after all.


    The door burst open with a resounding bang, slamming against the wall as the professor strode in.

 Chapter 47

    The moment the door burst open with a thunderous bang, every conversation across the classroom cut off to silence as heads whipped toward the sudden commotion. Some few students even reached for weapons.


    In strode the woman wearing black robes trimmed in silver that swirled about her as she strode into the classroom. Her posture was straight, each step measured with a precision that radiated control.


    That moment she stopped to face the class from the podium before the central chalkboard, Klarion knew Foundations of History was going to be amongst the hardest classes he¡¯d be taking at the Imperial Academy. Her hair, a striking black streaked with silver, was drawn into a severe braid that framed her face like the hilt of a finely honed blade. Her dark violet eyes swept the room, sharp and penetrating as if dissecting every student that had been assigned to her class. They landed briefly on Klarion, who instinctively sat a little straighter under her gaze, though her eyes swiftly continued on to the next student. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady but carried a weight that commanded the attention of everyone in the classroom.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± she began, ¡°I am Professor Elara Mordrane, and this is Foundations of History. This course will not be a casual exploration of dates and dusty texts. It is a guided excavation into the roots of our Empire ¡ª how it rose from the fractured remnants of a Multiverse at war, weathered countless invasions, and became one of the dominant forces under the purview of the System.¡±


    Professor Mordrane gestured behind her, and with that flick of her hand, words began appearing on the centermost chalkboard. At the top appeared her name, and underneath soon appeared a timeline stretching from a jagged line labeled Establishment of the Empire to the present day. Major events and eras began to appear like tributaries from a river, glowing faintly as they appeared, but before Klarion could get a closer look, his attention was again taken by Professor Mordrane as she continued to speak.


    ¡°This is not just a chronology,¡± Professor Mordrane continued, her voice rising slightly. ¡°It is a map. Each of you, as future leaders of the Empire, must know have to navigate it. To understand where we are going, you must know where we have been.¡± Her eyes scanned the room. ¡°This is the first step in your education as future stewards of the Empire. Fail to grasp the lessons I will be teaching you, and you are not just failing yourselves ¡ª you are failing the countless lives that depend on your competence.¡±


    Her eyes scanned the room once more, but this time Klarion could have sworn he saw the barest hint of approval directed at those who were in the process of taking notes. He rushed to do the same.


    ¡°Now,¡± she said, her tone shifting slightly to one of pragmatic instruction, ¡°let me outline how this course will unfold.¡±


    With another flick of her hand, a structured list appeared on the leftmost chalkboard. It was divided into weeks, each labeled with a specific theme or era: The Veil of Fury, The Founding of the Empire, The First Age of Expansion, The Void Wars, and so on. Given how they sounded, Klarion was getting the impression that this course was the equivalent of a college introductory history course.


    ¡°This course in divided into three primary sections,¡± Mordrane explained as she began to slowly pace across the front of the classroom. ¡°The first will focus on the Empire¡¯s origins ¡ª how it was forged out of the chaos of The Veil of Fury. You will study the decisions that shaped the initial structure of the Empire and the individuals who helped create it.¡±


    She paused, letting the words sink in as the frantic scratching of notetaking filled the room. ¡°The second section will cover the Empire¡¯s greatest trials. You will be exposed to lessons on internal strife, external invasions, and near-catastrophic events that tested the very capacity of the Empire to survive.¡±


    Professor Mordrane stopped pacing back at the podium, again facing the class directly. ¡°Finally, we will spend some time on the modern era. I will warn you now. This will be the most difficult part of the course because it requires you to think critically about the current state of the Empire and its future.¡± Her violet eyes narrowed. ¡°Make no mistake. My standards are high, and I expect each of you to meet them.¡±


    Again, the only response to Professor Mordrane¡¯s firm declaration was the rapid scratching of notetaking. Klarion¡¯s hand moved swiftly as he tried to jot down her words as well as the structure of the course as outlined on the chalkboard.


    ¡°Now,¡± Professor Mordrane said, her tone softening just slightly, ¡°I encourage questions. History is not a monologue; it is a dialogue between the past and the present. If you do not ask, you will not learn.¡±


    Almost before she was finished speaking, a hand shot up near the center of the room, an elf student with short blond hair and a confident posture. As soon as the Professor pointed to him, he spoke his question. ¡°Instructor, could you clar¡ª¡±


    ¡°Instructor?¡± Her voice practically sliced through the air, cold and precise. ¡°As I informed you at the start of class, I am Professor Mordrane.¡± She cast her glare across all the students in the class. ¡°Let me make this abundantly clear to all of you. In this class and some few others, there are no commoners. As future leaders, the Empire, and I, expect you to know how to observe and address rank appropriately.¡±


    She turned to the massive chalkboard directly behind the podium. With a vicious thrust of her fist, the timeline that she had caused to appear abruptly disappeared in a burst of white chalky smoke. A slashing motion led to a new line of words to begin appearing in its place. It quickly became clear that each new line was gradually revealing a detailed breakdown of the ranks and responsibilities of the faculty and administration of the Imperial Academy.


    ¡°Here,¡± she said, violently gesturing at a category near the top labeled Full Professors of Rule. ¡°These are the individuals, myself among them, who are in charge of teaching you the intricacies of history, politics, trade, and other practical learning.¡± Professor Mordrane then gestured to her to her shoulder, turning as she did to present it to the class. Prominently displayed was the symbol of crossed silver scrolls. ¡°This is the symbol of the rank I earned. I have not been an instructor in decades. Pay attention to your teachers, and their ranks, and address them accordingly. Some are a bit more sensitive than myself.¡±


    Given that Professor Mordrane seemed to be ready to spit fire at being addressed incorrectly, Klarion promised himself then and there that he would do all he could to address the faculty of the Imperial Academy properly.


    ¡°This, students, is how the Empire maintains order. Respect the chain of command, or you will find yourself at odds not just with me but with the leadership of the Empire itself.¡± Her gaze focused back on the blonde elf, who sank into his seat, his cheeks burning red and his original question forgotten amidst the embarrassment.


    With no question forthcoming now, Professor Mordrane returned her attention to the class as a whole. ¡°Now, a question of my own: why do you believe this course, Foundations of History, is required of all noble first-year students?¡±


    For a moment, silence reigned, likely due to fear of being the next student targeted by the Professor¡¯s temper. Finally, a hand went up near the back, down a few rows from Klarion. It was tentative at first, but firming as the student spoke. ¡°To understand the origins of the Empire and learn from its past mistakes?¡±


    ¡°A simplistic answer,¡± she replied, and though the words weren¡¯t what Klarion would have chosen, her tone this time had no sting in it. ¡°The history of the Empire is not merely a tale of triumphs and defeats. It is a blueprint for survival ¡ª your survival. You will study not just the events but the structures and strategies that have allowed the Empire to endure against so many threats these past millennia.¡±


    Her hand moved again, summoning a map on the rightmost chalkboard from where Klarion sat. Vast and sprawling, with what looked to be almost a pox of dots of various colors in places, it wasn¡¯t until a central blue dot labeled ¡®Imperial Academy - West¡¯ appeared that he realized he was looking at a map of the region of the Empire he was currently in. A ripple of interest spread throughout the class, some students whispering to neighbors about parts of the map they recognized. While interesting to himself, Klarion did not bother jotting down any notes on the map itself. There simply was too much detail, and too many places, to be able to get even the roughest of notes on it.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    A sharp voice broke through the classroom. ¡°Professor,¡± a human girl with red hair interrupted, her tone practically dripping with the confidence of someone used to going unchallenged by others. She sat in the front row, her posture almost regal.


    ¡°Yes, Marentia?¡± Mordrane responded, her tone still, but her eyes were focused on the young scion before her.


    ¡°If the Empire is so great,¡± Marentia began, ¡°why does it continue to rely on brutality? Surely, as a civilization, we should have moved past such barbaric practices as now.¡±


    A heavy silence fell over the room. Some students leaned forward, eager to see how the professor would respond. Others slouched back, anticipating a verbal lashing, if not worse. For his part, Klarion expected that Marentia may just have asked her first and last question in the course.


    Professor Mordrane tilted her head slightly, and for a moment Klarion almost thought he was looking at one of the Sentinels without their mask. She studied Marentia as one might study an intriguing but flawed specimen.


    ¡°A noble sentiment,¡± Professor Mordrane said finally, her tone far colder than before. ¡°But also a profoundly stupid one.¡±


    Marentia flinched as if the professor had physically struck her. The rest of the class was stunned, whispers breaking out like scattered embers. Professor Mordrane let the noise linger for a moment before she raised her hand for silence. She received it at once.


    ¡°Allow me to explain,¡± Professor Mordrane said, again stepping out from behind the podium to pace the front of the classroom. Her robes swept behind her like a dark tide. ¡°In your sheltered upbringing, Marentia, you may have been taught that strength is unnecessary when diplomacy can prevail. That is wrong.¡± She held up a hand in emphasis. ¡°Diplomacy without strength is an open invitation to annihilation. The Empire¡¯s practices ¡ª brutal, as you call them ¡ª are the shield that keeps each and every one of us alive. The Rhalgyr Incursion. The Shardfall Conflagration. The Harrowing of Ashenvale III. What kept our enemies at bay after each? Negotiation? No. Thousands of Imperial Legionnaires who held the line until reinforcements could arrive to beat back the invaders.¡±


    Her voice rose slightly, commanding the attention of the class. ¡°Brutality is not the absence of civilization, Marentia.¡± Professor Mordrane stared down at Marentia, who stared straight ahead, her face turning pale. ¡°It is its foundation. The laws you take for granted, the luxuries you enjoy, this Academy itself ¡ª all these are built on the understanding that the Empire will not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect its people and its future.¡±


    Marentia sank into her seat, saying nothing further. Her point made, the Professor turned back to the rest of the class, her eyes alight with intensity.


    ¡°History will teach you this truth repeatedly,¡± Professor Mordrane concluded. ¡°The Empire endures precisely because it refuses to coddle itself with illusions of peace in a Multiverse that thrives on chaos. Now, are there any other questions? If so, ask now, for next session we will begin in earnest.¡±


    She stepped back to the podium, the weight of her words still lingering in the air. For Klarion, it was not just her conviction that struck him, but the raw pragmatism inherent in her argument. That it was calculated violence and ruthless efficiency that kept everything moving forward. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, grappling with what she had said. It wasn¡¯t that he disagreed entirely ¡ª he had seen enough of the underbelly of Volkstrum growing up to understand the necessity of strength ¡ª but it still gnawed at something deeper within him. Yet, as he looked around the room, he saw no protest from his fellow scions. Most sat in stunned silence, some nodding in agreement. To his side, Hector leaned slightly forward, his expression tightening. The other scion¡¯s eyes narrowed, almost as if he was weighing the professor¡¯s words against his own understanding of power. Klarion caught the faintest of nods from him, though whether it was in agreement or simply in acknowledgment of the argument was unclear.


    He wondered if their acceptance came from understanding or fear of defying the system.


    Perhaps intimidated by the deftness with which the Professor had eviscerated the argument put forth by Marentia, the only questions asked for the rest of the class were those focused on the course¡¯s structure and objectives. A student in the second row, too far off to the side for Klarion to get a glimpse of him beyond the back of his head, asked about the primary assessment for the course. In perhaps the most normal response he had yet heard from anyone about, well, anything, at the Imperial Academy, Professor Mordrane stated that passing the course depended on how students did on the comprehensive, written final exam.


    Another student, perhaps emboldened by the almost polite response of Professor Mordrane, asked about the recommended reading list. She replied that the texts were known to all the Librarians at the Central Archives and that they would be able to help. Apparently, supplementary texts could be purchased with Knowledge Coins.


    Over the course of the other questions asked and answers given, Klarion began to note that the Professor appeared to be balancing a clear syllabus with an expectation of personal initiative. Responsibility for succeeding in the class would be solely up to the student. Most was easy enough to remember, but to his side, Hector was still dutifully jotting every answered question down.


    Eventually, she raised a hand to signal that the opportunity to ask questions was over. ¡°That will suffice for now,¡± she said. ¡±You will have ample opportunity in the future to ask more questions, but this class is almost over and I have two more announcements that I need to go over with you all. Both will be of supreme importance to whether or not you make it past your first year.¡±


    She gestured at the chalkboards, each going blank once more before the words Unlocking Your Class appeared.


    ¡°As many of you are aware,¡± Professor Mordrane continued, ¡°your academic studies, while crucial, are not the sole measure of your progress here at the Imperial Academy. Beyond your coursework and exams, each of you will be required to unlock a class before you will be allowed to progress to your second year. You might get perfect scores in every class, but without a class, it won¡¯t matter.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the room at this revelation. A good number of students didn¡¯t seem surprised. Though Klarion knew Rolfun and Alesin each had a class, and his own character sheet indicated he himself would be able to get one, he still did not know that much about the process of unlocking one. His experience with various RPG books and games on Earth had usually made class something you picked at the start of your adventure, or something you earned through completing tasks for some trainer or another. Relatively few took the path of making you stumble along until you figured it out. Thankfully it seemed Professor Mordrane was going to explain the process.


    ¡°Unlocking a class is not simply about gaining levels or earning achievements, though both will inevitably be a part of the process. No, it is about matching your path ¡ª your purpose within the Empire, as you see it ¡ª with one that best complements you. Whether you aim to be a soldier, a scholar, a diplomat, or something else, your innermost desires will gradually lead you in the right direction.¡± She let out a sigh of frustration. ¡°A colleague of mine, damn his soul, likened it to finding yourself in order to find your class. I think that grossly oversimplifies the process, but at its core, you might begin thinking about what you all must do in this way.¡±


    Mordrane¡¯s expression softened slightly as she noticed that a good number of the scions in the classroom were clearly nervous about figuring out what to do. ¡°This journey you are about to start is deeply personal. There is no singular method, no universal guide, though this Academy has extensive records on both that will help you should you aim for particular classes that are known. Indeed, some of you will end up making one such guide work for you through diligent study and research. Others may discover it through combat, exploration, even moments of profound introspection, all while requiring an extensive list of resources to force it open for them.¡± She cleared her throat, voice elevating once more, ¡°While I cannot tell you what you must do to unlock a class, I can and will offer guidance to all who ask. The first piece of advice I have is thus: begin by examining your strengths, your interests, and your ambitions.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s mind raced as he processed the information. On the one hand, the idea of a single thing he had to do to make it through to next year was a relief, but on the other, the sheer openness of the task before him was daunting. While he appreciated the advice of Professor Mordrane, when he had been back on Earth it had taken him years to decide that he wanted to become a doctor. How was he supposed to determine his class, something that seemed to be a far more fundamental part of his being in this new existence he found himself in, all in the course of a single academic year? What if he took the wrong approach and failed completely? Would that kill any possibility of his being able to get strong enough to save those he cared about back on Earth?


    The Professor¡¯s voice once more interrupted his thoughts. ¡°I encourage each of you to use your time wisely. Attend your classes, yes, but do not neglect this larger purpose. Seek out the advice of other faculty, explore the library, and participate in any activity that pushes your stats to the limits. Gaining levels is also a good idea. Do whatever it takes to gain the insights you need, for failure is not an option that the Empire will tolerate.¡±


    Klarion felt a knot tighten in his stomach, but he forced himself to remain calm. This was just another challenge he needed to overcome. He could, no, he would succeed.

 Chapter 48

    Before Klarion could give more than a passing thought to the impending challenge of unlocking a class, Professor Mordrane continued speaking.


    ¡°Having established the importance of unlocking a class, I now want to speak to you about the second announcement, which is just as critical to your survival and success as scions at this Academy: bodyguards.¡±


    The classroom stirred, some students exchanging glances and whispers, while others were more stoic, almost like they had been expecting this. Klarion himself felt the same flicker of curiosity of concern that he experienced when Alesin and Rolfun had first brought up the topic with him. Though he had come quite a distance, and was just beginning to adjust to life as a scion at the Imperial Academy, the concerns about bodyguards that he had previously had remained with him. He just did not know how he could deal with the responsibility of taking care of complete strangers.


    Professor Mordrane continued, the murmurs dying away as she returned to speaking. ¡°As scions of noble houses, each of you carries not only your personal ambitions but also the weight of the future of your houses. While you are here to learn and grow, you will face challenges of various sorts that will require more than your own abilities and skills to survive. It is for this reason that bodyguards are not just allowed but required.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s stomach churned as Professor Mordrane declared that bodyguards were not optional but a requirement. His fingers clenched around the edges of his desk so hard that it creaked. Hector looked over, but before he could comment, the Professor was speaking again.


    ¡°That being said, there are rules governing the presence and conduct of bodyguards. Pay attention, as ignorance will not excuse violations. Firstly, bodyguards are permitted to be armed at all times; you, as students, are not, with very limited exceptions.¡± Her eyes drifted around the classroom, pausing on exposed hilts and scabbards leaning against desks. Klarion was acutely aware of how large his own weapon was beside him. ¡°I say this once: do not show up to future classes with weapons, or you will face severe consequences. You have been warned.¡±


    A few students again shifted uncomfortably at this, but Professor Mordrane ignored them to continue, ¡°Furthermore, while you may recruit and employ multiple bodyguards, as most nobles end up doing, you will only be permitted to bring one with you to class at any given time. Any additional bodyguards you retain must remain at your housing or out on errands, but they are not to accompany you in academic settings.¡±


    As the professor finished speaking, Klarion was surprised to see that the red-headed girl from earlier, Marentia, had again raised her hand. This time, he noticed on her shoulder the mark of a baron¡¯s scion. Going by the look on her face, whatever impact Professor Morgrane¡¯s chastisement had on early was now forgotten.


    ¡°You had another question, Marentia?¡±


    ¡°Professor, isn¡¯t that rule inherently unfair? Higher-ranked scions with larger rooms and more resources can support more bodyguards, giving them an advantage over others.¡±


    Klarion half-expected the professor to rip into the girl again, but to his surprise, Mordrane simply nodded.


    ¡°An astute observation, but it misses certain nuances. While it is true that higher-ranking students might house more bodyguards than those lower in rank, the costs of maintaining them ¡ª upkeep, training, gear, levels, all to ensure their continued effectiveness ¡ª are significantly higher as well. Keep in mind that there are strict rules on external assistance granted to scions from outside the Imperial Academy. It is unlikely enough would be permitted any one scion to the degree that they could obtain such an advantage. As a result, those who end up relying on quantity often find themselves short of quality protection.¡±


    ¡°So focusing most of one¡¯s efforts on a single, strong bodyguard would be what you advise, Professor?¡±


    ¡°My advice,¡± Professor Mordrane said slowly, ¡°is to heed the advice of others but to make your own decisions. Circumstances will be different for each of you, and it remains possible that having a number of weaker bodyguards, as compared to a single strong one, might prove to be a benefit,¡± she shrugged, ¡°or it might lead to your death. Now,¡± her gaze hardened as she looked away from Marentia to take in the class as a whole, ¡°I trust there are no more questions?¡±


    No one so much as blinked at her glare.


    ¡°Good. Then there is but one final thing to share with you all, and then we can be on our way to the Hall of Bonds.¡± She raised a hand to make several hand symbols in the air. With a jerking motion, she brought her hand down, and as it descended shimmering discs of silver appeared on the desks of every student in the room, including Klarion¡¯s. The disc was about the size of a coin, and as he looked closer at it, it almost seemed to shift colors in the light of the room. Picking it up revealed it was light in weight.


    ¡°These Marks of Bonds are enchanted to form a bond between you and your chosen bodyguard. Simply extend it to your chosen bodyguard in the House of Bonds, and when they accept the mark of your House and your name will appear upon their flesh.¡± She raised her hand, and in a mid-air tapping motion, looked almost like she was typing something. ¡°Now, if you will all accept these Assignments, we can be on our way and I can get on with my day.¡±


    Klarion jerked in his seat, causing the whole thing to rattle and his greatsword that had been leaning against the desk to fall to the floor with a clank. Several nearby students, including Hector, turned to stare at him with looks ranging from curiosity to contempt, but he was too busy reading what had appeared unprompted on a screen before him.


    Academy Assignment - Mark of Bonds: Your First Bodyguard


    Professor Mordrane has issued you a ¡®Mark of Bonds,¡¯ a token of authority that grants you the right to contract your first bodyguard. Your task is to visit the Hall of Bonds, located near the central campus square, and use the Mark to choose your first bodyguard. Choose wisely.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Conditions for Success: Travel to the Hall of Bonds to select your first bodyguard using the ¡®Mark of Bonds.¡¯


    Rewards for Completion: Your first bonded bodyguard.


    Accept: Yes/Yes


    He read through the Academy Assignment, quickly determining that it was essentially a quest like some of the games he had played in the past, though the way this one was written indicated direct ties to the Imperial Academy itself. Given that it listed specific conditions for success, as well as a reward, he guessed that it was functionally the same. Though he still had reservations, especially given the nature of what ¡®bonded¡¯ meant, it was not like he had a choice with the options not including one to decline. He selected the obvious choice and as he did the screen pulsed once then shifted into a second Academy Assignment.


    Academy Assignment - Unlock Your Path: The First Step


    As a first-year scion at the Imperial Academy, your primary objective is to unlock a class within the System before the end of the academic year. This crucial step will determine your aptitude and direction, ensuring your eligibility for continued study. Explore the Imperial Academy, train your abilities, and uncover opportunities that lead to unlocking a class. Remember, there are many paths to power ¡ª seek knowledge, refine your skills, and demonstrate your worth.


    Conditions for Success: Investigate opportunities and training within the Imperial Academy to understand the requirements for unlocking a class. Meet the System¡¯s criteria and successfully unlock your class, then report your success to the Academy Registrar before the deadline.


    Rewards for Completion: Automatic enrollment into the second year at the Imperial Academy.


    Accept: Yes/Yes


    This one felt more daunting, though at least it came with no need for moral reflection, nor for hesitation. Both the text and what the Professor had said indicated that, should he not unlock a class of his own, he would not be allowed to progress to the second year of his education. While he was still unsure as to the exact timeline for when Earth would go through its Integration, he hoped he would have at least a few years before it happened to get ready. And the best way to get strong enough, based on what little he had seen, was to continue here at the Imperial Academy. So he quickly selected to accept this one too.


    As soon as the screen was gone, he noticed that Hector had turned in his seat to stare at him with a raised brow. The other scion¡¯s expression was a mixture of curiosity and amusement.


    ¡°Something wrong, Klarion?¡±


    Klarion blinked, shaking his head slightly. ¡°No. Just a screen popped up that I wasn¡¯t expecting.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess: Academy Assignments?¡± Hector asked, his amusement turning into a smile.


    ¡°Yeah, two of them. Are they supposed to appear like that?¡±


    Hector chuckled. ¡°Oh, absolutely. The Academy loves to spring things on you when you least expect it. Especially without in-depth explanations. Keeps you on your toes ¡ª or that is what my cousin claimed.¡±


    ¡°So these are the first ones you have received as well?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯ve already received one,¡± Hector admitted with a shrug. ¡°So, these new ones weren¡¯t a surprise for me.¡±


    Klarion tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. ¡°What was your first one for?¡±


    Hector waved a hand dismissively in response. ¡°Oh, nothing major. Just something to help out an old family friend.¡±


    Klarion narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Hector¡¯s casual demeanor. The other scion¡¯s wave and nonchalant tone belied something deeper ¡ª but he could not tell what. Then again, helping a family friend seemed like it might be a relatively minor task, similar to the first Academy Assignment he accepted. He decided not to press the issue, not least of which because it had nothing to do with him.


    ¡°So,¡± Klarion said instead, leaning back in his seat while most of the classroom began gathering there things. Professor Mordrane was already moving towards the door, but he had some questions still to ask, and Hector seemed like he knew a bit more than the average student. At least based on his responses so far. ¡°Are these Academy Assignments a regular thing?¡±


    Hector nodded, ¡°That they are. As much a part of life for us scions as the lectures and, eventually, the duels. They¡¯ll keep coming, mostly from the different faculty members, but occasionally from the Academy itself. From what my cousin said, most are required, though some are optional. Still, completely those of the second group are still strongly encouraged.¡±


    Klarion frowned. ¡°And if you don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Well, then you find out what happens if you don¡¯t meet the Academy¡¯s expectations.¡± Hector shook his head, ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I don¡¯t want to find out.¡±


    That was a sentiment that he could agree with. Setting aside the possibility of other, more dangerous Academy Assignments for now, Klarion shifted the conversation to a topic of more immediate importance. Bodyguards. While he knew asking questions about the process risked revealing more about his lacking background, he judged the risk worth it if it led to some good advice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have any advice on picking a bodyguard?¡±


    ¡°Pick one.¡± On seeing Klarion¡¯s face shift into a glare at the unhelpfulness of Hector¡¯s comment, the other scion chuckled before giving a more serious answer. ¡°Most of our fellow students will be like you ¡ª picking their first bodyguard without a clue about what they¡¯re doing. In some ways, the Hall of Bonds is a gamble, but don¡¯t worry too much. If you pay attention, and ask a few questions of the bodyguard candidates that interest you, you¡¯ll do fine.¡±


    Klarion opened his mouth to respond, but the professor¡¯s voice rang out over the mostly emptied classroom.


    ¡°If you few are done procrastinating,¡± Professor Mordrane called, tapping her fingers against her clasped wrist in impatience, ¡°I would like to go about my day. Up.¡±


    Klarion turned back to Hector, but he was already putting his notebook away and standing. Klarion ripped out the pages of what few notes he had taken, and made to hand the notebook back over to Hector. The other scion shook his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Just return the favor sometime. I¡¯ll see you at the Hall of Bonds.¡±


    Without another word, Hector put his notebook away and joined the end of the line of students leaving the classroom to follow Professor Mordrane. It was becoming a bit of a traffic jam at the door since the Professor spoke, so Klarion took a moment longer to mull over Hector¡¯s words. He glanced toward the greatsword now resting awkwardly against his desk after its earlier near fall, a reminder of how unprepared he felt in the face of this new world. Sliding the Mark of Bonds into his pocket, he grabbed the harness holding his greatsword and pulled it on. The weight of his weapon settled heavily across his back as he adjusted the strap. He could barely feel the Mark of Bonds in his pocket, but he was extremely aware of its presence. A tough decision was ahead, and he wished he had some more time to think it over, but since he didn¡¯t he would do what Hector had suggested. He would ask questions and keep his eyes open. Maybe he would get lucky and someone would immediately click with him.


    Steeling himself, Klarion finally strode to the exit. The Professor and the rest of the class had already left, and he was one of the last stragglers, the others already rushing through the doorway to catch up. He didn¡¯t mind being last, though. It would give him some more time to come up with questions to ask once he got to the Hall of Bonds.

 Chapter 49

    The rest of his class followed in the wake of Professor Mordrane, who was moving like a woman possessed, clearly trying to be done with her task quickly so she could return to whatever she was doing before class. Klarion followed at the back of the group by himself, but he did not mind. In fact, he mostly ignored the students walking in front of him, as he found the sprawling campus of the Imperial Academy far more interesting. Still new to living here, he was easily distracted by nearly everything he passed as he followed the students in front of him to the Hall of Bonds.


    The late morning sun cast long shadows over well-worn stone paths, and students outside of his own class moved briskly to and from their own classes. All around, the architecture of the Academy loomed ¡ª many of them grandiose stone buildings with intricate carvings of Imperial history telling stories across their walls. The sheer scale of it all brought to Klarion¡¯s mind what Rome had been like before the war, though here was on a much larger scale.


    ¡°This place is insane,¡± Klarion muttered to himself.


    He continued trying to take in as much as he could, thinking that it might be useful to have a better understanding of how to navigate campus in the future. It was at that point he began to notice it was no longer exclusively first-year scions walking around. Older scions ¡ª marked with two or three gold stars on the left side of their chests ¡ª strode past with an air of confidence that made Klarion feel small in comparison. All were accompanied by imposing bodyguards who moved with practiced ease, guarding their charges with an unblinking watchfulness.


    A pair of older scions, a man and a woman, both human, wandered past the other side of his line of classmates. Both were wearing the same uniforms as every other scion around them, but with three gold stars on their chests. The man had long, dark hair tied back in an elaborate knot, and his companion was a striking woman with pale blonde hair, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd with a predator¡¯s awareness. But it wasn¡¯t the pair of scions who seized Klarion¡¯s attention. It was the bodyguards flanking them.


    Behind the man walked a hulking figure dressed in full plate armor, an enormous double-bladed axe slung across his back. He was over seven feet tall, his broad shoulders a wall of muscle. Klarion couldn¡¯t even tell what race the bodyguard was, as beyond every inch of his body being covered by armor, he also wore a black iron mask stylized to look like a weeping demon. When that mask shifted in his direction, Klarion felt attention so much more bloodthirsty than when J-65¡¯s mask had examined him just the other day.


    At the almost tangible feeling of bloodlust being directed his way, Klarion jerked his eyes over to the other bodyguard. Smaller and more agile in appearance, she had a vast array of blades strapped to her leather-armored sides. Green hair framed a face of yellow skin and long, pointed ears. Guessing she was some race of elf, she was constantly scanning for threats. When her eyes landed on Klarion, he knew what a mouse must feel like when it senses a hawk hovering over them.


    As soon as they arrived, the pair of scions and their intimidating protectors were past and on their way to what looked to be another lecture hall of some sort. Turning his attention back to where he was walking, he was starting to realize just exactly how many bodyguards hovered in the shadows of scions going about their day. No first-years had any yet, but every scion that had been at the Academy longer than one year had them.


    They were everywhere.


    Some carried obvious weapons, others had nothing visible, relying solely on their physical presence to deter potential threats. Some were clearly skilled in the arts of magic, their eyes glowing faintly with arcane power. None struck fear in him quite so much as the pair that had already passed him, but from what little he could tell, there were more than a few bodyguards around that he wouldn¡¯t want to tangle with in a fight.


    To be fair, however, it wasn¡¯t just the bodyguards that Klarion sometimes found intimidating. Some of the students themselves radiated power, as he found out when the line of students before him shifted in a wave to the right before continuing on after Professor Mordrane. At first, he was not sure why they had shifted as one in that direction.


    That was when he saw her.


    She stood with a quiet authority, her presence immediately commanding attention away from the bodyguard at her back. Her antlers, thick and dark, curled back from her head like branches from an ancient tree, each curve a testament to some unique heritage Klarion was completely unfamiliar with. The elegant antlers framed her sharp, angular face, giving her an almost regal appearance, as if she were a creature of the forest, both beautiful and formidable. Her eyes, a piercing shade of amber, gleamed with a quiet intensity, reflecting a sharp intellect and a hint of something more primal. Her skin was a smooth, dusky bronze, marked with faint symbols that hinted at strange, perhaps even sacred, rituals. The lines of her body were lithe but strong, her posture unyielding, and the way she carried herself spoke of someone used to being obeyed without question. Her clothing, for all that it was the same uniform Klarion himself wore, seemed to accentuate her otherworldly appearance, adding to her intimidating presence.


    Though her expression remained mostly neutral, there was something in the way she shifted in place ¡ª graceful, but with a sense of restrained power ¡ª that gave off the impression that she could easily dominate any room with a single word. The students walking before him took pains to look anywhere else but at her, almost as if trying to avoid the gaze of something far older, and more dangerous, than any mere scion. Curious despite himself, Klarion¡¯s eyes went back to her face as he moved past her.


    Her amber eyes were fixed on him.


    As he followed in the wake of his class, a voice reached him. Like a soft breeze, it carried with it an ethereal quality that seemed to float on the air. It was lilting, melodic, almost like a song carried from some fey lands.


    ¡°My, aren¡¯t you a fascinating one¡­ Klarion.¡±


    Klarion froze in the wake of that soft voice sending a chill through him. He spun back around, heedless of how foolish he looked, heart racing. He expected to see her standing where she had been but a moment before, but she and her bodyguard had vanished. It was as if the wind itself had swallowed them, leaving only her voice in its wake.


    He clenched his fists, his mind a storm of frustration and unease. This was the second time this had happened in as many days. Random strangers ¡ª people he had never met ¡ª knew his name. Hector, he understood. His fellow first-year had been present at the same time in the Amphitheater of Induction, after all. But how did this strange woman know his name within moments of laying eyes on him? The worst part was, he couldn¡¯t even think of a way to get any answers. Even if he could find someone who might be able to help, the atmosphere of intrigue that permeated this campus meant he would be unable to trust them or the answers they might give him. That, combined with the continual cryptic words and knowing looks from other first-years, only deepened his irritation. He wasn¡¯t someone who enjoyed being toyed with, and the longer it went on, the more his anger simmered. He just had not realized that until this moment.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The rest of his class, not noticing anything about how he had whirled back around to confront a scion no longer there, simply kept following behind Professor Mordrane toward a building that loomed ahead. Trying his best to put the strange experience out of his mind, and with it the anger he knew he would have to address at some point, Klarion rushed to catch up as his classmates began making their way into the building that was apparently the Hall of Bonds.


    Stone columns framed the entrance, again decorated with carvings of figures from the Empire¡¯s history. Where other buildings displayed battles or great figures from the past, however, these columns displayed something different. Rather than triumphant figures bedecked in armor, or strange creatures facing off with Imperial forces, there were lines of figures wearing uniforms much like the one Klarion now wore. Behind and all around them marched a menagerie of beings both humanoid and monstrous. As he drew closer to the open doors of the building, the last student to go inside, he saw that the stances of the figures were clearly protective. How appropriate for the building where his class would be picking out bodyguards.


    The interior nearly took his breath away. The Hall of Bonds stretched wide and tall, the walls made of the same polished marble that adorned so many buildings around campus. They glimmered in the light filtering through the high-arched windows. The floors themselves, rather than the stone he had expected, were made of dark, glossy wood, their surface reflecting beams of light scattered across the floor by elegant, hanging crystal chandeliers. And then he saw the people, his classmates, and professor among them.


    The atmosphere felt busy, yet controlled. To his right, a long row of cubicles seemed to be set up for scions and bodyguards to speak with attendants or to complete paperwork. They were eerily similar to those held by office buildings back on Earth, but unlike those, these cubicles seemed to have a translucent glass that could be made opaque for privacy should a scion request it. One flicked solid as he was looking at it in fact. Beyond those sitting inside, attendants dressed in dark, formal robes, moved quickly about, their expressions impassive as they dealt with whatever business was assigned to them. Sentinels stood motionless along the walls, likely present to dissuade any spats between rival scions.


    Klarion¡¯s eyes flitted nervously over the area, but before he could take in more details, he heard a clink of glasses, and his gaze shifted toward the far side of the hall. There, in the center, stood a well-appointed bar ¡ª glimmering gold and silver fixtures adding a touch of opulent luxury to its already refined aura. Even this early in the day, there were a few scions lounging near the bar, their conversations filled with laughter and easy camaraderie. They were clearly upper-classmen, seasoned scions who had been in the Academy for years, and their smug expressions conveyed they belonged. The booths surrounding the bar, soft and plush from what Klarion could see, were arranged for comfort. Some few of them had scions lounging, idly looking in the direction of the new first-years coming into the Hall of Bonds for the first time. A less charitable part of Klarion would say they were sizing up the competition. But then again, based on what he was increasingly learning about the Academy, that was probably exactly what they were doing.


    Hector came up beside him and pointed to a hallway on the far side of the wall. ¡°This way. There will be less of a line,¡± he said, then made his way through the bustling room.


    Klarion followed, trying not to feel too much like a fish out of water around so many other scions who apparently knew what they were doing. He could hear fragments of conversation as he followed Hector. Scions haggling over contracts, some laughing, others deep in negotiation. Hector seemed entirely unaffected by the air of high society and business around them, a fact that was not lost on him.


    They soon passed through an archway and into a smaller, less ornate hallway off the main hall. The mood here was noticeably different ¡ª more serious, more intense. Klarion saw several groups of third-year scions clustered together along the walls, their faces drawn in concentration as they discussed in low tones. What little he had heard before glares from a nearby table made him pick up his pace made his blood go cold.


    Klarion stopped in his tracks as they entered another room. He blinked, processing the sight before him. Several tables were scattered around the lesser hall, each with a group of scions sitting behind them, going over documents with the assistance of attendants. Combined with what he had overheard coming into the room, it only took him seconds to understand what was happening around him. These scions were bidding on other individuals. It wasn¡¯t just about buying their services either. In a flash of insight, Klarion saw each negotiation as a scion attempting to secure future power, to bring individuals or whole groups of people under their control to do so.


    ¡°Are they¡­ bidding on people?¡± he asked Hector quietly, already knowing the answer.


    Hector turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. ¡°Yes, they are. It¡¯s not exactly the most comfortable thing to watch, but it¡¯s how it works here.¡±


    Klarion swallowed his anger, glancing over at a table in disbelief and disgust as a fat scion was chuckling with happiness at a cheap deal for a family of some kind of craftsmen. ¡°How can they¡­ How can they sell people?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds,¡± Hector said, his expression still guarded. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s just debts that need to be paid. Many more of the people who are sold here are willing participants ¡ª they¡¯ve sold themselves or their families to gain access to resources, connections, or power. For many, that¡¯s how it works when you¡¯re trying to climb the ladder of power in the Empire.¡±


    Klarion nodded slowly to Hector, but his stomach twisted. He wasn¡¯t sure what he had expected from this place, but it certainly wasn¡¯t to see the Imperial version of the slave auctions he had learned about back in high school on Earth.


    ¡°These people around us are other scions?¡±


    ¡°The vast majority yes, though my cousin mentioned there are occasional VIPs for more exotic¡­ prizes,¡± Hector confirmed. ¡°The Hall of Bonds was built to encourage things like this. But it¡¯s mostly the older students ¡ª upperclassmen who¡¯ve been here for several years and have collected enough coins and resources to trade them for servants and followers for their plans after graduation. Though some first-years who are especially diligent in their efforts might be able to engage in something like this too.¡±


    Klarion was still grappling with the reality of what he was seeing. This place, one of unimaginable wealth and power, still remained one of deep, entrenched inequalities. The fact that he by chance found himself near the top of the pile did not change his sensitivity to what he was witnessing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move on,¡± Hector suggested after Klarion said nothing else. ¡°This part¡¯s not really our concern yet.¡±


    Passing through the lesser hall brought them to another area. Larger and more imposing than the previous room, the walls were lined with large, heavy doors that had various numbers on them. Fewer attendants were around, which made sense when Klarion saw one at the far end open one of the doors to lead what looked to be another first-year inside. The door closed behind them.


    ¡°From what the attendant I spoke to said, these are the doors to the various Training Halls where we will be given opportunities to meet potential bodyguards.¡± Hector gestured towards the nearest doors. ¡°From what they said, we will see some real power being wielded here. This is where scions come to form bonds with those who become their bodyguards. ¡±


    Klarion nodded, though he was still trying to understand. His nerves were still on edge from the previous room they had been in, and the sight of these rooms only intensified that feeling. The idea of walking into one of the rooms was suddenly daunting, and Klarion again felt a cold sense of realization. This was it. The place where someone, a complete stranger, would be bound to him as a bodyguard.


    ¡°So, what do I do now?¡± Klarion asked, trying to keep his expression even.


    ¡°You choose,¡± Hector shrugged, then began making his way to the nearest door. He called over his shoulder, ¡°Just remember the advice I gave you, and you will do better than many scions selecting their first bodyguard. I will see you later, or failing that, I will see you in class. Good luck.¡±

 Chapter 50

    Klarion stood still for a moment, watching Hector move toward the far side of the Hall. Hector had given him some good advice, but there were still a few things he wanted to ask about. He noticed one of the attendants ¡ª dressed in dark, formal, full-body robes with an insignia that looked like a stylized circle on the cap she wore over her short brown hair ¡ª finishing up with another scion that had been previously in the room. The attendant was busy bent over some papers on the table within the booth and didn¡¯t notice when Klarion approached at first.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Klarion said, trying not to startle her. ¡°I was wondering if you could answer a few questions I had.¡±


    She hurriedly stacked the last few papers, then turned to look at him. She offered a smile that seemed almost rehearsed, but still polite. ¡°Of course, scion,¡± she replied. ¡°How may I assist you?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you could explain to me how things work here in the Hall of Bonds,¡± he began. ¡°Particularly regarding the acquisition of a bodyguard.¡±


    The attendant¡¯s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he was not sure why. ¡°Certainly, sir. The Hall of Bonds is the central hub for scions at the Imperial Academy to secure assistance in various forms ¡ª be it through bodyguards, servants, or other specialized roles. If you would like to take a seat, I will explain how it all works.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I appreciate the help,¡± Klarion said, stepping around to take a seat in one of the chairs that stood by the table.


    ¡°Of course, sir, that is my role here,¡± she said before moving opposite him and taking a seat as he did so. ¡°The first thing you should be aware of is the general fees and costs. Rather than imperial coin, every purchase here is made using currencies awarded by the Imperial Academy itself. Most commonly costs are tallied in Service Coins, but occasionally you might be required to spend some of the various Seals as well, depending on the rarity or quality of those who have caught your eye.¡±


    ¡°And what determines quality?¡±


    ¡°Generally speaking, the potential bond¡¯s skill set is what is most taken into account, with the resulting price ranging from a small handful of Service Coins up to the hundreds of thousands with additional Seals required as well. The only exception to this is for those brought to the Hall of Bonds to fill positions as bodyguards.¡±


    Klarion nodded, his interest deepening. ¡°That makes sense. So, the bodyguards, what makes their acquisition different?¡±


    The attendant shifted in her seat. ¡°Bodyguards are unique among the bonds offered here. Their purpose is not merely to serve but to protect, often in the most dangerous of circumstances. The Imperial Academy, and the Empire as a whole, invests significantly in every scion that enrolls. Bodyguards are one of the means to protect that investment, which is why every single one is purchasable with a single Mark of Bonds. So long as their tier lines up with the purchasing scion, that is. That is easy to determine, and based on what year the scion is in at the Academy.¡±


    ¡°Purchasable?¡± He tried to be polite, but there was an undercurrent of anger in the question. ¡°So all were sold to the Hall of Bonds for scions to purchase?¡±


    ¡°Seven Princes, no,¡± the attendant objected, shaking her head. ¡°The bodyguards available here, much like every other Hall of Bonds, are sourced from a variety of backgrounds,¡± she hurried to explain. ¡°Quite a few are volunteers, seeking the prestige and opportunities that come with serving a scion. Others are indentured servants, fulfilling obligations or debts through the service. There are even sometimes races considered to be monsters, though those are carefully overseen by the Provost of Bonds.¡± She took a deep breath, having rushed to explain in response to Klarion¡¯s tone. ¡°Comparatively, there are only a few that were previously slaves.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you for explaining,¡± Klarion said, some of the heat gone from his tone. ¡°So the bonds have a say in the matter then?¡±


    ¡°In most cases, yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°While some few bonds are still assigned based on contracts or obligations, many are given opportunities to choose their scion. This ensures a base on which to build mutual respect and the alignment of goals, which are critical to effective service.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ surprising,¡± Klarion admitted, his brow furrowing. ¡°I assumed the process would be more one-sided.¡±


    ¡°Most scions that have come from House Blacksword in the past do assume so.¡± As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she froze, face going white at what she had just said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry scion, I did not mean to imply anything!¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes narrowed at the attendant¡¯s sudden change in demeanor. Her initial confidence had dissolved in an instant, replaced by a pale, wide-eyed expression of panic. He could see her throat bob as she swallowed hard, clearly regretting her words.


    ¡°House Blacksword?¡± he repeated what she had said, leaning forward slightly. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    The attendant hesitated, clearly torn between her duty to answer and her obvious fear of overstepping with a scion of an Archducal House. ¡°I¡­ I meant no disrespect, Scion,¡± she said quickly, her voice trembling. ¡°Please understand, I did not intend to¡ª¡±


    Klarion held up a hand to stop her. ¡°Relax,¡± he said, his tone calm but insistent. ¡°I¡¯m not offended, only curious. What is it about House Blacksword that makes you say most scions from it would assume the process is more one-sided?¡±


    The attendant hesitated again, glancing nervously around the booth as though expecting someone to appear and reprimand her for her slip. But when no savior came, the handful of other attendants nearby being busy with other scions, she finally let out a soft sigh and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper.


    ¡°You would know better than me, but House Blacksword is one of the oldest and most formidable high noble houses in this sector of the Empire,¡± she began. ¡°Its scions are renowned for their strength, their cunning, and at the Halls of Bonds their reputation for dominance.¡±


    ¡°Dominance?¡± Klarion echoed, his brow furrowing deeper.


    The attendant nodded, apparently relieved Klarion was not getting upset at what she was telling him. ¡°They are known for viewing the world largely through the lens of conquest. Bonds, alliance, even relationships ¡ª it is said that they see them all as things to be commanded, not shared.¡±


    Klarion sat back, processing what the attendant had shared. When Klarion leaned away from her, some color began to return to her face. ¡°And you assumed I would be the same?¡±


    ¡°No, scion¡­ that is to say¡­¡± She stumbled over her words, still somewhat mortified.


    Klarion held up his hand again, stopping her apology. He¡¯d have to think about what she had said later, but right now he was here at the Hall of Bonds for a specific purpose. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not angry. Could you tell me a bit more about why the process is the way it is?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± The attendant said loudly, seizing upon the change in topic like a woman grabbing a floating spar to avoid drowning at sea. ¡°The Academy values balance. A bond that is forced into service without consent is unlikely to perform to their full potential. By allowing bonds say in whether they become bodyguards or not, the Academy hopes to foster stronger, more effective partnerships which will mean more scions alive to serve the Empire.¡±


    ¡°And the Hall itself ¡ª how does it manage all of this?¡± The main entrance of the Hall had been busy, but given the size of the areas connected to that area, he expected there to be hundreds of scions here at any one time. Backing up that impression was the fact that, even though the area he was in now was a bit quiet, there still seemed to be a few dozen attendants scattered throughout going about their duties with brisk efficiency, especially when scions approached them for assistance. Everywhere he looked, they guided scions to private meeting booths whenever a simple answer was not enough to address questions. The entire place buzzed with an energy that was both chaotic and meticulously orchestrated. Only especially careful management could make all that possible.


    ¡°The Hall of Bonds operates under the oversight of the Provost of Bonds,¡± the attendant explained. ¡°They, and the team they work with, are responsible for ensuring that all transactions are conducted fairly and that both scions and bonds adhere to the Academy¡¯s standards. The Provost also oversees the acquisition and care of new bonds, ensuring that they are made ready for their inevitable scions.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a monumental task.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± the attendant agreed, leaning back in pride. ¡°But the Provost and their team are highly skilled, and the Hall of Bonds is designed to operate efficiently. Every detail, from the initial assessment to the final transaction, is meticulously managed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the insight¡­?¡± Klarion said, rising from his seat.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Clarissa,¡± she responded after a moment¡¯s hesitation.


    He met her gaze, his tone sincere. ¡°It¡¯s clear you¡¯ve put a lot of effort into helping students like me navigate everything.¡±


    Clarissa inclined her head, ¡°You¡¯re kind to say so, especially after what I said. Please, if you have any further questions, don¡¯t hesitate to ask.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I do,¡± he said as he stood. ¡°Assuming that the doors along the perimeter of this hall take me to where I could meet potential bodyguards, does it matter which one I go through?¡±


    ¡°Possibly, scion, it depends on what kind of bodyguard you are looking for.¡±


    Klarion hesitated for a second but ultimately went with the truth. ¡°Honestly, I have no idea what I¡¯m looking for,¡± he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure where to begin either. I don¡¯t suppose you have a recommendation?¡±


    The attendant¡¯s eyes roamed over Klarion, pausing briefly on his stance and the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his back. With a small, professional smile like the one she had greeted him with, Clarissa nodded, as if coming to a decision.


    ¡°I believe the best door for you would be this way. If you follow me to Assembly Hall Thirteen, you will be able to see some potential bodyguards waiting to be selected,¡± Clarissa said, her tone polite but certain. Standing, she gestured for Klarion to follow her to a door near the opposite corner. Her movements were confident as she led him.


    With the initial decision taken out of his hands, Klarion was looking forward to seeing the options the attendant seemed to be referring to. Perhaps seeing some potential bodyguards in the flesh would give him greater clarity.


    When the attendant pushed the large door open to the assembly hall, Klarion¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The room was both grand and unnervingly clinical, a striking juxtaposition of opulence and efficiency. The space itself was enormous, easily several times larger than the classroom he had been in earlier today. Intricate carvings of what he guessed to be bodyguards were across the ceiling, each forming part of a line being inspected by figures in the garb of attendants of the Hall of Bonds. It was beautiful to look at, for all that the walls around the expansive room had no such decorations. Not that the designer had chosen not to decorate them. There simply had not been enough room if that had wanted to do so.


    Every square inch of wall was covered with glass partitions, each framing a separate, comfortably furnished cell.


    From where he stood, Klarion saw that the cells held individuals of varying races and appearances ¡ª potential bodyguards available for selection by first-year scions. Some stood tall and imposing, clearly seasoned warriors, while others sat quietly, their sharp eyes darting between the scions in the room. A few appeared entirely nonchalant, reclining with an air of indifference, while others paced, their restlessness betraying barely restrained energy.


    Unthinking, Klarion walked deeper into the room, Clarissa hovering close to his side, but keeping silent to let him take in the view. As he stepped closer to the nearest cell, he saw that it was illuminated with soft, ambient light that highlighted the occupant of this room, in this case, a young dwarf with arms as thick as Klarion¡¯s waist. While the light allowed him a good look at the dwarf, who was glaring back out at him, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but think the whole setup had a museum-like quality. The furniture in the cells ¡ª deep armchairs, small bookshelves, and tables set with refreshments made it clear the occupants were not being treated like simple commodities but it still set Klarion¡¯s teeth on edge.


    As he grew close to the center of the glass partition, a freestanding rose from the floor to float in mid-air. As it came to a hover, the screen hovered in place; it lit up to display a detailed profile of the potential bodyguard. Curious, Klarion leaned in and waved his hand over the display, which caused the image to scroll through the dwarf¡¯s history to show things like his fighting style, skills, and even recordings of combat demonstrations. It even presented a partial image similar to Klarion¡¯s own character sheet.


    Name: Cregan


    Race: Hill Dwarf (Drugan III)


    Class: TBD - Level 5


    Profession(s): TBD


    Faction: Imperial Academy - Hall of Bonds


    Rank: Bodyguard (Prospective)


    Strength: 19


    Dexterity: 11


    Vitality: 17


    Endurance: 21


    Intelligence: 11


    Wisdom: 5


    Charisma: 4


    Luck: 2


    Apparently, the dwarf, who was named Cregan, was quite skilled with the warhammer for all that he still lacked a class. At the very bottom of the screen was a button, which he assumed would allow an interested scion to speak with the occupant.


    Seeing Klarion extending a finger to press the button, Cregan began moving his mouth and shaking his head angrily. As soon as the button depressed, a voice came through the screen.


    ¡°¡ªdamned if I¡¯ve tae protect a fekkin¡¯ Blacksword. Keep movin¡¯, scarface, or I¡¯ll gie ye a few more beauty marks afore I¡¯m bound tae ye.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s red-gold eyes narrowed, his expression turning cold. His massive frame leaned closer to the glass, and as he did so the angry dwarf took a nervous step back. ¡°You¡¯d do well to watch your tongue,¡± he said, his voice low, ¡°I have no idea what you have against my House, but I have no interest in forcing loyalty on someone not willing to give it.¡±


    Turning sharply, Klarion removed his finger and dismissed the now nervous dwarf with a final glare. Putting the dwarf from his mind, his gaze landed on the desk in the middle of the room that he had missed in the wake of seeing all the cells. Circular in shape, it was made of a polished marble streaked with veins of shimmering gold. Behind it sat a middle-aged human woman with sharp features and an air of quiet authority. Unlike the attendant who escorted him, her uniform bore intricate embroidery indicating a higher rank.


    Klarion stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the polished stone floor. When he was roughly parallel with the desk, the woman behind it spoke.


    ¡°Impressive, isn¡¯t it?¡± She said, her expression still stern. ¡°Each candidate here has been carefully curated for first-year scions such as yourself. May I assist you in narrowing your search?¡±


    Klarion shook his head. ¡°Thank you, but I¡¯d prefer to look by myself for now.¡±


    ¡°As you wish,¡± she said with a nod, her gaze lingering on the crest of Blacksword on his shoulder before returning to her work.


    Klarion¡¯s eyes went back to the cells, taking in the diverse array of potential bodyguards as he began making his way slowly around the room. He passed a lithe human woman with dark, piercing eyes who leaned casually against the wall in her cell. The screen outside her cell lit up to highlight her expertise in espionage and stealth. Again, no class. But that made sense to a degree, as none of the first-year scions had classes of their own yet, either. When he reached down to press the button, she calmly drew her thumb across her throat. Guess she was another one who had problems with House Blacksword.


    By the time the sixth occupant had rejected him outright, Klarion was starting to think he might have a problem. Each echoed with the same sentiment: disgust, fear, or outright hatred for House Blacksword. Klarion¡¯s frustration grew with every rejection, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral.


    Klarion stared at the display screen in front of the latest candidate¡¯s cell, detailing his impressive combat skills and proficiency in wind magic. Based on their profile, the young Sky Elf would be an excellent choice for him ¡ª a perfect balance of skill and intelligence. But his face twisted into a sneer when Klarion introduced himself, and the elf wasted no time in voicing his refusal.


    ¡°Blacksword? No thanks,¡± they scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d rather rot in here than serve your lot.¡±


    Klarion turned away without another word, looking for the next cell that would catch his attention. Even if he received dozens of rejections, the number of cells around the room still offered plenty of options. He would just need to keep looking. Clarissa, still walking by his side, echoed his thoughts as he considered his options on which cell to approach next.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it trouble you too much, Scion Blacksword,¡± she said her tone back to being calm and professional. ¡°We¡¯ve barely scratched the surface of the options available to you. The Hall of Bonds is vast, and there are plenty of candidates yet to review. While some may let their biases cloud their judgment, there are many here who will value opportunity over reputation. Take your time ¡ª someone suitable is bound to be found.¡±


    Klarion nodded, but before he could respond, his attention moved to the far corner of the hall, where a small commotion had broken out between two scions in front of a cell. He could not see the occupant from where he was standing, only a lot of movement within the cell. ¡°What¡¯s happening over there?¡±


    The attendant followed his gaze, a small frown crossing her face as she turned back to Klarion. ¡°Ah, that would be Hatsune¡¯s cell. She is a young Leporine, or bunnykin, as they are more commonly called by many. They¡¯re known for their agility and speed. She seems to be performing a series of extreme dodging exercises. The scions standing in front of her cell are¡­ somewhat less than impressed.¡±


    Moving closer to get a better view past the pair of arguing scions, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but watch as the Leporine bounded with incredible grace around her cell only to come to a halt back before the glass, glaring out at the two scions observing her. Even through the translucent barrier, her presence is commanding. Standing tall and poised, her long silver-tipped ears twitch slightly, capturing every sound around her. A thin layer of fur graces the backs of her arms, a soft shade of gray with subtle silver highlights that seem to shimmer in the ambient light. Her long, lean legs are flexed with taut muscles, quivering slightly from the exercise she had just finished.


    Her eyes shifted over to Klarion as the two scions before her cell continued to bicker. A vibrant shade of green, he almost stopped in place under the intensity of her gaze. There was a predatory sharpness to them, as if she was always evaluating the world around her, weighing people, situations, and the smallest details. Her face was just as striking, with sharp, delicate features. Her high cheekbones were subtly pronounced, giving her a regal appearance, while her jawbone was defined and strong under a small nose that was slightly upturned at the tip. It added a touch of softness to an otherwise commanding visage. Framing her face was a cascade of silver-gray locks that fell to her mid-back, sleek and well-kept. The silver strands caught the light in such a way that it seemed to shimmer with her movements. Her thin lips pursed at his continued stare.


    Which, of course, was when he realized he was not only staring at her but had come to a complete halt while he did so. Klarion jerked his eyes to the floor. He felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. And then the blush deepened as he felt embarrassed about being embarrassed.


    When he finally felt like he had the blush under control, he looked back up at her to see her brow arched. It gave off the impression that she knew exactly why he was there, and that the idea of being observed by yet another scion did not faze her in the least.


    Tearing his eyes away from her face, Klarion took in the rest of her. Hatsune wore clothing that was simple yet functional, dark and unadorned, clearly made for combat rather than ceremony. It was a practical design, with no embellishments, just the occasional glint of silver and black straps that secured it. Though he had already been rejected a number of times by other prospective bodyguards, something about Hatsune pulled him to see if she might consider it.


    Then, at last, Klarion¡¯s ears caught the words of the two scions, and a burning fury ignited within him.

 Chapter 51

    Klarion clenched his fists, fingernails digging deep into his palms as he strode forward. He had entered the Hall of Bonds with quite a bit of uncertainty. The prospect of securing a bodyguard was intimidating enough, compounded by the repeated rejections he¡¯d faced due to his House. But when he overheard the two scions talking about the Leporine, that all fell away. Klarion hadn¡¯t meant to eavesdrop, but the closer he came to the cell that held the Leporine woman, the easier it was for his ears to catch the unmistakable sneering tones of the two scions outside it.


    ¡°¡­just a bunnykin,¡± the one with the rank of a count¡¯s house on his shoulder scoffed, his tone dripping with derision. ¡°I hear they¡¯re obedient enough once broken. If not, I wouldn¡¯t mind taming her myself.¡±


    The second scion threw back his head and laughed, letting Klarion catch a glimpse of a marquis rank on his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t even need her to fight. She¡¯d make a delightful distraction in my quarters.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s steps faltered, his breath catching in his chest. His fists clenched harder, and the world seemed to go silent save for the pounding in his ears. Grinding his teeth, Klarion continued striding towards them, his expression dark and unyielding. Clarissa was saying something to him urgently, but he didn¡¯t care enough to hear what.


    The two scions, still laughing at their coarse jokes, didn¡¯t notice him until he was nearly upon them. The one who had spoken so flippantly about taming Hatsune ¡ª a tall, pale youth with sharp features and an air of entitlement ¡ª looked up with a sneer.


    ¡°Can we help you, Blacksword?¡± he drawled, deliberately emphasizing the name like an insult.


    Klarion continued walking closer, his shadow falling over the two shorter scions as if he were a storm cloud blotting out the sun. His presence was immediate, heavy, and inescapable. The air seemed to thicken around him as his piercing red-gold gaze locked on the Marquis¡¯ scion, who had been mid-laugh. Klarion¡¯s greatsword shifted in its harness on his back with a metallic whisper as he squared his shoulders, making his already imposing frame seem even larger.


    ¡°Say that again,¡± Klarion said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the room like a blade. The menace in his tone was not shouted but carried an iron weight that promised consequences.


    The scion belonging to a Marquis¡¯ house took an involuntary step back, his bravado faltering under Klarion¡¯s unyielding stare. The scion¡¯s compatriot, previously smirking, shrank into himself, his hands fidgeting nervously.


    Klarion¡¯s hand drifted near the hilt of his sword, not drawing it but letting its presence loom, a silent reminder of what he could do if provoked. Neither of the scions he faced had weapons of their own, but such was Klarion¡¯s anger at what he had overheard that part of him hoped they would give him a reason to pull his greatsword. Instead, both averted their gaze from his and stepped back from Hatsune¡¯s screen.


    Anger abating slightly, Klarion ignored them both to glance at the woman on the other side of the glass. She had paused mid-dodge to glance over toward the commotion. Her expressive eyes reflected a mix of confusion and apprehension as she caught sight of him. Klarion reached out to press the button on the screen.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said, addressing her directly. ¡°I have a few questions if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Hatsune blinked, her ears twitching nervously. ¡°Y-yes, of course,¡± she stammered, her voice soft but clear.


    ¡°What are your primary combat skills?¡± Klarion asked, his tone brisk and professional to cover up the anger he still felt.


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re interrupting ¡ª¡±


    Klarion turned his head slowly, fixing the scion from the Marquis¡¯s house with a glare that could freeze fire. The pale-skinned scion had raven-black hair that was impeccably styled, framing an angular face with steel-gray eyes. A perpetual sneer seemed to have etched itself into his face, but it faded under the look Klarion was directing at him. ¡°Be. Quiet,¡± Klarion said, his voice low but laced with menace.


    The scion bristled, opening his mouth to retort, but ultimately snapped it shut, his jaw tightening. Klarion held his stare for a moment longer before turning back to Hatsune, the other scion again forgotten.


    Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched, the motion subtle but unmistakable, as Klarion focused back on her. The tension in her body betrayed her wariness, not that Klarion could blame her. From what he saw, neither of the other scions had even attempted to hide what they had been saying from the Leporine. Her green eyes followed him with a mixture of apprehension and guarded curiosity. At least that was what he thought he saw. It was difficult to be sure.


    ¡°What is your primary skillset?¡± Klarion asked.


    Hatsune hesitated, looking over to the other scions that still lingered before looking back at Klarion.


    ¡°I am trained in a range of combat styles,¡± she began, her voice quiet but firm, ¡°but my strongest skills lie in swordsmanship and unarmed combat. I have also been trained in evasive maneuvers and reconnaissance.¡±


    Klarion nodded, his expression thoughtful. ¡°Reconnaissance. What does that entail, exactly?¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s brow furrowed as though she was considering how much to reveal. ¡°Gathering intelligence without being seen or heard. Tracking, stealth, observation. My f¡ª instructors emphasized adaptability in the field.¡±


    Klarion caught that she had been about to say something other than instructors, but he was not sure what. Not that it mattered at the moment. ¡°And your swordsmanship ¡ª how would you rate it? Compared to the other prospective bodyguards here?¡±


    He caught a flicker of pride passing over Hatsune¡¯s face, but she quickly banished it, returning to the look of guarded wariness she had been expressing when he had walked up. ¡°I was trained by some of the best swordsmen in my homeland. Among my peers, I am considered exceptional. Here, I would say I am in the upper ranks of skill, but it¡¯s hard for me to tell. They don¡¯t allow sparring. Too many chances for accidents, apparently.¡±


    She said the last almost regretfully like she wanted to test herself. Klarion tilted his head, considering. ¡°Modesty. A rare trait.¡±


    Hatsune narrowed her eyes slightly, uncertain whether he was mocking her. ¡°It¡¯s not modesty. It¡¯s truth. The Multiverse is vast, and there are always stronger opponents. Such might have made their way here as well.¡±


    Her words resonated with Klarion, though he did not say so aloud. Instead, he continued, now more curious than interrogative. ¡°You said you¡¯re adept at unarmed techniques. Elaborate on that.¡±


    This time, she answered without hesitation. ¡°Joint locks, grapples, pressure points. Techniques designed to disable or disarm an opponent. Despite my speed, my size is at a disadvantage in terms of raw strength against many, so I was trained to use an opponent¡¯s momentum and vulnerabilities against them.¡±


    Klarion nodded. Her responses had impressed so far, but he had one more he was curious about. ¡°An your lineage?¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched sharply, and her amber eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. She crossed her arms, standing straighter as if to shield herself from the weight of the question.


    ¡°My lineage?¡± she echoed, her tone clipped. ¡°That is none of your business.¡±


    Klarion raised an eyebrow but said nothing, giving her time to continue. He noticed then that she had a tail as well. It was flicking behind her, betraying tension.


    ¡°What matters is that my family will come for me,¡± she said firmly, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of defiance. ¡°No matter what circumstances brought me here, they will not abandon me. They will not forget me. They will find me. That is all I will say on the matter.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend ¡ª¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t,¡± she interrupted sharply, though her voice softened as she exhaled. ¡°But I won¡¯t speak of this again.¡±


    Klarion mulled over Hatsune¡¯s words. Her declaration about her family wasn¡¯t just a statement; it was a shield she wielded to defend herself from the vulnerability of her situation. At least, that was what he guessed it to be, given her side glances at the two scions that had been harassing her. He couldn¡¯t help but admire the strength it took to hold onto such conviction, especially in a place that seemed designed to strip prospective bodyguards of their agency. Her firm tone, the set of her jaw, and the glint in her eyes showed a fierce determination that seemed to define her. Yet, behind that strength, Klarion swore he could sense an ache ¡ª perhaps the fear that her faith in her family was all she had left. He wondered how she came to be here, in the Hall of Bonds.


    Finally, he asked, ¡°Do you want to bond with anyone here?¡±


    The Leporine stiffened, caught off guard by the directness of the question. She glanced away, her expression unreadable. ¡°Want is irrelevant. My duty is to survive. If a bond is what ensures that, even if it means serving another, then I will endure it.¡±


    Her response unsettled Klarion, though he didn¡¯t let it show. The idea of binding someone against their will felt wrong. But he also couldn¡¯t shake the heavy awareness of the other two scions that still lingered at his back. Though cowed, for now, their presence lingered like a pair of shadows, hovering too close and too eager. Though he couldn¡¯t see their faces, he could still feel their anticipation ¡ª sharp and predatory. He didn¡¯t need to guess what they would do if given the chance. As much as he still tried to forget it, he had met men like them before back on Earth. They had made their intentions toward Hatsune all too clear earlier, and the thought of her being subjected to their whims turned his stomach. No, he could not let that happen.


    ¡°What would you expect from the one you bond with?¡±


    Hatsune hesitated, her green eyes meeting his red-gold ones again. For the first time, there was a true flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. ¡°Strength. Integrity. Someone who will protect me, not use me, as I protect them.¡±


    The simplicity of her answer struck a chord in Klarion. He had no illusions about the kind of power dynamics that existed in the Hall of Bonds, even if Clarissa had insisted otherwise. But hearing her speak so plainly reminded him of the humanity ¡ª or beastkin nature, in her case ¡ª that he suspected often got lost here.


    Finally, Hatsune broke the silence.


    ¡°Why are you asking me all this?¡± she asked, her voice becoming cautious again.


    ¡°Because I want to know who I might bond with,¡± he said, straightening. ¡°And because I needed to hear your perspective, not just about your skills.¡±


    Her ears twitched again, this time in apparent surprise. ¡°Most scions don¡¯t care about that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not most scions,¡± Klarion replied simply.


    Hatsune studied him a moment longer, her eyes lingering on his scars, perhaps searching for hidden motives. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, however, as she said, ¡°Then maybe you¡¯re worth considering.¡±


    ¡°I will be back in a moment, then.¡±


    The marquis scion, who had been watching the exchange with growing irritation, stepped forward. His eyes burned with anger as he jabbed a finger at Klarion¡¯s chest. ¡°You have no right to barge in on our discussion! She¡¯s already caught my interest!¡±


    Klarion didn¡¯t even flinch. It was hard to feel any intimidation after the Storm Wolves he had fought not long ago. Instead, he looked at the other scion and spoke, his voice like steel, ¡°And what are you going to do about it?¡±


    The scion¡¯s hand dropped, and he took a step back, his confidence again leaving him. Klarion turned his back on him without another word and walked toward the central desk. He could hear fuming behind him, as well as angry whispers when the scion¡¯s compatriot apparently joined him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made my choice,¡± Klarion said to the attendant behind the desk, who looked up from a ledger she had been making notes in with a polite smile.


    ¡°You¡¯d like to bond with the Leporine?¡± she asked, glancing toward Hatsune¡¯s cell.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion confirmed.


    Before the attendant could respond, the angry whispers behind him cut off as the scion who had challenged him stormed up to the desk, his face flushed. ¡°I also wish to bond with her,¡± he declared loudly, his voice trembling with barely contained frustration.


    The attendant¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter as she turned to Hatsune¡¯s cell. ¡°As per protocol, the final decision lies with the prospective bond.¡±


    Tapping something on the desk, the pane of glass faded away from Hatsune¡¯s cell, almost like it hadn¡¯t existed in the first place. Despite not having heard what they had been saying, when all eyes turned to Hatsune, she looked between Klarion and the other scion. With quick strides, she came over to Klarion¡¯s side, stopping on the side farthest away from the other scion who had tried to make a bond with her.


    The other scion¡¯s face twisted in disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious! Don¡¯t you know who I am?! I am Chadwick Copperhand, heir of a Marquis!¡± he sputtered. Chadwick turned to Klarion. ¡°You will regret this,¡± he snarled, venom dripping from every word. ¡°Mark my words, you washed-up heir of a crumbling Archducal House. You will regret meddling in my affairs.¡±


    Klarion stood motionless, but Hatsune flinched at the other scion¡¯s words, her ears flattening. Chadwick¡¯s gaze was attracted by the movement, his eyes cold and filled with disdain. ¡°And you,¡± he spat. ¡°You dare reject me? You¡¯ll regret it more than he will.¡±


    When Hatsune hesitated again, her small movement back as much instinct as intention, Chadwick twitched as if he was about to move toward her.


    Klarion¡¯s hand rose to his sword, and with a single fluid motion, he unsheathed it just enough for the light of the room to gleam off its blade.


    ¡°Try it,¡± Klarion said, his voice once again filled with menace. Chadwick¡¯s hand darted to a pocket, but before he could pull out whatever he was reaching for, the attendant behind the desk barked an order.


    ¡°Enough!¡±


    Klarion felt a sudden pressure on his back, firm and unyielding. He glanced sideways and saw the glint of a white mask ¡ª a Sentinel.


    J-65¡¯s hand pressed firmly down against the hand he had lifted to the hilt of his greatsword, barring him from pulling the weapon further. ¡°That¡¯s quite enough, scion,¡± she said, her voice cool. ¡°You¡¯re in the Hall of Bonds, not a dueling ground.¡±


    Klarion relented, his hand releasing his weapon. Chadwick slowly pulled his hand from his pocket, his expression furious, but he didn¡¯t dare challenge the Sentinel either.


    With the immediate tension diffused in the face of J-65¡¯s arrival, the manager gestured toward the desk. ¡°Both of you, enough theatrics. We have documents to sign.¡±


    When the manager slid a thick parchment across the table, Klarion moved in close to see it appeared to be a contract detailed with intricate script and bordered with a seal that looked to depict a stylized Hall of Bonds.


    Klarion scanned the document, his brow lifting slightly. ¡°A bit¡­ elaborate, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The manager chuckled dryly, extending what looked to be an ink pad. ¡°The Imperial Academy, and the Empire, loves its record, scion. Everything must be documented. Makes disputes much easier to resolve. Now, the Mark of Bonds, then the both of you, place your thumbs on this line here.¡±


    Klarion handed over the Mark of Bonds, which the manager dissolved into the document somehow. He then leaned over to press his thumb against the ink, then against the document. His thumbprint shifted to form a perfect signature of his name. The same thing happened for Hatsune after she pressed her thumb down, her hand trembling slightly. The moment it was done, a faint golden glow surrounded the both of them and a screen appeared in his vision.


    Academy Assignment - Mark of Bonds: Your First Bodyguard (Complete)


    Congratulations, Scion Klarion Blacksword, and Bodyguard Heishi Hatsune. Your bond has been formally recognized and sealed under Imperial Regulation Code 42.3.1: Scion-Bodyguard Agreements.


    Scion Klarion Blacksword and Bodyguard Heishi Hatsune, you are now officially recognized as a bonded pair. May your partnership uphold the honor of the Empire and the legacy of your House and Line.


    By the will of the Empire, the Mark of Bonds is now active.


    As soon as he closed the screen, Chadwick¡¯s sneering face came back into view.


    ¡°Enjoy your little creature,¡± he spat, the word laced with contempt. ¡°You¡¯ll regret this decision, both of you.¡± Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off, dragging the other scion with him.


    J-65 watched Chadwick leave, her posture relaxed and she stepped away from Klarion, her hand coming free from his own. She turned to Hatsune, then back to Klarion.


    ¡°Not the strongest choice,¡± she said flatly, her tone unreadable.


    Hatsune bristled, her ears perking upright in indignation. ¡°And what is that supposed to mean?¡±


    Before the Sentinel could respond, Klarion interjected. ¡°She seemed right,¡± he said simply. ¡°And I couldn¡¯t leave her once I heard what Chadwick was saying.¡±


    J-65¡¯s head tilted again, though this time the movement seemed contemplative. ¡°That¡¯s a noble sentiment,¡± she replied, her tone now carrying the faintest edge of approval ¡ª or perhaps it was just the absence of disapproval. ¡°But nobility doesn¡¯t always lead to survival.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s lips turned up in a slight smile, having missed talking with the stoic Sentinel. ¡°Perhaps not. But it¡¯s a good place to start.¡±


    Hatsune looked between them, her gaze returning to Klarion. ¡°I don¡¯t need to be ¡®saved,¡¯¡± she said, her tone slightly indignant. ¡°I¡¯m capable of protecting myself.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± Klarion replied, trying to head off a potential argument based on her tone. ¡°But everyone can use an ally.¡±


    J-65 observed their exchange in silence, her head tilting slightly again as if weighing some unspoken thought. Finally, she straightened, her hands clasping behind her back. ¡°Your choice is made,¡± she said, her tone final. ¡°And I have duties to return to.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and began walking away. Hatsune¡¯s eyes followed her retreating figure, her ears flicking in annoyance before she turned back to Klarion.


    ¡°It is my job to protect you, you know. You didn¡¯t have to defend me,¡± she said after a pause, her voice quieter but still holding a note of defiance.


    ¡°I know,¡± Klarion said simply. ¡°But I chose to anyway.¡±


    Hatsune seemed to study him for a long moment before letting out a small huff. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to get used to that.¡±


    Klarion was not sure how to respond to what the Leporine had said, so the silence stretched between them as Klarion led the way back to the entrance of the Hall of Bonds.


    A raised voice pulled them both up short before they could exit.

 Chapter 52

    The Hearth & Ember. Ordran¡¯s place, remember? Great food, good atmosphere. Probably not too busy yet. What do you say?¡±


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The Hearth & Ember was uneventful, for which Klarion was grateful, but the whole walk Klarion found himself acutely aware of Hatsune¡¯s presence beside him. The rhythmic clink of her armor was a constant reminder that she was now part of his life, a reality he was still coming to terms with.


    The Hearth & Ember was just as empty as it had been the other time Klarion had been there. Ordran greeted them with a wide smile, his thick arms open in welcome as they came inside.

 Chapter 53

    It wasn¡¯t long into their walk that Klarion and his friends parted ways. Their apartments were a ways away from where he was staying, much like the majority of the other scions in their year. Perhaps in the future, he would look into a way to reclaim the buildings on either side of the Blacksword manor. He would have to ask them, of course, but the possibility of having his new friends living next door was one that he hoped worked out in the future. But that was a concern for later.


    With barely anyone else on the street they were walking down, Klarion adjusted his pace to walk beside Hatsune. The two of them were an odd pair, a fact made clear to him by the occasional glance and murmurs directed their way as they made their way to the Blacksword manor. For her part, Hatsune ignored the looks and comments directed her way, choosing instead to focus on their surroundings. Her eyes darted around, ears twisting here and there, tracking sounds that Klarion could not quite pick up. Klarion, still riding high on the fun that he had shared with Valdre and Redrek over their meal, tried to break the silence that hung awkwardly between them.


    ¡°So, Hatsune,¡± he began, glancing down at her as they made their way to the next street on their way back to his ¡ª their ¡ª quarters. ¡°What do you think of the Imperial Academy so far?¡±


    Her gaze landed on him for a moment before looking away again. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ big,¡± she replied curtly, her voice quiet and tinged with unease.


    Klarion chuckled lightly, hoping to ease her nerves. ¡°Big is an understatement. I¡¯m still getting lost in it myself. I¡¯ll probably have to rely on a map for weeks at this rate.¡±


    Hatsune offered no response, her posture remaining stiff and her eyes focused around them. Klarion frowned, not wanting their relationship to start off on a cold note. ¡°I know this is new ¡ª probably for both of us,¡± he said, trying again. ¡°But if there¡¯s anything you need, or if something feels off, you can tell me. I¡¯d like us to ¡ª¡±


    She interrupted him, her voice firmer than before. ¡°With all due respect, my lord, I¡¯d prefer to focus on my duties for now.¡±


    Her ears twitched again, and Klarion thought that it was a sign of her discomfort. He noticed that one of her hands was gripping the hilt of her new sword tightly. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with this place or its rules,¡± she continued. ¡°It¡¯s best if I concentrate on understanding the area and my role as your bodyguard.¡±


    The formal tone caught him off guard, and he blinked, processing her words. ¡°Ah¡­ of course,¡± he said after a moment, trying to mask his disappointment. He thought the Leporine had begun opening up over the dinner with his friends, but perhaps he had been mistaken. ¡°I understand. You¡¯re right to take this seriously.¡±


    Hatsune gave a small nod, and the two of them continued walking in silence.


    The path to where Klarion was staying wound through quieter parts of the campus, where the grandeur of the Imperial Academy felt less overwhelming as true night began to descend. The ornate architecture was still evident, with towering spires and carefully maintained gardens lining some of the walkways, but with the gradually fading noise of other students and their own bodyguards, Klarion was increasingly aware of the woman who walked at his side. Her demeanor was professional, though even with them now being by themselves there remained tension in her movements. She was on high alert, a stark contrast to Garran and Kael from earlier, let alone some of the other bodyguards they had already passed on their walk.


    He wanted to ask her more questions, to learn about her background and what had led to her becoming a prospective bodyguard at the House of Bonds, but he held back. It was clear to him she wasn¡¯t ready for that kind of questioning, and pressing her would only make things worse. Instead, he focused on their surroundings, taking in the quiet beauty of the campus as they neared his assigned quarters.


    When they arrived back at his manor, Klarion fished out his key and unlocked the heavy door at the entrance with a metallic clank. He held it for Hatsune to follow him inside, her eyes scanning the towering edifice of dark stone, its once-grand exterior weathered and faded. She stared closely at some of the windows, the glass bearing the grime of years of neglect. The air smelled faintly of damp earth and decay. He gestured for her to follow him inside.


    ¡°This is Blacksword Manor,¡± Klarion said, his tone tinged with embarrassment. He gestured broadly at the visibly dusty interior. ¡°Though it is not much to look at right now, I admit.¡±


    Hatsune glanced at him briefly before turning back to look at the dusty floors he had gestured at. ¡°Not much to look at¡­¡± she repeated quietly, though the distaste in her tone was hard to miss.


    Klarion chose to ignore it. There wasn¡¯t really anything he could do about the cleanliness of the manor for now, but if he had time tomorrow, perhaps he would start working on cleaning it up. Stepping deeper inside, Hatsune close behind him, it struck him again how stale the air was, and how it carried a faint scent of mildew. The Leporine woman stopped next to him, her nose wrinkling as she took in the smell.


    He let out a sheepish laugh. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s been a while since anyone lived here. At least that is my guess,¡± he admitted. ¡°I guess the Academy didn¡¯t make it a priority to keep things pristine.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s gaze kept sweeping over the room, her expression now neutral but her ears betrayed her unease as they flicked at every creak and groan of the old building. ¡°I assumed there would be more¡­ activity,¡± she said, her voice carefully measured. ¡°Where are the other servants?¡±


    Klarion winced slightly, running a hand through his hair. Even though he was still new to the whole nobility thing, even he knew that a manor like this would have a dozen staff, if not more, taking care of it. As soon as he had some more Service Coins, and a better idea of what the manor needed, he would make sure to get some people who could fix things up a bit. But that didn¡¯t really help in the here and now.


    ¡°Yeah, about that. Blackwood Manor doesn¡¯t currently have any staff. In fact, it¡¯s just¡­ well¡­ us.¡±


    They moved further into the manor, and the extent of its disrepair became more apparent to Klarion. Perhaps how tired he had been yesterday had blurred some of the details, but walking through with Hatsune by his side, he began to notice just how much work needed to be done to turn this place into a respectable residence. The grand staircase that dominated the main hall, which he had ignored yesterday, was covered in dust, and the chandelier above was missing more than a few crystals, causing it to hang lopsided. Every room they passed was no better: empty rooms filled with dust, and curtains that hung limply, faded by years of sunlight.


    Hatsune stopped in the doorway of what appeared to be an empty sitting room, her sharp eyes taking in the disarray. ¡°Why is the manor in this state?¡± she asked, her even tone giving way to curiosity.


    Klarion sighed, gesturing her to follow him as he continued down the hall. ¡°Apparently, it¡¯s a long story. One that I don¡¯t know all the details about yet. From what I was told, I am the first scion from House Blacksword to live in here in some time. Which means it will be on me to get the ball moving on putting this manor back together. Given how new I am to the Academy, I¡¯ll probably need some time to sort everything out.¡±


    Hatsune nodded slowly, her expression back to unreadable. She followed him into what appeared to be the dining room. Unlike many of the other rooms, there was furniture in it. A long table stretched the length of the space, its surface covered with dust as well. A complete set of chairs was also there, though the one at the head of the table leaned precariously on three legs. The missing leg was nowhere to be found.


    ¡°Are you planning to hire staff, then?¡±


    Klarion shrugged, brushing some dust off one of the chairs before sitting down after taking off the harness that held his greatsword. The chair shifted slightly underneath him, but it held his weight. ¡°Eventually, yes. But for now, it¡¯s just us. We¡¯ll just have to make do.¡±


    Hatsune remained standing, her posture rigid, and her hand remained tight on the hilt of her new sword. Whether her uneasiness was the result of the state of the manor or the lack of other people, Klarion was not able to tell.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not ideal,¡± he said, his tone apologetic. ¡°But it could be worse. The building seems to be sturdy, and once everything is cleaned up, there will be plenty of room. Plus, it¡¯s quiet and away from other scions like Chadwick.¡±


    Hatsune shifted at Chadwick¡¯s name, and she regarded him for a moment before nodding slightly. ¡°It will suffice,¡± she said, though her tone was less than enthusiastic. She looked like she was about to say something more, perhaps a complaint when it happened.


    A low, unmistakable growl came from Hatsune¡¯s stomach.


    Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her head away, muttering something Klarion could not quite pick up.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    Hatsune turned back to Klarion, her cheeks even brighter, ¡°Ignore it.¡±


    Klarion raised an eyebrow but kept his smile under control. ¡°That didn¡¯t sound like something I should ignore.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she insisted, folding her arms as if the action alone could silence her stomach¡¯s protests. ¡°Just ¡ª let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t eat enough at dinner, did you?¡±


    ¡°I can wait until tomorrow,¡± she said, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.


    ¡°No, you shouldn¡¯t have to,¡± Klarion said. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s get you something to eat.¡± He started walking, fully expecting her to follow.


    She hesitated, her feet rooted in place. ¡°That¡¯s not your responsibility,¡± she said, though her voice lacked conviction.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Klarion glanced back over his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re my bodyguard,¡± he said. ¡°If you¡¯re starving, you won¡¯t be able to do your job. So let¡¯s fix that.¡±


    With a reluctant sigh, Hatsune fell into step behind him. ¡°You¡¯re awfully persistent.¡±


    ¡°So I have been told,¡± Klarion replied, his tone light but firm. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±


    The oppressiveness of the manor¡¯s hallways began to fade as they came closer to the kitchen, where Klarion¡¯s previous visit had stirred the dust to settle closer to the walls. He opened the door of the kitchen and led Hatsune inside. Everything was as he had left it that morning.


    Klarion moved to the counter and began opening cabinets, searching for supplies. Hatsune lingered near the doorway, where she looked around as if she was unsure what to do.


    ¡°I, uh¡­ I¡¯m not much of a cook,¡± she admitted. ¡°I can manage basic things if I need to, but ¡ª¡±


    She stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Klarion shrugging off his school coat. He draped it over the back of a chair, leaving him in a simple shirt that clung to his muscled frame. As he reached up to a high cupboard, he knew the exact moment she caught sight of his arms, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Her breath hitched, and he could guess why.


    His forearms and hands were covered in scars, each telling a story of pain and survival. He could tell she hadn¡¯t expected it, even if the scars on his face had been a hint that he likely had more beneath his clothes.


    He tried to ignore her staring. ¡°I was thinking rice and fish. Sound good to you?¡± he asked casually, his focus on gathering together the ingredients he would need.


    Hatsune tore her gaze away, her ears twitching yet again as she tried to compose herself. ¡°Y-yes, that¡¯s fine.¡±


    Klarion smiled over his shoulder. ¡°Great. Why don¡¯t you take a seat? I¡¯ll handle the cooking.¡±


    For a moment, the Leporine hesitated, unsure if she should offer to help. But the determined look on his face dissuaded her. She moved to the table, brushing dust off a chair before sitting. From her spot, she watched as Klarion worked with an easy rhythm, moving about the kitchen as though he had done this countless times.


    He measured out rice into a pot and filled it with water, setting it on the stove. Then he retrieved a small bundle of wrapped fish from an icebox, unwrapping it carefully. He began seasoning it, adding a pinch of salt and a dusting of herbs he had found in a cupboard.


    While he worked, Hatsune¡¯s gaze drifted back to his arms. The scars were so numerous and varied, that they looked almost like a patchwork. Her thoughts swirled with questions she didn¡¯t dare voice. What had caused them? How had he endured so much?


    Klarion, focused on cooking, was oblivious to her renewed scrutiny. He turned on the stove and began heating a skillet, adding a small amount of oil. Once it was hot enough, which took a surprisingly short time, he placed the fish in the pan. The sizzle filled the kitchen, and a savory aroma began to waft through the air.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I know a bit about cooking,¡± he said with a grin, glancing briefly at Hatsune. ¡°Otherwise, we¡¯d both be stuck eating cold rations or something equally depressing.¡±


    Hatsune forced a small smile, though her mind was still on his scars. ¡°Did you learn to cook out of necessity?¡± she asked, hoping to steer her thoughts away.


    Klarion nodded as he flipped the fish. ¡°Yeah. My mother used to say that a man should be able to take care of himself, no matter where he ends up.¡±


    She watched as he moved between the stove and counter, his movements fluid and efficient. Despite the scars, there was a grace to him she hadn¡¯t noticed before. He seemed at ease here, in this kitchen, as if it was one of the few places where he could truly relax.


    The rice finished cooking, and Klarion removed it from the stove, fluffing it with a fork. He plated the fish and rice, arranging them neatly before bringing them over to the Leporine.


    ¡°Here you go,¡± he said, placing it in front of Hatsune. ¡°Hope you like it.¡±


    She looked down at the simple meal. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her tone genuine. She picked up the fork he¡¯d set beside the plate and took a tentative bite of the fish. The flavors were well-balanced, the seasoning enhancing the natural taste without overpowering it.


    ¡°This is¡­ pretty good,¡± she admitted after she swallowed.


    Klarion grinned, returning to where he had been cooking to begin cleaning up. ¡°Glad you like it.¡±


    She ate in relative silence, the clinking of her fork against the plate the only sound in the room apart from Klarion¡¯s scrubbing. For the first time since coming into the manor, Klarion thought Hatsune seemed almost comfortable. As she finished eating, he put the pot upside down to dry.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure out a proper system for meals in the manor, but for now, I¡¯m happy to cook.¡± He returned to the table, only to see Hatsune with a strange look on her face.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ a bit surprised.¡± At his gesture, she continued. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Imperial nobles ever did things like cooking for themselves, let alone others.¡±


    Klarion smiled, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table, noting how her eyes drifted down to his scars as he did so. ¡°I get that. I guess you could say I¡¯m not a typical noble.


    ¡±Where would a noble even learn to cook?¡± she asked. ¡°Some expensive academy? A private chef?¡±


    Klarion shook his head with a chuckle. It was almost funny how people continued to assume things about him. ¡°Nothing like that. You know how I said my mother said a man should know how to cook?¡± At her nod, he continued. ¡°Well, my mother was the one who taught me ¡ª or at least, the woman I thought was my mother. It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±


    The feeling he had had about Hatsune earlier returned. Despite his focus on keeping his background as secret as possible from the other scions of the Imperial Academy, something was telling him that he could, he should, trust the Leporine woman. After all, if he couldn¡¯t trust a bodyguard bound to him by a Mark of Bonds, who could he trust?


    Hatsune¡¯s ears perked up at his choice of words. ¡°You thought she was your mother?¡±


    Klarion looked down at his scarred hands resting on the table. Nothing for it now. He would just have to trust his gut. ¡°I grew up so far outside the Empire, I¡¯m not even sure how to put it into a context you would understand,¡± he admitted, his voice softer. ¡°Far from anything resembling nobility. My ¡®mother¡¯ ¡ª or at least the woman who helped raise me ¡ª taught me to cook because it was something we enjoyed doing together.¡±


    Hatsune stared at him, trying to reconcile the image of this man with strange eyes ¡ª a scion who had nearly drawn his sword in her defense ¡ª with the life he described.


    ¡°Outside the Empire?¡± she asked cautiously. ¡°Where exactly?¡±


    Klarion shrugged. ¡°Like I said, I don¡¯t know how to explain where. It was different than all this though,¡± he said, gesturing at everything around them, which Hatsune took to mean the Academy itself. ¡°It was a place without classes, without magic, without the System. When I came here and learned about scions and all the rest¡­ Honestly, I¡¯m still figuring it all out.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s lips parted slightly in surprise, but she quickly shut them. What he was saying sounded impossible ¡ª how could a scion grow up without magic? Without access to the System? But there was something in Klarion¡¯s tone, in the quiet sincerity with which he spoke, that made her believe him.


    ¡°So¡­ this scion thing,¡± she said after a long moment. ¡°It¡¯s new to you?¡±


    ¡°Completely,¡± Klarion said with a laugh. ¡°Some days, I feel like I¡¯m playing a role I barely understand. There are rules, expectations¡­ and I¡¯m just trying to make it through without making a fool of myself. Or becoming a target for some enemy of House Blacksword.¡±


    She looked down at his scars again, and he curled his fingers into fists. ¡°And the scars across your body?¡± she asked hesitantly. ¡°Are they also from where you came from?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, then reached out to take her empty plate and fork. ¡°But that¡¯s a story for another night.¡± He stepped back over to the sink to clean them.


    ¡°It¡¯s just hard to imagine,¡± she said, as he stood up. ¡°A noble who doesn¡¯t act like one. Who doesn¡¯t look down on people like me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s a good thing,¡± he said, scrubbing the dish. ¡°I¡¯d rather be someone who understands what it¡¯s like to struggle than someone who takes everything for granted.¡±


    As he was finishing up, Hatsune surprised him by coming up next to him by the sink. She picked up a clean towel that he had set out and began to dry what he had just cleaned. Once he was done with her plate, she gestured for him to hand it over. After drying it as well, she returned it from where Klarion had gotten it.


    ¡°Thanks for helping,¡± he said.


    Hatsune shrugged, though a faint blush had returned to her cheeks. ¡°It¡¯s only fair. You cooked, and cleaned the dishes after all.¡±


    ¡°True. Maybe next time, we¡¯ll switch roles.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not much of a cook.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯ll be a learning experience,¡± he responded lightly.


    With the last dish now dry, Klarion stretched his arms over his head, yawning, before glancing down at Hatsune who was now standing awkwardly. Not wanting her to grow uncomfortable again, he said, ¡°I think I¡¯m going to call it a night.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a good idea,¡± she replied, though she seemed almost hesitant.


    ¡±You should get some rest too. There are plenty of rooms in this place ¡ª take your pick. It¡¯s not exactly luxurious, but I¡¯m sure we can make it more comfortable in the coming days.¡°


    Hatsune¡¯s response was immediate, her back straightening. ¡°No, I can¡¯t do that,¡± she said firmly, her eyes meeting his. ¡°It¡¯s my duty to stay close to you. To protect you. It is all I have right now.¡±


    Klarion blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in her voice. ¡°Hatsune, you don¡¯t have to ¡ª¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°It¡¯s why I agreed to be your bodyguard.¡±


    Her explicit reference to her choice stirred an uncomfortable knot of anger in his chest. He couldn¡¯t help but think back to the Hall of Bonds, to the dismissive and predatory way Chadwick had spoken about her. Had spoken to her. It was a good thing he hadn¡¯t run into Chadwick after dinner. He pushed the thought aside.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said after considering his response. ¡°If that¡¯s what you¡¯re comfortable with. There¡¯s a couch in my room. It¡¯s not ideal, but it¡¯s close and you¡¯ll have a place to sleep.¡±


    Hatsune stood, posture still tense, as if bracing for some kind of reprimand. When none came, she gave a small nod. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s chest tightened at her reaction, but he didn¡¯t let it show. Instead, he led the way out of the kitchen and through the halls towards the room where he had slept last night. When he opened the door, it was exactly how he had left it that morning.


    Hatsune looked around the room, taking in every detail before she moved toward the couch. She paused, glancing back at Klarion as though seeking permission.


    ¡°It¡¯s all yours,¡± Klarion said with a small smile, then tossed her a spare blanket. ¡°I¡¯ll be over here, snoring loud enough to scare away any intruders.¡±


    The corner of Hatsune¡¯s mouth twitched, almost forming a smile before she put her back to him. She reached up to unclasp the straps of her scale mail, the sound of metal shifting and leather creaking breaking the silence. Klarion¡¯s gaze immediately went to the most interesting corner he had ever seen. It was simply amazing how perfectly it had been made. Yep. Perfect.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just¡­ give you a moment,¡± he said, face heating.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± Hatsune replied, her tone unconcerned. ¡°I do this every day.¡±


    Was she teasing him? He glanced back over his shoulder, catching sight of her long silver hair falling over her back, the curves of her form outlined subtly beneath the padded tunic she wore under the armor. When she tentatively reached for that as well, Klarion spun and crossed the room, almost throwing himself into his bed, pausing only to kick off his boots and pull off his own clothes as quickly as he could. In moments, he was safely beneath his sheets. He was relieved, and somewhat disappointed, that Hatsune was also done undressing and under her blanket as well.


    ¡°Hatsune?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± she said, turning under the blanket to face him.


    ¡°I know you take your duty seriously, and I respect that,¡± he began. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to be on edge around me. I¡¯m not¡­ like those other nobles. You¡¯re a person, and I want you to feel safe too.¡±


    The Leporine¡¯s eyes widened slightly, and she stared at him for a long minute. He thought he had upset her somehow when she eventually nodded.


    Klarion ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Alright. Goodnight, Hatsune,¡± he said, sinking deeper into the bed, and pulling the blanket over himself.


    ¡°Goodnight, Lord Klarion,¡± she replied, her voice low.


    As the room fell into silence, Klarion stared at the ceiling, his thoughts churning. He couldn¡¯t shake the image of Hatsune¡¯s tense posture, the way she had braced herself for something unpleasant when she insisted on staying close to him. And then to disrobe so casually in his presence. It probably was a cultural thing, but it still made him wonder just how much she had been through to cause her to act as she had since she had become his bodyguard.


    His hand clenched around the edge of the blanket. He couldn¡¯t change her past, but he could make sure that her future was different.


    With that thought, Klarion closed his eyes in search of sleep.

 Chapter 54 (Interlude 6)

    Hatsune lay on the couch in Klarion¡¯s room, listening as the soft sounds of the scion¡¯s breathing filled the space. The faint light of the moon spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the sparsely furnished room. Despite the quiet, her mind was far from peaceful. The whirlwind of the day, her unexpected change in circumstances, and the lingering sting of recent events weighed heavily on her thoughts.


    She adjusted her position on the couch, fingers reaching down to trace the worn hilt of the long sword that rested beside the couch. It was a serviceable weapon ¡ª functional, and sharp enough for most purposes ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t hers. It wasn¡¯t the sword that had been at her side for years, a gift from her mother, forged by the finest smiths of her homeworld. The memory of how it felt in her hand, how it practically sang as she moved it through her forms, was as sharp in her mind as the blade itself had been. She grasped the hilt beside her. It was in a completely different style, but she would have to get used to it. Her old weapon was lost to her now.


    Only weeks ago, her life had been entirely different. She had been far from the oppressive grandeur of the Imperial Academy, back on her homeworld, Hanashobu. She had been visiting a village on the frontier of her family¡¯s lands, a small settlement nestled against the base of a mountain. It was a place of quiet resilience, one she enjoyed visiting, where the people fought daily against the encroaching wilderness and the ever-present threat of marauders. But it had been free of the court politics she so despised. So she seized every chance she could to go there.


    Hatsune¡¯s escort, a small but competent group of guards assigned to her by her family, had been delayed by other duties. Against their judgment, she had insisted on going ahead, eager to get to the village and catch up with the people who lived there. She had arrived without incident, and the headman, a wiry old Leporine with a spark of mischief lingering from younger days, had led her around the village showing off recent improvements that had been constructed as a result of a prosperous year.


    Hatsune had enjoyed the visit even more than she had expected. The simplicity of their lives, and their determination to thrive in the harsh environment near the base of the mountain, had been refreshing after so long being paraded around court for potential suitors. Men who cared far more about the ties to her family than her as a woman.


    The hilt of the sword began to creak under her grip, so she released it, not wanting to wake Klarion.


    She remembered the children darting around her, their laughter echoing through the air as they played games in the muddy streets. Mothers, thankful for all that her family did for them, here out on the frontier, offered her small gifts ¡ª freshly baked bread, a woven bracelet, a basket of herbs. She had taken it all, as was expected, but the thanks she had voiced in response to each thing she was handed had been genuine.


    She remembered the headman showing her the village¡¯s improved defenses, modest but well-crafted. New wooden palisades had been constructed around the settlement, and watchtowers had been set to overlook the surrounding approaches to the village gates, all in response to the recent troubles in the region. She had been standing at the base of one of those watchtowers when the attack came.


    She rolled on her side, pulling the blanket in tighter.


    The first warning had been a sharp whistle, the sound of an arrow slicing through the air. It struck the ground at her feet. Chaos erupted in an instant. Villagers screamed, scrambling for cover as more arrows began to fall. The headman had grabbed her, seeking to rush her to safety, but she had shrugged off his grip. She had drawn her sword without hesitation, the familiar weight of it steadying her amidst the panic.


    She had cut down the first attacker to make it through the gate. He had been a Caprine dressed in the colors of one of the mountain bandit clans, his cloven hooves kicking up the mud behind him as he tossed his horned head back to bay a warcry. Despite his large size, it had taken only a single slash to remove his head from his shoulders. The second Caprine had fallen just as quickly. She could still remember the brief resistance as her thrust took him through the chest.


    But there had been too many.


    The Caprine had moved with brutal efficiency, overwhelming the village¡¯s defenses in minutes. Hatsune had fought desperately, her blade flashing in ever-tightening blows to protect those few villagers who had gathered in the headman¡¯s house behind her. After the seventh Carpine¡¯s lifeless body collapsed at her feet, a group of five had disarmed her. A swift strike to her wrist had sent her sword into the muck at her feet, and before she could even attempt to retrieve it, strong hands had wrenched her arms behind her back. She could still feel the ropes they had bound her with. She could still hear how they had called her a pretty prize.


    Hatsune clenched her jaw at the memory, her fingers gripping the fabric of the blanket that covered her.


    They had taken her, along with dozens of villagers, loading them into crude wagons. They had bragged about the slavers¡¯ markets and how much money they would make. The humiliation of being paraded as chattel still made her stomach turn. Most of the villagers captured alongside her had been sold off at a Caprine auction within days. She remembered watching, helpless, as families had been split apart, their cries of protest silenced with cruel efficiency. The majority had been simple folk: farmers, laborers, and a few untrained members of the militia who had survived the attack. To the slavers, they were commodities to be sold quickly to anyone who could afford them ¡ª merchants, plantation owners, or nobles looking for expendable servants.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    But her fate had been different.


    The slaver in charge, a broad-shouldered Caprine with two massive, black curved horns, had used some orb that she suspected held some sort of inspection enchantment. She hadn¡¯t known what to make of it at the time, but the result soon became clear. Unlike the others, who were shoved onto platforms and sold in groups, she had been set aside as some exotic prize. Eventually, she was sold to an Imperial ¡ª a stout man in finely tailored robes who had an air of disinterest the entire time she had been in his presence. The transaction had been quick, the Caprine practically throwing her at the man once he handed over a large pouch of coins. The Imperial had barely acknowledged her before leading her to another set of wagons.


    He had sold her again within days.


    After that, time lost all meaning. Days blurred into nights as she was shuffled from one place to another, her surroundings changing too often and too abruptly for her to anchor herself. Sometimes she was kept in cramped, dimly lit rooms, her meals sparse and her sleep restless. Later, she was transported in a wooden carriage with barred windows, the outside world visible only in fleeting glimpses of forests and unfamiliar towns.


    The faces of her captors changed as often as the scenery. Some spoke in harsh, clipped tones, while others avoided addressing her altogether, treating her as nothing more than a commodity to be delivered. She stopped counting the transactions, each one reducing her further in her own eyes. How many times had she had changed hands? It became a question without an answer.


    When she finally arrived at what she later learned was the Imperial Academy, she was too drained to make sense of her new surroundings. The grandeur of the place was starkly at odds with the journey that had brought her there, but she had been too tired, too scared to care.


    Soon after her arrival, she had been ushered into the Hall of Bonds. It was there that the reality of her situation had been laid out, and surprisingly enough, it had involved her making a choice. The first option was the Mark of Bonds, binding her as a bodyguard to one of the Academy¡¯s scions. It had been presented as a position of honor, her skills making her a potentially valuable asset. The alternative was the Arena ¡ª a brutal proving ground where fighters battled for survival. The Arena carried the promise of glory for the victors and death for those unprepared.


    It was a false choice. Without a class, she knew she would have been little more than fodder in the Arena. So she chose the bond over the sands, survival over spectacle. Yet, as the days passed, the decision felt more like a reprieve. The first scions that had come in search of potential bodyguards had been ambitious and cruel.


    She could still picture Chadwick¡¯s sneering face, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he had evaluated her. He and his fellow scion had stood so close to her cell in the Hall of Bonds, arms crossed, postures exuding lazy confidence that filled her with unease. Chadwick¡¯s gaze had lingered on her like a predator stalking prey. He had regarded her not as a person but as an object. The sadistic delight she sensed as he looked at her had made her stomach lurch. It was a look she recognized ¡ª primal, predatory, like the wild monsters her father had hunted on their land so long ago. Only this time, she was the one hunted, and there was not one who would come to save her. Confronted with a human that embodied the same twisted cruelty, she had felt powerless.


    But then Klarion appeared.


    While the two scions had stood near her cell, their laughter sharp and cruel, she had seen him approach. Chadwick had spoken of her as though she was a commodity, making vile jokes about ¡°breaking¡± her or keeping her as a plaything. Yet, it wasn¡¯t their words that lingered most but Klarion¡¯s response. She remembered how he strode toward them, his fists clenched and his stance heavy with restrained fury. Unlike the other scions, Klarion hadn¡¯t joined in their mockery. Instead, he had confronted them, his commanding presence forcing them to retreat without ever drawing his blade. Then, he turned to her. How those red-gold eyes of his had caused the rest of the world to fall away. Though his questions had been direct, he hadn¡¯t treated her as a tool or object.


    He didn¡¯t fit the mold of what she expected scions to be ¡ª there was an earnestness to him, a sincerity that caught her off guard. He had treated her with unexpected kindness, offering her food and shelter without the sneering condescension she had come to expect from Imperial scions. The scars on his arms, the quiet way he carried himself ¡ª it all hinted at a past far removed from the privileged life of a noble. But that only made him more of an enigma, and Hatsune did not like mysteries.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft rustling of the blanket he had draped over himself as he shifted in his sleep. Her eyes darted to his sleeping form. She couldn¡¯t help but notice how his face softened in sleep, the tension that was usually in his posture and expression gone for the moment. It was hard to reconcile the Klairon she had met ¡ª the one who intervened on her behalf at the Hall of Bonds ¡ª with the one who was now so¡­ vulnerable in sleep.


    Her father¡¯s voice echoed in her head. ¡°Not all who offer help are friends. Beware the shadow wyrms disguised as silver griffins.¡±


    She stared at the sleeping scion. The steady rise and fall of his chest in the dim light gave him an almost serene appearance, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead making him look younger than he did when he was awake. No, Klarion didn¡¯t feel like a shadow wyrm. If anything, he felt like a man trying to find his place in a world that didn¡¯t quite fit him.


    Hatsune still wasn¡¯t sure what to make of him, especially after the strangeness of his behavior after he had brought her to the Blacksword manor. Cooking for her? Speaking to her as though she were an equal? Offering her a place to rest without the thinly veiled threats or leers she had come to expect from those in his position? It was confusing, disarming even.


    Her ears twitched as she tore her eyes from Klarion to look around the room. The dusty furnishings, the lack of servants, the sparse decorations ¡ª it didn¡¯t fit the image of a privileged scion. Klarion didn¡¯t fit the image of a privileged scion. There was more to him than met the eye, and while that made him intriguing, it also made him unpredictable.


    Hatsune¡¯s thoughts slowly drifted away, but still, despite the soft pull of slumber, one ear stayed fixed on Klarion¡¯s form.

 Chapter 55 (Interlude 7)

    The Brightcoin Faction Dinner was an event unlike any Chadwick had ever witnessed, a showcase of opulence so extreme it verged on the absurd. As he stepped into the banquet hall, the grandeur was almost overwhelming. Chandeliers of enchanted crystal hung from vaulted ceilings, bathing the space in golden light that reflected off gilded walls and marble floors polished to an unnerving gleam. Every surface screamed of excess, as if the Brightcoin scions that lived here felt the need to flaunt their wealth with every breath they took.


    Chadwick couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of disdain as his eyes swept over the room. Long tables groaned under the weight of extravagant platters: roasted game, exotic fruits, and pastries so intricate they looked like miniature sculptures. The mingling scents of spice, incense, and most of all indulgence, hung heavy in the air. He¡¯d seen lavish displays before, as the scion of a Marquis¡¯ House of course he had, but this was a performance ¡ª a spectacle designed not just to impress, but to cow. Of course, had he been in the position of the heirs of House Brightcoin, he would have taken the same approach to his fellow scions.


    Most of the scions of nobility that were present as a part of the Brightcoin Faction filled the hall like preening peacocks, each clad in attire so ostentatious it bordered on theatrical. All were human and, being outside class hours, it was a rare scion who hadn¡¯t taken to wearing a silken gown, an embroidered jacket, or jewelry that signified the wearer as an elite of Imperial society with ties to House Brightcoin. Conversations buzzed around him, a steady stream of laughter and carefully measured words underscored by the soft strains of a string ensemble tucked away in a corner.


    Against the walls, bodyguards of the various scions stood like silent sentinels, their presence a grim counterpoint to the revelry. Chadwick¡¯s gaze lingered on those nearest to him, noting their varied armor and expressions ¡ª or lack thereof. Most stood rigid, their gazes scanning the room with a practiced detachment. But one shadow elf in dark leathers seemed different, his movements fluid and his sharp eyes never lingering too long in one place. Chadwick smirked; it was the kind of vigilance he appreciated, a reminder that beneath the Brightcoin glamour lay the same cutthroat pragmatism that ruled all politics in the Empire.


    While he quickly grew bored with watching most of the sycophants around him, he had to give it to Caspian Brightcoin: he had good taste in entertainment. The performers flitted through the hall, their presence a deliberate distraction. Dancers of various elven races in bejeweled costumes moved with almost ethereal grace, veils shimmering as they wove hypnotically through the groups of scions. But it was the illusionist who was his favorite. He commanded the center of the room, conjuring scenes of mythical battles and golden dragons with smoke and light. The nearest scions gasped and applauded, their attention wholly absorbed, but Chadwick did his best to remain focused on why he was here tonight.


    The doors on the far end of the hall opened, and Caspian Brightcoin swept in. Chadwick noted the shift in the room immediately: the way conversations faltered, laughter quieted, and all attention turned toward the scion whose future was to command the glittering empire of coin and commerce that was House Brightcoin. Caspian¡¯s presence was undeniable, his emerald-green coat trimmed with gold and adorned with gemstone buttons that caught the light with every step. The man exuded confidence, his every movement measured and deliberate, his gaze sweeping the hall like a merchant tallying the coins he was about to earn.


    Chadwick¡¯s lips curled into a sardonic smile as he watched Caspian¡¯s entrance. His fellow scion was playing a role, just like the illusionist, though admittedly with far greater skill. Caspian¡¯s voice carried effortlessly across the room, his words smooth and calculated to disarm while asserting dominance. Scions responded with murmurs of approval and raised glasses, eager to curry favor. Chadwick joined in, of course, but he paid little attention to what was being said. Meaningless platitudes.


    Chadwick¡¯s wine glass lingered at his lips, though he didn¡¯t drink again. While his gaze, sharp and calculating, continued to drift around the room, his thoughts had begun to drift ¡ª to a new rival that he had not expected to make so soon into his time at the Academy.


    Klarion of House Blacksword. The bastard.


    The name conjured an immediate heat of resentment that simmered beneath Chadwick¡¯s practiced composure. By no means the only scion he had his eyes on, most were but beginning to play their games of wealth and influence, while Klarion had struck at him in a far more personal way ¡ª by stealing the prize that he had meant to claim for himself.


    Hatsune. The bunnykin.


    Just the thought of her sent a shiver down Chadwick¡¯s spine, an unsettling mix of hunger and frustration twisting in his chest. She was exquisite ¡ª soft ears, delicate features, a lithe and elegant figure that seemed to deft the mundane. Her kind was rare within the Empire, a living treasure of beauty and allure, her very presence radiating an exotic charm that drew his eye and quickened his pulse.


    He had been captivated the moment he¡¯d seen her, unable to look away as his mind raced with all the delicious possibilities. Not just her utility ¡ª though he was sure that, with the proper training, as a bodyguard she would be an enviable prize ¡ª but her beauty. She wasn¡¯t just an asset but a fantasy made flesh.


    But Klarion had taken her.


    Even now the thought was unbearable. Chadwick¡¯s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms as he seethed in silence. Klarion didn¡¯t deserve her. He wouldn¡¯t, he couldn¡¯t, appreciate her the way Chadwick would. He wouldn¡¯t understand what it was to own something so perfect. A bunnykin like her wasn¡¯t meant to guard some scion from a half-dead house; she was meant to be adorned, flaunted, and used by someone like him.


    The ache in Chadwick¡¯s chest grew sharper, tinged with a dark, possessive fury. Klarion might have won this time, but he was not one to accept defeat lightly. That bunnykin belonged to him. She just didn¡¯t know it yet. And if he had to take her ¡ª through charm, cunning, or force ¡ª he would make her his. Or she would belong to no one.


    Yes, Klarion¡¯s victory was a temporary one, he vowed. The bastard might have the bunnykin now, but nothing was ever truly secure in this world of shifting alliances and hidden knives. There were ways to reclaim what was his. Hopefully, tonight would afford such an opportunity to gain support. Otherwise, he just had to wait for the right moment, the right weakness, to strike.


    And when that moment came, Chadwick wouldn¡¯t simply take his bunnykin back. He would ensure that Klarion, for all his audacity, learned the cost of crossing a House on the rise.


    A butler announced that dinner was ready to be served, and Chadwick joined the press of scions making their way to the nearby dining hall. Mind still consumed with thoughts of revenge, he sat without a word in the seat a servant directed him to. The platter placed before him revealed a thick, marbled steak seared to perfection, glistening with golden herbs and a drizzle of fiery emberroot glaze. Beside it was a medley of roasted carrots and potatoes, their hues a striking blend of silver and deep indigo, seasoned with a crystalline salt even he did not know the provenance of. The aroma was nothing short of intoxicating, but the smell faded into the air as he gripped his steak knife.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    He stabbed the meat with deliberate force, then began to hack into small, bite-sized pieces. Around him, the room buzzed with renewed polite conversation and muted laughter, but all Chadwick could see was Klarion¡¯s face underneath his knife as he worked it across his plate.


    While he turned the meat into ever smaller pieces, his friend, Rondale Harvestfell, a son of a baron near his own family¡¯s territory, came to sit beside him. Dressed in subdued finery befitting Harvestfell¡¯s agricultural roots, he leaned closer to whisper.


    ¡°Chadwick,¡± Rondale said with concern, ¡°I fear for your dinner. Surely, that steak hasn¡¯t wronged you enough to deserve such punishment?¡±


    Chadwick ignored him, slicing another piece of meat with savage precision.


    ¡°Ah, the silent treatment,¡± Rondale mused, picking up his glass of wine. ¡°A sure sign that something ¡ª or someone ¡ª has gotten under your skin. Tell me, old friend. What is bothering the scion of House Copperhand this evening?¡±


    At this, Chadwick paused, his knife hovering over his plate. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he considered unleashing his thoughts. Then he resumed his attack on his meal.


    Undeterred, Rondale leaned closer. ¡°Come now, Chadwick. The way you¡¯re glaring at that steak, one might think you¡¯re imagining it as someone else¡¯s throat. Am I close?¡±


    Chadwick¡¯s knife slammed down onto the table, the sudden clatter drawing a few curious glances from nearby scions. He exhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the plate as though summoning the will to respond without exploding.


    ¡°I was outmaneuvered,¡± Chadwick growled, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. ¡°By that bastard of House Blacksword. Klarion. That scion of a half-dead House stole what was rightfully mine.¡±


    The name rippled through the air like a thrown stone breaking the surface of a still pond. Scions in nearby seats began to listen more closely, their conversations faltering as their attention shifted to the unfolding drama. Rondale himself leaned in closer.


    ¡°And what, pray tell, did the Blacksword steal from you?¡± Rondale asked, his tone filled with curiosity.


    Chadwick¡¯s fists clenched against the tablecloth. ¡°Not what ¡ª who. The bunnykin. Hatsune.¡±


    Recognition flickered in Rondale¡¯s eyes. ¡°Ah, you are still upset about the bunnykin bodyguard? I¡¯ll admit, she was a rare find. Agile, deadly, and ¡ª how did you put it? ¡ª ¡®A vision of lethal beauty.¡¯¡±


    Chadwick nodded grimly, fists grinding the fabric of the tablecloth together between his fingers. ¡°She was perfect. I had her within my grasp. I made it clear she was mine. And yet, Klarion¡­¡± He trailed off, unable to give voice to the rest through the fury building in his throat.


    Rondale tilted his head, staring at him. ¡°And yet, Klarion took her from you,¡± the baron¡¯s son concluded for him.


    ¡°No,¡± Chadwick snapped, his voice rising slightly. ¡°He did not take her, he outright stole her! Wrenched her from my grasp in the most humiliating manner possible. And worse, that son of a dying House defied me in public!¡±


    Rondale did not smile, but Chadwick swore that there was a trace of mirth in his friend¡¯s eyes. ¡°And yet, here we are, dining peacefully. No challenge issued, no retribution taken. Why is that?¡±


    Chadwick¡¯s face darkened further. ¡°Because that Sentinel intervened. She stopped me before I could act!¡±


    At the head of the table, Caspian Brightcoin¡¯s smooth voice cut through the growing murmurs. ¡°Chadwick,¡± he said with an amused smile, ¡°while your passion is commendable, I suggest tempering it with patience. The Academy is a place where fortunes rise and fall swiftly. There will be opportunities for you to reclaim what you¡¯ve lost ¡ª and to remind Klarion Blacksword of his station.¡±


    The murmurs of agreement that followed helped abate Chadwick¡¯s anger. As the room¡¯s lively atmosphere of indulgence and wealth began to settle, Caspian rose to his feet. With his glass of wine in hand, he swept his gaze across the gathered scions of his faction, his expression shifting to one of disdainful irritation.


    ¡°I must say,¡± Caspian began, his voice smooth but filled with a hint of anger, ¡°it is becoming increasingly tiresome to hear about this latest scion of House Blacksword. We are the Brightcoin Faction,¡± he continued. ¡°We are the arbiters of power, the architects of wealth, the guardians of tradition in this sector of the Empire. And yet, it appears a certain other believes he can act with impunity, despite his House barely surviving off past glories.¡±


    The room stilled, no other scion daring to breathe, let alone comment, on the Brightcoin scion¡¯s angry words about House Blacksword.


    ¡°Take, for example,¡± Caspian continued in the silence, ¡°this little incident that scion Copperhand mentions.¡± He paused for effect, allowing his words to ripple through the room. ¡°House Blacksword is a House in decline. A relic of a bygone era. And yet Klarion has the audacity to challenge one of our own ¡ª my faction ¡ª and walk away with his prize.¡±


    Chadwick¡¯s heart raced faster. This was it. This is what he was hoping for.


    ¡°This¡­ bunnykin,¡± Caspian continued, his tone sharp, ¡°will serve as a message. A warning to all other first-year scions that would dare to test us.¡± Caspian smirked, a glint of malice in his eyes clear for all to see. ¡°The Brightcoin Faction is not to be trifled with. And what better way to demonstrate that than by removing a piece from the game?¡±


    The gathered scions reacted with varying degrees of shock and intrigue. Some gasped, while others leaned forward eagerly, their eyes alight with the thrill of intrigue and cruelty. Chadwick, however, felt a surge of exhilaration. Caspian¡¯s words, though terrifying in what they implied, also carried an undeniable appeal ¡ª they gave Chadwick the power to act.


    ¡°I will leave the specifics to you, Chadwick,¡± Caspian said, turning his piercing gaze directly on him. ¡°After all, it is your honor that was affronted. Make it clear to everyone at the Academy that those who stand against the Brightcoin Faction do so at their peril.¡±


    Slowly, a smile began to spread across Chadwick¡¯s face. He set his glass down deliberately, his movements steady. ¡°Thank you, Lord Caspian,¡± he said, inclining his head. ¡°I won¡¯t disappoint you.¡±


    Caspian gave a satisfied nod and returned to his seat. ¡°See that you don¡¯t.¡±


    The room erupted into a mixture of laughter and applause, the gathered scions swept up in the energy of Caspian¡¯s declaration and Chadwick¡¯s determination. Bodyguards and servants gathered along the walls or moving about in service to the scions of Brightcoin¡¯s Faction did not react at the shift in focus of the young lords and ladies. The conversation turned to the logistics of the plan. Suggestions were made ¡ª some practical, others laced with dark humor.


    ¡°Perhaps poison,¡± one young noblewoman suggested with a sly smile. ¡°A slow-acting venom. Elegant and subtle.¡±


    ¡°Too mundane,¡± countered a young man with sharp features from further down the table. ¡°What about an ambush? Something dramatic. Let their bodies be found as a warning to others.¡±


    While the conversation took on a life of its own, Rondale leaned in with a grin. ¡°Better yet, let them disappear entirely. No bodies, no answers, just whispers of what happens to those who cross the Brightcoin Faction.¡±


    Chadwick shared a grin with his friend, but as the other scions continued their plotting, he leaned back in his chair, swirling the last of his wine in his glass. A realization crept over him: if he were to succeed in this endeavor, he couldn¡¯t be directly at fault for Klarion¡¯s death. The risks were too great. He needed someone else ¡ª someone disposable, someone skilled but expendable.


    He needed a catspaw.


    Chadwick¡¯s thoughts turned to the Academy. It was teeming with students of varying talents, many of whom would do anything for the right price or the right connections. Perhaps a desperate student looking to curry favor with a powerful faction would be best. Yes. He would find someone capable of carrying out the deed without implicating him or the Brightcoin Faction directly.


    But who?


    The question gnawed at him as he stared into his empty glass. The face of the bunnykin ¡ª her defiant eyes, he silver fair ¡ª flashed in his mind. His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass as he thought of Klarion again.


    ¡°Whatever it takes,¡± Chadwick muttered under his breath. ¡°I¡¯ll see the bunnykin become mine or I¡¯ll see them both fall.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± Rondale asked.


    ¡°Nothing, just thinking about how best to handle things.¡±


    The laughter of the scions rang out around them, mingling with the smoke and lights of the illusionist¡¯s renewed performance now that the first course was complete. Many stared enraptured at the show, Rondale among them. But for Chadwick, the night¡¯s festivities had taken on a new purpose. As the feast continued, his mind churned with plans and possibilities, the seeds of his next move already beginning to take root.


    By the time dinner ended, Chadwick¡¯s mood had shifted entirely. No longer was he the humiliated scion, licking his wounds over a lost prize. Now, he was a predator, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.


    And when that moment came, he would ensure that Klarion Blacksword would pay the price for defying him.

 Chapter 56

    The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thick curtains of Klarion¡¯s room, bathing the space in a soft golden hue. He blinked awake slowly, stretching as he did so. The events of the previous day briefly replayed in his mind, and he remembered he was not alone.


    Turning his head, Klarion was greeted by the sight of Hatsune. She lay curled up on the couch still, her head resting against one arm and her legs tucked beneath her. Despite the alertness and composed demeanor of yesterday, she looked peaceful and relaxed in sleep. Her silver hair spilled over her shoulder in loose waves, catching the morning light like strands of moonlight. Klarion couldn¡¯t help but smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, he¡¯d slept deeply and without worry. Perhaps he was getting used to the new environment, or maybe it was the silent reassurance of having Hatsune nearby.


    He rose quietly, careful not to disturb her, and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. By the time he emerged, Hatsune was beginning to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched gracefully.


    ¡°Good morning, Hatsune,¡± he said as her eyes shifted over to his bed and then to where he stood. ¡°I hope you slept well?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ did.¡± She seemed almost surprised in her response.


    After directing her to the bathroom and giving her the space to get dressed in her armor, they made their way to the kitchen, where they shared a simple breakfast of fruit, bread, and honey. Hatsune ate sparingly, her movements efficient and deliberate, while he savored each bite, excitement bubbling within him for the day ahead.


    Today was the day he¡¯d attend his first class in Essence Studies, the one subject he¡¯d been looking forward to above all others. Magic ¡ª real magic ¡ª felt tantalizingly close, and he couldn¡¯t wait to dive in.


    After breakfast, they left the manor, Klarion only pausing to lock up behind themselves, then made their way down the streets that were gradually becoming familiar to him. The air gradually began to buzz with anticipation as other students began to appear with their own bodyguards, hurrying along to their own classes. Hatsune walked a step behind Klarion, her eyes scanning their surroundings with a sharpness that contrasted with her earlier calm demeanor.


    Soon a familiar tall building came into view. He remembered the large spire covered in magical lights of some sort that J-65 had shown him the other day. Today, they flickered between red and green spheres as he watched, almost reminding him of a Christmas tree. The closer they got, the more the air began to feel charged with some kind of energy, but once they passed through the main entrance, the charge fell away.


    When they reached the classroom where Essence Studies would be held, Klarion¡¯s breath caught as soon as they went inside. The room was vast, easily rivaling the size of the Foundations of History classroom, but with an entirely different atmosphere. Shelves of books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each shelf packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, or more modern-looking books that radiated an almost palpable energy. The center of the room was dominated by a series of concentric rings carved into the stone floor, each inscribed with intricate runes. A faint glow emanated from the carvings, shifting much like the lights had outside.


    Hatsune¡¯s gaze swept the room briefly before she gestured to a side door. ¡°I¡¯ll wait in the adjoining room with the other bodyguards,¡± she said. ¡°Call if you need anything.¡±


    Klarion absently nodded, his attention already drifting back to the wonders around him. He stepped into the classroom and looked for an empty seat. Rows of desks were arranged in a semi-circle facing the carved rings on the floor and the blackboards on the far wall. Students had already begun to fill the seats, but no one that he recognized. He found an empty seat near the middle and settled in, pulling out the notebook he had borrowed from Hector.


    Gradually, the room began to fill, bodyguards leaving their scions to find their seats. The lecture hall buzzed with the low hum of conversations as students filled the rows, their chatter ranging from excited speculation to indifferent complaints about the early hour. But the noise dimmed as the door at the back of the room slammed open with a resounding bang, a man in a long black coat sweeping inside. What was it with these professors and doors?


    The idle thought fled as Klairon got a look at the man. His sharp, chiseled features were set in a scowl, and his brown eyes gleamed with irritation. He muttered a string of phrases under his breath, his words barely audible but steeped in frustration. Klarion only caught the last of what he said. Something about him being a prodigy of the Essences of Air and Fire, reduced to babysitting fledglings. The man strode purposely to the front of the room, ignoring the curious and occasionally angry glances cast his way. Apparently, Klarion had not been the only one to hear some of what he had said.


    One student near the front ¡ª a gangly boy with a mop of unruly brown hair ¡ª was spinning a pencil between his fingers, leaning back precariously in his chair as he laughed at a joke whispered to him by a student in a neighboring seat.


    The professor stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping to the boy. Without a word, he raised his hand and made a sharp beckoning motion. A gust of wind swirled through the room, invisible but powerful, yanking the student from his tilted chair. With a startled yelp, the boy was lifted into the air and unceremoniously deposited back into his seat, pencil clattering to the floor. The room fell silent.


    ¡°Sit properly,¡± the man said, his voice a growl that carried to every corner of the room. ¡°Or the next time, you¡¯ll find yourself stuck to the ceiling.¡±


    Satisfied, he turned back to the stunned students and approached the chalkboard. With swift, almost aggressive movements, he scrawled his name across the board in large, jagged letters:


    Professor Darion Stormcloak


    Beneath his name, he scribbled a list:


    Essence


    Magic


    Abilities


    Skills


    He then tossed the piece of chalk onto where he had picked it up with a sharp click and turned to face the class, his arms crossed over his thin chest.


    ¡°My name is Professor Darion Stormcloak. Welcome to Essence Studies,¡± he began, his voice filled with disdain. ¡°For most of you, this will be the most important class you¡¯ll ever take. For the rest of you¡­ well, I¡¯m sure the Empire always needs new fodder for its wars.¡± His lips curled at the uneasy rustle that ran through the room.


    ¡°Essences,¡± he continued, pacing in front of the board, ¡°are the building blocks of existence. They permeate everything ¡ª the air you breathe, the ground beneath your feet, the fire that burns, the water that flows. They are the threads from which the tapestry of the System¡¯s Multiverse is woven. And for those of us with the will and the wit to master them, they are power.¡±


    He stopped and swept his gaze over the students, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Magic is the art of manipulating these Essences, bending them to your will. Whether through raw talent, disciplined training, or sheer stubbornness, those who can harness Essences gain access to power that sets them apart. They inevitably rise to the peak of warriors, healers, scholars, rulers ¡ª or, in the hands of fools, corpses.¡±


    ¡°Magic and Essences,¡± he continued, ¡°are often conflated by the unlearned and the foolish. To do so is to misunderstand the very foundation of power itself. Today, we shall correct this error so that you don¡¯t make this mistake as well. I would encourage you to take notes on this next part.¡±


    The rustling of papers and packs spread throughout the classroom as students that hadn¡¯t already been taking notes pulled out notebooks and pencils to do so. While Klarion had thought ahead, he also recognized that he would need to find a school supply store sooner rather than later. The one notebook Hector had given him wouldn¡¯t likely be long enough to hold all the notes he would need to take.


    ¡°Imagine,¡± Professor Stormcloak said as the rustling died down, ¡°a manmade water channel. It is designed with purpose, and constructed of various parts and components to direct water where it is needed. Its paths are limited, and its function determined by its builders. This is magic.¡± He paused, eyes scanning the room for understanding before continuing. ¡°Now, imagine the ocean. Vast, untamed, and boundless. It operates on principles no mortal can fully control or fathom. This is Essence.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Klarion hurriedly jotted down his notes, and took an additional moment to draw some crude drawings of a water channel and a circle with squiggles to represent the waves on an ocean. All the students around him were taking notes as well.


    ¡°Magic,¡± Professor Stormcloak said, starting to pace, ¡°is a tool. It is utility made manifest. With effort and study, many people ¡ª be they peasant or noble ¡ª can learn to wield it. Fireballs, healing spells, illusions ¡ª these are constructs of magic, bound by strict rules and reliant on an external source of power called mana.¡± He muttered under his breath, then flicked his wrist, causing a small flame to appear in his palm, where it danced lazily before extinguishing itself. ¡°But it is limited. Magic is finite, constrained by the knowledge and creativity of its user.¡±


    He stopped, his sharp gaze jumping from student to student, driving home the importance of what he was saying. ¡°While a significant part of this class will be devoted to providing you training in magic, it is Essence where true power lies, and thus why the course is labeled as such. It is intrinsic, tied to the very nature of the individual. Unlike magic, Essences cannot be borrowed or directly taught; they must be awakened. And once awakened at the highest levels, it allows for feats that magic could never achieve.¡±


    Professor Stormcloak raised a hand again, and the air around him seemed to shimmer. For a brief moment, the space between him and the sitting students seemed to twist, giving glimpses of something just out of view. Then it was gone, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.


    ¡°Essence is not bound by the rules of magic. It is a reflection of one¡¯s soul, one¡¯s being, and it grows alongside you, unlocking abilities unique to the specific Essence. Whether you are aligned with Fire, Shadow, Storm, or some other Essence, it will shape the limits of your potential. ¡±


    ¡°But if it can¡¯t be directly taught,¡± an elven scion near the front spoke up, ¡°then why have it as part of this class? Why not just a class focused on magic?¡±


    ¡°A good question,¡± Professor Stormcloak nodded. ¡°Just because I cannot teach you an Essence directly, doesn¡¯t mean that knowledge and exposure to what Essences are capable of is not useful. It might well help contribute to you being able to unlock your own. There just is no one-size-fits-all approach for everyone. Beyond this class, here at the Academy, you are granted access to resources that are the envy of the Empire. The libraries, training grounds, and professors at your disposal are unparalleled. With these, each of you should be able to awaken at least one Essence before your graduation. If you do not,¡± his voice grew cold, ¡°you will not graduate. Period.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s fingers brushed the edge of his desk, tapping lightly as his mind worked through the implications of what the professor was saying. Apparently, beyond the class he needed to graduate to the second year, to graduate from the Academy itself, he would need to unlock an Essence of some sort. He wrote down a brief bulleted list of ideas of how he could begin pursuing an Essence at the same time he was looking into a class to unlock. The Central Archive was at the top of the list.


    ¡°Professor!¡± a voice interrupted from the back of the classroom, but Klarion couldn¡¯t tell who was speaking from where he sat until a young woman with red hair raised her hand. ¡°What about skills and abilities? How do they fit into all of this?¡±


    ¡°An astute question as well,¡± Professor Stormcloak said, his tone measured. ¡°Let me clarify. Skills and abilities are distinct from both Magic and Essence. A skill is something anyone can learn through effort and repetition. Swordsmanship, potion-making, advanced mathematics ¡ª these are skills. They are not tied to your Essence or your class.¡± He tapped the lecturne as he stepped back to it. ¡°Abilities, on the other hand, are a different matter entirely. An ability is an innate capability that can only be unlocked via specific classes. For example, a Shadow Stalker, a class of the Rogue sub-type, may gain the ability to meld into darkness, while a Storm Sage, a class of the Mage sub-type, may gain the ability to call lightning from the sky. While it is possible to mimic these abilities to a lesser degree with the proper application of higher-ranking magic, they are still not something that you can learn without the required classes. ¡±


    The red-haired girl frowned. ¡°But what if someone trains hard enough? Couldn¡¯t they ¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Professor interrupted. ¡°No amount of training can replace the fundamental connection between classes and abilities. It is as futile as trying to breathe underwater without gills.¡±


    The student sank into her seat, chastened but with a thoughtful expression on her face.


    ¡°Now, are there any additional questions on Essences?¡±


    A hand shot up from the opposite side in the back of the hall. A wiry young man with sharp features and a skeptical expression stood before the professor could acknowledge him. ¡°Professor,¡± he began, ¡°are there any forbidden Essences? Ones so dangerous or vile that they are outlawed?¡±


    Klarion looked back down at Professor Stormcloak. The professor¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but a glint of something ¡ª perhaps approval ¡ª flashed in his eyes.


    ¡°Forbidden?¡± the professor repeated, as though tasting the word. ¡°No. Just as with knowledge, forbidding an Essence would achieve nothing but make it more desirable. Within the Empire, no Essence is off-limits for those with the affinity to attain it. Even the darkest of Essences, such as Disease and Death, are not barred. Power is neither good nor evil, it is the intent behind its use that matters. Now, any final questions?¡±


    When no one else spoke up, Professor Stormcloak snapped his fingers, and a series of clear orbs rose from a shelf at the side of the room. The orbs floated through the air, carried by invisible currents, and gently settled on each student¡¯s desk. The orbs were perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, their surfaces reflecting the light of the room.


    ¡°These are Assessment Orbs,¡± Professor Stormcloak said, his tone brisk. ¡°Their purpose is simple: to help you identify potential Essences within you. For some vanishingly few of you, they may glow immediately, reacting to an Essence you¡¯ve already begun to manifest. For the vast majority, they will remain inert for now. That does not mean you are incapable. It simply means that you have yet to tap into the power that surrounds you.¡±


    He leaned against the edge of his lectern, surveying the room. ¡°Your task is to spend time with these orbs outside of class. Focus on them. Meditate. Seek out Essences in your environment. Feel the hum of the air, the warmth of the sun, the solidity of the earth. The more you work to attune yourself, the greater your chances of awakening an Essence.¡±


    Academy Assignment - Essences of Being


    Professor Stormcloak has told you to spend time with your new Assessment Orb. Meditate upon it, trying to feel the existence of Essences around you. Successfully doing so will unlock a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you. Good luck unlocking the keys of existence.


    Conditions for Success: Unlock at least one Essence. Use the Assessment Orb (Optional).


    Rewards for Completion: Your first Essence.


    Accept: Yes/Yes


    After accepting the latest Academy Assignment, Klarion¡¯s attention turned to see a hand raised in the back row. Once she saw that Professor Stormcloak was looking at her, she took that as permission to speak. ¡°Professor, based on what the Academy Assignment said, are these Assessment Orbs not necessary to unlocking an Essence of our own? Do we need to unlock one to progress in our studies?¡±


    ¡°Necessary? No,¡± Professor Stormcloak replied, his tone clipped. ¡°But advisable? Absolutely. Unlocking an Essence is not required to gain a class, but it is crucial for unlocking classes of higher rarity and power. And those classes ¡ª the rare, the epic, the legendary ¡ª are what separate the scions who will become great pillars of the Empire from those who will remain mediocre.¡±\


    The Professor straightened and began pacing again. ¡°Now, as I was saying. Essences influence everything ¡ª not just magic, but warfare, governance, and the very structure of society. A ruler at the peak of their power who commands the Essence of Water can bring prosperity to their lands through irrigation and trade. An elite legionnaire who wields the Essence of Fire can turn the tide of battle with a single, devastating spell. Understanding and mastering Essences is the key to power in this Multiverse. And if you don¡¯t understand that¡­ then you¡¯ve already failed.¡±


    As he spoke, he turned to move over to the shelves on the left side of the room. He ran a hand down the spine of a particularly ancient-looking tome. ¡°The knowledge contained within these walls is unparalleled except by the other Imperial Academies and the Imperial Capital. Nothing is free, however. To access these tomes and the training this Academy has to offer beyond the minimum will require Knowledge coins or, in some cases, various Seals. With enough of each, you can purchase access to advanced training, rare materials, and even personalized instruction. This system ensures that only those who are truly dedicated thrive here. Now, any final question?¡±


    The same red-headed girl from earlier spoke up. ¡°Professor, what¡¯s your Essence?¡±


    A slow smile spread across Stormcloak¡¯s face, the first true one in the entire session. He extended his hand, palm up, and a small whirlwind of air spiraled above it, crackling with tongues of flame that danced and intertwined.


    ¡°I am a prodigy of the Essences of Air and Fire,¡± he said, voice full of pride. ¡°And with them, I have accomplished feats most of you can only dream of. But do not think for a moment that this came without effort. Despite how easy these Essences came to me, the power I have now had to be earned. And if you¡¯re not willing to put in the work, like I did, then you will be wasting my time in this class.¡±


    The whirlwind dissipated with a snap of his fingers, and Stormcloak crossed his arms, his expression back to neutral.


    ¡°Now,¡± he said, ¡°spend the next few minutes familiarizing yourselves with the orbs. Focus on them. See if you can feel even the faintest whisper of an Essence. And remember: this is only the beginning. The path to Essences is one that is long and arduous, and I have no patience for the lazy or the faint-hearted. In the next class, I will lead you in some basic exercises to use magic. Dismissed.¡±

 Chapter 57

    Klarion stepped lightly across the cobblestones as he made his way with Hatsune down the street away from the classroom now that Essence Studies was done for the day. Most of the students in the class had lingered, discussing the session with friends, others laughing over shared jokes. As soon as Professor Stormcloak had left, however, Klarion collected Hatsune and left for the Central Archives.


    While Professor Stormcloak had not been exactly what he was expecting, the class itself had been everything he had hoped it would be. The opportunity to start delving into the mysteries of the Multiverse, to pursue power in the form of Essences and magic would give him a major step up for the future that faced Earth. More, he had hope he would be able to achieve a lot himself without having to rely too much on professors or instructors, as Professor Stormcloak had said that Essence could only be cultivated through knowledge, experience, and willpower. Class and the Central Archive would help with the first, but he could gain the second and third through his own efforts. The first step to working on all three would be to get his hands on some Knowledge Coins, which was why he was rushing towards the Central Archives now.


    ¡°Lord Klarion,¡± Hatsune spoke up, her voice curious, ¡°why are we heading to the Central Archives? Aren¡¯t you interested in returning to Blacksword Manor to relax for the rest of the day? From what I overheard, that is what many of the other scions in your class will be doing.¡±


    Klarion shook his head, continuing to head in the direction of the Central Archive. ¡°Relax? There is no time for me to relax, Hatsune. I¡¯m already behind. Every hour spent doing anything but my studies is a wasted hour for the other scions to pull ahead.¡±


    Her ears twitched, her steps faltering for a moment. ¡°Behind? You¡¯ve barely had time to settle in. Why are you rushing to start assignments?¡±


    ¡°Because of the difference between me and them, Hatsune,¡± he said, glancing at her as they walked. ¡°My best guess is that most first-year scions have spent their lives preparing for this moment. They¡¯ve been doing all they can to prepare for studying Essences and magic, practicing combat, and building networks since they were children. I didn¡¯t have that luxury. If I don¡¯t take advantage of every hour I can, I¡¯ll never catch up let alone surpass them.¡±


    The towering columns and intricate stonework of the Central Archives soon came into view. Rather than the front, the street they had followed along brought Klarion and Hatsune to the side of the massive building. He led her through a side entrance. Much like the main entrance, two statues stood on either side of the side door ¡ª some kind of lion with a snake tail, the other an owl with four wings clutching a scroll ¡ª stood watch.


    Sweeping inside, he was greeted by the smell of parchment, leather, and the faint scent of ink. Beyond the entryway, rows upon rows of shelves, each brimming with tomes, scrolls, and books, loomed around them. As much as he wanted to take some time to idly peruse them, he was currently more concerned about tracking down someone who could point him to a way he could earn some Knowledge Coins.


    Speak of the devil.


    A low-ranking librarian, an elderly man with thinning grey hair and round spectacles, stepped out from the shelves as they approached. His gaze lingered on Hatsune, or more specifically, her sword, before he turned his attention to Klarion. The librarian¡¯s eyes drifted to the mark of Klarion¡¯s House on his uniform¡¯s shoulder. As soon as the old man saw the Blacksword crest on his shoulder, he straightened to face Klarion.


    ¡°How may I assist you, young scion?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was looking for a place where I might find if the Central Archives has any open Academy Assignments,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°Preferably ones that would help me earn some Knowledge Coins.¡±


    The old librarian blinked at the mention of Knowledge Coins. ¡°Ah, of course. You¡¯ll want to visit one of the public Academy Assignment boards in the building then. The nearest one would be¡­¡± the old man trailed off as he visibly tried to get his bearings by looking at the nearest placards denoting the various sections of shelving, before he finally continued, ¡°¡­just that way, near the study rooms. You can¡¯t miss them.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the help,¡± Klarion said, then gestured for Hatsune to follow him. They made their way down the lines of shelves until they came to an opened part of the floor in which rows of desks were filled with older scions working on their studies. Along the wall just beyond them stood a series of private rooms where groups of scions might study together. Normally, Klarion would be interested in getting a closer look at where he might well be spending a good chunk of his time in the future, but something else seized his attention.


    A large, ornate board stood in place of a shelf immediately before the open area that held the desks. Covered in columns of softly glowing words, as he stepped closer Klarion could see that each listing was a different Academy Assignment available for students to undertake. Klarion¡¯s eyes swept over the options, his brow furrowing as he read the titles. A good number seemed to be a bit outside of his abilities, given the rewards counted into the thousands of Knowledge Coins and dozens of Seals of various sorts, but near the bottom seemed to be some that fit what he was looking for.


    Belong an Academy Assignment that alluded to a dragon hunt, a long list of Academy Assignments involving missing books caught his eye. The list stretched down that side of the board like a tapestry, each entry with a brief description of the book and the location it was last seen. One caught his attention, and when he focused on it, an Academy Assignment appeared on a screen in front of him.


    Academy Assignment - Missing Manual Fragment: Whispers of Black Steel (Rare)


    A Librarian at the Central Archives has issued a special task to recover a rare fragment of a lost beastkin sword-fighting manual, ¡°Whispers of Black Steel,¡± which was not returned to the proper shelf. The fragment contains insight into the missing fighting style, making it invaluable to scholars and warriors alike. Your task is to locate the fragment of the manual and to return it to a librarian so that it might be properly shelved.


    Conditions for Success: Locate the fragment of ¡°Whispers of Black Steel¡± and return it to a librarian to be reshelved.


    Rewards for Completion: A copy of the fragment of ¡°Whispers of Black Steel¡±; 15 Knowledge Coins


    Accept: Yes/No


    While the title meant nothing to him, Klarion did find it interesting that it was a manual for a beastkin style of sword-fighting. He accepted the Academy Assignment.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve found one that we can complete,¡± Klarion said, then shared the information with Hatsune.


    Hatsune, who had been standing slightly behind him, leaned in to read over the information that was displayed on the board. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw the title of the fragment they would need to find, a sharp gasp escaping from her lips. ¡±A fragment of Whispers of Black Steel¡­?¡± Her voice was filled with awe. ¡°Lord Klarion, that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s not just any sword style. I recognize it from my people¡¯s stories, but it has been lost for hundreds of years. Just how does the Imperial Academy have even this fragment?¡±


    Klarion was somewhat taken aback by Hatsune¡¯s fervent tone, ¡°I thought it sounded interesting, but is it really that important?¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Lord,¡± Hatsune responded in an awed tone, ¡°this is a fragment of one of the Lost Sword Arts of my people. If I could get my hands on that fragment¡­ if I could read it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing I accepted the Academy Assignment then,¡± Klarion interrupted her, as he could tell she was starting to work herself up. ¡°The sooner we find it, the sooner you can read over our copy from the reward. Now, lets find someone who can direct us to where the fragment should have been. Perhaps it will be near that location.¡±


    Though Hatsune seemed shocked at the possibility that she might be able to read something so precious to her people, she did remember herself enough to follow behind Klarion as he sought out another librarian for help.


    It took them a few minutes, but eventually, Klarion found a younger elven librarian who was busy replacing some hefty tomes on a shelf. When Klarion asked him where they should start looking, the librarian¡¯s response didn¡¯t give him much hope.


    ¡°The fragment you seek will not be an easy one to find. To make it into a formal Academy Assignment means that at least three assistant librarians were unable to find it. This one in particular has been missing for some time, and the last known location was¡­ well, let¡¯s just say it¡¯s somewhere deep in a restricted section.¡±


    Klarion looked to Hatsune, who nodded. ¡°Restricted section, huh? Well, we shouldn¡¯t have a problem searching there first.¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand,¡± the librarian shook his head, ¡°I said that was the last known location. It is also where the librarians who created the Academy Assignment would have searched first. I would recommend you instead start with where it should have been shelved. Perhaps there will be a clue there.¡±


    After giving them a precise description of where to go, the librarian returned to his shelving. It took Klarion and Hatsune about ten minutes of walking to get there. The Central Archive really was massive. Apparently the section on exotic fighting styles they arrived at did not receive much interest from the general scion population. A thin layer of dust set on the shelves, and the majority of the books and scrolls looked like they hadn¡¯t been moved in some time. Even the lights overhead were dimmer. Directing Hatsune to one side, they both took their time to look over the various titles, hoping that maybe the fragment had simply been misshelved in the same section. Eventually, Klarion¡¯s fingers traced the edges of the books on the last shelf on his side, his eyes scanning for any sign that Whispers of Black Steel was there. But no luck.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s deeper in?¡± Klarion asked as he glanced at Hatsune who was just finishing on her own side.


    The Leporine shrugged, ears twitching in what Klarion was starting to learn was frustration. ¡°I have no idea. But knowing it is in here, somewhere, I don¡¯t want to stop searching until I find it.¡±


    Klarion nodded but didn¡¯t move for a moment, thinking over their options. Before he could make much headway, he found his attention being pulled further down the rows. It almost felt like he was being watched.


    ¡°Lord Klarion?¡±


    Before he could respond, a sudden noise broke through the stillness ¡ª a faint sound, like the snap of a twig underfoot, though that couldn¡¯t possibly be what it was.


    Both of them froze, their instincts immediately on high alert. Hatsune¡¯s ears were fixed in the direction of the sound, her sharp eyes darting along the bookshelves. Klarion¡¯s hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his greatsword, only to remember he had left it back at Blacksword Manor since he had been told scions were not allowed to carry weapons to classes. He cursed under his breath.


    From the darkness ahead, a group of figures emerged. It was a small group ¡ª six individuals, half dressed in the uniforms of scions, the others clearly their bodyguards. Klarion¡¯s heart began to race as he recognized at least two of them: the spoiled and unsufferable Chadwick alongside his friend from the Hall of Bonds.


    ¡°Lovely,¡± Klarion muttered under his breath, anger already starting to build in him. ¡°Just when I thought I¡¯d be able to have a day free from this shit.¡±


    Chadwick smirked as he stepped forward in front of the others, his expression full of spite. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t Klarion the scion of House Blacksword. My, how my luck seems to favor me today.¡±


    Klarion straightened, doing his best to remain in control of his anger. He would like nothing more than to beat Chadwick¡¯s face in for what he had said about Hatsune the other day, but he needed to keep a handle on his anger. At least until Chadwick made the first move, that was.


    Beside Klarion, Hatsune¡¯s hand instinctively went to her waist, grasping the hilt of her sword, but she hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do. This was the Central Archive, not a street outside.


    Since Klarion had no desire to be suspended from this amazing place if he could help it, he reached out to gently prevent Hatsune from drawing her weapon.


    ¡°What do you want, Chadwick?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Blacksword, that you already know the answer to that question,¡± Chadwick sneered. ¡°You stole what was mine, and now I¡¯m going to make sure you regret it.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he quickly glanced over the six men facing him. Besides Chadwick, both of the other scions were unarmed, but their human bodyguards each possessed short swords and long knives that would not be too hampered by the close confines of the shelves. If Chadwick truly meant to resort to a fight, this could get bloody fast.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to threaten me, you should at least have the decency to fight your own battles, Chadwick.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t need to fight my own battles,¡± Chadwick replied smoothly. ¡°Not when I have capable people to do it for me.¡±


    As if on cue, the bodyguards behind him stepped forward. The first, a tall man with thick arms and a cold, calculating expression, approached Hatsune with a predatory gleam in his eye.


    Hatsune didn¡¯t back down, though her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. But as she prepared to draw it, the other bodyguard struck first.


    The bodyguard lunged forward in a blur of motion, his hands grabbing her wrists with surprising speed and force. Hatsune gasped, stumbling backward as she tried to break free, but his grip was too tight. She twisted and kicked, but the man was already overpowering her, and before she could pull herself free, he had her restrained.


    ¡°No!¡± Klarion shouted, his voice filled with fury. He moved to intervene, hands reaching for the bodyguard who held Hatsune, but Chadwick stepped forward, cutting him off as his mocking laughter rang out.


    ¡°Did you really think you could keep her from me, Klarion?¡± Chadwick taunted. ¡°The bunnykin was only ever meant to serve me. You really should just relinquish her into my care.¡±


    ¡°Never!¡± Klarion¡¯s fists clenched as his rage boiled over, but before he could hurl himself at Chadwick, the remaining two bodyguards stepped in front of him, their expressions hard and confident. Chadwick smirked from behind his protectors, content to let them fight for him.


    Klarion took a long moment to consider his approach, thinking over his approach. His sparring with Rolfun coming to his mind, which filled him with a steely confidence. Neither of these two had anything on the half-ogre Berserker. He raised his fists and waited for the bodyguards to make the first move.


    The first, a short brute with a mace-like fist, lunged at Klarion, while the other ¡ª a wiry man with a wispy beard ¡ª moved to flank him. Klarion¡¯s fury ignited, and his senses sharpened at what he had to do. Hatsune was at risk. He was at risk. No mercy.


    As the brute swung, Klarion sidestepped faster than the bodyguard expected, and his own fist drove like a piston into the man¡¯s ribs. The impact sent a resounding crack through the shelves, and the man staggered back, clutching his chest, gasping in pain. The second bodyguard, already moving to take advantage, aimed low at Klarion¡¯s side before hesitating at the sound of the blow the Blacksword scion delivered. Before he could recover, Klarion spun with terrifying speed, catching his wrist in mid-strike. His grip was iron, and with a snarl, he twisted, forcing the bodyguard to the side. The wiry man lashed out with his free hand, but Klarion moved faster to drive his knee into his stomach, lifting him half a foot off the ground, only to hit the floor gasping.


    The brute, recovering, roared and charged again, but Klarion was already turning back to meet him head-on. This time, Klarion unleashed a flurry of brutal strikes that Rolfun had shown him in one of their sessions: a jab to the throat, a crushing blow to the knee, and a finishing uppercut that left the stocky man collapsing like a felled tree. When he came to a rest on the ground near a shelf, he did not rise again.


    Klarion turned once more back to his other attacker, who had begun rising shakily to his feet, holding his side with one hand. The bodyguard hesitated again, glancing at his fallen comrade, before drawing his dagger and lunging at Klarion with a desperate strike. Klarion caught his swing and wrenched the blade from his hand, flipping it in his grasp and pressing it against his throat in one fluid motion. He froze, eyes wide with fear.


    Klarion let him go with a shove, and the bodyguard stumbled backward, collapsing beside his unconscious ally. Klarion¡¯s chest heaved as he turned his glare on Chadwick.


    The other scion¡¯s smirk faltered, replaced by wide-eyed terror. He took an involuntary step back to stand with the other two nervous scions, his confidence evaporating. ¡°Stay ¡ª stay away from me!¡± he stammered, voice shaking.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret this,¡± Klarion growled, but he did not pursue Chadwick further. ¡°I was willing to let things go, Chadwick. But attacking us like this, in the Central Archive no less, I now know that that won¡¯t be an option.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know it¡¯s not over,¡± Chadwick replied, his voice dark with renewed menace upon seeing Klarion halt his advance. ¡°This is only the beginning. Do you think you will get away with stealing that bunnykin? Think again, Blacksword. You¡¯ve made an enemy of House Copperhand, and I will make you pay.¡±


    Just as Klarion was preparing to rush forward, hang the consequences, the faint sound of footsteps came from behind him. A voice called out, soft but clear.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±

 Chapter 58

    The scions froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the voice. The bodyguard holding Hatsune¡¯s arms faltered for just a moment, enough for her to use her agility to break free. But it wasn¡¯t Hatsune¡¯s escape that caught their attention ¡ª it was the figure emerging from the darkness.


    A small but formidable woman with sharp eyes and dressed as an assistant librarian appeared at the end of the aisle. She had a scroll in her hand, and though she seemed startled at the scene before her, her posture did not waver. She clearly had seen enough of the scion¡¯s antics to recognize trouble when she saw it.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± the assistant librarian asked again, her voice steady, unshaken.


    The scions with Chadwick exchanged uneasy glances. The bodyguard that still stood hesitated, unsure whether to continue the fight or to flee. It didn¡¯t take long for the decision to be made.


    With a sharp word from Chadwick, the group turned to flee deeper into the Archive, the bodyguard who had held Hatsune only paused to grab his unconscious comrade off the floor. Soon only Klarion and Hatsune were with the assistant librarian. As Chadwick retreated, Klarion could just barely make out his voice calling out, full of venom: ¡°This isn¡¯t over, Blacksword! Mark my words!¡±


    Klarion worked on getting his breathing under control, but the assistant librarian clearly had no sympathy.


    ¡°Keep your conflicts outside the Central Archive,¡± she said coldly, her gaze unwavering as she sized up the two of them. ¡°We do not tolerate any disruption to the integrity of this place. No matter how high ranking the scion¡¯s House.¡±


    Her words struck like a slap to Klarion¡¯s face. It wasn¡¯t just the fact that she had dismissed their struggles as trivial ¡ª it was the certainty in her tone, as if nothing mattered beyond the order and sanctity of the Archive. The two of them, even in the middle of having been attacked, were nothing more than distractions to her.


    Klarion opened his mouth to protest, to explain that he wasn¡¯t the one causing trouble, but she had already turned away, uninterested in his protests.


    ¡°Your business here will remain academic, not personal. Otherwise, you will be barred,¡± she added, her voice clipped, before disappearing back in the direction she had come from.


    He glared at the spot where the assistant librarian had vanished, frustration boiling in his chest. That wasn¡¯t fair, what she said. He hadn¡¯t been the one causing trouble. It was Chadwick ¡ª Chadwick and his cronies who had come to provoke him, to intimidate him, or worse. And yet, here he was, being treated by the librarian like the villain for daring to defend himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re upset,¡± a soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see Hatsune standing a few paces away, her arms crossed defensively. Her ears were flat against her head, and her usual calm demeanor had been replaced by an unmistakable tension, and Klarion knew it wasn¡¯t just the librarian¡¯s words that were bothering her.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Klarion said, forcing a smile. ¡°Just a little frustrated. But I¡¯ll get over it.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked him over, clearly skeptical of his reassurance. ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± she said bluntly. ¡°You¡¯re upset, and I don¡¯t blame you. You were right to defend yourself. But it¡¯s not just about you.¡±


    She looked down, avoiding his gaze for a moment, her fingers tapping restlessly at her side. When she looked up again, her voice was quieter and filled with guilt. ¡°I hesitated.¡±


    Klarion felt a pang of concern at the words, and he almost reached out to her before deciding to give her space. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I hesitated when that bodyguard grabbed me,¡± she admitted. ¡°I was thrown off. It¡¯s not like me. I should have reacted faster. I should have protected you. I didn¡¯t.¡± Her ears twitched again, and her lips tightened in a way that made Klarion¡¯s heart ache. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m supposed to be your protector, and I failed.¡±


    Klarion took a step toward her, his expression softening. ¡°Hatsune¡­ You didn¡¯t fail. You were caught off guard. This wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t. You demolished them,¡± she shook her head, a hard edge to her tone. ¡°I should have seen it coming. I knew the danger, but I still let myself hesitate. I¡¯m supposed to keep you safe, and then I couldn¡¯t even protect you from some second-rate scion¡¯s bodyguard.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Klarion reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was being too hard on herself. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt yourself over this. I¡¯ve dealt with worse than Chadwick before, Hell, I¡¯ve had my share of fistfights, and I didn¡¯t always come out clean, but that¡¯s how we learn. That¡¯s how we grow.¡±


    Hatsune met his gaze, her expression softening ever so slightly. ¡°I just¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Klarion interrupted gently, squeezing her should reassuringly. ¡°No more guilt. We¡¯ll get stronger, and we will deal with Chadwick in time. Together. But right now, we need to focus on the Academy Assignment. The fragment of Whispers of Black Steel.¡±


    She took a deep breath, nodding. ¡°Right. The fragment. I still can¡¯t believe something like that is here.¡±


    Klarion gave her a final, reassuring smile before turning back to the shelves. ¡°Let¡¯s find it, then.¡±


    With renewed determination, they set off again. The air grew cooler and more oppressive with each minute they walked. The Archive¡¯s vast chambers seemed endless, filled with towering shelves that groaned under the weight of countless tomes and scrolls. This far away from the windows, flickering lights of some sort hanging from the ceiling cast eerier shadows across the aisles. Despite the quiet, Klarion could practically feel the history pressing around them. The labyrinthine rows of the Archive stretched ahead of them, but thankfully it wasn¡¯t long before they found themselves in a silent section that gave Klarion a good feeling. The labels on the exterior of the shelves mentioned swords and sword fighting.


    Hatsune walked slightly ahead, her ears shifting as she scanned their surroundings. She had gently insisted on leading the way, partly to redeem herself Klarion thought. Though she did not need to. Klarion followed closely, his eyes darting around not for threats, but searching for likely shelves to look over. After ten minutes, that initial good feeling was starting to shift into a growing frustration. The Archive was huge, and the idea of searching through endless aisles for a single misplaced fragment of a book was beginning to feel more daunting, especially after everything that had just happened.


    ¡°This place is overwhelming,¡± Klarion admitted, his voice low. ¡°How does anyone find anything in here if they don¡¯t have the help of a librarian?¡±


    Hatsune glanced over her shoulder, a small teasing smile on her lips. ¡°Perhaps we don¡¯t and it¡¯s the Archive itself that decides what we will find.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting, I guess. Hopefully, it will decide to reward us for looking,¡± Klarion said, pleased that the Leporine seemed to be moving beyond the guilt she had felt earlier.


    They continued in silence for a while, the only sounds being their footsteps and the occasional rustle of parchment as they looked over the contents on the shelves. Finally, the next aisle they entered was a bit narrower than the others, the shelves taller and more imposing. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and ink as compared to the lighter smell back in the direction they had come from. At the end of one shelf, Klarion¡¯s eyes paused on a stack of metal plates secured together with a thin, black chain. Seeing him hesitate, Hatsune stepped over to take a look at what had caused him to pause in their search. She froze as soon as she saw what he was looking at.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Hatsune said in a whisper, her tone sure.


    Klarion nodded, reaching out to lift it free from the shelf. As his fingers brushed against the metal sheets, he could have sworn he felt the slightest bit of resistance in the air before being able to grasp it. He turned to Hatsune, hand extended for her to look. He didn¡¯t need her confirmation, for as soon as he picked it up, he had gotten confirmation of what it was from his Academy Assignment.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes widened as she stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly. ¡°This is it,¡± she murmured. ¡°Whispers of Black Steel. I¡­ I never thought I¡¯d see even so much as a fragment in my lifetime,¡± she looked up to Klarion, tears in her eyes, ¡°or that I would be a bodyguard to a scion of the Treverorum Empire when I did.¡±


    Klarion handed the fragment over, indicating she could take it with an encouraging nod. ¡°Well, we found it. Together. Why don¡¯t you take a look.¡±


    She nodded in response, her expression a mixture of awe and determination. Carefully, she reached out to touch the fragment, her fingers brushing the metal of its surface. In response to Hatsune¡¯s touch, the metal pages and chain glowed slightly, almost causing Klarion to drop it just as the Leporine gasped in shock. It was as if the fragment recognized her, and acknowledged her connection to the swordfighting style it represented.


    As Hatsune examined the fragment, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep sense of accomplishment. The fragment was more than just an item he needed to find to complete his Academy Assignment, but was a link to Hatsune¡¯s heritage that she hadn¡¯t even realized was here at the Imperial Academy. While she mustered the courage to open it, Klarion considered her words of a moment ago. Since she had referred to it as the Treverorum Empire rather than just the Empire, did that mean Hatsune¡¯s original homeland was like his own, outside the territory of the Empire? He¡¯d have to ask her about it later.


    ¡°We need to get this back to a librarian,¡± Klarion said, his voice gently pulling Hatsune from her inspection of the fragment. ¡°The sooner we do, the sooner we can look over our copy.¡±


    Hatsune reluctantly nodded, but she did hand it out for Klarion to take again. They retraced their steps, the oppressive atmosphere of the Archive gradually lightening as they returned the way they came. For his part, Klairon noticed that Hatsune not only seemed more confident but also excited. He felt a warm feeling at how the Leporine had been behaving since they had found the fragment.


    Eventually, they came back to one of the welcoming desks near the front of the Central Archive, behind which an assistant librarian was standing. She barely glanced their way when they emerged from the shelves, but when it was clear they were coming to speak to her, she set aside whatever she had been working on to wait for Klarion to speak.


    Klarion handed her the fragment, ¡°I¡¯d like to turn this in to complete an Academy Assignment.¡±


    The assistant librarian nodded curtly, inspecting the fragment of Whispers of Black Steel with a practiced eye before pulling out a ledger. With her free hand, she scrawled something that Klarion couldn¡¯t make out, but he figured it out when his Academy Assignment was updated. She had been marking off the Academy Assignment as completed.


    Setting the ledger aside, her hands then moved toward the fragment. Her fingers traced intricate patterns in the air, and threads of golden light began to weave around the polished plates of metal. Slowly, an identical copy of the fragment materialized beside the original, its details rendered with absolute precision. When the duplication process was complete, the librarian set the original fragment aside, and gently handed into Klarion¡¯s outstretched hands the copy.


    ¡°Here is your copy, please take care of it,¡± the librarian said. ¡°You have also earned 15 Knowledge Coins for completing this Assignment. They have been added to your character sheet. Use them wisely. Knowledge is the greatest currency you can wield.¡±


    Congratulations! You have received:


    A copy of the Fragment of ¡°Whispers of Black Steel¡±


    Knowledge Coin x 15


    Klarion nodded his thanks, then indicated for Hatsune to follow him outside the Central Archive.He was surprised to see it was already late afternoon when they emerged. Walking a few streets, Klarion eventually spied an empty bench on a quiet corner of the street they were walking down. Motioning for Hatsune to take a seat, he wordlessly handed it over for her to take a look. She practically yanked it out of his hands.


    Sitting down, Klarion looked over Hatsune¡¯s shoulder as she began muttering under her breath as she looked through the various metal plates. The intricate diagrams and poetic descriptions of the sword techniques captivated him. Each stroke and stance seemed to carry a sense of darkness and elegance, a harmony of brutality and grace. The way Hatsune was nodding along as she poured over it gave him some hope that it would be useful for her. Perhaps she would be willing to teach him as well.


    Hatsune was obvious to Klarion¡¯s considering look, so focused was she on the illustrations. The sword style described in the book was unlike anything she had ever seen before ¡ª an elegant, almost dance-like combat style that seemed to blend elements of precision with fluid movement. She traced the lines of the swordsman¡¯s stances, intrigued by the unique flow of the techniques. Already she could see ways that even this fragment could improve her style of fighting.


    After a few minutes of watching her intensely study what she held, Klarion spoke up, ¡°This style¡­ it¡¯s all about fluidity, about anticipating your opponent¡¯s movements before they even make them. Then brutally striking. Is that right? What do you think?¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched as she looked up, meeting his gaze. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ different,¡± she said slowly, fingers still brushing the pages. ¡°It¡¯s not like anything I¡¯ve trained in before, but it feels right. It¡¯s a way of moving, or thinking. I think I can adapt it to my own style.¡±


    Klarion smiled. ¡°Good. Then maybe you can learn something from this. It¡¯s yours.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears drooped slightly, her expression overcome with emotion. ¡°Lor¡ª Klarion, this¡­ this means everything to me. The Whispers of Black Steel is more than just a sword art. It¡¯s a piece of my people¡¯s heritage, a connection to who we were before the wars and the scattering of our clans. I never thought I¡¯d be able to see even a fragment of it. Thank you.¡±


    The fragment clinked softly against the bench as she set it down. Slowly, she reached out to pull him into a gentle hug. After a moment, Klarion returned the hug, causing the Leporine woman to hold him that much tighter. When she pressed her face into his shoulder it grew a bit damp, but he didn¡¯t notice over how pleasant her hair smelled. Like a forest of cheery blossoms in spring.


    When she seemed like she wasn¡¯t about to release him, Klarion shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of her gratitude. And other things pressing against him. Like the hilt of her sword pressing into his side. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal,¡± he said, shrugging as best he could under her embrace. ¡°I just thought it would be useful for you to have. Besides, I was hoping you might be willing to teach me some of it. If that¡¯s okay, of course.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched, tickling his nose. She released her hug and pulled away, an expression of surprise and contemplation on her face. ¡°Teach you?¡± she echoed. Her gaze flickered down to the fragment then back up to his face. ¡°The Whispers of Black Steel isn¡¯t just a sword art. It¡¯s¡­ demanding. The techniques require not only physical skill but a deep understanding of balance, timing, and intuition. And they¡¯re meant for those who¡­ well, are beastkin like me.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you would be the perfect one to teach me then, even if I can¡¯t learn everything.¡±


    Hatsune hesitated, lifting the fragment to her chest like it was a sacred relic. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to,¡± she said carefully. ¡°But this sword art is a responsibility. Teaching it means passing on more than just techniques; it¡¯s passing on a legacy. I need to be sure you¡¯re ready for that.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression softened, and he nodded. ¡°I understand. I¡¯m not asking for shortcuts or easy answers. I just¡­ I want to learn.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. ¡°All right,¡± she said finally. ¡°I¡¯ll teach you. But there¡¯s one condition: you¡¯ll need a proper sword before we start. The techniques of the Whispers of Black Steel aren¡¯t meant for just any blade. They require balance and precision, a weapon that feels like an extension of yourself.¡±


    Klarion nodded, his excitement bubbling just beneath the surface at the possibility of learning a sword art like Whispers of Black Steel. ¡°I¡¯ll get one. Or make one. Whatever it takes.¡±


    Agreement reached, they continued reading for a while longer, each of them focused on different aspects of the book. Klarion absorbed the principles of the sword style, working through the mental exercises described in the book, trying to look for points of comparison with what Rolfun had taught him. He could already feel a sense of understanding beginning to settle in his chest, but there was no way to be sure until he had done significant training in the style. Still, he found it interesting that the style was not just about physicality ¡ª it was about the mindset, the inner calm that would allow him to anticipate his opponent¡¯s moves. It was truly an art.


    For Hatsune ¡ª or at least from what Klarion could tell ¡ª she seemed more and more engrossed in the skill-building exercises laid out in the text. It was clear that the fragment wasn¡¯t just showing her theory; it was showing her how to grow, how to push herself to new heights.


    The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows down the street around them. Hatsune showed no signs of letting up, so he gently pulled the fragment from her hands. Blinking rapidly, she focused on his face when he pulled it away.


    ¡°It is getting late, we need to head back. You can continue tomorrow.¡±


    Hatsune almost reached for the edge of the fragment, reluctant to let it go. But then she nodded, her expression softening into one of understanding. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she murmured. ¡°I just¡­ it feels like there¡¯s so much to learn, and I don¡¯t want to waste a moment.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who asked why I didn¡¯t just take a break earlier today?¡± he gently teased her. ¡°Give yourself time to process it.¡±


    They began walking back to the Blacksword Manor. As they walked, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps on cobblestones filled the comfortable silence between them. The streets were quieter now, with only a few other scions and their bodyguards lingering on the streets. Likely most were headed for dinner or home.


    ¡°You know,¡± Hatsune said after a while, her voice thoughtful, ¡°this fragment¡­ it¡¯s more than just a guide. It¡¯s like it¡¯s speaking to me, like it¡¯s unlocking something I didn¡¯t even know I had.¡±


    Klarion glanced at her, ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain,¡± she replied, her gaze fixed ahead. ¡°But when I read it, it feels familiar, like I¡¯m reconnecting with it in some way. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll make sure you have every chance to master it. I¡¯ll help in any way I can.¡±


    Hatsune turned to him, her eyes bright with gratitude. ¡°Thank you, Klarion. That means more to me than I can say.¡±


    They reached the front entrance of the Blacksword Manor just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon. As they stepped inside, the warmth of the building enveloped them, and to Klarion it did not feel quite as empty as yesterday. Hopefully it would feel even more full in the weeks and months ahead.

 Chapter 59

    The previous night had been a comfortable one for Klarion. Once they had returned from the Central Archive, he had taken the time to prepare another dinner for himself and Hatsune. The meal had passed in relative silence, but he could tell that the Leporine was gradually becoming more comfortable with him. After he had cleaned up, with Hatsune again helping him with the dishes, he had gone to his room while Hatsune had excused herself to take some time inspecting the various rooms and hidden corners of Blacksword Manor. She assured him that she would be back to the room before he turned in for the night.


    For his part, Klarion thought that she was less interested in ensuring the security of the residence and more in seeking a break from his presence. He understood, so he gave her some space. While she was doing that, he had gotten ready for bed and focused his attention on his new Assessment Orb. Initially, he had some faint hope that he would be able to tap into an Essence immediately, but as the minutes passed, the sphere remained unresponsive. Frustration soon crept up on in, but rather than get upset he set it aside, resolving to continue trying each night before bed. Hatsune had come back to the room not much later, and after a brief goodnight, had taken what was fast becoming her regular spot on the couch. He wasn¡¯t sure who fell asleep first.


    When morning came, Klarion gave Hatsune some time to get dressed and went to the kitchen to prepare a hearty breakfast. In the process of pulling out some eggs, Klarion noticed that the food supply would last maybe the rest of the week. At that point, he would have to figure out a way to restock the kitchen. Perhaps he could ask a Sentinel later. He hadn¡¯t been able to consider the issue further, as by that point Hatsune had shown up ready for breakfast and to escort him to his class for the day. Combat Studies.


    Klarion felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehension for the upcoming course. He was by no means new to fighting, based on what had happened over the previous few weeks, but neither did he consider himself anything more than a beginner. Much of the experience he did have was shaped by the one-on-one training sessions with Rolfun. His half-ogre friend had taught him the basics of using a greatsword, from the precise weight distribution of a swing to the importance of footwork in maintaining balance, yet those lessons had been practical and straightforward. If he could guess, the class sessions in Combat Studies might be more unpredictable, and how well his training with Rolfun would translate remained to be seen.


    Before long the stone walls of the Martial Hall loomed before them, dark and imposing. As they went inside, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but look up at the intricate designs of the banners adorning the front of the building that fluttered in the breeze. The interior was much like he had expected, with intricate stonework and references to various battles and military figures from Imperial history. Or at least, that was what he guessed they were, as he had only the context of where he was to determine what was around him. Students, the majority in their first year based on their uniforms, moved through the halls to their classrooms.


    When Klarion eventually found the room his Combat Studies class was supposed to be in, he was supposed to see that a note with rough handwriting had been placed on the door directing students down the hall to a gymnasium at the back of the Martial Hall. Exchanging a look with Hatsune, they made their way there. The closer they got to their destination, the clearer Klarion could make out the faint sounds of combat ¡ª sharply timed blows, the rhythm of feet shifting across the ground. He pushed a set of doors open that stood next to a placard that said they were at the right place. Contrary to the gyms he had been in back on Earth, the one in the Martial Hall was not an open space but rather seemed to be divided into four separate sections whose walls did not quite reach the ceiling. The sounds of combat were louder now, and faster, but all he saw in front of him was a group of students. Perhaps the sound was coming from one of the other areas.


    Despite his interest in getting a glimpse of who was fighting, Klarion went in the direction of a gathered group of students who looked like they might be in his class. Before he could ask someone, he overheard confirmation that they had indeed come to the right spot. Standing at the back of the group, he noticed that scions and bodyguards alike were once again avoiding looking in his direction. After briefly confirming that Redrek and Valdre nor their bodyguards were present, he put it out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the space he and Hatsune were now in, hoping to get some insight into what class would be like.


    The space practically reeked with the scent of sweat, wood, and metal. Scattered along the walls were various training equipment ¡ª dummies, stacks of sparring weapons, shields, and training armor. Across the floor were painted lines, but rather than the more familiar outlines of a basketball court, they were a confusing mix of circles and boxes. Used for sparring would be his guess. As he looked around, he heard the door to the gymnasium open again, so he turned to look, expecting that it was the Professor who was arriving in time to get the class started.


    Instead, he saw Hector.


    Much like every other time he had seen him, Hector carried himself with an air of confidence, his bodyguard close behind. The bodyguard gave him pause as he was a race Klarion had not yet seen. He was a towering figure cloaked in a dark, seamless robe that concealed a muscular frame. His blue scales shimmered faintly under the light while his slit-pupiled eyes surveyed the surroundings with an unsettling, predatory calm. A curved blade rested at his hip, its hilt shaped like the head of a serpent. The snakekin, for lack of a better word, had movements that were fluid and deliberate, bringing to mind a cobra uncoiled and ready to strike. Though silent, his presence exuded a quiet menace. He was dangerous.


    Turning his attention back to Hector, Klarion made eye contact with the other scion. This time, unlike in their other shared class, when Hector saw him he did not head in his direction. Instead, he gave a casual wave and mouthed something about later. Perhaps he wanted to talk with Klarion after class? Unlike most of the others of noble lineage he had met so far, Hector had been nothing but helpful. Indeed, the other scion¡¯s advice had been good and Klarion couldn¡¯t deny that Hector had made an honest effort to be friendly. He would have to see what Hector wanted after class, but he still had hope that he might become, if not a friend, at least an ally for the rest of the year and beyond.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Looks like Hector wants to talk after class,¡± Klarion said quietly, turning to Hatsune, who was already watching the other scion with her usual sharp eye.


    Hatsune¡¯s ears shifted back towards the door, ¡°That would make sense, as the Professor is about to arrive.¡±


    The door opened yet again, and the room fell silent as a man who could only be their Professor strode to the center of the gymnasium, his boots echoing sharply against the floor. Murmuring picked up as his dark eyes surveyed the gathered students, scrutinizing each one as though he could already measure their potential ¡ª or lack thereof. Klarion felt Hatsune stiffen at his side when those eyes drifted over them.


    ¡°Gather ¡®round,¡± the professor barked, his grizzled voice cutting through the renewed murmurs. The students shuffled closer, forming a loose semi-circle around him.


    ¡°I am Professor Ardek Thrain,¡± he began, his tone as sharp as the blade strapped to his side. ¡°For those of you who don¡¯t know my name, which should be all of you first years,¡± he said with a sharp grin, ¡°you¡¯ll learn to respect it before long. This is Combat Studies, the foundation of your ability to survive and thrive in the Academy ¡ª and beyond.¡±


    He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. ¡°This course is not about some fancy tricks or showmanship,¡± he growled, ¡°and if you want that, I encourage you to go back home to hire one of the armsmasters that subscribe to that nonsense. No, this class is about the art of war, plain and simple. Combat is chaos. It doesn¡¯t care how noble your house is, how fancy your style is, or how clever you think you are. It cares only about one thing: who¡¯s left standing at the end.¡±


    Thrain crossed his arms, his muscular frame a testament to the training he put in to stay combat-ready. His gaze swept across the students again, lingering momentarily on a few, including Klarion. ¡°In this class, you¡¯ll learn to fight. Not just to swing a weapon or throw a punch, but to understand combat ¡ª how to read your opponent, how to exploit weaknesses, and how to turn even the worst situation to your advantage. And let me be clear: I expect each and every one of you to give your all. Anything less is a waste of my time ¡ª and yours.¡±


    Thrain¡¯s eyes shifted to the bodyguards standing alongside their scions. ¡°Now, some of you may think that your bodyguard¡¯s job is to handle all the fighting while you stand back and watch. Let me disabuse you of that notion right now. A scion that can¡¯t defend themselves is a liability, no matter how powerful their bodyguard might be. In this course, both scions and bodyguards will train together. You¡¯ll spar together, strategize together, and, ultimately, fight together.¡±


    Klarion felt a flicker of anticipation as Thrain continued. ¡°Bodyguards, your role is crucial. You¡¯re not just a shield; you¡¯re an extension of your scion. Your skill and strength should complement theirs, and vice versa. But don¡¯t think for a moment that this means scions can slack off. If anything, you¡¯ll be held to an even higher standard. After all, your name carries weight, and that weight will either elevate you ¡ª or crush you.¡±


    Thrain began to pace slowly across the front of the group of gathered scions and bodyguards. ¡°This course will test your ability to work as a team. It will test your trust, your communication, and your willingness to put everything on the line for each other. Because, let me tell you, out there¡ª¡± he gestured broadly as if to encompass the entire Academy and beyond¡ª ¡°there are no second chances. If you fail, you die. And if you die, you drag your House and your legacy down with you.¡±


    Thrain stopped pacing and faced the group directly. ¡°With that being said, Combat Studies is divided into three main components. The first is skill development. This includes weapon training, hand-to-hand combat, and, eventually, the use of magical and Essence-based attacks in battle. Though the latter two might well take you until the second year or later to begin doing. Regardless, whether you wield a weapon, cast spells, or rely on raw strength, you will refine your techniques to a razor¡¯s edge.¡±


    ¡°The second component,¡± he continued, ¡°is tactics. Knowing how to fight is one thing; knowing how to win is another. You¡¯ll study battlefield scenarios, learn to anticipate your opponent¡¯s moves, and adapt to changing circumstances. We¡¯ll cover everything from one-on-one duels to the roles of individuals in large-scale engagements, so be prepared to think as much as you sweat.¡±


    ¡°And finally,¡± Thrain¡¯s voice hardened, ¡°there¡¯s survival. Combat isn¡¯t just about defeating your enemy; it¡¯s about enduring the fight. You¡¯ll learn how to push past your limits, manage your resources, and recover from setbacks. Because in the real world, there¡¯s no such thing as a fair fight.¡±


    The emphasis that Thrain was putting on the individual made sense to Klarion after a moment of thinking about it. While he was just as excited to get started learning about the Empire¡¯s wars and battles of the past, his brief time learning how to fight with Rolfun had shown him that before he could lead others, he first needed to understand the proper way to fight himself. Given how magic and Essences existed here and how levels could push capabilities far beyond that of soldiers on Earth, Klarion was, in a way, relieved that he would be taking time to understand the basics a bit more before diving into the more complicated topics. Based on the groans around him, he was only one of the few that felt that way, however.


    Thrain¡¯s lips curled into a grim smile. ¡°Now, let¡¯s talk about your final exam. By the end of this course, you¡¯ll be expected to put everything you¡¯ve learned to the ultimate test ¡ª a Dungeon run.¡±


    A murmur of surprise rippled through the group, but Thrain silenced it with a raised hand. ¡°For the unaware, which I hope is very few of you, Dungeons offer a perfect setting to assess how well you have learned what I will be teaching you. They are unpredictable, dangerous, and unforgiving. Each one is unique, filled with traps, monsters, and challenges designed to test your every skill. For this exam, you and your bodyguard will form a party and descend into the Pit, the Academy¡¯s designated first-year training Dungeon. Make no mistake, this will be one of the most challenging experiences of your first year. Much like the enemies of the Empire beyond this Academy, Dungeons do not care about your lineage or your potential. I encourage you all to pay attention during class so that don¡¯t find out what it is like to lose someone on a Dungeon run.¡±


    The professor let his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing once more. ¡°The stakes are high, but so are the rewards. Those who excel in Combat Studies gain more than just a grade. You¡¯ll earn respect, recognition, and opportunities that could shape your future. And for those of you who aspire to greatness, let me remind you that nothing worth having comes without risk.¡± He glanced at a few scions who appeared particularly nervous. ¡°If you¡¯re afraid, good. Fear keeps you sharp. But don¡¯t let it control you. Channel it. Use it. Because in this class, fear is just another weapon that you will learn to wield.¡±


    Thrain took a step back, his gaze sweeping over the group one final time. ¡°This is your chance to prove yourselves. To your peers, to your Houses, and to me. Show me that you have what it takes to survive, to adapt, to win.¡±


    He gestured toward the weapons racks lining the nearby wall. ¡°Now, both scions and bodyguards: choose your training weapons. We start now.¡±

 Chapter 60

    Klarion waited a moment for most of the scions and their bodyguards to rush over to the wall and the racks of practice weapons. With how many weapons were orderly stacked, waiting to be used, he wasn¡¯t worried about finding a wooden greatsword for himself. Hatsune, taking his lead, waited with him until the majority selected the weapon they wanted to practice with and returned to the floor, where Professor Thrain was directing them to take positions in various circles with their sparring partners.


    Once the press had cleared somewhat, Klarion moved toward the nearest rack, his eyes scanning the array of wooden weapons. He hesitated a moment, looking over the options before he selected the wooden greatsword furthest to the right. The hilt felt unfamiliar compared to his own weapon, but the weight and balance were close enough. Hatsune chose a nearby longsword, a rough facsimile of her own, but despite her nod at him, Klarion could tell she was not the happiest with her weapon.


    As they joined the pairs being directed to their own circles throughout this part of the gymnasium, Professor Thrain motioned for them to begin. ¡°Show me your form, your control, your instincts,¡± he commanded. ¡°This isn¡¯t a competition ¡ª yet. Focus on demonstrating what you know.¡±


    Klarion took a moment to watch as the other scions and their bodyguards began to move. Some were tentative, their strikes lacking confidence, while others attacked their sparring partner with overzealous enthusiasm, their techniques unrefined. A few stood out with practiced stances and deliberate motions, but even the more skilled pairs seemed rough around the edges to him.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

 Chapter 61

    Why did I say that? he thought, replaying the moment in his head. He had only meant to sound confident, maybe a little competitive, but the words had come out all wrong, leaving both of them flustered. The way Hatsune had reacted ¡ª her cheeks flushing, her composure breaking for a split second ¡ª only made the awkwardness hit harder.


    Congratulations! You learned a New Skill:Greatsword Mastery - Novice


    You have taken the first step toward mastering the greatsword. With this skill, the user has mastered the basic ability to wield a greatsword with a sense of balance and control. This skill provides a fundamental understanding of a greatsword¡¯s weight distribution, basic stances, and simple swings.


    Effects


    +5% damage with greatswords


    +5% attack speed with greatswords


    +10% accuracy with greatswords


    Reduces stamina drain from wielding greatswords by 2%


    Klarion grinned, the notification a welcome one. Given the time he had trained with a greatsword alongside Rolfun, he wasn¡¯t sure why he was just officially learning the skill now. Perhaps it had something to do with his slow leveling speed. He¡¯d have to look into it more later. Among the dozen other things he had no time to do.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°This accelerated learning is a benefit of training here,¡± Professor Thrain continued. ¡°But it only works if you put in the effort. Half-hearted practice will yield half-hearted results. Dedicate yourselves fully, and you¡¯ll find your skills advancing faster than you ever thought possible.¡± He stepped back, then turned to leave the gymnasium, calling over his shoulder, ¡°That concludes today¡¯s session. Review your skill notifications, reflect on what you¡¯ve learned, and come prepared to work even harder next time. Dismissed.¡±


    With class officially over, Klarion¡¯s fellow scions began to slowly filter out of the Martial Hall. Despite their appreciation for his sparring with Hatsune earlier, it was like the end of the class reset their views of him back to what they had been prior to their arrival for Combat Studies. While frustrating, there wasn¡¯t anything he could do about it. At least he had Hatsune with him.


    ¡°I think that went well,¡± he said, though he could feel the weight of exhaustion in his limbs. Despite the intense sparring and how sore he was, a sense of accomplishment settled over him. He¡¯d gained a skill, after all.


    Hatsune, still holding the wooden longsword she had wielded, moved to return it to its spot in the weapon racks. ¡°It was a good session,¡± she agreed. She might not have said it aloud, but Klarion could see that she had enjoyed herself as well.


    ¡°Thank you for putting your all into sparring earlier, it really pushed me,¡± he said after a moment, breaking the silence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I could have not done so,¡± she admitted. ¡°My family always placed a strong emphasis on combat training. It¡¯s¡­ tradition.¡±


    ¡°Family tradition?¡± Klarion asked, sensing her hesitance. ¡°Like, all of you train in swords, or was it just your choice?¡±


    She hesitated, looking up at Klarion¡¯s face. A slight blush came to her cheeks again, but while she looked away, she did answer. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly about choice. In my family, everyone learns to fight. My father was¡­ insistent about it. My brothers and I trained together from a young age.¡±


    Her voice softened as she mentioned her brothers, and for a fleeting moment, Klarion thought he caught a glimpse of fondness in her eyes. But just as quickly, her expression closed off.


    ¡°And did your brothers train in the same style that you did?¡±


    A small smile returned to her face. ¡°More or less. Though, they always tried to show off, especially when sparring with me. They didn¡¯t like it when I beat them. As rare as that was.¡±


    Klarion chuckled. ¡°I have a hard time imagining that if you fought half as hard against them as you did against me just now. You had some good teachers.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s expression grew guarded again, and she shrugged. ¡°I had teachers, yes. But training with family is¡­ complicated. Sometimes it was less about learning and more about proving myself.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, and Klarion decided not to push further. He could sense there was more to her story, but it was clear she wasn¡¯t ready to share it. Instead, he offered a grin as he started leading Hatsune to the exit. ¡°Well, whatever they taught you, it¡¯s working. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re the one guarding my back.¡±


    She smirked, falling into step alongside him, her mood lightening. ¡°You should be. Perhaps I¡¯ll even tell you why you should praise the Fates that pushed you to select me¡­ someday.¡±


    As they went in the direction of the exit, Hector strode over from the other side of the group that remained, his bodyguard close behind. His fellow scion¡¯s hands were empty, apparently having already returned his practice weapon. While the dark-haired young man had a warm smile on his face, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but glance over his shoulder at the snakekin who followed him. He nearly started in place when he saw that those slitted eyes were focused on him. Something was off about that bodyguard, but he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on what it was.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± Hector said smoothly as he reached them. His gaze shifted between Klarion and Hatsune, lingering on each with equal appreciation. ¡°A fine showing in class today. Truly impressive. I had no idea you had such skill, Klarion.¡±


    Klarion inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ¡°It was grueling training under my first teacher, but worth it I think,¡± he replied evenly, his tone lacking the usual edge he had unconsciously taken with the majority of other noble scions he had interacted with so far. It was nice to talk to someone who was raised within the ranks of the nobility who he didn¡¯t need to immediately have his guard up against.


    Hatsune, who had stepped up beside Klarion, offered a polite nod. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her tone cautious but not unfriendly.


    Hector¡¯s smile widened, and he seemed genuinely pleased by their responses. ¡°I can see you¡¯re both dedicated, which is why I wanted to extend an invitation.¡± He gestured toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m planning a quick trip to the nearby Dungeon that the professor mentioned ¡ª the one where our end-of-year exam will take place. Just a reconnaissance trip, nothing too dangerous. Are you interested in coming along? It would be a great chance to familiarize ourselves with the terrain before the exam. See what we have to study, as it were.¡±


    Klarion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Hector¡¯s proposal made sense. Any information about the Dungeon would be invaluable, and the chance to explore its entrance beforehand could offer a significant advantage in terms of knowing what preparations he and Hatsune would need to make before the end of the year. He glanced at the Leporine, who appeared hesitant, her brow furrowed in thought.


    Hector continued, his tone persuasive but not pushy. ¡°I promise it won¡¯t take long. We¡¯ll be back before dinner. Besides, opportunities should be seized when they come along. It¡¯s always better to go in prepared than to face the unknown blindly.¡±


    Klarion gave Hatsune a reassuring glance before turning back to Hector. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s smart to get a head start on understanding the Dungeon and any potential challenges it might pose. I think we¡¯ll take you up on your offer.¡±


    Hector¡¯s face lit up with satisfaction. ¡°Excellent! I knew you two were sharp. Follow me outside ¡ª we¡¯ll head out immediately.¡±


    As they followed Hector and his bodyguard out of the hall, Klarion felt a sense of cautious optimism. Redrek and Valdre were fast becoming good friends of his, and the more time he spent with Hector, the more he felt that he might become a friend as well. From everything he had experienced so far, he well knew that there was a target on his back for being a scion of House Blacksword, so building up strong bonds of friendship would be important, not only for his survival but also just to avoid going mad from all the intrigue that he expected was just getting started among the first-years.


    The air outside was cool, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees that lined the nearby street, casting shadows along the ground. Nearby, other scions chatted and laughed, though a few that he recognized from Combat Studies continued to grumble over the fact they would have to return to basics for the foreseeable future. Their voices blended into the background as Klarion focused on where Hector was leading them.


    It took them a surprisingly short amount of time for them to arrive at their destination. Just a few streets over, in fact. It was not at all what Klarion expected. A single structure stood in the center of a small empty square, no one else around despite it being the middle of the day. The building housing the Dungeon was an imposing structure, a stark contrast to the ornate architecture of the main Academy buildings. It was squat and rectangular, constructed entirely of rough-hewn stone, devoid of any adornment apart from a sign that proclaimed that only first-year scions were allowed to use the Dungeon. No windows pierced the thick walls, only a single, heavy iron door set deep within a shadowy alcove at the front. The air around it hummed with an unsettling energy, but when Hector stepped up to the door only to have it open with a click, Klarion guessed that it was some sort of enchantment that detected whether an individual met the criteria to access the Dungeon or not.


    Honestly, he was somewhat let down.


    He had expected something grander, something more in line with the other buildings of the Imperial Academy. Perhaps even an opulent entrance to a vast, labyrinthine complex, one which was filled with intricate traps and deadly puzzles. Instead, all he found was a seemingly unremarkable building. Still, for all that he was disappointed, he focused on taking in as much detail as he could. You never knew what might prove useful down the line.


    Coming up behind Hector at the now open door, the other scion turned to motion Klarion and Hatsune forward while his own snakekin bodyguard brought up the rear. ¡°Remember, this is just reconnaissance.¡±


    Klarion exchanged a glance with Hatsune, who gave him a small nod. Despite her earlier reservations, she seemed more at ease now, her trust in him evident. This was their chance to gain an edge, and he intended to make the most of it.


    They went inside, the door closing behind them with a thud.

 Chapter 62

    The sole room inside the building was stark, a single, circular stone stairway heading down dominating the center of it. Surrounded by a thin metal railing, the air hung heavy over the Pit, thick with an almost palpable anticipation. A small waiting area, sparsely furnished with uncomfortable-looking benches, lined one wall. Otherwise, the room was eerily empty.


    ¡°Quite the spectacle,¡± Klarion muttered, his gaze sweeping over the descending staircase.


    Hector chuckled, ¡°Indeed. Though perhaps less so than you might have expected.¡±


    Hatsune, standing beside him, shivered slightly. ¡°It feels¡­ cold. And old.¡±


    ¡°Because it is,¡± Hector replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Dungeons are not mere constructions. They are entities, woven from the fabric of Essence, imbued with their own will. They grow, adapt, and sometimes fight back.¡± He gestured towards the staircase. ¡°This one¡­ this one has a reputation.¡±


    Klarion felt a shiver go down his spine. ¡°And what reputation is that?¡±


    Hector leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. ¡°They say the Pit whispers.¡±


    What did that mean?


    As they walked closer to the stairway down, Hector continued. ¡°I would imagine it¡¯s a test of some sort. Dungeons like the Pit are essential to Combat Studies, and from what my cousin said, additional classes for later years at the Academy. They provide controlled chaos ¡ª a place to test yourself without unleashing destruction on the Academy grounds. But make no mistake, they¡¯re dangerous. Each Dungeon is unique, shaped by the Essences around it. For the Pit, some speculate it mirrors the ambitions and conflicts of those who enter it.¡±


    Klarion frowned, wondering at the implications of what Hector was saying. ¡°So it adapts to its challengers?¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± Hector confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s why forming the right party is critical. The Pit doesn¡¯t just test individuals; it tests dynamics. Who leads, who supports, who breaks under pressure.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s frown deepened as Hector¡¯s words settled in his mind. A Dungeon that adapts to its challengers wasn¡¯t just dangerous ¡ª it was insidious. The concept gnawed at him, a blend of intrigue and unease swirling in his thoughts.


    Silence stretched between them for a moment before Hector sighed. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re serious about surviving down there, you should know what you¡¯re getting into. That¡¯s all I¡¯m trying to say. The problem is that the Pit is largely unpredictable¡ªit reshapes itself every time a new group enters. But over the years, a few patterns have emerged. At least, that¡¯s what I have been able to find out.¡±


    Klarion turned to face Hector fully. ¡°Patterns?¡±


    Hector nodded. ¡°Three common configurations. Let me explain.¡± He held up a finger. ¡°The first configuration is that of the classic Labyrinth. It¡¯s a sprawling maze of narrow corridors, twisting paths, and dead ends once you descend the stairwell into the Dungeon itself. Pitch black, save for faintly glowing moss or simple torches that barely light the way. Traps are everywhere, from pressure plates to collapsing walls. The monsters in this setup are usually ambush predators as well.¡±


    Klarion listened intently, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the information. ¡°And the other two?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting to them,¡± Hector gently chided, then held up a second finger. ¡°The second configuration is like an Arena. It¡¯s open spaces with minimal cover, designed to force direct confrontations. Think massive chambers with towering pillars and rubble. The monsters in this setup are usually brute types.¡± Hector held up a third finger. ¡°The last common configuration is what has been terms the Descent. This one is often the deadliest. It¡¯s a series of vertical staircases, suspended platforms, and endless opportunities to fall. Gravity is your greatest enemy here, but the monsters make it worse.¡±


    ¡°Sounds charming.¡±


    ¡°It gets better.¡± Hector chuckled without humor. ¡°The Pit has only one Boss per run, but no one¡¯s ever fought the same one twice. It¡¯s different every time someone reaches the final chamber. Some say it reflects the fears or weaknesses of those who face it. Others believe the Dungeon creates something entirely new each time, testing challengers in ways they¡¯re least prepared for.¡±


    ¡°Basically impossible to prepare for, is what you¡¯re saying,¡± Klarion said, his tone dry.


    ¡°Exactly, and it¡¯s not just the variety that makes it dangerous,¡± Hector pressed. ¡°My cousin said that, when she delved it, the Boss adapted itself to her fighting style mid-battle. Apparently, it learns from you, so if you rely too much on one tactic, it¡¯ll find a way to counter it.¡±


    Klarion considered what Hector was saying, and could come to only one conclusion. ¡°So it comes down to the party itself. But how do you even choose a party? Trust seems¡­ complicated at the Academy.¡±


    Hector gave a chuckle that had an edge to it. ¡°Complicated is putting it lightly. Partnerships in the Pit, much as with any Dungeon on this pocket plane, are as much about politics as they are about capability. You want strength, yes, but also loyalty ¡ª or at least, a lack of immediate betrayal.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression darkened slightly. Something seemed off. ¡°And if you choose wrong?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Hector said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, ¡°that¡¯s where things get¡­ interesting. Dungeons operate under a different set of rules. Actions within them don¡¯t carry the same consequences as those outside.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Klarion asked sharply, sensing an undertone that didn¡¯t sit well with him.


    Hector hesitated for a moment as if gauging whether to continue. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, ¡°Let¡¯s just say Dungeons are the perfect loophole for resolving disputes. Rivalries can be¡­ terminated, and it¡¯s all chalked up to the inherent danger of the challenge.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The words hit Klarion like a block of ice. His gaze snapped to Hector, his posture rigid. ¡°You¡¯re saying scions use the Pit to kill their rivals.¡±


    At his accusation, Hatsune tensed, her hand slowly going to her side to rest on the hilt of her longsword, eyes fixed on Hector who slowly backed away out of her range.


    Hector held up his hands, a disarming smile on his lips. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s common, but¡­ well, accidents happen. The Academy can¡¯t monitor inside of a Dungeon.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s barbaric,¡± Hatsune said, her voice low but trembling with anger. ¡°How can the Academy allow it?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t condone it, of course,¡± Hector replied, his tone still infuriatingly casual. ¡°But they don¡¯t exactly prevent it either. Dungeons like the Pit are dangerous by nature after all. If someone doesn¡¯t come out, it¡¯s the Dungeon¡¯s fault, not theirs.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression went flat, unreadable. Inside, however, a storm brewed. He¡¯d known the Academy would be a crucible, a place where power dynamics would play out in every class. But this? This was something else entirely.


    ¡°Based on the look you are giving me, I take it you don¡¯t approve,¡± Hector said, stepping to the side, which Klarion noticed gave his blue-scaled bodyguard a clear line of sight. ¡°But think about it, Klarion. In a place like this, sometimes the only way to survive is to make sure your enemies don¡¯t.¡±


    Klarion met Hector¡¯s gaze, his eyes cold. ¡°I don¡¯t need to stoop to murder to prove myself.¡±


    Hector scoffed, clearly unimpressed. ¡°Idealism has its place, I suppose. But don¡¯t let it blind you. The Pit doesn¡¯t care about morals, and neither do most of the scions here.¡±


    Klarion stared at the scion he thought could have become another friend at the Academy. Something gnawed at the edges of his mind, a disquiet he couldn¡¯t shake. Hector¡¯s words echoed in his head: ¡°Sometimes the only way to survive is to make sure your enemies don¡¯t.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s stomach churned. Hector had seemed so genuine, even friendly, in their earlier conversations. But the closer they had come to the entrance of the Dungeon, the more Klarion began piecing together the signs he had missed. Hector¡¯s insistence they come down here, his bodyguard¡¯s ever-watchful gaze, the casual way Hector had dismissed the Academy¡¯s cutthroat nature as if it were a game he played with ease.


    The block of ice turned into a blizzard.


    Was this Hector¡¯s plan all along? To isolate them in a place where rules barely existed and help wouldn¡¯t arrive in time? A knot of dread tightened in his stomach. He clenched his fists, readying himself.


    ¡°Are you one of those people, Hector?¡± Klarion asked.


    Hector hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I like to think I¡¯m pragmatic, not heartless. But to answer your unstated questions, and to save us some time, I¡¯ve thrown my lot in with Chadwick. Not because I like the man, but because he promised to intercede on my behalf with House Brightcoin with some¡­ issues my family has been dealing with.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being used. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I know,¡± Hector spat in anger. ¡°But I¡¯m willing to pay that price if it means keeping my family safe. I¡¯d prefer things were different,¡± Hector continued, voice softening somewhat. ¡°Honestly, I like you. You¡¯re refreshing¡ªdifferent from the usual posturing idiots around here. But the Academy isn¡¯t a place for friendships, Klarion. It¡¯s a place for survival.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you call letting Chadwick get away with whatever he wants?¡± Klarion growled.


    Hector¡¯s jaw visibly clenched. ¡°You think I like what he does? How he¡­ hungers after your Leporine? It disgusts me. But all I can do is make sure she doesn¡¯t fall into his hands, no matter how much he pushes for it.¡±


    Before Klarion could respond, the snakekin bodyguard moved. In a sudden blur of blue scales and muscle, the bodyguard rushed forward. Klarion tensed, ready for the blow, but to his horror, the snakekin dashed past him.


    Hatsune.


    Turning, Klarion saw the snakekin jerk himself to a halt, transferring all his momentum to a sharp, ruthless kick aimed directly at the Leporine¡¯s torso. The force of the blow sent her flying backward, her balance lost as she slammed into the metal railing, causing it to break into pieces around her.


    ¡°Hatsune!¡± Klarion shouted, reaching for her, but it was too late. He was too slow.


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes widened in shock as she fell, her body disappearing over the edge and into the Dungeon below. Her scream echoed up out of the darkness of the abyss she descended into, her small form swallowed by the darkness below.


    Klarion raised his fists, cursing the fact he had left his greatsword behind before going to class. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that,¡± he said, voice trembling with fury. ¡°She wasn¡¯t even part of this.¡±


    Hector sighed, looking away as if he couldn¡¯t meet Klarion¡¯s accusing gaze. ¡°It wasn¡¯t personal,¡± he said quietly. ¡°You should know how this works, Klarion. She¡¯s bonded to you, which makes her part of the game whether you like it or not.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a game, Hector. This is betrayal. You will regret this.¡±


    Hector winced, the regret in his expression deepening. ¡°I regret a lot of things,¡± he admitted, voice heavy. ¡°But doing what I must to save my House, my family, isn¡¯t one of them.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s rage flared. ¡°Even if it means betraying someone who might¡¯ve stood beside you? Someone who might have considered you a friend?¡±


    Hector met his gaze at last, his expression hardening. ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply. ¡°Because survival isn¡¯t pretty. My family is on the brink of ruin, Klarion. Chadwick promised Brightcoin¡¯s support¡ªresources, alliances, protection. Things you and your House can¡¯t provide right now. Without it, my House will fall. My siblings will lose their futures. My parents¡­ everything they¡¯ve worked for will be gone. I can¡¯t let that happen.¡±


    ¡°And all they required was for you to play this game?¡± Klarion spat in anger.


    Guilt flickered across Hector¡¯s face for a moment before settling into resolve once more. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand,¡± he said. ¡°You may follow such ideals. But I don¡¯t have that luxury. This is my reality, Klarion.¡±


    The door that served as the entrance to the Dungeon waiting area creaked open behind Hector, and Klarion¡¯s stomach dropped as a group of first-year scions and their bodyguards stepped inside, the metallic clang of their boots against stone reverberating through the room.


    One of the scions, a wiry human woman with calculating eyes, smirked as she led the group up behind Hector. ¡°Looks like the mighty Blacksword is about to take a fall,¡± she sneered.


    Behind her, a burly human man with an axe strapped to his back chuckled darkly. ¡°Heard that scions of House Blacksword were supposed to be tough. Guess we¡¯ll see if the stories are true.¡±


    Hector raised a hand, and the others reluctantly quieted. His gaze softened slightly as he looked at Klarion, but the determination in his eyes didn¡¯t waver. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve this,¡± he said. ¡°But neither do I. And neither does my family.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he scanned the room. Hatsune was gone, swallowed by the Dungeon. He didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d survived the fall¡ªor what might already be hunting her in the darkness below. His chest ached with the weight of his helplessness.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake, Hector,¡± Klarion said, desperately trying one last time. ¡°Chadwick doesn¡¯t care about your House. When you¡¯re done here, he¡¯ll throw you away like you¡¯re throwing me down into the Dungeon.¡±


    Hector flinched but refused to look away. ¡°Maybe,¡± he admitted. ¡°But if there¡¯s even a chance he¡¯ll keep his word, I have to take it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a fool.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Hector repeated. He gestured to the hole in the metal railing. ¡°Now, Klarion, you have a choice. You can jump in yourself and spare us all the trouble, or we can throw you in.¡±


    The other scions behind Hector exchanged eager glances, their bodyguards stepping forward with weapons drawn. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as the tension mounted.


    Klarion met his gaze, unflinching. ¡°You¡¯ll regret this, Hector. I promise you that.¡±


    Without hesitation, Klarion turned and hurled himself over the edge.


    Down into the Dungeon.

 Chapter 63

    Everything turned into a blur as he descended in a rush of wind and shadow, the laughter of scions echoing maniacally above. Klarion¡¯s stomach churned as the cold air rushed past, the weightlessness of freefall seizing his body. Desperation clawed at him, and he scanned the jagged walls for anything to slow his descent. His eyes locked onto an outcropping of stone jutting from the darkness. Reaching out, he strained his muscles, the wind tearing at his clothes and threatening to rip him away from his trajectory.


    The fingers of his right hand grazed the rough edge before the momentum of his fall ripped him away in a spin. The sudden force wrenched his arm, pain flaring as he continued his descent. Disorientated, his back bounced off another outcropping, ripping from him a grunt of pain that disappeared behind him. No more slabs of jutting stone remained in his path, but that didn¡¯t matter as Klarion got a glimpse of what was rapidly rising up to meet him.


    The dim glimmer of a pool below him reflected faint light.


    Gritting his teeth, Klarion straightened out his body as best he could, legs locking as he prepared to hit the water feet first. He crashed into the pool with a thunderous splash, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. Down deep, he sank, the floor of the pool nowhere in sight. Cold and disorientated, Klarion surfaced, gasping, with a hand instinctively outstretched to push away what had appeared in his vision as soon as he had made contact with the water. When it didn¡¯t immediately go away, he took a moment to read it as he bobbed in the water.


    Welcome to The Pit (Imperial Academy - First Year Dungeon)


    Carved deep into the earth, The Pit is a testament to the malice Dungeons direct at those who dare to delve them. A crucible of darkness, this Dungeon is a test not just of the strength of the body but also the resolve of the spirit. Only those with courage, strategy, and unyielding will can escape the Pit¡¯s clutches. Will you face The Pit or be swallowed by it?


    Objective(s): Defeat the Boss, ????, ????


    Recommended Group Size: 3-5


    Recommended Group Levels: 5-10


    Warning! Warning! Warning!


    Detected Level: 1


    Detected Class: N/A


    Warning! Warning! Warning!


    You are under-leveled and unclassed. Survival chances are slim. Proceed with extreme caution.


    Having read the notifications, he could now dismiss them. Worried about how the cold bite of the pool seemed to be seeping into his bones, Klarion began making his way to the nearest shore. The warnings told him that he was deeply fucked, but he couldn¡¯t spare any attention to focus on them at the moment. Thoughts of Hatsune consumed him. He had no idea what state she was in ¡ª alive, injured, or worse ¡ª but his gut told him she was already fighting for her life down here.


    But deep within is chest, something burned brighter than the fear: anger. Hector and the other scions aligned with Chadwick and House Brightcoin had cornered him, forced him into the Dungeon, and worse, had thrown Hatsune into this nightmare first. That was unforgivable.


    His arms slammed into the water as his legs thrust his body forward until he finally reached the point where he could stand in the shallows. Black sand gripped his feet as he made his way to shore. Anger turned to rage in his chest, hotter than the pain that was coursing through his battered body. The scion¡¯s mocking laughter still echoed in his ears, their smug faces seared into his mind. He had thought Hector could be a friend, but it had all been a setup. Robbed of a choice, they had forced him into this death trap of a Dungeon, the callousness of it all making his blood boil. He had let his guard down, lulled into a false sense of security by the friendship of Valdre and Redrek. Friendships that he thought showed the Chadwicks of the Imperial Academy to be the exception, not the rule. How naive he had been. Anger fueled his every thought ¡ª anger at their arrogance, anger at much he still didn¡¯t know, and most of all, anger at himself for not being strong enough to stop them.


    And it might cost Hatsune everything.


    As he felt himself start to get swept away in the tide of anger within him, the words of Alesin and Rolfun echoed in his mind like a stern reprimand. Be smart. Don¡¯t be reckless. Plan your moves. He grimaced, hand pausing as it reached for the hilt of a weapon that was still back at his residence. Damn it.


    ¡°Looks like I already forgot their advice,¡± he muttered, looking around as his eyes began to adjust to the low light around him. He could make out little of the cavernous space around him. Luminescent moss was scattered here and there along the walls that surrounded the pool. In that dim light, he could make out that the level he had landed in was massive but little else. The air was thick, heavy with a musty, metallic tang that clung to his nostrils. No sign of Hatsune either. His eyes swept over his surroundings again with a more calculating gaze. He couldn¡¯t afford to let his anger dictate his actions, not in this place. No, he would have to be careful and use every advantage he had.


    Wait a moment.


    Klarion¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Thirty free stat points. How had he let them slip his mind? Silently cursing himself for the oversight, he pulled up his character sheet. If there was ever a time to use them, it was now. A familiar interface flickered into existence before him. Without having a weapon handy, his best choice was to invest his points in what would maximize his odds of survival.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 1 (Free Points = 30=>0)


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Aura: -


    Majesty: -


    Eminence: -


    Strength: 54=>74


    Dexterity: 49


    Vitality: 65=>75


    Endurance: 73


    Intelligence: 57


    Wisdom: 47


    Charisma: 40


    Luck: 16


    Traits: Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: Greatsword Mastery (Novice)


    Abilities: N/A


    Imperial Academy Currencies:


    Seals of Valor (0); Seals of Cunning (0); Seals of Brutality (0); Seals of Discovery (0); Seals of Arcana (0); Coins of Knowledge (15); Coins of Service (0)


    Twenty points were placed into strength, and the other ten went into vitality. The moment he confirmed his choices, a surge of energy slammed through his body like a tidal wave. The transformation was immediate ¡ª and excruciating. Muscles burned as they became more dense, and his bones ached with the strain of rapid adaption. Klarion¡¯s body felt like it was being torn apart and rebuilt at the same time.


    ¡°Thank fuck I didn¡¯t do this before fighting those Storm Wolves,¡± he muttered through gritted teeth, grimacing through the pain. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d have survived the shock.¡±


    The surging change threatened to overwhelm him, but Klarion forced himself to focus, and in moments, it was over. Pain gone, he focused back on the cavern around him. His eyes had adjusted more, revealing the area around him to be less empty than he had initially thought. Piles of debris littered the cavernous floor once he was a bit further away from the pool. A chaotic jumble of broken weapons, rusted armor, and shattered bones made several piles around him. Going to the nearest, it was clear to Klarion they were whatever remained of those who had failed to delve the Dungeon.


    He heard movement nearby.


    A weapon. He needed a weapon.


    Turning his attention to the debris around him, Klarion scanned the piles of refuse and debris, searching for anything remotely usable. The dim light made it difficult to distinguish one item from another, and the first few weapons he grabbed were too corroded or damaged to be of any use. Broken spearheads glinted faintly, while shields lay warped and cracked, their surfaces stained with a mix of blood and rust.


    His foot struck something solid with a dull clang. He glanced down, brushing aside the surrounding detritus. He nearly cried out in relief when he uncovered the hilt of a greatsword. The weapon was massive, larger than the one he had left behind, its blade nearly as long as he was tall. It was embedded in a mound of shattered metal and stone, its surface dull with age but surprisingly free of the heavy rust that marred the other weapons he had found. The hilt was wrapped in worn leather, frayed at the edges but still sturdy. The crossguard was plain, unadorned, yet solid and still functional.


    Klarion knelt, wrapping his hands around the hilt. With a deep breath, he braced himself and pulled. The greatsword came free with surprising ease, the sound of metal scraping against stone echoing through the cavern. Klarion staggered slightly under its weight at first, but once he got a sense of its balance, it felt similar in his hands to the greatsword he had left behind before class. Even luckier, the edge was still sharp.


    A sharp cry tore through the oppressive silence. Klarion¡¯s head shot up, his eyes widening as he spotted two shadowed shapes locked in a violent struggle that was coming in his direction. One of the figures had a set of distinctive ear-like shapes over the top of their head.


    Hatsune.


    Readying his greatsword, Klarion rushed in their direction, steps darting between and over piles of debris and dead dungeon divers without thought. His eyes widened in alarm as he came closer, seeing Hatsune struggling to keep a monster away from her. The creature was a horrifying blend of lizard and man, its sinewy, elongated limbs covered in rough, black scales that glistened faintly in the dim light of the moss scattered across the nearby walls. Its glowing yellow eyes tracked Hatsune with predatory focus, and a wicked, serrated blade gleamed in its clawed hands.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Hatsune moved with determined precision, her longsword flashing as she parried the monster¡¯s relentless attacks. A jagged wound in her thigh seeped blood, staining her torn leggings and pooling at her feet. Her movements, normally fluid and lightning-quick, had slowed, and her breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps.


    The lizardman lunged with inhuman speed, its blade slashing downward in a brutal arc. Hatsune twisted to evade, her injured leg buckling as she narrowly avoided the strike. She retaliated with a desperate upward slash, her blade sliding along the creature¡¯s scaly hide. It let out a hiss-like snarl, barely fazed by the glancing blow. Raising the serrated blade again, it made to stab down at Hatsune¡¯s exposed face.


    With a primal roar, Klarion slammed into the lizardman, carrying it up and away from Hatsune.


    The monster twisted its upper body around, fixing its pained gaze on Klarion with predatory malice. Jerking himself to a halt, Klarion heaved his shoulders to toss the smaller lizardman up into the air. Hissing, it swung its blade at him, but the blow went wide. Seizing the opening, Klarion swung his greatsword up in a wide arc. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending the creature back up into the air in a spray of black blood. When it hit the ground, it didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Klarion!¡± Hatsune gasped from behind him, causing him to swing back around, greatsword ready.


    A second lizardman came running out of the darkness, a spear leveled to take the Leporine high in the chest. Hatsune struggled to rise, her trembling fingers wrapping around her longsword. Klarion could immediately tell it was all she could do to stand, but there was a fire in her gaze. She lurched forward, swinging her weapon awkwardly. It was just enough to cause the second lizardman to pull his charge up short.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± Klarion shouted, his voice raw, but Hatsune ignored him, her determination burning through the pain she must have been feeling. He rushed to get within range.


    Judging him to be the greater threat, the lizardman pivoted to sprint at Klarion, a challenging hiss warbling from its throat as it bared its fangs. Before it could take more than two strides, Hatsune threw herself into its path, her longsword deflecting the leveled spear up high, exposing its vulnerable side. Klarion¡¯s blood went cold as the move cost the Leporine dearly ¡ª the lizardman¡¯s claws raked across her arm, leaving deep, jagged gashes. She cried out in pain, but Klarion forced himself to focus on the opening she had forced.


    Rushing in close before it could recover, Klarion shouted as he put all of his strength into a descending blow at its head. Halfway down the blade, it connected with the desperate lizardman¡¯s neck, cleanly severing its head from its shoulders. The still-moving body collapsed to the ground, twitching, black blood spraying across the dirt as it hit.


    Klarion¡¯s chest heaved as he stood over the fallen lizardman, his heart pounding in his ears. Spinning around, he made sure that no more monsters were going to come rushing from the darkness, then he turned to Hatsune. She was leaning against a pile of stone, her face pale but defiant.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have done that,¡± Klarion said, his voice heavy with both anger and concern.


    Hatsune glared back at him, her ears twitching in an irritated manner. ¡°And let you take it alone? I might be a failure of a bodyguard, but even injured, I¡¯m not useless.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a failure,¡± Klarion said, kneeling beside her. He examined her wounds, fingers gently probing to see how deep that cut in her thigh was. He set the greatsword aside on the ground. ¡°But you¡¯re hurt, and we have a ways to go yet. We need to get you patched up before more of those things show up.¡±


    Hatsune winced but didn¡¯t argue. Klarion tried to tear strips from his school uniform, but when that didn¡¯t work, he ripped a few free from Hatsune¡¯s offered sleeve. The Leporine hissed in pain as he wrapped first the wound in her thigh, then the gashes along her arm.


    ¡°What happened to your shield?¡±


    ¡°Broken,¡± she said, voice tight with pain, then gestured deeper into the darkness where the first lizardman¡¯s body lay. ¡°Lost it to the first two I fought.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get you another one later once we get out of here,¡± Klarion said, his voice firm. ¡°And when we do, we¡¯re going to make those bastards pay for what they tried to do.¡±


    ¡°Klarion,¡± Hatsune said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I think we need to talk about our options.¡±


    Klarion frowned. ¡°Options? We get out of this together, that¡¯s the only option.¡±


    She shook her head, ears drooping. ¡°Listen to me. I¡¯ll only slow you down. If you leave me here, you might have a chance to get out.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°No. Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°Klarion¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hatsune, stop.¡± His voice was firm but not unkind. ¡°If I was going to leave you behind, I wouldn¡¯t have jumped in after you.¡±


    The weight of his words hung between them, and for the first time, Hatsune seemed at a loss. Her green eyes widened, her ears rising slightly as she processed what he¡¯d said.


    ¡°You¡­ you really mean that?¡± she asked softly.


    ¡°Of course I mean it,¡± Klarion responded gently. ¡°What kind of person would I be if I abandoned you here?¡±


    Hatsune looked away, her cheeks tinged with faint color. ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand how this is supposed to work. I¡¯m your bodyguard. It¡¯s my job to protect you, not the other way around.¡±


    ¡°I know, don¡¯t think I don¡¯t,¡± Klarion said, pulling her back to her feet. ¡°But this isn¡¯t just about roles or responsibilities. We¡¯re in this together, Hatsune. I jumped in after you because I need you. We¡¯ll both get stronger, but we have to survive this first.¡±


    Hatsune bit her lip, her ears twitching with uncertainty. For a long moment, her eyes searched his face for something, but for what he could not tell. After a moment, she nodded. ¡°Okay. Together, then. But no more reckless heroics, alright?¡±


    Klarion let loose an involuntary chuckle, thinking about Alesin. She had Hatsune would have got along well together. ¡°No promises. But I¡¯ll do my best to make sure that they aren¡¯t necessary.¡±


    ¡°That is the best I¡¯m going to get, isn¡¯t it?¡± Hatsune said, crossing her arms over her chest.


    Klarion shrugged, smiling.


    ¡°You, my lord, need more bodyguards.¡±


    ¡°Given what has happened so far, I don¡¯t disagree,¡± Klarion said. ¡°But that is for later. Now, let¡¯s think this through.¡±


    He looked around the level they were on, the only things new being a crude stone staircase back along the far side and an opening he could just barely make out a bit further along the wall near them. Another room? Perhaps that was the way to the boss that had been mentioned in the pop-up the System had shown to him after he hit the water.


    ¡°We¡¯re at the bottom level,¡± he mused out loud. ¡°From what I can guess, the way up will have more of these lizardmen. We¡¯d be running a gauntlet just to make it back to the entrance. I didn¡¯t fall for long before I hit the pool, so that likely is only a few floors.¡±


    Hatsune nodded, her brows furrowing. ¡°But with my injuries, it will be a struggle for us to fight our way through every floor. Even if we get lucky and avoid some of the groups, there is also the possibility there will be traps.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Klarion said grimly. He hesitated, glancing toward the opening along the wall. ¡°But there is another option.¡±


    Hatsune followed his gaze, her expression darkening as realization dawned. ¡°The Boss.¡±


    Klarion nodded. ¡°From what I understand, if we can defeat it, we¡¯ll get loot¡ªweapons, armor, perhaps even things like healing potions of some sort. Those might make it easier to get back out.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s lips thinned as she considered his words. ¡°The Boss won¡¯t be a pushover,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯ll be quite a bit stronger than these lizardmen we¡¯ve killed. Do you really think we can handle it in our condition? You saw the information about the dungeon, the same as I. We don¡¯t have backup, and neither one of us has a class yet.¡±


    ¡°Right, which is why we need to know what we¡¯re working with,¡± Klarion said, rubbing his head. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how we can share our character sheets?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hatsune asked with a strange look on her face. She made a flicking gesture with her hand, then said, ¡°You just share them.¡± Her character sheet appeared before him.


    Name: Heishi Hatsune


    Race: Leporine (Kennokuni)


    Class: TBD - Level 3


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Bonded - Bodyguard


    Strength: 10


    Dexterity: 27


    Vitality: 19


    Endurance: 24


    Intelligence: 18


    Wisdom: 12


    Charisma: 9


    Luck: 11


    Traits: Fleetfooted I; Keen Senses II


    Skills: Longsword Mastery (Novice); Katana Mastery (Journeyman); Leather Armor Mastery (Journeyman); Scale Armor Mastery (Apprentice)


    Abilities: N/A


    Klarion absorbed the information Hatsune shared, nodding thoughtfully. The Leporine was built for speed and endurance, while her strength was a bit more modest. He was interested in the traits she had and what they meant, but right now was not the time to ask. That being said, with this only being the second character sheet of someone else he¡¯d seen, he couldn¡¯t help but ask a question that had been bothering him.


    ¡°Are these stats typical for someone of your level?¡±


    Hatsune blinked at Klarion¡¯s question, her ears twitching slightly as she processed his words. She folded her arms, her brow furrowing. ¡°Well,¡± she began, a hint of pride slipping into her voice, ¡°for someone of my race and level, they¡¯re actually pretty good. Leporines naturally excel in speed and stamina, so my dexterity and vitality are higher than average for most people at my level. But as for strength¡­¡± She trailed off, shrugging. ¡°It¡¯s not my people¡¯s strong suit, but we make up for it with our precision and endurance. As a bodyguard, I have to be quick on my feet and able to outlast an opponent rather than quickly overpower them.¡±


    She titled her head, studying Klarion curiously. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    Klarion hesitated, feeling slightly self-conscious. ¡°I¡¯m still getting a feel for how stats work and what¡¯s considered normal.¡±


    Hatsune raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean? You¡¯ve only just started, haven¡¯t you? What are you, level five or six?¡±


    ¡°Not quite. A bit lower actually.¡±


    The way she narrowed her eyes at him told Klarion she wasn¡¯t going to let that comment slide without an explanation.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I just show you.¡± He focused on sharing his character sheet with the Leporine.


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes traced down the character sheet she could now see. She blinked, her mouth opening and closing several times before she started giggling hysterically, ears twitching erratically on her head.


    ¡°Hatsune?¡±


    The Leporine waved her hands, gesturing for him to be silent while she tried to piece together her thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re level one. You have four hundred and thirty-one points distributed across your stats.¡± Her voice faltered, another giggle coming out before she quashed it. ¡°That¡¯s not normal.¡±


    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t like I started with my stats like that. I gained some additional ones over time working with my trainers on my way here to the Academy, and the ceremony I went through led me to gain some more. That is where most of my points came from.¡±


    ¡°Most of your points?¡± Hatsune repeated incredulously, the weight of his words sinking in. She stared at him, one eye twitching. ¡°How do you have so many points at level one? Most races start with¡­ what, seven to ten in each stat, and maybe a couple of extras? Even if you trained for years before coming here, that shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±


    Klarion scratched the back of his head, feeling awkward under her scrutiny. ¡°Oh, right. I forgot to mention.¡± He glanced away, as though the next part were a minor detail. ¡°I get thirty free stat points per level.¡±


    Silence fell between them, the quiet only broken by the faint dripping of water in the cavern. Hatsune stared at him, her expression a mixture of shock, awe, and sheer disbelief.


    ¡°Thirty points per level?¡± she echoed, her voice almost a whisper as she began pacing. ¡°Are you serious? That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s insane! Most people are lucky to get five or six per level!¡±


    He raised his hands defensively. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t ask for it. It just¡­ is what it is. And honestly, I wouldn¡¯t mind trading it for an actual class right now. I could use some abilities to go with these stats.¡±


    Hatsune stopped pacing, staring at him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant admiration. ¡°Klarion, do you even realize how absurd that is? You¡¯re walking into this Dungeon as a level one, and you¡¯re already stronger than scions at level ten with a class!¡± She paused, a thought suddenly striking her. ¡°How did you not beat me soundly in the sparring match earlier?¡±


    ¡°If I had to guess? A lack of skills or traits, and the fact my capabilities are still new to me.¡± Klarion looked down at his hands, flexing them experimentally. He did feel stronger since putting in his free points. ¡°It¡¯s not enough though,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Stats don¡¯t mean anything if I can¡¯t protect the people around me.¡± His red-gold eyes rose to meet her green ones. ¡°So while we are going to do this together, I want you to stay behind me for the Boss fight. Alright?¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s expression softened, and she let out a long sigh. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, her voice steadier now. ¡°But let¡¯s be clear: just because you¡¯re a stat monster doesn¡¯t mean this will be easy. We need to fight smart too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re talking strategy now. You¡¯ve got more experience, and I¡¯ve got the strength. Together, we¡¯ll get out of here.¡±


    Hatsune shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s make a plan.¡±

 Chapter 64

    Klarion helped Hatsune to her feet, her injured frame leaning heavily against him. Her breathing was steady, but her steps were hesitant. When she saw the concern on his face, the Leporine pushed herself to stand unaided.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right behind you,¡± she said, moving slowly but steadily. ¡°The wrap is helping, I just need a few minutes to adjust.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Klarion nodded, pulling his arm back and giving her some room. ¡°So, plan. Apart from the stairs back up and the pool we landed in, that doorway over there is practically screaming that the Boss is over there. I figure we take a look to see what we are facing and if there is anything in the Boss¡¯s room we might use in the fight.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Hatsune nodded. She did some quick squats, wincing, then readied her longsword.


    ¡°You sure you can handle this?¡±


    ¡°Believe it or not, I¡¯ve had worse,¡± she said, making a face halfway between a smile and a grimace. ¡°As long as I¡¯m just playing a supporting role, I¡¯ll be ok.¡±


    ¡°Ok, if you¡¯re sure,¡± Klarion said. Despite his concern for the Leporine, he was glad that he was going to have help tackling the Boss. If the creature was anything like those that he had faced off against with his friends back on Earth, it was going to be an uphill battle, and he was going to need all the help he could get.


    Without another work, Klarion readied his greatsword and slowly made his way to the opening he had seen before. He took his time, both to make sure Hatsune was doing ok and to make sure there were no more of those lizardmen hiding around them. The soft glow of the luminescent moss on the walls barely illuminated their surroundings, but it was enough for him to tell if they were the only ones left on this floor or not. Thankfully, it appeared they were, as nothing attacked as they arrived before the opening.


    Unlike the natural rock formations around it, the walls immediately surrounding the opening were smooth and deliberate looking. Klarion felt his pulse quicken as they approached, wondering what kind of monster they would have to face. Hector had said it was a different one every time, but given that he had clearly aimed to see both Klarion and Hatsune dead, he was not going to trust a word he said.


    As they moved closer, the air grew colder, and a faint hum filled the silence. Klarion slowed his steps, his eyes narrowing as he caught the sight of faint patterns etched into the stone around the opening. At first, they appeared to be random grooves, but as they neared, the grooves began to shimmer, faintly glowing with eerie, shifting blue light. Hatsune tensed beside him, her ears fixing forward as they detected faint sounds from within.


    ¡°Dungeon runes,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible though she was only feet away. ¡°This is definitely the Boss Room. We need to be careful.¡±


    Klarion frowned, his hand tightening around the hilt of the scavenged greatsword. The Dungeon runes were intricate and otherworldly, their shapes flowing together in ways that defied logic and made it impossible to discern any meaning from them. As they lit up, one by one, the glow spread to cover the edges of the opening, creating an archway of pulsating blue light. The hum grew louder, resonating in his chest like the thrum of a distant drum.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s a trap?¡± he asked, voice just as low as Hatsune¡¯s.


    Hatsune shook her head. ¡°No, from what my father said, this is just how Dungeons indicate rooms that hold a Boss. We should be ok to take a look inside.¡± She pointed to the runes. ¡°So long as we don¡¯t step past those, the Boss shouldn¡¯t attack.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take a look then.¡±


    They stepped up just to the edge of the glowing archway. The air coming from inside the room was colder still, carrying the metallic tang of old blood and the faint scent of decay. The room beyond was massive, the walls disappearing into shadow far above them. A faint light emanated from glowing braziers spaced unevenly around the chamber, their flickering flames casting long, dancing shadows.


    Klarion¡¯s eyes swept the room, taking in the layout. The floor was uneven stone, worn smooth in some places and jagged in others. Thick pillars, most plain but for the occasional cracks through them, rose from the ground. Four had Dungeon runes on them, forming a rough square around the platform, and Klarion could tell that was going to be important. Chains hung from the pillars and random spots from the ceiling, swaying slightly like they had just been disturbed. Some were thick and heavy, while others were thinner, their ends tipped with hooks that gleamed silver and black in the dim light.


    At the center of the room stood a raised platform, and atop it, the Boss waited.


    The creature was a hulking monstrosity, its form both humanoid and grotesque. Standing at least three times Klarion¡¯s height, it was covered in mottled, blackened flesh. Its limbs were unnaturally long and muscular, ending in massive hands tipped with razor-sharp claws. Its face was a nightmare, a featureless void save for two burning orbs of molten red light where its eyes should have been. Around its neck, a heavy iron collar was attached to several of the chains that hung from the ceiling, though the slack in the chains suggested they were more for show than actual restraint.


    The Boss let out a low, guttural growl as it turned its blazing gaze toward them. Its presence was suffocating, the sheer malice radiating from it pressing down on Klarion and Hatsune like a Physical weight. With difficulty, Klarion pushed the feeling away and focused on thinking through the best way to kill it.


    The creature moved, its chains rattling as it descended from the platform with a slow, plodding gait. Each step it took echoed through the chamber, a chilling indicator of its immense weight and strength. Klarion¡¯s mind raced as he considered their options. The room was vast, with plenty of space to maneuver, but the chains hanging from the pillars and ceiling created a maze of obstacles that could easily work against them.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve got an idea,¡± Hatsune said, her voice steadier now despite her injuries. ¡°If we can use those chains to slow it down, we can chip away at it.¡±


    ¡°I was thinking the same,¡± Klarion agreed, his eyes continuing to scan the room, making sure he hadn¡¯t missed anything. ¡°Those pillars¡­ I think they are covered in the same runes as the entrance. They might be tied to the fight somehow. If we can figure out what they do¡ª¡±


    The Boss roared, cutting him off. The sound was deafening, a mix of rage and challenge that reverberated through the chamber. The chains hanging from the ceiling began to rattle violently, some of them snapping taut as if pulled by invisible hands.


    The glowing runes of the archway pulsed red once and then died.


    Klarion and Hatsune barely had time to react before one of the chains lashed out, the jagged hook at its end burying itself in the stone floor mere inches from where they stood.


    ¡°Move!¡± Klarion shouted, grabbing Hatsune and pulling her to the side as another chain struck the ground where they had been standing. The Boss advanced, its molten eyes fixed on them as it dragged its chances behind it.


    Klarion¡¯s heart pounded as he adjusted his grip on the greatsword. He thought they had been safe outside the room, but apparently, they had been too close and a countdown had triggered.


    ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the plan,¡± he said quickly, pushing his fear away. ¡°Since the chains are attacking us, we should focus on figuring out what is so special about those glowing pillars. If the Boss gets too close, I¡¯ll get its attention. Let¡¯s move!¡±


    The Boss roared again, a sound that made the braziers¡¯ flames flicker and the chains overhead tremble again. Klarion entered the room first, Hatsune close behind. He led them to skirt the edges of the chamber, his eyes darting between the approaching Boss and the nearest glowing pillar. The problem was going to be how they could reach it without getting skewered by the thrashing chains or coming within range of the Boss. This wasn¡¯t going to work.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°We need to split up!¡± Klarion shouted, dodging a chain that lashed out with blinding speed. The blade at its end embedded itself in the ground, sending shards of stone flying.


    ¡°I¡¯ll head right!¡± Hatsune called back, darting behind a nearby plain pillar for cover with a curse. ¡°I can¡¯t move fast enough like this!¡±


    She wasn¡¯t wrong. The Leporine¡¯s leg was still clearly slowing her usually nimble movements. Klarion cursed, his gaze darting between Hatsune and the Boss, the monster continuing to stalk towards them.


    ¡°Do what you can!¡± Klairon barked. ¡°Just keep yourself safe first!¡±


    Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Klarion surged forward, his greatsword swinging in a wide arc as he aimed at a chain swinging toward his face. The blade connected with a screech of metal on metal, the force of the strike sending vibrations up his arms and throwing the chain back. Sparks flew, but the chain remained intact, merely recoiling like a snake before striking out at him again. Klarion barely ducked in time, the end of the chain missing his head by inches.


    The Boss abruptly surged forward, raising an arm thick as a tree trunk. Its claws came down like a falling guillotine, forcing Klarion to throw himself to the side. The impact of the claws against the ground left a crater in the stone floor where he had been standing. Additional chains began to crawl across the ceiling in the direction of Klarion and Hatsune.


    ¡°Those chains are going to keep us pinned if we don¡¯t figure this out fast!¡± Hatsune called from her cover.


    ¡°I¡¯m working on it!¡± Klarion snapped.


    He dashed toward the glowing pillar, his movements erratic to avoid the occasional lumbering strike from the Boss who had slowed back down. Another chain lashed out, catching his ankle and pulling him off balance. Klarion hit the ground hard, pain flaring up his side. The chain began to tighten, dragging him backward toward the approaching Boss.


    ¡°Klarion!¡± Hatsune shouted in panic.


    Gritting his teeth, Klarion twisted his body, swinging his greatsword upward with all his strength. The blade easily severed the thinner chain, and he scrambled to his feet before the Boss could close the distance.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me, get to one of the other pillars!¡± Klarion yelled just as he reached the pillar he had been aiming for. His free hand traced the glowing runes, their heat surprising against his fingertips.


    ¡°Hurry up!¡± Hatsune called out, now darting between pillars, using limply hanging chains as cover.


    The Boss ignored her, still trying to get within range of Klarion. More chains dropped down from overhead, splitting to head after them both. They were running out of time.


    Klarion slammed his palm flat against the runes on the pillar. They flared brighter, and a jolt of energy coursed through him. The chains above rattled violently, and the Boss let out an earsplitting roar.


    ¡°That did something!¡± Hatsune called. ¡°Get to the next one!¡±


    Klarion didn¡¯t have time to reply. The Boss charged again, its massive form again picking up speed. Klarion dove to the side, the monster¡¯s claws raking deep gouges into the pillar he had just activated.


    ¡°Hatsune,¡± he called while desperately opening the distance between himself and the Boss. ¡°I need you to do exactly what I just did to both glowing pillars on your side!¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± she yelled back, her voice strained as she dodged a chain. ¡°I didn¡¯t see what you did!¡±


    ¡°Just smack your hand against the rune!¡± Klarion shouted back, rushing towards the next glowing pillar, the Boss slowly falling behind. ¡°Trust me!¡±


    The Boss let loose a grinding growl, its movements becoming more erratic as the chains swung in towards Klarion with increased fury. The monster seemed to sense what they were doing, its calculating gaze snapping between Klarion and Hatsune. The moment the Leporine activated her pillar, the Boss lunged in her direction, claws leading. Klarion¡¯s stomach dropped as the Boss began to pick up speed again.


    Slamming his entire free arm against the other glowing pillar on his side, he bounced off the upthrust stone and sprinted after the Boss. He pushed himself to go faster as the monster got within range of his bodyguard. It raised its claws high.


    ¡°No!¡±


    Hatsune spun, face grim and eyes locked at the descending attack. At the last second, she threw herself to the side, longsword lagging to cut a long black line across the outhrust leg of the Boss. It roared in pain, swinging in reflex back at the cause of its injury.


    Which was when Klarion got within range.


    He put all of his momentum into a sweeping slash at the Boss, cleaving a massive gash across its lower back. It roared again, forgetting Hatsune as it spun to face its latest attacker. One clawed hand came lunging in from the side, and he raised his greatsword in a desperate block as Hatsune scrambled to open some distance between them. The force of the impact sent him skidding backward, his arms screaming in protest.


    ¡°Klarion!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he grunted. ¡°Get to the last pillar! Go!¡±


    Hatsune nodded, her movements slowing down, but still determined as she limped toward the final pillar. Klarion faced the Boss, greatsword raised as he prepared to buy her as much time as she needed.


    The Boss shrieked, the chains hanging nearest to Klarion lashing out in every direction. Klarion ducked and weaved, each swing of his sword deflecting a chain as he struggled to stay ahead of the lunging strikes of the Boss. His arms felt like lead, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to keep moving.


    ¡°Hatsune!¡±


    ¡°Got it!¡± she gasped.


    As Hatsune slammed her hand against the final pillar, a surge of energy filled the chamber. The runes on all four pillars blazed once with brilliant light, and the chains overhead trembled violently before snapping taut. The Boss howled in agony, its massive body convulsing as waves of chains wrapped around it, dragging it toward the center of the room. With a squeal, several tons of monster was slammed into the edge of the platform, slamming the Boss down on its back in the middle of where it had been standing when Klarion and Hatsune had first arrived at the room. The squealing reached a higher pitch as the chains continued to tighten around the body of the Boss, cutting deep into its blackened flesh. Despite the pain, it began using its claws to frantically break the chains that held it.


    Klarion tore his gaze from the Boss to look over to Hatsune, and his breath caught as he saw her slender form slumped heavily against the final pillar. The brilliant flare of the runes had cast her in stark relief, her silver hair glistening with sweat and her ears slumped in exhaustion. Despite her visible fatigue, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the stone for support, she made eye contact with Klarion.


    And smiled.


    The Boss pushed itself up to one knee, and the entire ceiling that anchored the chains groaned as it did so. Its squeal turned back into a roar as it forced itself back to its feet. Cracks spread across the ceiling.


    Dust fell, followed by stone. Pieces hit the ground around him, several striking closer to Hatsune. Time seemed to slow as she fell to the side, coming to rest against the ground, green eyes closing.


    And still, she smiled.


    Something inside of Klarion snapped.


    It started as a subtle shift, a spark that ignited deep within him, spreading like wildfire through his veins. At first, it was only a flicker of something darker, a feeling of rage at the injustice of the suffering Hatsune had suffered, of his coming to save her, only to watch her fall after acting to save him. He had felt this way before, but before he could think further, all rational thought fled.


    It grew, consuming him whole.


    He could feel it pulsing in his chest, radiating outward, filling every part of his body with an energy that was raw, untamed, and frightening. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, matching the pounding rhythm of the power flooding his limbs. Hatsune¡¯s smile faded as his vision blurred before snapping back into focus, the struggling Boss looming before him. Each breath felt like fire, and each heartbeat carried the thrum of unstoppable force. Rage turned to fury and, at that moment, he was no longer in control of his thoughts. He was a weapon, an instrument of destruction, and he was focused solely on the creature before him.


    The Boss, broken chains beginning to fall away, had enough strength to pull against the rest as it faced him, its red eyes burning like liquid fire. Its jagged claws scraped the ground, sending sparks flying as it flung the chains it had cut free in Klarion¡¯s direction.


    But he was already in motion.


    The surge of energy coursing through him propelled him forward, faster than he had ever moved before, and in that moment, Klarion knew he was now using his stats and new skill to the utmost. The scavenged greatsword felt light in his grip, becoming an extension of his very being.


    With a primal roar of his own that echoed through the cavernous chamber, Klarion launched himself at the Boss, the greatsword swinging with devastating force. The blade struck the creature¡¯s chest, cutting through chains and into its flesh, links flying in every direction.


    It screeched in pain, but he didn¡¯t pause to watch the boss stumble back. He was already on the move again, his body a blur of motion, greatsword cutting through the air. Every swing, every strike, was fueled by the fury of what had happened to Hatsune. The Boss tried to retaliate, its molten eyes flickering with hate and malice, but still partially restrained by the chains, it was slow, too slow. Klarion¡¯s attacks came faster, each more brutal than the last as he worked to cut his way through the blackened flesh of the monstrous Boss. The creature¡¯s molten eyes glowed brighter, fury and desperation making its strikes erratic. Its body crackled with dark energy as it summoned the last of its strength, launching itself at Klarion with terrifying speed only slightly slowed by the remaining chains.


    But Klarion was faster.


    With a final, ferocious cry, Klarion launched himself at the Boss. His greatsword rose high above his head, only to come crashing down on the descending skull of the Boss with a sickening crunch. The entire upper skull spilled open, and then a final, ear-splitting roar turned into a whimper that was cut short as its body collapsed to the ground.


    Klarion¡¯s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of the battle. His fury began to cool as the Boss ceased to move. After one more long moment, making sure it was truly dead, he dropped his greatsword and rushed over to Hatsune.

 Chapter 65

    Klarion sprinted across the Boss room, the dust shaken free from the ceiling during the climax of the fight still swirling in the air around him, his heart pounding as his eyes locked on Hatsune. She was slumped against the stone pillar, and even as far away as he was, he could tell her breathing was shallow. Blood stained the ground at her side, darkened from mixing with the dirt. The Boss¡¯s final death throes had sent shockwaves rippling through the cavernous room, but now silence reigned.


    ¡°Hatsune!¡± Klarion¡¯s voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands briefly hovered over her form, unsure where to touch at first before going to the bandage around her leg to find it wet with her blood. Her ears twitched slightly at the sound of his voice, the only sign that she was still semi-conscious.


    Her eyes fluttered open, vibrant green now dim with exhaustion. ¡°Klarion¡­¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but it quickly faltered as a shudder wracked her body. ¡°You¡­ you beat it.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s chest tightened at her words. The relief in her voice, fragile yet sincere, struck something deep within him. Seeing her like this ¡ª bloodied, weak, and barely holding on ¡ª was almost unbearable.


    ¡°Yes, we bear it,¡± he said softly, emphasizing her role in the fight. ¡°But I think your wound opened up. You pushed yourself too hard.¡± His hands worked quickly, checking the bandage and tightening it again. Despite how hard he pulled, Hatsune didn¡¯t react except for a wince, and the blood continued sluggishly seeping through the fabric.


    Her lips quirked in the faintest of smirks, though her eyes fluttered as if the effort to keep them open was too much. ¡°Had to¡­ couldn¡¯t let you¡­ do all the work.¡±


    A strained laugh escaped him, though it was tinged with worry. ¡°You¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡± He tore another piece of fabric from her sleeve, wrapping it around the previous bandage on her leg. Hopefully, that would help slow the bleeding.


    She closed her eyes, but her ears flicked again, and her smile widened slightly. ¡°You sound¡­ like my brothers.¡± She took a strained breath. ¡°You¡­ remind me¡­ of them.¡±


    His hands froze for a moment, caught off guard by her words. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting sentimental on me now. Save that energy for climbing out of this Dungeon with me.¡±


    ¡°Stop fussing,¡± she murmured, her voice faint but edged with a stubborn resolve. One eye cracked open, piercing despite her exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ be fine.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look fine,¡± Klarion shot back, though his tone softened as he glanced down at her battered form. ¡°As soon we get out of here, you need rest, Hatsune. Real rest.¡±


    Her lips curved back upwards in the renewed ghost of a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not reassuring,¡± he muttered, concern still tightening his chest.


    Hatsune shifted slightly beside him, her ears shifting to fix on the platform behind him. ¡°Klarion¡­ you need to check the Boss chest.¡±


    His brows furrowed. ¡°What chest?¡±


    She sighed, the sound more exasperated than weak. ¡°The Boss chest. The reward¡­ for killing it.¡±


    Klarion blinked, glancing back toward the massive platform where the Dungeon Boss had fallen. The monster¡¯s corpse was in the process of dissolving into mist, and in its place, golden sparks swirled and coalesced into a solid form. As the particles faded, a large, ornate chest stood in the center of the platform. It was dark wood bound in gleaming gold metal, intricate Dungeon runes glowing faintly along its edges.


    Klarion looked from the chest back to Hatsune. ¡°And you want me to leave you here to go open it?¡±


    Her eyes flickered with impatience. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. Besides¡­ there are no threats¡­ left here. Could be something useful¡­ something we¡¯ll need.¡±


    He hesitated, torn between his instinct to protect her and the awareness that she was likely right that there were no threats left in the room, otherwise they would have already been attacked.


    ¡°Go,¡± she said, her tone firm despite her weakness.


    Klarion nodded, his grip tightening briefly before he carefully left her to lean against the pillar. He returned to the platform, each step toward the chest bringing greater details of its surface into view. The Boss¡¯s enormous corpse had vanished entirely, leaving only a faint remnant of swirling golden light. The intricate patterns of runes on the chest¡¯s surface seemed almost alive, shifting and glowing faintly, as though they had been imbued with the essence of the slain Dungeon Boss. He paused before the chest, running his hand over its smooth surface. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, but given that it was a product of the Dungeon itself, perhaps that was to be expected.


    Klarion drew a deep breath, steadying his nerves. His gaze darted back toward Hatsune, still slumped against the pillar where he had left her. With a determined exhale, Klarion placed both hands on the ornate latch. The metal was smooth, and it felt warm to the touch. When he pressed down on it, the latch clicked, and the lid began to creak open. A wave of light spilled out, golden and soft, illuminating the platform. Inside, the chest¡¯s contents were neatly arranged, as if curated with purpose.


    The first item that caught his eye was a pair of leather bracers, their surface embossed with a stylized image of what he assumed to be a Leporine. The design was simple yet elegant. He lifted them carefully, noting the fine craftsmanship and he immediately wondered if they were enchanted in some way. Next to it was a small velvet pouch. Pulling it open revealed a ring. The band was silver, and an emerald the size of his thumbnail was set into it. The gem glimmered faintly in the now fading light of the chest. Though he had no training in appraising items, his gut told him the ring held some form of power.


    Beside the pouch that held the ring was a small vial filled with a familiar red liquid. Klarion¡¯s breath hitched in relief ¡ª it was a healing potion. The vivid crimson hue and faint shimmer in the liquid were identical to the ones Rolfun had given him in the past. This small vial alone would make the chest¡¯s contents worthwhile, especially considering Hatsune¡¯s injury.


    The final thing, resting at the bottom of the chest, was a pouch that jingled faintly when he picked it up. He opened it carefully, revealing silver and gold coins, the former disappearing as soon as he touched them. For a moment, he thought he had made a mistake, but a blinking notification indicated that he had just gained thirty Coins of Service and, surprisingly, a single Mark of Bonds.


    Klarion¡¯s thoughts raced as he gathered everything into his arms. The Mark of Bonds was, as far as he could tell, a rare and valuable item, the implication of its presence in this chest being both promising and puzzling. He didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it now, though. Hatsune needed his attention.


    With a final glance at the now-empty chest, which was already starting to disappear, Klarion left the platform to hurry back over to Hatsune. As he came closer, she pushed herself further upright. Her face was pale but set in a determined grimace, even as pain etched lines around her eyes.


    ¡°Lucky for us, there was a healing potion in the chest,¡± Klarion said, kneeling beside her. He uncorked the vial and carefully held it to her lips. ¡°Drink this.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes rose to meet his, her expression grateful. She opened her mouth to drink the potion, her hands trembling as she grasped it and his hand. The liquid quickly vanished past her lips, and almost immediately, color began returning to her cheeks. Her breathing steadied, and she leaned back against the pillar with a relieved sigh.


    ¡°Better?¡± Klarion asked, setting the empty vial aside.


    ¡°Much,¡± she murmured, her voice steadier. Her fingers brushed against her thigh where the deepest cut had been, which was now healing rapidly. She glanced at the items Klarion had brought with him, her brows lifting slightly in curiosity.


    ¡°What else was in the chest?¡± she asked, her voice gaining a bit more strength.


    Klarion laid the items out in front of her: the leather braces, the ring, and the pouch of gold coins. ¡°These. The bracers and ring look like they might be enchanted, but I don¡¯t know what they do. There¡¯s a decent number of gold coins too, and I received some Coins of Service and another Mark of Bonds.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ¡°A Mark of Bonds? That¡¯s rare.¡± Her gaze returned to the items on the ground. ¡°When we get out of here, we¡¯ll need to get the bracers and the ring identified. Neither of us has the skills to do that right now.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they will be useful?¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be in a Boss¡¯s chest if they weren¡¯t,¡± Hatsune replied, though a flicker of doubt crossed her face. ¡°But we won¡¯t know their true value until we are out of here.¡± She stood up with a wince as she put her weight on her partially healed leg. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving.¡±


    ¡°You sure you¡¯re ok?¡±


    The Leporine smiled weakly up at him, her ears drooping as she did some quick stretching to get a sense of how much her leg would be able to support her. ¡°I¡¯m fine, much better than I was. Just still a bit sore and¡­ tired,¡± she said, the last word stretching out into a yawn.


    Klarion¡¯s expression softened. His concern for her deepened, and without thinking, he got down on one knee, back partly facing her. ¡°I can carry you for a while if you¡¯re tired.¡±


    Hatsune let out a surprised squeak, her cheeks immediately flushing a shade of pink after making the sound. ¡°Lord, I can walk on my own¡ª¡±


    ¡°I insist,¡± Klarion said, his voice firm but warm. ¡°You¡¯ve earned a rest. And I can always set you down to fight if we come across any more monsters on the way out.¡±


    The Leporine looked like she was ready to protect again, but another yawn, longer and wider than the first, stole her voice for several long moments. When finally done with it, Hatsune no longer looked like she wanted to argue. ¡°Fine. But not one word of this later.¡±


    As Klarion lifted her onto his back, he could feel her body relax against his. Her small hands gripped his shoulders lightly, and the warmth of her touch sent an unexpected thrill through him, which he immediately pushed down. Even wearing armor, he was surprised to find he could easily carry her. He worked to disguise his tension by bending over to pick up their weapons and their loot, which he slid into the larger bag. Despite that effort, his thoughts churned. To this point, he had considered her a bodyguard and, hopefully, a friend. But as he slowly walked his way back over to the entrance of the Boss¡¯s chamber, he could feel something else stir inside him. Something deeper.


    Hatsune¡¯s breath was steady against his neck, the sound of it oddly comforting as he made his way to the exit. The open area beyond was exactly as they had left it, so after a quick look to be sure, he made his way over to the stone stairs. The next floor up had corridors spirally off the steps at several points, which stretched into the darkness. Each new floor followed a similar structure, and though the promise of more opportunities for exploration and loot called to a part of him, he remained on the path up out of the Dungeon. Klarion¡¯s muscles started to burn, and yet, he kept moving, carrying Hatsune with ease.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The Leporine was silent for a while, but eventually she spoke. ¡°Klarion,¡± she began softly, speaking into the back of his neck. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m glad you came for me.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s pace slowed for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at her, but her eyes were cast downward, her silver-grey long ears bent in exhaustion. ¡°You are?¡± he asked, his voice softer than he had intended.


    She nodded, the fingers on one hand gently shifting against the fabric of his school uniform. ¡°Yes. I haven¡¯t known you long, but how you have treated me has made me feel safe. Even though you are a human scion and I¡¯m just a Leporine.¡±


    Klarion shook his head, then turned his attention back towards the path upwards, though he continued to move slowly, listening for potential monsters nearby. ¡°You¡¯re more than that, Hatsune. More than your race, despite what people like Chadwick see. I hope you know by now that, while I chose you to be my bodyguard, I see you more as a friend.¡±


    Her ears perked up, brushing against the back of his head, and he could practically see the smile on her face as she spoke. ¡°Lo¡ªKlarion, you really think of me as a friend?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, but his heart skipped a beat, different words catching in his throat. The silence stretched on into minutes as he continued walking, neither knowing what to say in response to what he had said. Klarion had never been one for expressing his feelings openly back on Earth, but he was beginning to find it hard to deny his interest in the Leporine, no, the young woman, he was carrying.


    He almost said something more, when he felt her weight shift against him. A sudden, soft exhale escaped her lips, followed by an unsettling stillness. Klarion glanced over his shoulder quickly, his heart dropping into his stomach as Hatsune¡¯s body relaxed further against him, her breathing slow and steady but unmistakeably deeper than before.


    ¡°Hatsune?¡± Klarion¡¯s voice broke through the uneasy quiet of the Dungeon, but there was no response. Her eyes had closed, her ears twitched faintly, and her head had fallen to rest heavily against his shoulder. He stared for a moment, his worry spiking that her leg had been injured far worse than the healing potion had been able to handle, before it suddenly dawned on him.


    She had fallen asleep.


    Relief warred with frustration in his chest. Of all the times and places to nod off, the middle of a Dungeon was far from ideal, but given how exhausted she was, he couldn¡¯t really blame her. The fighting, the blood loss, the constant tension¡ªit was enough to push everyone over their limits. The healing potion had likely stabilized her injuries, but he well knew from having used them himself in the past that it wouldn¡¯t be enough to undo all at once the toll of what she had suffered.


    He adjusted his grip on her, pulling her closer to keep her steady. ¡°You couldn¡¯t wait until we were out of here, could you?¡± he muttered under his breath, though his tone held no malice at the unconscious Leporine.


    The burn in Klarion¡¯s muscles deepened as the stone steps disappeared in greater numbers behind him. Hatsune¡¯s limp body felt like a dead weight on his back, some of the blood of her injuries drying to his back and side. The sound of his steps scraping against the stone echoed through the winding stairwell as it began to narrow. He pushed himself harder, faster. His measured breaths were beginning to come faster as the tiredness set in. But Klarion pushed himself to ignore the fatigue, the ache in his limbs.


    The air of the Dungeon was just as thick and oppressive as it had been on the lowest level, but now it seemed like the walls themselves were beginning to close around him. The light of the iridescent moss on the walls was now bright enough to cast grotesque shadows, but Klarion ignored them once it was clear no monsters hid within them. He smiled as light from the building above came into sight over the stone steps just ahead of him.


    The smile died on his face when he passed a corridor, only to hear the faint rustle of movement just out of sight.


    Immediately he crouched, lightly setting Hatsune down on the ground. He gently shook her awake. ¡°Hatsune,¡± he said softly, careful not to startle her. ¡°I need you to wake up. I think we have one more fight. Just one, though, and we¡¯re out of here.¡±


    She shifted and her eyes fluttered open, the exhaustion still evident in her face. ¡°Klarion?¡± she murmured, still waking up.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s more of those lizard monsters,¡± he explained, glancing over his shoulder at the growing sounds of hissing growls coming from the nearby darkness. ¡°They¡¯re coming. I need your help.¡±


    For a moment, it looked like she wanted to drift back to sleep, but then she forced herself to sit up and reached out to take her longsword with trembling hands. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, her voice steadier now. ¡°I¡¯ll steer them for you¡­get you your openings. Let¡¯s finish this.¡±


    Klarion nodded, helping her to her feet as the first of the lizardmen emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Dressed in rags, lacked a weapon but did not care as it rushed to attack.


    Hatsune¡¯s movements were slower than usual, but her determination shone through. Stepping in front of Klarion, she moved into a swift lunge, forcing the first lizardman to panic as it threw its arm up to parry the strike. It barely blocked the blow in time, hissing as the tip of the blade pierced its scaly arm. Pulling back her sword and stepping to the left, she forced the lizardman to follow her away from Klarion. She darted forward again, her longsword flashing. Each strike was calculated, simultaneously holding the creature back and keeping its attention on the Leporine.


    An opening.


    The lizardman, black blood oozing from half a dozen wounds, stepped after Hatsune with a warbling hiss, eyes focused solely on Klarion¡¯s bodyguard. Seizing the opportunity before the next lizardman could step out from the corridor, Klarion raised his greatsword only to bring it down in a single devastating swing. The massive blade cleaved through the monster¡¯s side, sending it crumpling to the ground.


    ¡°Next!¡± Hatsune called, her voice strained. She pressed forward, past Klarion, intercepting another lizardman and pressing it back under a darting assault. The monster stumbled slightly, and she took the opportunity to drive her longsword through its eye into its brain. As it seized in death, Hatsune pulled her weapon free to step back to Klarion¡¯s side. She barely got a breath before the next monster emerged.


    The fight quickly shifted to one of precision and power. The next lizardman that stepped from the nearby corridor was larger than the others, pushing the smaller ones aside. Hatsune immediately baited and redirected it away from her scion. Each blow and dodge was a struggle, but she forced herself to keep moving.


    Worried that Hatsune was starting to slow down, Klarion searched for opportunities to slam home a sudden, debilitating strike on her opponent. So focused was he on finding an opening that he completely missed how one of the smaller lizardmen had snuck around behind him. Lunging from his blind side, the lizardman raked its serrated claws along Klarion¡¯s arm. Pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth and spun, driving his blade through the creature¡¯s chest. Blood dripped down his hand, but he ignored it, immediately focusing back on the large lizardman bearing down on Hatsune.


    The lizardman¡¯s hulking frame towered over her as it slashed its claws downward with terrifying force. Hatsune barely sidestepped in time, the claw slamming to the ground where she had been standing, sending shards of stone flying. She retaliated with a swift upward slash, her longsword skimming along the monster¡¯s scaled arm. The blow wasn¡¯t deep enough to incapacitate, but it forced the lizardman back a step, a guttural snarl escaping its throat.


    When Hatsune did not immediately pursue, it pressed its attack again. She parried blow after blow, her sword arm trembling under the strain. Just when she felt she couldn¡¯t take another strike, she ducked low, her blade flashing upward in a sweeping arc. The longsword tore the surprised lizardman¡¯s throat open, dark blood spraying back across the two remaining lizardmen struggling to get past their dying broodmate.


    Hatsune faltered momentarily, her strength waning. One of the remaining lizardmen rushed forward, its claws slashing toward her face. Klarion shifted his focus from the target the Leporine was engaging, surging forward into her blindspot, intercepting the attack with his greatsword. He hissed in pain as the impact jarred his injured arm, but he didn¡¯t falter, driving the monster back with a vicious strike. He stepped up alongside Hatsune, while both the remaining lizardmen bared their fangs and hissed.


    ¡°You alright?¡± he asked, keeping his focus on the lizardman before him.


    She nodded weakly, pushing herself to keep her sword up. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she insisted, though her steps remained unsteady. ¡°Just two more.¡±


    The lizardmen moved in unison, circling Klarion and Hatsune. He adjusted his stance, continuing to shield Hatsune¡¯s weaker side as she steadied herself, determination hardening her tired expression. When the lizardman on the left suddenly lunged, Klarion met its charge head-on, his greatsword cleaving downward with enough force to shear through its arm and bury the end of the blade deep into its chest. The creature gurgled and collapsed, lifeless, but the effort sent a fresh wave of pain through Klarion¡¯s injured arm.


    The final lizardman took its chance, darting toward Hatsune with a savage hiss. She sidestepped just in time, her sword flashing out to catch it across the ribs. The monster staggered, but before it could recover, Klarion spun and drove his blade through its back, ending the fight in one final, decisive strike.


    As soon as its body hit the ground, Hatsune swayed on her feet, the longsword slipping from her grasp. She slumped to the ground. Klarion reached for her, his heart pounding with worry, but her breathing was steady. This time he didn¡¯t think he would be able to wake her. She was simply too exhausted. Taking a minute, he collected the rags that the lizardmen wore, nose wrinkling at the rancid smell they gave off. Working quickly, he fashioned a crude sling to carry their weapons and the loot. He would have to be careful how he did it, but he knew he had enough strength to carry it all, and Hatsune, if he moved quickly.


    Loot and weapons secured, Klarion¡¯s muscles burned, and his breaths came in ragged gasps as he hoisted Hatsune up onto his back. Blood was seeping from the wound in her leg, it apparently having opened again in the fight. It stained his clothes and left a crimson line down his side. Wasting no more time, he staggered up the narrowing spiral staircase that led up out of the Dungeon.


    Everything was quiet now except for the sound of his labored breaths and the jingle of Hatsune¡¯s armor as he made his way up the stairs. So focused was he on putting one foot in front of the other that he almost didn¡¯t hear the hum at first. It was subtle ¡ª a low, resonant vibration that Klarion thought was just the pounding of his own heart at first.


    But then, the whispers started.


    ¡°You fight well, scion. But is it enough?¡±


    The voice was neither male nor female, its tone a dissonant blend of curiosity and cold malice. Klarion staggered to a halt, his foot hovering over the next step, and he whipped his head around. The shadows danced along the walls, but no monster emerged.


    ¡°Leave her. Save yourself. She is only a burden.¡±


    The whisper slithered into his mind like a snake. Klarion grit his teeth, but his grip on Hatsune only tightened as if to shield her from the words. ¡°Shut up,¡± he growled, forcing himself to keep moving.


    That¡¯s when he heard the laugh ¡ª a hollow, echoing sound that seemed to reverberate through the stone corridors.


    ¡°Defiance¡­ amusing. But how long can you endure? Your strength wanes, your body already falters.¡±


    At the words, the weight on his back grew heavier. His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall with a grunt. He adjusted Hatsune¡¯s position, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulders.


    ¡°Fuck you¡­ whoever you are. You won¡¯t break me,¡± Klarion grunted.


    ¡°Break you? No, child. I will shape you. Mold you. The Pit claims all who enter, one way or another. Even those who leave carry its mark.¡± The whispers grew louder, more insistent, intertwining with his thoughts. ¡°You belong to me, scion.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lie,¡± he growled, shaking his head to dispel the insidious voice. ¡°You¡¯re trying to mess with me. I don¡¯t belong to anyone.¡±


    The voice, the Dungeon, chuckled again, the sound grating against his nerves.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you? Look at the girl you carry. Look at the blood you spilled. Survival in the Pit is not just about strength but sacrifice. What will you sacrifice to make it out of here alive?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s grip tightened on Hatsune. He glanced down at her pale face, her closed eyes, and the faint lines of pain etched into her features. She had fought valiantly, and she had been thrown into this nightmare because of him. There was no way he would leave her behind.


    ¡°I¡¯ll sacrifice everything if I have to,¡± Klarion said, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. ¡°But not her.¡±


    ¡°Noble words for a boy struggling to stand,¡± the voice sneered. ¡°You are not the first who has attempted to defy me. Many start like you¡ªdetermined, stubborn, righteous. And yet, they all fell. They all sacrificed something. You will, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances,¡± Klarion snapped, forcing his legs to move.


    One step at a time, he climbed higher, ignoring the weight of Hatsune, ignoring the ache in his body, and ignoring the oppressive whispers of the Dungeon. Gradually, the whispers faded into a low hum, but the Dungeon¡¯s presence lingered, heavy and grasping for him. Klarion didn¡¯t stop, didn¡¯t dare look back. He focused on the steps before him, and on the faint glimmer of light ahead.


    Finally, he reached the top, stepping up out of the stairs that spiraled downwards into the darkness. Several icons appeared in the corner of his eye, but he forced them away. His eyes swept the open room, but the rest area was empty.  He breathed a sigh of relief at the fact all of his enemies had apparently left him and Hatsune for dead.


    Staggering forward, struggling to breath and legs trembling, he gently laid Hatsune on one of the empty benches so that he had a few minutes to catch his breath. Klarion checked her, but she remained deep in sleep. He collapsed beside her, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening after the relentless whispers of the Dungeon.


    After ten minutes or so, he picked her and their loot up again one last time to stagger out of the building that marked the entrance to the Dungeon. The break hadn¡¯t been long enough, and his vision swam, flickering in and out of focus.


    It was night outside, but he could not see any stars through all the clouds. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, still struggling to get his breath.


    Without warning or sound, a Sentinel was suddenly standing in front of him. Tall and imposing in its armor, the mask it wore shifted first from Hatsune to his own tired face. The Sentinel did not say a word, only stared.


    Panic bubbled up through his exhaustion. He hadn¡¯t expected to be confronted so soon and without any warning. He swayed, nearly losing his balance. He opened his mouth, intending to ask for help. He needed¡­ he needed¡­


    Before he could utter a single word, darkness claimed him, and he collapsed, Hatsune sliding from his grip to land softly beside him on the ground.

 Chapter 66

    Klarion¡¯s eyes opened to darkness. His head throbbed, a dull ache spreading through his skull as his senses began to return. At first, he wasn¡¯t sure where he was. As his eyes adjusted, he started being able to make out his unfamiliar surroundings. The barest glimmer of a candle at his bedside cast long shadows across the room that came to rest against the walls. No windows, just a single door across from the bed he was lying in, and a neighboring bed on the other side of the room. All at once, the smells hit him. Smells he was well used to from his childhood back on Earth. Faint hints of something like antiseptic, though with something else overlaying it. Something herbal, maybe.


    He struggled to piece together the events that had led to his arrival in what, he was assuming, was some version of a hospital room. He remembered the Dungeon ¡ª the Pit ¡ª and the frantic flight up the stairs with Hatsune. He remembered the last, desperate fight against the lizardmen. He remembered carrying the Leporine the rest of the way, her unconscious form limp and almost lifeless. He remembered a voice¡­ some argument. The last thing he remembered was the night sky and a Sentinel mask.


    They had made it out then.


    Looking around the room now that his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out a bit more detail. Whitewashed walls stretched outward, their pristine surfaces practically shouting how they were regularly cleaned. The soft, polished wooden floor beneath his bed reflected the faint light of the candle beside his bed, a sharp departure from the grimy, uneven stone of The Pit.


    He shifted under the sheets he had been covered with, surprised to find that he didn¡¯t feel any pain or aches in his body, nor even the exhaustion he expected after having survived the Dungron. Instead, he felt what was almost a lightness of some sort, as if he had been treated¡­ or, given the nature of the Academy, healed.


    But where was Hatsune?


    Klarion¡¯s heart skipped a bit as his eyes immediately locked onto the other bed in the room with him, afraid to find it empty. He breathed out when he saw that the sheets weren¡¯t flat from being made, but instead clumped around his Leporine bodyguard, her face laying across a pillow catching the light of a candle next to her bed. Hatsune was pale, her features softened in the dim light as she lay unconscious, just as she had been when he had carried her out of the Dungeon. But unlike back then, her face looked peaceful. She was dressed in a simple white robe, looking far different from the bloodied and battered she had been in the Dungeon. Her chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, though he could also see that her hands were wrapped in soft bandages, more likely around her leg out of sight under the blanket.


    Seeing she was alright, Klarion let out a frustrated grunt as he lay his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. A rush of guilt swept through him, sharper than the wounds he had taken back in the Pit. His mind churned with memories of how easily he had trusted Hector, how blindly he had followed him to the Dungeon. The signs had been there ¡ª the hints of unease, the manipulating words ¡ª but he had brushed them aside, clinging to the belief that Hector was becoming a friend. He remembered what the other scion had said, how Hector was only reluctantly acting against him in order to help his family. While a small part of Klarion was sympathetic, all he could see was Hatsune being kicked over the edge of the railing to fall into The Pit. No, Hatsune had paid the price for his failure to see through Hector¡¯s lies.


    The image in his mind shifted to the Leporine slumped against the Dungeon pillar, her lifeblood staining the stone. He had been too trusting, too blind. Everything that happened to her was his fault. His nails dug into his pals as he swallowed, the bitter taste of guilt and regret choking him. He made a vow to himself, that he would never again be that naive. What was that saying again? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.


    The silence in the room felt oppressive as he pulled himself back together. He couldn¡¯t let his emotions take hold. Not now. Hatsune needed him to be strong, to stay focused. He had gotten them out of the Dungeon, and they had survived. But he still had to make sure she was safe, that she was getting all the care she needed.


    Klarion swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood shakily, testing his balance as the room seemed to sway for a moment. He took a few slow, deliberate steps toward Hatsune¡¯s bed. Standing alongside her sleeping form, he looked down on her delicate face. Up close, he could see that there was a faint flush to her cheeks, a sign that whatever healing had been done was working. He reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, but it wasn¡¯t the feverish warmth he had half-feared that would be there.


    The door to the room creaked open, drawing Klarion¡¯s attention. Turning, he saw a tall woman sweep into the room, her presence immediately commanding yet oddly soothing. Ash-blonde hair was tightly coiled into a bun, not a single hair out of place. Fine laugh lines framed her dark eyes, giving her a look of experience and present, but restrained kindness. Much like her hair, her white uniform was pristine, trimmed with silver embroidery that denoted a rank of some sort. A small pin in the shape of a caduceus of all things was prominently displayed on her chest. The faint scent of lavender trailed her as she crossed the room to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re awake, what with how exhausted you were getting out of the Dungeon,¡± she said softly, her voice gentle and soothing, much like one would expect a nurse to have. ¡°You should really get some sleep. Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re both safe now.¡±


    Klarion had a good idea where they were, but he needed to ask to be sure. ¡°Where are we?¡± He looked back down at Hatsune. ¡°Is she¡­ is she going to be alright?¡±


    The nurse smiled, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re on the first-year non-emergency floor of the Infirmary of the Imperial Academy. A Sentinel found you both collapsed outside the entrance to the first-year Dungeon known as The Pit.¡± She looked down at Hatsune. ¡°She especially was in rough shape when the Sentinel brought you both in, but the journeyman healer trainee that treated her set her quickly back to rights.¡±


    ¡°So why the bandages then?¡± If a healer had already seen her, Klarion would have expected no bandages to be needed.


    ¡°I did say she was in rough shape,¡± the nurse said, turning back to Klarion. ¡°The trainee got most of the injuries but made the decision to wrap the remnants of the injuries overnight just to be safe. I¡¯m just sorry we weren¡¯t able to save the others.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Others?¡± What did the nurse mean by that? He didn¡¯t remember anyone else in the area when he had brought Hatsune out of the Dungeon, let alone anyone who was injured.


    ¡°Yes, your party,¡± she said sympathetically. ¡°Another pair of Sentinels checked up to where the instancing effect of the Dungeon kicked in, but no one else was found. Given how long it has been, they likely died in the Dungeon. I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°Umm¡­it was just us,¡± he admitted quietly, glancing down at the sleeping Leporine. ¡°Me and her.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s brow furrowed in disbelief. ¡°Just the two of you?¡± she said after a moment, her tone shifting to one of concern. ¡°You attempted The Pit with no team? No healer?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡­¡± Klarion trailed off. He thought quickly over what had happened, how a group of scions and their bodyguards had essentially forced the both of them into the Dungeon for the monsters down there to dispose of them. No, he couldn¡¯t say anything about that. But he had to say something close to the truth. He continued, hoping she hadn¡¯t picked up on the reason for the long pause, ¡°¡­accidentally fell down the hole into the Dungeon.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ accidentally fell in?¡± The nurse¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line as she digested his words. ¡°You were fortunate that you didn¡¯t fall too far then, and that you turned back before going too deep¡­¡± She trailed off as she saw something in Klarion¡¯s eyes as he shifted on his feet. ¡°You didn¡¯t turn back, did you?¡±


    Klarion hesitated again, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. He could feel the words clawing at his throat, but he forced them down. He looked back at Hatsune in an attempt to buy an extra few moments to think about what he should say. While he did so, the nurse stepped closer.


    ¡°As a member of the Academy Infirmary,¡± she said slowly, ¡°I am forbidden from sharing any information about my patients or their injuries without permission from the patients themselves, unless said information or their injuries pose an immediate threat to other students or staff. Now, please answer my question.¡±


    ¡°We actually fell a bit further than that,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°To the bottom floor of the Dungeon, actually. Practically outside the Boss¡¯s room.¡±


    ¡°Descent configuration, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion confirmed the nurse¡¯s guess on the configuration of the Dungeon. ¡°Hatsune was hurt pretty bad after fighting against some of the monsters.¡± He let out a breath. ¡°We decided attempting the Boss might represent the more likely path to survival.¡±


    ¡°Of course you did,¡± the nurse pressed a hand to her eyes. ¡°Describe the Boss and its room to me.¡±


    After Klarion went over a general description of the Boss and the room it was in, clarifying briefly how the chains behaved at the start of the fight, the nurse took a step back, her eyes wide as she absorbed the information.


    ¡°A Brute-type Boss in a hostile environment designed to hamper any attackers?¡± she murmured, half to herself. ¡°Those are some of the most difficult configurations to face for first-years. Even older students with full teams might struggle in such a configuration.¡± She looked back at Klarion, her eyes searching his face. ¡°And you¡­ you managed it with just the two of you?¡±


    Klarion leaned back slightly, uneasy under her scrutiny. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy. We almost didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    The nurse shook her head, still struggling to comprehend what he was saying. ¡°How? The Brute-types are notorious for their raw strength and resilience. How did you even bring it down?¡±


    ¡°We found some runes on the pillars near the start of the fight,¡± Klarion explained. ¡°When we hit them, the chains shifted from attacking us to seizing the Boss, which was dragged back to its platform.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s expression grew more alarmed. ¡°But immobilizing the Boss enrages it. How did you survive once it broke free at full strength?¡±


    Klarion met her gaze evenly. ¡°It didn¡¯t get free.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t¡­ get free?¡± she repeated slowly, her tone disbelieving.


    ¡°I killed it before it could break loose,¡± Klarion clarified.


    The nurse¡¯s hand went to her chest as though to steady herself. ¡°No real damage before it was immobilized, and you killed it before it could break free,¡± she said softly. ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s unheard of.¡±


    Klarion shifted uncomfortably. ¡°We didn¡¯t have much choice.¡±


    The nurse walked over to sit down heavily in the chair by Hatsune¡¯s bedside, her face a mixture of amazement and disbelief. ¡°And then the Dungeon deposited you outside, I assume,¡± she said, more a statement than a question.


    Klarion shook his head, confused. ¡°No? We had to fight our way back up and out.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s head snapped up, her expression now angry. ¡°You¡­you fought your way out? Why in the name of the Seven Princes would you do that? Why didn¡¯t you just wait for the Dungeon to send you out?¡±


    Klarion froze, embarrassed. ¡°The Dungeon does that?¡±


    The nurse¡¯s jaw dropped, and then her face turned a furious shade of red. ¡°It does that?! Of course, it does that! Dungeons like The Pit that only have a single Boss automatically eject surviving delvers from the final room following a short period of time after the Boss has been defeated. It¡¯s standard knowledge for anyone who¡¯s ever paid attention to the most basic of Dungeon delving information!¡±


    Klarion winced under her tirade. ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know?!¡± The nurse¡¯s voice rose another octave. Klarion noticed Hatsune¡¯s ears curl slightly, but she stayed asleep. ¡°What kind of scion are you? How could you not know something so fundamental?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s silence stretched uncomfortably, and the nurse¡¯s anger gradually gave way to confusion. ¡°Wait a moment,¡± she said, narrowing her eyes. ¡°What is your class, anyway? Did you unlock one already, and that was how you managed to survive all of that?¡±


    Klarion awkwardly shifted, trying to avoid eye contact. He could already guess how she was going to respond to what he was going to say. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ have a class yet.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s expression froze, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. For a long moment, she simply stared at him. ¡°You don¡¯t have a class yet?¡± she repeated slowly, as if the words were foreign to her.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Klarion confirmed, feeling a wave of embarrassment rising. ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t even started looking yet, honestly.¡±


    The nurse¡¯s shock turned to outright disbelief. ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t have a class,¡± she said again as if trying to make sense of it. ¡°And you went into The Pit? Killed the Boss? Fought your way back out?¡±


    Klarion nodded slowly, though her tone made it sound as if he had just claimed to perform healing miracles using a rubber chicken he found outside the infirmary.


    She let out a long, slow breath, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed them to her knees. ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to call you a fool or a prodigy,¡± she said finally. ¡°Probably both. But one thing¡¯s for certain ¡ª unless you are leaving something out, you are reckless beyond belief.¡±


    Klarion offered a faint, apologetic smile, refusing to add anything else. The other scions were a problem he wanted to spend some time thinking over himself, at least for now. ¡°I¡¯ll try to do better next time.¡±


    The nurse groaned, rubbing her temples almost violently. ¡°Next time? Don¡¯t even think about it until you¡¯ve taken proper steps to prepare yourself, and you have picked a class!¡± In a violent motion with one hand that Klarion had trouble tracking, the nurse made a clenching movement and the flames of both candles in the room abruptly went out. The only light in the room came from the hallway beyond the partially opened door.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s all I can take for the night,¡± the nurse said standing, rubbing her face. ¡°I would encourage you to get some sleep tonight. You have class in the morning.¡±


    The nurse walked out, pulling the door closed behind her. Just before it shut, she spoke once more.


    ¡°And don¡¯t worry about the Leporine,¡± she said, her voice back to its reassuring tone. ¡°She will be well enough to go with you to class tomorrow. Good night.¡±

 Chapter 67

    Klarion stood there a moment, staring at the closed door before turning back to Hatsune. Her breathing remained steady, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that, while fragile, was a small comfort amidst everything that had happened.


    Turning away, Klarion went back over to his own bed. It creaked softly under his weight, the mattress nearly as soft as the one back in Blacksword Manor. His mind flashed back to the rough terrain of the Dungeon ¡ª the cold, unyielding stone, and the constant stench of rot and damp earth. Compared to that, the infirmary bed felt, and smelled, like a cloud.


    He laid down under the sheets, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling, but the comfort of the bed itself, and the admonishment by the nurse to get some sleep, did nothing to ease the restless churning of his thoughts. Sleep simply refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of the Dungeon¡ªthe Boss towering over him, the desperation of the fight, and the moment the chains had ensnared it. He remembered Hatsune¡¯s wounds, her pained expression as she fought to stay upright, and the blood that had soaked into the floor after he had defeated the Boss.


    No. He pushed those thoughts away. They were safely out of the Dungeon and there was no point worrying about what had happened in there anymore. He turned his attention to the more pressing issue: why had those other scions acted so boldly against them? How could they risk attacking an archducal heir without fear of consequences? Turning over the issue in his mind for several long minutes, the only explanation Klarion could muster was that there was something going on with House Blacksword¡¯s position that must have eroded their power enough that even scions from lesser houses might be tempted to act against him at the Academy.


    It was an unsettling thought. From what he knew based on context and observation of the other archducal scions on that first day, he expected House Blacksword to be a source of unyielding power and influence that, even without direct assistance, would still be enough to shield him somewhat from the court politics he assumed to be an important part of the Academy experience. But apparently that was too naive. Finding out more about his House and its relations with the rest of the powerful Houses and factions in this part of the Empire jumped higher on his ever-longer list of things to do. Perhaps the Coins of Knowledge he had now would be useful in that regard? If he could figure out how to redeem them, perhaps he could learn the truth about House Blacksword, its recent history, and maybe even the political alliances and grudges that had led to that group of scions trying to get the Dungeon to do their dirty work. But that would be an issue for tomorrow.


    He groaned and sat up, deciding he needed a distraction. Something else to focus on, something that would take his mind off the skills in intrigue he would quickly have to master in the coming days. His eyes caught on a flashing icon in the corner of his vision. That is right, he had a number of notifications he needed to deal with after having escaped The Pit. If he wasn¡¯t able to get to sleep yet, he might as well deal with them. Focusing on the first notification, Klarion willed it open. A sem-transparent screen appeared in his vision.


    The sheer number of details immediately overwhelmed him. There were more than a dozen categories displayed, each with a number of subcategories, all given their own grades, percentages, and metrics that were almost comically meticulous. There were scores for everything from Environmental Adaptability to Tactical Decision-Making, and even something as granular as Ranged Accuracy. Needless to say, he had scored badly in everything except for the subcategories based around defeating the Boss. Which made sense. They hadn¡¯t had time to explore the Dungeon properly, uncover any hidden secrets, or even fully clear it of monsters.


    He groaned, rubbing his temples as a headache threatened to emerge. Part of him admitted how this could be useful, especially if he had his eyes on improving a specific set of skills or approaches in a fighting style, but there was no way he could process all this right now.


    He almost closed it out when his eye caught a heading at the bottom of the report: Commendations. Intrigued, he selected it, and the screen shifted to display a separate section. This report was far more concise, displaying specific commendations that seemed to reflect exceptional actions completed in the Dungeon itself. He examined the three that were displayed.


    Commendation Received: ¡°No Class, No Problem¡±


    Kill the Dungeon Boss without having a class.


    Reward: New Trait - Regeneration (Minor) I; Seal of Brutality (2)


    Commendation Received: ¡°Unyielding Spirit¡±


    Complete a Dungeon without using a rest zone.


    Reward: Seal of Valor (1)


    Commendation Received: ¡°Whispers of The Pit¡±


    Pass the whispered doubts of The Pit


    Reward: Seal of Valor (1)


    He had a hard time controlling his excitement as soon as he saw that the commendations came with rewards and that not only had he earned two Seals of Valor and two Seals of Brutality, but even better, he had been granted his first new trait beyond the Greater Soul Oath. A genuine smile broke out across his face. Regeneration. The word alone was enough to stir excitement in him. Based on what he could guess about the trait, it would allow the holder to shrug off injuries that would otherwise have crippled them, as well as perhaps help improve their stamina. Even if this was only a minor version of regeneration, his mind still raced with the possibilities. He would have to do some tests with it though to be sure of how it actually worked. For example, did it work passively all the time, or did it only activate under certain conditions? He couldn¡¯t wait to test it out, though given what had so recently happened with the Dungeon, he had no intention of recklessly throwing himself in danger to do so. For now, the idea of healing faster than normal ¡ª of being able to endure more without succumbing ¡ª was thrilling. And it would probably be a major help with training going forward as well.


    Closing out the screen, Klarion focused on pulling the next one up, which turned out to be his character sheet. The smile on his face got even larger at what he saw displayed: he had gained two levels. He¡¯d expected that killing the Dungeon Boss and escaping The Pit would bring a boost to his experience, but two entire levels at once? That was beyond what he had dared to hope for. He focused on the sixty unspent points that he now had. It didn¡¯t take him long to make a decision on what to do with them.


    Strength. Dexterity. Vitality. Endurance.


    Klarion split the points evenly across the four attributes since they made the most sense based on everything that had happened up until now. He had no class, nor any specialized abilities that meant he needed to guide his growth in a particular direction. Until something happened to change that, his best choice was to stick with what had worked for him so far: close-range combat. Strength would ensure his attacks would carry more weight, and make it easier to break through defenses when brute force was needed. Similarly, Dexterity would help improve his reflexes and the precision of his strikes. Lastly, both Vitality and Endurance would bolster his health and stamina for any fight that ends up finding him, which he expected was going to become even more important in the weeks and months ahead if his enemies among the nobility strike out against him again.


    He looked at his character sheet one more time, just to be sure.


    Name: Klarion von Sturmwacht


    Race: Human (Noresyn)


    Class: TBD - Level 3 (Free Points = 60=>0)


    Profession(s): TBD


    Essence(s): TBD


    Faction: Treverorum Empire - House Blacksword


    Rank: Scion - Unlanded


    Aura: -


    Majesty: -


    Eminence: -


    Strength: 74 => 89


    Dexterity: 49 => 64


    Vitality: 75 => 90


    Endurance: 73 => 88


    Intelligence: 57


    Wisdom: 47


    Charisma: 40


    Luck: 16


    Traits: Regeneration (Minor) I; Greater Soul Oath (Unknown - Hidden)


    Skills: Greatsword Mastery (Novice)


    Abilities: N/A


    Imperial Academy Currencies:


    Seals of Valor (2); Seals of Cunning (0); Seals of Brutality (2); Seals of Discovery (0); Seals of Arcana (0);


    Coins of Knowledge (15); Coins of Service (30) *Mark of Bonds (1)*


    Happy with what he saw, Klarion confirmed his choices. A subtle warmth immediately spread throughout his body. At first, it was a reassuring sensation, as though his attributes were gently adjusting and settling into place. But as soon as he flexed his fingers, seeking to test the changes, the warmth rapidly increased, quickly moving past hot into searing. Gripping the sheets so tightly his fingernails cut into the fabric, he pressed his body back down into the bed as his muscles locked up. Klarion¡¯s jaw seized like a vice, a trickle of blood emerging from his lip in the spot where he accidentally caught the inside of his mouth with one of his teeth.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The burning pain felt like it went on for at least an hour, though he suspected it was less than a minute. Perhaps it had felt so long because, unlike the first time, he wasn¡¯t tense about potentially heading into a fight and instead was safe in a bed at the Academy infirmary. Too sore to move, he closed his eyes and did his best to relax, knowing that he needed the sleep.


    Next thing he knew, a nurse was entering the room. She was different from the one who had been there the night before. Middle-aged with a kind face framed by a short bob of graying hair. Balanced in her hands was a tray with two steaming bowls, slices of bread, and a pitcher of water. It looked a lot like breakfast, so it must be morning now. Looking up from the food, the nurse had draped over her other arm their clothes from the previous day, neatly folded and looking much cleaner than they had been when they had escaped from The Pit.


    ¡°Good morning, Scion Blacksword,¡± the nurse said, using her toes to pull a table on wheels away from where it stood against the wall. Pushing it, she brought it to a stop between the two beds, then using her heel, she locked the wheels. Setting the tray down on the table, she turned to him, tone cheerful yet brisk, ¡°How are you feeling today?¡±


    Klarion sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. ¡°Better, I think. Thank you.¡±


    The nurse nodded approvingly before setting the folded clothing on an extra chair in the room. She then turned to Hatsune, who lay in the bed beside him. Hatsune hadn¡¯t moved yet, but her nose twitched as the aroma of the food wafted toward her. Klarion chuckled softly, the sight oddly endearing. He was about to say something when Hatsune¡¯s eyes fluttered open, and she sat up abruptly, her gaze locking onto the tray. Her cheeks flushed as she noticed Klarion¡¯s amused expression, but rather than comment, she reached for one of the bowls and began eating with single-minded determination.


    Klarion shook his head, smiling. ¡°Good morning to you too.¡±


    Hatsune didn¡¯t respond, focusing entirely on the meal.


    As Klarion picked up his own bowl, he realized how hungry he was. The food was simple ¡ª some sort of porridge that was slightly sweet ¡ª but it tasted wonderful. He savored each bite, his body seeming to absorb energy with each spoonful. It might very well be the case, given the nature of the infirmary and the Academy. While he took his time, Hatsune polished off her bowl quickly and eyed the bread on the tray before taking a piece and nibbling on it.


    While they ate, the nurse busied herself with checking them over. She examined Hatsune first, unwrapping the bandages and, after some gentle prodding to get the Leporine to pull it free of the sheet, the one around her leg. ¡°Looks like you healed up as well as the trainee healer expected.¡±


    Hatsune mumbled something unintelligible around a mouthful of bread, her blush deepening. Klarion pushed down his amusement as the nurse moved to him, her hands gentle but firm as she checked his pulse and the lingering bruises from the Dungeon.


    ¡°You are also looking well,¡± the nurse said. ¡°Just remember, Dungeons, even the relatively safe ones on campus, aren¡¯t to be underestimated. I don¡¯t know what possessed you to push yourselves so far, but you need to be more careful. Next time, you might not be so fortunate.¡±


    Klarion nodded in response, but he considered what she said. It was clear that she, and likely by extension those who had treated them here at the infirmary, assumed that he and Hatsune had willingly entered the Dungeon, driven by ambition or recklessness. Or perhaps the truth was known, and they simply were ignoring it for some reason.


    Regardless, Klarion intended to leave it alone for now. From where he stood, letting the truth slip would only complicate matters. Indeed, the more he thought about it, accusing other scions of such an underhanded act against him without proof could easily backfire. Worse, should the knowledge that someone had already acted against him get out, it could make him and Hatsune even bigger targets. Still, the injustice of it gnawed at him.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be more cautious, I promise.¡±


    The nurse studied him for a moment, her sharp gaze softening slightly. ¡°Good. Well, you¡¯re both fit to leave at any time. You¡¯ll find your equipment and any items you had with you at the security desk at the south entrance on the first floor. Have a good day, Scion Blacksword.¡±


    With that, she gathered up the tray, gave them both a parting nod, and left the room. The sound of the door clicking shut left the room quiet, safe for the faint rustle of movement as Hatsune swung her legs over the side of her bed. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. She shifted on her feet, staring first at him, then the floor. Klarion wasn¡¯t sure what to say. He made to break the awkward silence, but Hatsune beat him to it.


    ¡°Klarion,¡± she began before pausing. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her vivid green eyes shimmering with emotion. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to thank you.¡±


    He blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Thank me? For what?¡±


    ¡°For saving my life,¡± she said, her words steady despite the slight blush that lingered on her cheeks. ¡°In the Dungeon¡­ when I landed in that pool¡­ I thought it was over for me. That I¡¯d never see another sunrise, that I¡¯d never make it back home. But you¡­ you didn¡¯t abandon me, even when it might have been easier for you, given your stats. You brought us both back alive.¡±


    He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to respond to her earnest response. ¡°Well¡­ you are my bodyguard, and even more importantly my friend,¡± he said finally. ¡°Besides, you helped save us too. I¡¯d not have been able to defeat the Boss had I needed to hit the runed pillars at the same time. You did that. So, really, we saved each other.¡±


    Her ears twitched, and the blush on her cheeks deepened. ¡°Still,¡± she insisted, ¡°thank you.¡±


    Klarion looked at the Leporine and then offered her a warm smile. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    The moment hung between them, charged with unspoken emotions, until Hatsune suddenly turned away, fidgeting with the hem of her infirmary gown. Klarion glanced at their folded clothes, realizing that the time for sentimentality had passed ¡ª they needed to get moving.


    As he picked up his school uniform and began dressing, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but feel a wave of embarrassment. There were no privacy screens like there were in the hospitals back on Earth, leaving them to awkwardly turn their backs to one another as they changed. Even so, he couldn¡¯t help but feel the occasional glance that Hatsune threw his way. Or at least that was what he assumed was happening, given her frequent pauses as briefly struggled with his own infirmary gown.


    When they were both dressed, Klarion checked himself over one more time before turning to Hatsune. She had finished getting dressed first, though she was still working to smooth the padded jacket she had worn under her armor, which was still at the security desk according to what the nurse had said. It was hard not to stare at the way the clothing gripped her curves.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Klarion asked, his voice slightly hoarse.


    Hatsune nodded quickly. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s go.¡±


    They emerged into an empty hallway. Not sure initially where to go, Klarion was somewhat bemused to find that, much like the hospital he had spent so much time on back on Earth, the Infirmary of the Imperial Academy had adopted much the same approach to directions for visitors and patients. Arrows under clear signs stood out on the wall near where the hallway branched in four directions.


    As soon as Klarion knew which direction they needed to go, he began to pay more attention to the Infirmary itself. Much like he had expected, given many of the buildings he had seen so far, the Infirmary combined the functionality of a medical facility with the elegance of the Academy¡¯s architecture. Polished marble floors gleamed under the light of some sort of magical lamps evenly spaced along the wall. After several minutes of walking, they followed a new hallway that happened to be along the exterior wall of this side of the Infirmary. Arched windows let in soft golden light, casting a warm glow that made the place seem almost welcoming.


    Almost.


    For all that the design was nice, he had spent too much time in a hospital when he was sick that, even this place, was not comfortable for him. Especially given that the air was filled with a faint, medicinal scent of some sort, for all that it was mingling with the subtle aroma of fresh flowers placed in the occasional decorative vase set along the walls.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan now?¡± Hatsune asked as they walked.


    ¡°We¡¯ll pick up our gear and the loot from the Dungeon at the security desk the nurse mentioned,¡± he said, then sighed. ¡°As much as I might want to take it easy today, I can¡¯t. I¡¯ve got to head to my Etiquette and Courtly Manners class.¡±


    Eventually, they came to a wide staircase that led down to the first floor, and the grandeur of the Infirmary became even more apparent for those areas where patients were not being treated. Coming down the stairs, Klarion slowed as he saw that the central atrium was vast, a domed ceiling painted with a depiction of a group of legionnaires triumphing over a wave of monstrous beasts.


    Hatsune gently nudged him, and Klarion realized he had stopped to stare in the middle of the last set of steps. Moving again, he sought out the first-floor security desk. He soon found it. A sturdy wooden structure was set against the far wall next to the entrance, and it was manned by a stout dwarf who was grumpily filling out some paperwork. Behind him stood rows of locked cabinets that undoubtedly held the equipment and possessions of the patients who came into the Infirmary¡¯s care.


    When they reached the security desk, the dwarf looked up from his writing to greet them after darting a quick glance at the markings of his school uniform. ¡°Good morning, Scion Blacksword. Here to retrieve something?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Klarion said. ¡°My bodyguard and I came in late last night after delving The Pit.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes widened fractionally at the mention of the Dungeon but said nothing as he turned to unlock a cabinet behind him. Klarion was confused at first when the dwarf pulled out a small bag, but when he reached inside to pull out the old greatsword he had found in the Dungeon, he realized it was something like a bag of holding, not unlike the storage rings that Alesin and Rolfun had shown him a few weeks ago.


    Beyond their weapons and armor, the dwarf set the same pair of leather bracers, the silver ring with an emerald set in it, and the pouch of gold coins that he had looted from the Boss¡¯s chest back in the Dungeon. He also placed a small bag next to the items, which would make carrying them a bit easier.


    ¡°Here you go,¡± the dwarf said, sliding the pile across the counter. ¡°Try not to visit again for a while, Scion Blacksword.¡±


    Klarion chuckled wryly. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best.¡±


    With their gear reclaimed, the dwarf returned to his paperwork. After giving Hatsune a few minutes to get her armor back on, they made their way out of the building. Though still in the morning, it was clear from the few students they saw hurrying around that classes were soon going to start. He must have been making a face because she stepped up to his side with an expression of concern.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Just not looking forward to class,¡± he admitted. ¡°Etiquette isn¡¯t exactly my strong suit.¡±


    She giggled, her earlier shyness having faded. ¡°You? Struggle with manners? I can¡¯t imagine.¡±


    ¡°Laugh it up,¡± he said, rolling his eyes. ¡°Meanwhile, you get to relax while I suffer.¡±


    Hatsune smirked, hoisting the bag of loot onto her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll find somewhere near your class to wait for you to finish. Just try not to embarrass yourself too much.¡±


    Klarion ignored her teasing, instead leading the way in the direction of the building that J-65 had told him would host his Etiquette and Courtly Manners class. While he did not yet know what to expect, he was absolutely sure of one thing.


    It was going to be his least favorite class.

 Chapter 68 (Interlude 8)

    Senior Healer Elira Valcora sat alone in her modest office, the glow of a single enchanted crystal lamp lighting up her office. She held a delicate glass of amber liquor, its subtle warmth offering fleeting solace against the storm of thoughts in her mind. The familiar sounds of the first-year section of the Imperial Academy Infirmary beyond her door provided a background of comfort, but her gaze was fixed on the ripples of her drink, as if seeking answers in its depths.


    It was early in the school year, far too early for the first-year scions to be acting so brazenly against each other. Yet here she was, nursing a drink and pondering the dangerous precedent already set by the actions of some of the current crop of first-year scions at the Academy. The incident with the Blacksword boy ¡ª Klarion, she reminded herself ¡ª was troubling. Nothing had been said by him, nor by the Sentinel that had brought the Blacksword scion and his bodyguard to the Infirmary, but she could read between the lines. A few discrete inquiries with the Sentinels who had been stationed near The Pit yesterday had all but confirmed what she suspected. Klarion had been forced into a Dungeon by an as-yet-unknown number of scions from other Houses, and he had barely survived the ordeal with his Leporine bodyguard. Already enemies of House Blacksword were seeking to settle the grudges of their Houses in blood before the school year had even properly begun.


    Elira let out a long breath, swirling the liquid in her glass. ¡°It always starts younger with each generation,¡± she muttered to herself. The Academy was no stranger to such power plays. After all, its main purpose was not merely to educate the scions of the Empire¡¯s Houses, but to prepare the young nobles for the unrelenting grind of politics and power struggles that awaited them beyond this Pocket Plane when they graduated. Adversity, the Imperial doctrine declared, bred resilience.


    And yet, Elira couldn¡¯t help but wonder at the cost of that resilience.


    The Academy¡¯s tacit approval of these conflicts ¡ª so long as they stayed within carefully prescribed boundaries ¡ª was built on a foundation as old as the Empire itself. The idea was a simple one: by exposing scions to the betrayals and rivalries they would face beyond the Pocket Plane of the Imperial Academy, they would be molded into capable leaders and survivors. After all, the thought went, if they couldn¡¯t navigate these treacherous waters now, how could they hope to stand at the helm of their own Houses in the future?


    The Senior Healer downed the last of her drink, the burn in her throat satisfying, as well it should be given the cost of what she had just finished. No, as much as she disliked the approach taken by the Academy, it had stood the test of many centuries now. The Houses needed their heirs sharpened like blades, their cunning and strength honed in the crucible of their time here.


    Elira set her glass down with a clink and leaned back in her chair. She reflected with some distaste on what she would have to look forward to sooner than she had expected this year. Bloody duels, injuries from unknown sources, and political maneuvering spilled over into brawls. Thankfully in her decades here, open warfare had never occurred, and direct assassinations in classes had remained off-limits for even the most bloodthirsty or vengeful of scions. Her thoughts returned to the scion of House Blacksword.


    It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and not from the drink. The young lord, barely more than a boy, was untested and already bearing the weight of a House that had seen better days. Klarion¡¯s House was a shadow of its former self, its influence and power diminished to a husk of what it once was. That much was common knowledge. She¡¯d seen it all before: when a House fell from grace, the sharks circled, eager to strip away what power and influence remained.


    But to force a scion of his background into a Dungeon ¡ª a lethal, unpredictable environment ¡ª was a new level of ruthlessness.


    Still, she couldn¡¯t deny that Klarion had survived, and that was no small feat. She poured another measure of liquor into her glass and took another sip, her mind circling back to the night before. She had donned the simple uniform of a low-ranked nurse in order to examine Klarion and his companion, Hatsune. Both had been exhausted, battered, and dangerously close to the brink. Yet she had noticed something else ¡ª a quiet determination in Klarion¡¯s eyes.


    Elira had seen that look before in legionnaires who survived the impossible. It was the look of someone who had been forged, not by choice, but by circumstance. Her thoughts swirled around Klarion Blacksword, the scion of a declining House whose actions the previous night had shaken her more than she cared to admit. What she had learned about his survival in The Pit ¡ª solo, burdened with an injured bodyguard, and without even a class ¡ª was staggering. It defied all logic, all expectation.


    Klarion¡¯s performance wasn¡¯t just impressive; it was nearly unprecedented. It was one thing for a properly balanced group of scions with classes and properly equipped bodyguards to handle a Dungeon with grace, another entirely for an untested scion to not only survive but conquer a Boss as well. No true training, no class abilities, just raw determination and grit.


    Her composure cracked further as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She¡¯d confronted him under the guise of routine questioning, but her curiosity and disbelief had bled through far more than she intended. She winced at the memory. It wasn¡¯t often she lost her temper ¡ª or her carefully maintained air of superiority ¡ª but the absurdity of his situation had pulled her from her usual equilibrium.


    ¡°You were supposed to be composed, Elira,¡± she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with irritation. But how could she have been prepared for someone like Klarion? Her information on him had been accurate at least ¡ª House Blacksword¡¯s young scion was said to be reserved, lacking the arrogance so common among noble heirs ¡ª but even that hadn¡¯t prepared her for the quiet intensity in his eyes, the way he¡¯d answered her questions, even the way he had looked on the Leporine as something more than a tool. More, he hadn¡¯t once tried to use his rank to shield himself or gain her favor, a rarity among the Academy¡¯s first-year scions who usually did so until they learned better.


    Still, had he done so, she wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to put him back in his place if he had tried. Unlanded scion or not, her noble rank as a Countess carried weight greater than his for now, let alone the fact she might have revealed her position as a Senior Healer. But he hadn¡¯t. His humility, paired with the sheer audacity of his accomplishment, had left her unsettled.


    Yes, she couldn¡¯t deny there was something different about Klarion. He hadn¡¯t just survived ¡ª he had defied the odds in a way that made her wonder if House Blacksword¡¯s decline might not be as inevitable as everyone among the peerage assumed. The boy had an indomitable will, that much was clear. But willpower alone wasn¡¯t enough in the Academy. Without allies, without resources and followers, he was vulnerable, no matter how impressive his personal strength. She thought back to the scars she had seen that traced all over his body. Those scars told a story, a silent testament to a life far more brutal than any first-year scion should have endured. The way they crisscrossed his body, standing out starkly against his skin. His scars, combined with what she could guess of his stats, painted a picture of someone who might one day become a monster ¡ª not in the literal sense, but in the way that power, tempered by pain and perseverance, could turn a person into something extraordinary and terrifying. Elira¡¯s fingers tightened around her glass as a chill ran down her spine. Monsters weren¡¯t born among the nobility; they were made. And Klarion Blacksword had begun to display the early makings of one.


    She hated mysteries, and Klarion was shaping up to be the biggest one she¡¯d encountered in years.


    How had he done it? How had an unclassed, unprepared scion managed to survive what should have been certain death, dragging an injured bodyguard along with him no less? The thought gnawed at her, refusing to let go.


    For a moment, she almost felt sorry for whoever had tried to kill him. Using a Dungeon as a weapon was an old trick, one that was usually effective. Dungeons were impartial executioners, and even the strongest scions could fall to their machinations if caught off guard. But Klarion had survived to conquer the Dungeon. His attackers, whoever they were, had underestimated him, and that mistake would cost them dearly.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°They have no idea what they¡¯ve unleashed,¡± Elira murmured, her voice barely audible over the muffled voices coming from outside her door. She turned her attention from the Blacksword scion to what was happening outside her door. Apparently, someone had come to drop off some files with her secretary or was otherwise visiting. Claire was new to her position, but she was efficient. If she wanted a few minutes for office gossip, that was fine with Elira.


    Shifting in her chair, she set the remains of her drink aside. It had done little to soothe her turbulent thoughts, but she was grateful for the momentary reprieve it offered. She had just begun to reach for the papers she¡¯d been reviewing when there was a knock on her office door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Elira called, her voice measured.


    The door opened and Claire stepped inside, her expression cautious but professional. ¡°Senior Healer Valcora,¡± the woman began, inclining her head, ¡°a pair of Sentinels are here. They wish to speak with you.¡±


    Elira raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity replacing the fatigue etched into her features. Sentinels rarely made formal visits unless something significant had occurred. ¡°Did they say what it was regarding?¡±


    ¡°They mentioned the Scion Blacksword and his bodyguard,¡± Claire replied. ¡°The lead Sentinel identified herself as J-65.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Elira said, rising from her chair. She smoothed the front of her uniform. ¡°Send them in.¡±


    Her secretary nodded and stepped out, returning moments later with the two Sentinels in tow. Based on what Claire had said, it was easy to identify J-65 as the one who entered first, their polished armor catching the light of the lamp in her office. Behind her followed a second Sentinel, his stance looser but no less imposing. Both wore the distinctive masks of their position, which hid their expressions behind the smooth, faceless surfaces.


    ¡°Senior Healer Valcora,¡± J-65 said, her voice even but intent. ¡°Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Elira replied, gesturing toward the chairs opposite her desk. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡±


    J-65 inclined her head but remained standing, their posture remaining straight and formal. ¡°We are here to inquire about the events surrounding scion Klarion Blacksword and his bodyguard, the Leporine woman, Hatsune. We understand they were brought here after an incident involving The Pit.¡±


    Elira clasped her hands in front of her, her expression neutral. ¡°That is correct,¡± she said. ¡°What would you like to know?¡±


    J-65 wasted no time. ¡°What can you tell us about their condition upon arrival? And, more importantly, what transpired in the Dungeon?¡±


    Elira leaned back against her desk, her gaze steady. ¡°When they arrived, both were in poor condition. Hatusne was gravely injured, suffering from severe blood loss and internal damage in several locations. Scion Blacksword, while less physically harmed, collapsed from exhaustion almost immediately upon escaping the Dungeon. Both received immediate medical attention and were stabilized within the hour. As of this morning, they are fully healed, and there have been no complications.¡±


    ¡°And the Dungeon?¡± J-65 pressed. ¡°What do you know of what occurred there?¡±


    Elira hesitated, not out of uncertainty but caution. The details surrounding Klarion¡¯s performance in The Pit were extraordinary, and she wasn¡¯t sure how much she was at liberty to share. ¡°I can tell you this much: Scion Blacksword successfully cleared the Dungeon, including defeating the Boss.¡±


    The second Sentinel, who had remained silent so far, shifted slightly, their masked head tilting as if to confirm they¡¯d heard correctly. J-65, however, remained composed. ¡°Cleared the Dungeon? With an injured bodyguard?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Elira said simply. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it was a complete clear, only the Boss and the monsters in the way between it and the exit. From what I understand, Scion Blacksword carried his bodyguard out of the Dungeon himself after defeating the Boss.¡±


    For the first time, J-65¡¯s rigid demeanor faltered, if only for a moment, though Elira was unsure what emotions the masked woman was feeling. ¡°He carried her out?¡±


    Elira nodded. ¡°Indeed. His actions were nothing short of remarkable, though I cannot speak as to the specifics of how he achieved such a feat. Scion Blacksword was not particularly forthcoming about the details, and I did not press him. It was clear to me he had endured enough for one night.¡±


    The Sentinels exchanged a brief glance, a silent conversation passing between them. J-65 turned back to Elira. ¡°You mentioned that he did not reveal everything. Did he hint at anything unusual or noteworthy?¡±


    Elira shook her head. ¡°No. He was understandably exhausted and in no state for a thorough debriefing. My priority was ensuring his and Hatsune¡¯s recovery, not extracting every detail of their ordeal.¡±


    The room began to become heavy with tension as Elira¡¯s carefully chosen words hung in the air. The two Sentinels remained still, their postures stiff and unreadable, but the silence was palpable. She watched them closely, her own composure intact, though her heart beat faster than she would admit.


    The second Sentinel, standing just behind and slightly to the side of J-65, was the first to break the silence. ¡°Thank you for your cooperation, Senior Healer. We¡¯ll take this information into account.¡±


    It seemed like the interview was over, and Elira began to relax ever so slightly. But J-65 remained rooted in place, the faint tension in her posture suggesting she wasn¡¯t done yet.


    ¡°Senior Healer,¡± J-65 said, her voice sharper than before, carrying an intensity that made the Elira blink. ¡°If you have any additional information, even simple speculation, I would suggest you share it now.¡±


    Elira stiffened. ¡°I¡¯ve told you what I know. If you¡¯re looking for more, I suggest asking Scion Blacksword himself.¡±


    J-65¡¯s tone didn¡¯t soften. ¡°You¡¯ve been at this Academy for years, and your insights are valuable. Tell me ¡ª what do you think happened?¡±


    Elira hesitated again, the Sentinel¡¯s mask failing to contain the feeling of a piercing gaze locked on to her, much as a hawk would watch a mouse before striking. She¡¯d been careful to avoid speculating too openly, but J-65¡¯s insistence made it clear this wasn¡¯t a request she could easily deflect. Letting out a slow breath, she went back behind her desk to sit in her chair, folding her hands neatly on her desk.


    ¡°If you insist,¡± she said slowly, putting her thoughts in order. ¡°I believe Scion Blacksword and his bodyguard were deliberately forced into the Dungeon. It¡¯s not unheard of for rival Houses to use such tactics. The Dungeon¡¯s inherent dangers make it the perfect cover for an attempted assassination. If he and and his bodyguard had perished, no one would have looked further than their own recklessness.¡±


    The second Sentinel shifted uncomfortably at her words, clearly uneasy with the implications of the first assassination attempt among the first-years occuring so soon this year. J-65, however, remained motionless, though something about her stance felt taut, like a bowstring stretched to its limit.


    ¡°And who dod you believe was behind this?¡± J-65 asked, her voice low but charged with barely restrained anger.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Elira admitted. ¡°I can only speculate. It would have to be someone with enough influence to arrange such a setup but not so high-ranking as to fear backlash if discovered.¡±


    J-65¡¯s fists clenched, the leather of her gloves creaking audibly. Though her mask hid her face, her fury was evident in the rigid lines of her posture. Elira had seen Sentinels angry before, but this was different ¡ª personal, almost visceral. For a moment, Elira wondered if she had overstepped.


    ¡°Thank you for your candor,¡± J-65 said after a moment, her voice tight. She turned sharply to the other Sentinel. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡±


    The second Sentinel nodded quickly, clearly eager to leave. The two of them exited the office without another word, the heavy door closing behind them with a definitive thud.


    Elira released a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d been holding. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the closed door with narrowed eyes. Something about J-65¡¯s reaction nagged at her. It wasn¡¯t just anger ¡ª it was personal.


    ¡°A Sentinel doesn¡¯t react like that without reason,¡± Elira muttered under her breath. She tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair, her mind racing. ¡°What could it mean?¡±


    Her thoughts lingered on the peculiar exchange for a few moments longer, but there was little she could do to uncover the truth. She wasn¡¯t about to start prying into a Sentinel¡¯s motives, no matter how strange their behavior. With a sigh, she pushed the matter to the back of her mind.


    There were more immediate concerns to deal with ¡ª personnel issues, for one. The Infirmary had been stretched thin since the summer months, and the strain was beginning to show. The Academy¡¯s constant need for skilled healers wasn¡¯t limited to its walls; numerous Legions serving in the field required reinforcements, and the demand for fresh recruits, and fresh healers, was only growing.


    Elira opened the folder holding information on the latest roster of candidates, skimming through the names and dossiers with practiced efficiency. Most were promising, but the challenge lay in ensuring they were properly trained before being sent off to the front lines. The Academy prided itself on producing some of the finest healers in this region of the Empire, and Elira wasn¡¯t about to let that reputation slip under her watch.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to accelerate the training cycle,¡± she mused aloud, jotting down a few notes. ¡°But not at the expense of quality. If we push too hard, we risk burnout ¡ª or worse.¡±

 Chapter 69

    The morning had gone by quickly, leaving Klarion with little time to think, let alone plan. He had hoped to return to Blacksword Manor, if only briefly before class, in order to gather his thoughts and properly prepare for the day ahead. While equal parts worried and angry over what Hector and the other scions had attempted to do, he knew that right now was not the time to lash out at his enemies. No, he would have to be deliberate and properly prepared, which would require figuring out exactly who had acted against him yesterday. Beyond Hector, there had been several other scions and their bodyguards, but only a wiry human woman and a burly human man who wielded an axe stood out in his memory. There had been at least two or three more, and he wanted to know exactly who they were before he began planning his next moves. He was going to need some help tracking down this information, but unfortunately, he could trust very few people. Perhaps Valdre and Redrek would be willing to help?


    Klarion glanced over at Hatsune, who kept pace beside him with an air of quiet determination. The night in the Academy Infirmary had been good for her, though he couldn¡¯t help but feel renewed guilt as he studied her. Hatsune had been through a lot in a very short time ¡ª dragged into his problems, forced to face dangers no bodyguard should have to endure so early into their time at the Academy. Yet, seeing her now, calmer and more collected, filled him with relief. He had been worried that yesterday would have a larger impact on her than it appeared it did.


    ¡°Feeling better this morning?¡± Klarion asked, breaking the silence as they continued in the direction of the building where his Etiquette and Courtly Manners class was going to be held.


    Hatsune glanced at him, her expression softening. ¡°I am. The healers at the Infirmary were excellent, and the quiet was¡­ welcome.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the quiet,¡± Klarion said, a wry smile crossing his face as he looked around. ¡°Not much of that in the Academy.¡±


    The campus bustled with activity around them, the wide cobblestone pathways crowded with scions, their bodyguards, and even some attendants were hurrying to their own destinations. Klarion noted the flashes of house crests embroidered on school uniforms, but he pushed down the instinctive tension that he felt upon seeing them. He didn¡¯t recognize any of the scions around him, and he had to have some faith that his enemies would continue to pursue less overt attacks against him. Otherwise, they would have rushed him last night.


    No, today he was going to set aside who was who or which alliances might be forming in the whispered conversations around him. He could sort that out later, after class. Assuming Valdre and Redrek wanted to meet.


    Klarion stepped to the side, dodging a collision with a group of rushing nobles.


    ¡°Watch your step!¡± one human scion snapped at Klarion, as he rushed past. The man¡¯s silver-haired bodyguard shot a glare at Klarion but said nothing. Klarion repressed a retort, not wanting to ruin the good mood that he had begun to feel since leaving the Infirmary with Hatsune. With her close beside him, he gradually made his way off to the side of the street they were on, making way for those rushing down the middle. He wanted to avoid drawing as much unnecessary attention today as he could.


    ¡°No,¡± Hatsune said, leaning in close, a smile on her face. ¡°Not much quiet at all.¡±


    Soon he was able to find a side street that had far less people around. No longer so concerned with dodging rushing scions, his thoughts wandered to what little he knew about Etiquette and Courtly Manners. What he understood about it ¡ª what he could claim to know with confidence ¡ª could fill the size of a thimble at best.


    From what he had gathered, the class was almost a guide to the intricate webs of interactions with nobility. Given everything he experienced so far, and how it appeared the likelihood of violence between scions was high, he expected it was going to be a bit more than simply learning how to bow properly or knowing which utensil to use at a banquet. Perhaps if he thought about training in behavior as a weapon? That did help a bit actually. If he approached the class as if he was being taught how to wield words, glances, and gestures with as much precision as the greatsword he had been learning how to use it would help to make the process of learning these things more bearable.


    Even if it didn¡¯t, he had no real choice about attending the course. As much as he was not looking forward to it, he recognized that his high position within the ranks of the scions here at the Academy meant that he needed to understand the subtleties of navigating high society, where a slight misstep in speech or posture could be interpreted as an insult or a challenge. Otherwise, his chances of surviving the Imperial Academy to save his family and friends back on Earth would be effectively zero.


    Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t take him to long to get a handle on at least the basics.


    By the time they reached the Lecture Hall that held the first-year classes for Etiquette and Courtly Manners, there were no other scions in sight outside. Even though he knew he was already late to class, Klarion paused before the side entrance of the building, turning to Hatsune.


    ¡°While I¡¯m busy in class, see if you can find Garren or Kael,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet if Valdre or Redrek are in this class with me, so on the chance they are not, I want you to approach either of their bodyguards to see if they would be open to a meeting later.¡±


    Hatsune tilted her head, her long ears shifting about as she kept her guard up. ¡°You sure about this? What if they¡¯re not interested?¡±


    ¡°You have my permission to drop some hints about last night if necessary. They should understand the importance of meeting with that,¡± Klarion replied. He hesitated a moment before adding, ¡°And stay cautious. I¡¯m assuming we are in the clear so long as we are in public places on campus or in class, but I don¡¯t know yet how far the other scions will go after what happened in the Dungeon.¡±


    Hatsune nodded. ¡°Got it. I¡¯ll do my best to have good news for you after class.¡±


    As soon as Klarion opened the side door and entered, Hatsune right beside him, her eyes darting around, looking for potential threats. When it was clear the hallway on the way to his class was empty, she turned and left for the other side of the building, her footsteps quickly fading away. Perhaps she already had an idea for where to find his friends¡¯ bodyguards.


    Moments later he was outside room 113, where the class was being held. Klarion hesitated by the door, his fingers brushing the brass of the handle. He could already hear the Professor speaking inside, though it was muffled. While he hated being late, the only other option to risking the ire of the Professor was to skip class entirely. With it being the first session, there was no way he was going to do that. Steeling himself, he pushed the door open.


    The sight that greeted him made him pause just as he entered the classroom. Designed to resemble a luxurious tea parlor more than a place of learning, ornate furniture filled the room ¡ª high-backed chairs upholstered in velvet, intricately carved tables, and softly glowing chandeliers that cast a warm, golden light from where they hung along the vaulted ceiling. The table nearest the door afforded him a view of delicate porcelain teacups on saucers for each and every place setting, and the faint aroma of jasmine and bergamot hung in the air. Nearly every table was filled with scions.


    All eyes turned toward Klarion as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. Some wore expressions of mild curiosity, while others shifted to outright annoyance. A few had expressions of outright shock, as if they hadn¡¯t expected Klarion to show up to class at all today. Or perhaps ever. Chadwick he expected, but when he recognized one among those as the wiry human woman from the previous night, he did his best to memorize the faces and crests on the uniforms of those scions scattered around the room. He suspected they were among those who had ambushed him yesterday.


    ¡°And who might this latecomer be?¡±


    Turning, Klarion saw a thin man with graying hair combed neatly back standing at the head of the room. His impeccably tailored suit gave him the air of a butler who had long served a noble house. His eyes, however, betrayed no warmth. That made sense, given that Klarion had just interrupted his opening remarks in a class based on learning proper etiquette.


    Klarion straightened, his jaw still tight from having seen some of those who had attempted to assassinate him at the Dungeon. He firmly pushed his anger aside. Now was not the time. ¡°Klarion Blacksword, sir. My apologies for being late.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The professor raised an eyebrow, unable to control the corner of his mouth twitching in displeasure. ¡°Apologies, indeed. The Scion of House Blacksword sees fit to arrive late to his very first session in Etiquette and Courtly Manners. A poor start, to say the least. Do you think punctuality is optional, young man?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± Klarion replied, keeping his voice steady despite the feeling of heat rising to his face.


    ¡°Then perhaps you should demonstrate that belief by arriving on time in the future,¡± the professor snapped. ¡°Now, take your seat. Quietly.¡±


    Klarion inclined his head slightly and moved toward an empty table near the back. As he walked, he felt the weight of the other scions¡¯ gazes. Halfway to his seat, he recognized Hector sitting at a table with Chadwick. The scion he thought might have become his third friend among the nobility on campus wore a shocked expression that quickly turned into one filled with chagrin as they made eye contact. Klarion¡¯s eyes shifted to the left, where Chadwick glared at him with unrestrained fury. Chadwick¡¯s hands gripped the edges of his table, his knuckles white. His eyes burned with a hatred so intense that Klarion could almost feel it as he made his way to his seat. It was hard, but Klarion directed a faint smirk at his enemy, knowing that it would only make him angrier. The sound of the wood of the table creaking under his grip confirmed his guess, and Klarion felt a tiny bit better at the fact he couldn¡¯t act against the other scion yet. If Chadwick wanted him dead, he¡¯d have to try harder.


    As Klarion slid into his chair, he heard several mocking remarks, just loud enough for him to pick up without the professor overhearing.


    ¡°Late to class,¡± someone muttered to his left. ¡°I thought those of the Archducal Houses were supposed to be the pinnacle of the nobility?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps punctuality and decorum don¡¯t matter to a House in danger of collapse,¡± whispered another in response.


    ¡°He probably spent all morning dragging himself out of whatever hole he crawled into after last night,¡± a voice muttered from the right side of the room.


    Klarion tuned out the rest of the muttering, his face schooled into impassivity, though his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. He wanted to defend himself, to tell the entire class that he had been late because several scions in the room had tried to make sure he never got a chance to attend in the first place. But he had no idea what the reaction to those accusations might be. In a perfect world, there would be a quick investigation, and once proof was found, his attackers would be punished or expelled. He wasn¡¯t that naive, though. Even back on Earth, he had heard of trials where members of the various gangs in Volksturm had gotten off despite being guilty. Add in the fact that his fellow students here were actual nobility, and he had suspicions that, if he wanted justice, he would have to figure out a way to handle things himself. He already had a few ideas, but hopefully, Valdre and Redrek would be willing to help.


    The professor¡¯s voice cut through the rising whispers like a blade. Apparently, he had heard everything but had been hoping for the class to quiet down before continuing. ¡°Enough. I will not allow this class to dissolve into idle speculation and gossip.¡±


    The room fell silent, and Klarion exhaled slowly, grateful for the reprieve and hopeful that the coming lesson would end the attention he was receiving.


    ¡°I am Professor Aldren Vale,¡± the man announced. ¡°This course, as you should already know, will prepare you for the realities of noble society. Proper behavior, social graces, and diplomatic protocol are not optional for you. They are necessities, and I expect every scion here to treat this instruction with the seriousness it demands.¡±


    Professor Vale¡¯s gaze swept over the room, lingering briefly on each student. ¡°Failure to adhere to my standards will reflect poorly not only on yourselves but on your Houses as well. Keep that in mind.¡± He turned back to the board behind him, still speaking to the class as he began writing things down. ¡°As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, this course will focus on the fundamental skills of noble decorum: proper introductions, conversational dynamics, seating arrangements, and, most importantly, reading the unspoken nuances of courtly interactions in and beyond our Empire.¡±


    He began to pass the room, his hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the scions of his class. ¡°Etiquette and courtly manners are not just about politeness or tradition. They are about power. They are about navigating the labyrinth of noble society with grace and poise, ensuring you do not insult an ally or provoke a rival unintentionally. You are scions of noble houses, the future leaders and representatives of this region of the Empire. If you can¡¯t master these skills, you will not only jeopardize yourselves but also the standing of your house.¡±


    A hand shot up from a student near the center of the room. It belonged to a lanky young man with sharp features in the uniform of a viscounty and a faint smirk that suggested he wasn¡¯t taking what Professor Vale was saying too seriously.


    ¡°Yes, Scion Tarlis?¡± Professor Vale said, his tone making it clear he had already anticipated someone asking a question at this point.


    ¡°Why?¡± Tarlis asked, his smirk widening. ¡°Why should we waste time on this¡­ pomp and ceremony? Our Empire, and every other political entity I have been tutored on, are centered around the reality that the strong will rule. So wouldn¡¯t it be easier just to assert dominance? If I¡¯m stronger than someone, why should I bother with all this nonsense?¡±


    A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the class, though Klarion noticed the sounds were coming from those who appeared to be from higher-ranking Houses. Many others, especially those from families of knights had disapproving looks on their faces. Klarion leaned back in his chair, curious to hear how the Professor would hand the question.


    For his part, Professor Vale did not seem offended. Instead, he walked back to the board at the front of the room and picked up a piece of chalk. ¡°Though I would have stated it differently, you still ask an important question,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°Let me explain with a diagram.¡±


    The professor began to draw five concentric circles, each one smaller than the last, until the center held a single solid dot. He labeled the circles as he went, speaking as he wrote.


    ¡°The circles represent the layers of nobility within the Empire, as well as those with whom you may well interact outside of it. There are various more formal names for each, but for the sake of brevity, as this is a course for first-years, I will give the more common term associated with each. From the outermost circle to the center, they are: Foreign Nobility, Affiliated Nobility, Integrated Nobility, Imperial Nobility, and the Core Imperial Family.¡±


    Professor Vale turned back to the class, tapping the chalk against the outermost circle. ¡°Foreign Nobility. These are the various types of rulers of the political entities outside of the Empire¡¯s borders. Their titles and customs may differ greatly from our own. Diplomacy with them often involves navigating unfamiliar protocols, and a misstep could easily lead to war or the loss of a potential ally.¡±


    Moving to the next circle, he said, ¡°Affiliated Nobility. These are nobles whose territories are in the process of integration into the Empire. Their loyalty is often tenuous, their customs a blend of their old ways and the Empire¡¯s own. Their positions are delicate; treating them as equals of the appropriate noble rank can encourage unity with the Empire, but overreach, and they may resist integration that doesn¡¯t come at the edge of a sword.¡±


    He tapped the third circle. ¡°Integrated Nobility. This is where each of you fall. These are the noble Houses that have been fully incorporated into the Empire¡¯s hierarchy.¡± Professor Vale shot a stern glance at Tarlis, who wilted under the look. ¡°You may think you¡¯re near the top of the Empire, but you are merely one part of a much larger Imperial system. Understanding your place is critical to your service and your survival. So pay close attention to what I am about to say.¡±


    His finger moved to the fourth and final circle, significantly smaller than the ones he had already talked about. ¡°Inner Nobility. These are the subordinate Houses and individuals who are descended from one of the seven Imperial Princes in the direct line of succession. Their influence is vast, their power overwhelming, and their expectations exacting. An insult to any one of them can have consequences far beyond what you might imagine.¡± He looked back over the room of scions, his expression grim. ¡°Invariably such will involve your death or exile.¡±


    Professor Vale turned back to the board, his finger moving to the central dot. ¡°Finally, there is the Imperial House itself. This is the Emperor and his immediate family, most importantly the Seven Imperial Princes. Here, etiquette is not just a skill ¡ª it is all that you can rely upon to ensure your survival. Even a perceived slight against any member of the Imperial House will lead to the ruin of your House, root, and branch. Their favor, on the other hand, can elevate you beyond your wildest dreams.¡± He idly flicked some chalk dust off his finger. ¡°Thankfully for you all, the chances of coming across a member of the Imperial House this far out from the core of the Empire is basically zero.¡±


    The professor turned back to face the class. ¡°Now, to address your question, scion Tarlis: why bother with etiquette? Because power is not just physical or magical. It is social. It is political. The strongest sword arm will fail you if you cannot wield influence. A single careless word can undo generations of effort by the ancestors of your House. Understanding the rules of engagement in noble society is how to ensure your strength is not wasted, but instead properly applied.¡±


    The scions of the room were focused on the professor¡¯s words, save for a few that were rushing to take notes. Klarion could feel the weight of the lecture settling over the class. Even those who had been smirking or whispering earlier seemed far more attentive now.


    Professor Vale paused for a minute to let those taking notes complete what they were writing down. When the scratching of notetaking died off, he continued speaking. ¡°In this course, you will learn to navigate each of these circles with precision. You will learn when to bow, when to speak, and when to remain silent. You will learn the art of making friends without revealing too much and the skill of undermining your rivals without overt hostility.¡±


    The professor¡¯s words struck a chord with Klarion. He glared at the back of Chadwick¡¯s head. He and his supporters were not just rivals ¡ª they were predators, circling, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. He needed to be smarter, more cunning. He needed to master each and every skill he could, not just to survive, but to turn the tables on those who sought to destroy him. If they wanted a fight, he would give them one ¡ª but on his terms, not theirs.

 Chapter 70

    Professor Vale returned to the front of the room, his hands clasped behind his back once more. ¡°Now, are there any other questions before we move on?¡±


    A hand rose from a student near the front. ¡°Professor Vale, what happens if someone disregards etiquette entirely? Refuses to play the game, so to speak?¡±


    The professor¡¯s lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. ¡°Ah, the idealist¡¯s question. Those who refuse to play the game are not exempt from its rules. They simply become pawns for those who do. In the Empire, ignorance is not bliss ¡ª it is vulnerability.¡± His gaze swept the room. ¡°Remember this: power flows through the channels of etiquette and protocol. If you cannot control the flow, you will be swept away by it.¡±


    Klarion couldn¡¯t help but nod to himself. The professor¡¯s words, though a bit heavy-handed, resonated with his own thoughts since he had been thinking about the content of the class. The rules might seem arbitrary, but they were the framework upon which the Empire ¡ª and its nobility ¡ª functioned. Without them, the possibility of conflict within the Empire would increase exponentially. Given what he knew about the important empires of Earth¡¯s past, when the leaders of such polities descended into infighting, that was when enemies beyond their borders struck. With how long the Empire he was now a part of seemed to have existed, Klarion could guess that refusing to learn the rules of etiquette for nobility would not just be reckless, it would be suicidal.


    ¡°Now, as you all have undoubtedly noticed, the differences between ranks of nobility are not enforced among the students on campus,¡± Professor Vale continued. ¡°That decision was made long before any of us were born and with good reason. This Academy is not merely a place of learning. It is a crucible. Here, you are tested not just on your knowledge or skills but on your ability to adapt and thrive in a system where your title alone will not shield you.¡± For a brief moment, Klarion thought that the professor¡¯s gaze landed on him. ¡°The distinction between a scion from an Archducal House and a Knight¡¯s House is irrelevant here. You are all students first and foremost.¡±


    Klarion had noticed what the professor mentioned, and given the lack of surprise from the scions sitting near him, it appeared the majority of the first-years had noticed as well. Yes, the rigid hierarchy of rank being set aside helped explain some of what he had noticed since he had arrived on campus, but he could not hazard a guess as to why the Academy set it up that way in the first place. Thankfully it looked like the professor was about to clarify the reasons.


    ¡°The answer is tied to the campus itself: this environment is your last opportunity to prove yourselves before emerging onto the stage of the Empire. The Academy, and everything that happens within it, is watched closely by professors, administrators, and in some rare cases, representatives of the Imperial government itself. Here, your performance ¡ª not your rank ¡ª determines your future. Those who excel may find themselves rewarded upon graduation. Some may even receive extra years of study, granting them access to advanced training and the chance to be gifted greater support in establishing your own fiefdom once you do graduate.¡±


    That caught Klarion¡¯s attention. A chance to receive greater support? He glanced around the room and saw that he wasn¡¯t the only one intrigued. Several nearby scions leaned forward, their expressions a mixture of eagerness and determination.


    ¡°But let me be clear: this opportunity is not given lightly. It is earned. And one of the most significant tests of your worth this year will come at the end of this course. The final assessment in my class,¡± Professor Vale said, turning back to the chalkboard to write on it, ¡°will take the form of an elaborate event, attended by visiting dignitaries from among the affiliated nobility within this sector of the Empire. Each of these individuals will come from territories currently in the process of integration into the Empire. They will observe, critique, and interact with you directly.¡± He turned back to the class, setting the chalk down. ¡°Your task will be to navigate this event with poise, grace, and intelligence. You will demonstrate your mastery of what you have learned of etiquette and courtly manners by engaging with your assigned dignitary as a representative of the Empire. Your behavior will reflect not only on yourselves but on your Houses and the Academy as a whole.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the room. Klarion could hear a number of whispered conversations near him, some expressing excitement at the exam, but the majority seemed to be filled with dread. For his own part, he placed himself closer to the second group. The idea of being judged by essentially foreign nobility when he did not yet understand, well, anything really about being a noble himself was daunting. With the professor¡¯s heavy hint on how important this exam would be for receiving additional help from the Empire upon graduation, however, Klarion resolved that he would approach this course with the same diligence that he devoted to his other classes. Even though he still wasn¡¯t looking forward to memorizing all the pomp and ceremony Etiquette and Courtly Manners would entail.


    Professor Vale raised a hand, signaling for silence. ¡°Let me warn those of you who are already considering slacking off in this class. To do badly in this assessment is to fail the course, but unlike the other classes you are taking this first year, the consequences of doing extremely badly in my class will invite consequences far beyond simple academic failure. You have been warned.¡±


    If it was possible, the classroom grew even more still. Even the most arrogant scions seemed cowed by the professor¡¯s words. Klarion unconsciously clenched his jaw as he saw Hector raise his hand to ask a question.


    ¡°Yes, Scion Draven?¡±


    ¡°Could you clarify examples of these consequences, Professor?¡±


    Professor Vale nodded. ¡°There are dignitaries who take insults, intentional or not, as personal affronts,¡± he explained. ¡°For example, should you blunder so catastrophically that they feel their honor has been slighted, they may invoke the right to a duel.¡±


    A loud thud came from a table next to Klarion, everyone in the class, including the professor, turned to look at the young dwarven scion of a Knight¡¯s House struggling to right his chair. If his face were any redder, it would likely have caught fire. Once back in his seat, the dwarf stared down at the table at which he sat, almost as if he hoped that ignoring the gazes of the rest of the class would end his humiliation sooner.


    ¡°This is not a warning meant to scare you,¡± Professor Vale said once attention returned to him. His voice was softer but no less serious. ¡°It is simply meant to be a reminder of the world you are preparing to enter. As scions of noble Houses, your words and actions carry weight. A single misstep can have far-reaching consequences, so it is better to prepare now than slack off in this class. Now, let me go over this course¡¯s expectations and we will be finished for the day.¡±


    Professor Vale stepped back to the chalkboard, erasing the circles he had drawn earlier, then writing out a long list of information that could easily fill several pages of notes. According to the professor, everyone in his class was to spend the coming months immersing themselves in the customs and protocols of both the Empire and several of the more important affiliated territories in the nearby sector of the Empire. As the lines on the board grew ever longer, Klarion struggled to prevent his eyes from glazing over. Reading assignments would cover everything from proper greetings to the intricacies of seating arrangements at formal events. Practical exercises would include mock introductions, staged disputes, and even role-playing scenarios to simulate interactions with foreign dignitaries of similar backgrounds to those who would be participating in the final exam. There was even a short list of skills that Professor Vale expected all students to unlock by the end of the course, without which additional tutoring would be required, as without them the scion would not be able to take certain required courses in the second year.


    ¡°You will also be expected to practice regularly,¡± Professor Vale added, setting the chalk back down. ¡°Etiquette is not something you can master through theory and reading alone. It requires repetition, observation, and feedback. Use your peers, your bodyguards, and even your household staff if necessary. The more you practice, the more natural it will become.¡±


    The professor¡¯s gaze swept the room one last time. ¡°I will say this once more: your performance in this course is not just about your grade. It is about your future. Take this seriously, or you will regret it. Now, are there any final questions?¡±


    The room remained silent, a number of scions looking around the room to see if anyone was about to ask another question. When no one raised a hand, Professor Vale clapped once, bringing everyone¡¯s attention back to him at the front.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Very well, you are all dismissed. Make sure you are on time for the next session for the beginning of practicing proper greetings to those of various ranks and positions.¡± He fixed his eyes on Klarion as he said this. Thankfully the professor¡¯s attention shifted away quickly. ¡°Have a good day and I will see you all next week.¡±


    With the lecture coming to an end, the majority of his fellow scions rushed to gather their things to leave. Klarion, however, gathered his things slowly, intentionally lagging behind the others to avoid unnecessary interactions. Yet, he could sense several heavy stares lingering on him. Slowing still further, he glanced around the room to see who was watching him. Chadwick and Hector lingered by the wall near the door, looking in his direction, clearly waiting for him to leave. Looks like he wasn¡¯t able to avoid a confrontation after all. He stood with a grunt. Better to just get this over with.


    As Klarion made his way toward the door, Chadwick stepped away from the wall with a deliberate stride, Hector just behind him. The young human scion¡¯s lips curled into a sneer as he stopped just short of bumping into Klarion. If he had been hoping to intimidate Klarion, he had completely failed. Chadwick was a lot smaller than the Dungeon Boss after all.


    Chadwick¡¯s gaze raked over Klarion with open disdain, his voice sharp and mocking as he spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you managed to crawl out of that Dungeon alive,¡± the sneering scion said, voice dripping with venom. ¡°But don¡¯t think for a moment you¡¯ll be so lucky next time. House Blacksword is a relic of the past, and it is only a matter of time before you will exist only in the Academy records of those students who suffered a tragic accident.¡± Without waiting for a response, Chadwick turned on his heel and strode out of the room, calling over his shoulder as he did. ¡°Count the days Blacksword. I am.¡±


    Klarion clenched his fists but resisted the urge to call after Chadwick with some parting insult. No, words were useless with someone like him ¡ª better to conserve his energy to prepare for the battles that truly mattered. He already had a few ideas to remove the threat of that arrogant bastard, but he wouldn¡¯t be taking any steps before he could speak with Valdre and Redrek.


    As Klarion took a steadying breath, Hector remained lingering near the doorway, hesitating. Unlike Chadwick¡¯s open hostility, Klarion was surprised to see Hector¡¯s expression was one of muted conflict. He looked at Klarion for a long moment before speaking, his voice low and even.


    ¡°I won¡¯t threaten you,¡± Hector began, his tone devoid of the malice that had laced Chadwick¡¯s words. ¡°What I did, I did for my family. I won¡¯t apologize for it, but I won¡¯t claim to feel good about it either.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s gaze narrowed, but he held his tongue. He could hear the sincerity in Hector¡¯s voice, though it did little to quell the bitterness roiling in his chest. He had thought the scion from House Draven could become a friend, but instead, he had simply used the opening Klarion had given him to drive a blade deeper into his back. If Hatsune had died down in the Dungeon, Klarion¡¯s hands would already be around his neck.


    Hector sighed at the rage in Klarion¡¯s eyes, then began rubbing the back of his neck as though searching for the right words. ¡°The cards are stacked against you, Blacksword. Whether it¡¯s Chadwick or a certain someone else higher up in the hierarchy of the nobility, they¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re removed from the Academy one way or another. You¡¯re a threat, and people like us don¡¯t let threats linger.¡±


    Klarion continued to stare into Hector¡¯s eyes, the weight of the unspoken challenge between them palpable. For a moment, he considered saying something ¡ª anything ¡ª but Hector turned and walked out of the room before Klarion could form the words. With his departure, Klarion was left alone in the empty classroom.


    He slammed a fist down against a nearby table, the loud smack accompanied by an alarming creaking. Chadwick¡¯s arrogance, Hector¡¯s reluctant honesty ¡ª both had hit nerves he didn¡¯t care to acknowledge. Scions like Chadwick saw him as a problem to be eliminated, and even scions like Hector, despite their apparent guilt, would still act against him if it meant securing their House¡¯s place in the hierarchy. Whatever was going on with House Blacksword had apparently fueled ambitions to act against him.


    But Klarion wasn¡¯t about to roll over. He¡¯d already fought too hard to get here, endured too much to let a pack of entitled nobles dictate his fate. If they thought he would be easy to remove, they were in for a rude awakening. Klarion wasn¡¯t vicious by nature. He would try to figure out a way to discourage what happened in the Dungeon, or similar actions by his enemies, from happening again. But if they kept coming, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to put his enemies in the ground. From what Alesin and Rolfun had said, he had the potential to become an elite among elites within the Empire.


    It was time he started acting like it.


    Composure restored, Klarion left the classroom to join the small groups of scions walking up and down the hall. The corridors of the Lecture Hall were alive with the steady hum of conversation and laughter, students and bodyguards alike moving between classes or leaving for the day. If Klarion hadn¡¯t known better, it would have felt like any number of college campuses back on Earth.


    As he made his way down the hall, his thoughts shifted to Hatsune. He had asked her to seek out Garran and Kael, hoping to set up a meeting time with the goal of forming some semblance of a strategy for dealing with the growing web of threats around him. As he navigated the halls, his eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of the Leporine woman. Though it had only been a few days, it already felt strange not to have her by his side. Hopefully, she¡¯d had better luck with Garrana and Kael than he had with the day so far.


    Finally, near the entrance he had arrived through earlier this morning, he spotted her. Hatsune was leaning against the wall, her ears twitching as she spoke with a tall, broad-shouldered man in heavy armor that Klarion immediately recognized as Garran. A moment later, Klarion saw a shadow elf with a lithe frame and sharp features standing nearby. Looks like she had found Kael as well. All three bodyguards carried themselves with quiet confidence, their postures relaxed but their eyes alert to potential threats.


    Hatsune turned as Klarion approached, her expression softening into a smile. ¡°You¡¯re done with class already?¡±


    ¡°Yes, though I was right about being worried about it. I¡¯ll fill you in later,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°Did you already fill them in?¡±


    Hatsune nodded, gesturing toward the other two bodyguards. ¡°Garran and Kael were kind enough to hear me out. They think that both of their scions would be willing to meet over dinner, but they can¡¯t promise without talking to them. Both Valdre and Redrek are still in class.¡±


    ¡°Thank you both for taking the time to listen to Hatsune,¡± Klarion began.


    Garran nodded, his deep voice steady. ¡°We¡¯re here to do more than just protect our scion¡¯s person. If there¡¯s a threat that might concern our charges, we need to know about it. Hatsune explained the situation clearly. Chadwick and his allies overstepped.¡±


    Kael scoffed, a smirk widening on his face. ¡°Overstepped is putting it mildly. Tossing you both into a Dungeon as a way to ¡®settle¡¯ things is amateurish and reckless. Dangerous, yes, but it speaks more to their desperation than competence. Makes one wonder what their next steps will be, given that you both survived.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°That¡¯s what worries me. Chadwick and the others won¡¯t take this lying down. I¡¯d rather be prepared than caught off-guard again. To do so, I would like to talk with Valdre and Redrek about getting their help.¡±


    Garran crossed his arms, armored gauntlets clinking softly. ¡°I respect that approach. Valdre will likely agree. He¡¯s not one for unnecessary risks, and he understands the value of coordinated efforts.¡±


    Kael chimed in, his tone was more casual but no less serious. ¡°Redrek¡¯s no fool either. He doesn¡¯t trust most of the scions in your year as far as he could throw them ¡ª which, given his size, isn¡¯t far. If he sees value in working together, he¡¯ll be on board.¡± The shadow elf chewed his lip for a moment before he continued, ¡°I¡¯ll obey his commands, but for my part, I hope you both can come to an agreement. To be honest, I¡¯m worried how this year will end if he cannot find more allies.¡±


    That sounded worrying. Though he still did not know Redrek that well, the fact that his bodyguard was overtly hinting at some potential threat to his charge to a scion he didn¡¯t know very well was concerning, to say the least. ¡°Any threat in particular?¡±


    Kael shook his head. ¡°None that I care to speak of. Better that you ask Redrek yourself.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bring it up next time I see him,¡± Klarion said. ¡°For now, thank you for talking with them about meeting. If they are open to talking about what happened, we¡¯ll meet at The Hearth & Ember tonight for dinner. It¡¯s public enough place we won¡¯t draw suspicion, but private enough we can still talk freely.¡±


    Garran inclined his head again. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll do my best to encourage Valdre to be there.¡±


    Kael pushed off the wall, giving a casual salute. ¡°Same here. Redrek¡¯s got a soft spot for that dwarf¡¯s cooking, so it shouldn¡¯t take much convincing.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, thank you both,¡± Klarion said. That was a load off his mind. Hopefully, they would both come tonight and he could get their help. ¡°Now, in the meantime, there is something I need to take care of. We¡¯ll meet you all at The Hearth & Ember later.¡±


    With the other bodyguards departing to meet their scions outside their respective classrooms, Klarion turned to Hatsune who appeared to want to ask a question.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he asked as he strode over to the entrance of the building.


    ¡°Given how important this is, why not go directly to The Hearth & Ember now?¡± Hatsune asked, following behind him.


    ¡°Because this isn¡¯t just about me,¡± Klarion said, glancing back at Hatsune. ¡°Valdre and Redrek are sticking their necks out by associating with me. They deserve to know exactly what they¡¯re walking into if they decide to help. So before we talk, I want to go back to the Central Archives and use some of my Coins of Knowledge to get some information on potential classes we might pursue, and more importantly, exactly what is happening with House Blacksword. I don¡¯t want to go into this blind. I owe them that much at least.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Hatsune reached past him to open the door and led him outside. ¡°Let¡¯s head to the Central Archives then.¡±

 Chapter 71

    Klarion and Hatsune enjoyed the warmth of the early afternoon sun as they walked together across campus toward the Central Archives. His first class of Etiquette and Courtly Manners had been draining, and the conversations that had followed had been worse, but the longer he was outside, the more his mood began to lighten. For as long as he could remember, it had always been the same. No matter the difficulty of a situation or the obstacles in his path, if he had concrete, actionable steps forward to address them, he could focus on moving forward. Class was done for the day and he finally had the time, not to mention the Coins of Knowledge, to figure out just what the hell was going on with House Blacksword and why he had so quickly become the target of so many other scions at the Academy.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think we should take a break and head back to Blacksword Manor for an hour or two?¡± Hatsune asked. Her nose twitched, a habit Klarion had come to recognize as her way of trying to hold back strong emotions. Given everything that had happened since yesterday, it was a concern for him she was likely trying to keep control over. ¡°You¡¯ve been through a lot, and some rest would do you some good. We can always go to the Central Archives later, before dinner at The Hearth & Ember.¡±


    Klarion gave her a small smile but did not deviate from his path. ¡°I appreciate your concern, but right now I need answers more than rest. If I don¡¯t understand the history of my own House, let alone what kind of class options I have open to me, I¡¯m as good as lost given all the potential enemies arrayed against me.¡±


    Hatsune sighed but didn¡¯t press further. ¡°Fine, but don¡¯t expect me to stand by and watch you overdo it.¡± She cut him off before he could respond, ¡°It¡¯s my job to keep you safe, after all. And that includes protecting you from yourself.¡±


    Rather than comment, Klarion decided to let the admonishment from the Leporine be. Truth be told, he was touched by the level of concern she was showing for him, even though she had only been his bodyguard for a number of days now. At some point, he would have to find out more about her past. He mentally added that to the long list of things he had to do, grunting in irritation at how many of them were critical to his survival. Hopefully, at some point, things will slow down a little. Perhaps once he got a class of his own.


    Soon, they came to the Central Archives. Despite having seen it multiple times now, Klarion still took a moment to appreciate the bas-reliefs of who he assumed to be scholars and adventurers from across the Empire¡¯s long history. Passing inside through a side entrance, the air was cool and he breathed deeply of the faint smell of parchment and leather. After that moment of simple enjoyment, Klarion looked around for the nearest librarian. He might be able to figure things out on his own, but he knew he could save time if he simply sought the help of someone trained to provide it. There.


    Klarion approached a desk that stood alone nearby where an assistant librarian ¡ª a young man with round glasses and a meticulously pressed uniform ¡ª sat flipping through a thick ledger. He looked up as Klarion and Hatsune approached, immediately going into a polite bow after seeing the rank of Klarion¡¯s school uniform.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Scion Blacksword,¡± the assistant librarian said. ¡°How might I assist you today?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you might help me track down some information. I¡¯m looking for a primer on potential classes as well as a comprehensive history of House Blacksword.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the assistant librarian pulled out a second ledger, quite a bit thicker than the first, and began writing in it. To Klarion¡¯s surprise, the words disappeared to be replaced by several lines of writing. Before he could get a closer look, the assistant librarian continued. ¡°There are several options for both, but before I present them to you, how many Coins of Knowledge do you possess and which topic is more important to you?¡±


    Klarion took a moment to think over what the assistant librarian was asking. Clearly he was being asked because the young man did not think he had enough Coins of Knowledge to purchase access to the best information on both. So which topic was the more important one?


    The choice should have been straightforward. A primer on potential classes would shape the foundation of his future strength, and help him figure out what his best options were to ensure his survival and success at the Academy. But even as that thought crossed his mind, it rang hollow.


    What good was power if he didn¡¯t understand the game he was playing? Or the players he was competing against?


    His estrangement from House Blacksword, the circumstances behind which he still did not know, apparently did not mean he was exempt from the machinations surrounding it. The attempted assassination by Dungeon was proof of that. To move forward without understanding the history of House Blacksword, and far more importantly the intricate web of their allies and enemies, would be reckless, to say the least. After all, the scions who had tried to kill him weren¡¯t acting in a vacuum. They were pawns to greater struggles within the Empire ¡ª pieces on a board whose rules he was just beginning to learn. If he wanted to protect himself, and those close to him, he needed to understand House Blacksword¡¯s current situation.


    ¡°My priority is whatever you can provide me on the history of House Blacksword. Though, if I can afford it, I would like a primer on classes still,¡± Klarion eventually said. When the assistant librarian looked back up, Klarion remembered the second part of the question he had asked. ¡°I have fifteen Coins of Knowledge I can exchange right now.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± the assistant librarian said, looking back down at the lines of text that had appeared in the ledger in front of him. ¡°With that number of Coins of Knowledge, and given your priorities, I would suggest The Path of Power: A Comprehensive Guide to Imperial Classes Common to Rare, and A Brief History of House Blacksword: Foundation to Five-House War. The first is relatively cheap, but a great place to start if you haven¡¯t spent much time looking into classes yet, and the second is my recommendation for the best volume you might afford given the number of Coins of Knowledge at your disposal.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Klarion agreed, then hesitated. ¡°Um, how does this work exactly? This is my first time using Coins of Knowledge.¡±


    The assistant librarian was not put off by his question, likely because it was a common one from first-year scions who hadn¡¯t been to the Central Archives before. Reaching down, the young man opened a drawer filled with tiny glass spheres. Pulling it close to his face, the assistant librarian muttered something Klarion couldn¡¯t quite make out, causing its surface to light up with faint, glowing runes. Bringing it to the entries that had appeared in the ledger in front of him, he pressed the largest rune to two entries. After it flashed once, he went to hand it over to Klarion.


    ¡°This simple Sphere of Inquiry will guide you to the books you seek. Simply hold it in your hand and focus on which of the two books you would like to find first. Once you locate them, bring them back here, and I will create a copy of each using the Coins of Knowledge you have as payment.¡±


    Klarion nodded, taking the sphere in hand. Its surface was cool to the touch, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the book about classes first. A tingling sensation traveled up his arm as the sphere pulsed faintly. Moments later, a soft glow appeared in the distance, deeper within the shelves of books. A thought suddenly struck him: why hadn¡¯t he been able to use this item before to find Whispers of Black Steel?


    The assistant librarian smiled. ¡°You should be seeing a light now, which marks the location of the first book you need. Once you collect it, you can use the Sphere of Inquiry to find the other.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your help, but I have one last question before we go track the books down,¡± when the assistant librarian nodded for him to continue, he did so, ¡°if there exist such convenient items like this in the Central Archives, why would any scion need to physically search for a book here without them?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m guessing you previously completed an Academy Assignment to track down a missing book?¡± the assistant librarian asked. At Klarion¡¯s nod, he continued, ¡°Then the answer is these items are worthless if the book it is seeking is not properly shelved. It is only when the right book is in the right position within the specific part of the Archives that a Sphere of Inquiry can be helpful.¡± He smiled sheepishly, looking even younger than his already young age. ¡°That¡¯s also why there are so many assistant librarians working here, as without us to physically verify the locations and placement of books within the Archives, it would quickly become too chaotic to function.¡±


    Klarion mulled over the assistant librarian¡¯s explanation as he returned to his work. The revelation that there were magical means to tracking down books, but that they only worked when they were properly shelved, was an interesting one. The fact that the Archives, with its endless shelves and meticulously cataloged collections, relied on the constant efforts of living staff rather than magic was both amusing and somewhat reassuring. There was something comforting about the imperfections of the system.


    Turning away, Klarion led Hatsune in the direction of the light that only he could see. Despite it still being the afternoon, there were very few people around, with most of those being assistant librarians going about their work.


    ¡°Are you sure this is the right way to go about it?¡± The Leporine woman asked him quietly, her ears twitching as they made their way down the aisles.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way,¡± Klarion said, his gaze still fixed on the distant shelves indicated by the light. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to make decisions blindly. Knowing the history of House Blacksword will help me anticipate how other scions will see me. And as for the primer on classes¡­ well, it will be a starting point at least. I can always spend more Coins of Knowledge to get a better source from here if needed.¡±


    The book ended up being a thick volume bound in rich crimson leather with golden embossing. The pages on the inside were filled with vibrant illustrations, detailed tables, and carefully written text in an elegant yet legible script. Flipping to the table of contents to verify this was what he needed, Klarion saw that it broke down the book into sections focused on classes ranging from many common to a good number of uncommon and finally a range of the more studied rare classes documented within the Empire¡¯s history. There was even a section for so-called hybrid classes, which seemed to be those that were based around a range of stats rather than just a pair of them. From what he could tell in that brief look, each class entry not only provided information on how to unlock the class, but also notes on its known strengths and weaknesses. Hopefully in this book would be a class that lined up with what he wanted. Perhaps even a hybrid class of some sort. As much as he had focused on melee combat, part of him was still attracted to the idea of using magic of some sort.


    Hatsune leaned over his shoulder, nose twitching in disapproval, her long ears dropping slightly at what she saw him looking at. ¡°Hybrid classes? Really?¡± she asked. ¡°You know those are some of the hardest to level, right? And you have to spread your free stat points around quite a bit more? They¡¯re weaker at the start compared to pure classes. A lot of people say they aren¡¯t worth the effort.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s part of why I¡¯m interested,¡± Klarion replied, closing the book. ¡°If they¡¯re harder to master, then they will likely be stronger in the long run. It seems like everyone here is looking for a shortcut to power, but that¡¯s no the kind of strength I want.¡±


    Hatsune sighed, crossing her arms. ¡°I get that you¡¯re trying to play the long game, but this isn¡¯t just about you, Klarion. You already have enemies, and you need to be able to protect yourself now. A hybrid class might leave you vulnerable. And that will make my job harder.¡±


    Klarion glanced at her, seeing the genuine worry in her eyes. ¡°I appreciate your concern, Hatsune. But if I¡¯m going to carve out a place for myself, I need to think beyond just surviving the next attack.¡± He looked around and, seeing no one else nearby, leaned closer to Hatsune with a smile. ¡°Besides, you remember my stats? How many do I get per level¡­?¡±


    She blinked, then a small smile of her own touched her lips. He could practically see the gears turning in her head as she realized with that advantage, a hybrid class could be just as strong as the alternative but with greater flexibility.


    The first book found, Klarion focused on the second, which immediately caused him to notice a second light back in the direction they had come from, though off to the side from where he had talked with the assistant librarian. Leading the way, the two of them moved past the shelves and a nearby reading table. Hatsune walked beside him, her ears flicking in quiet agitation. After passing down the next aisle of books, she spoke again, her voice quieter this time.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s frustrating,¡± she said. ¡°You get to make choices like this ¡ª what kind of class you want, how you¡¯re going to build your future. But for me, those choices don¡¯t really exist.¡±


    Klarion glanced at her, his brow furrowing. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Hatsune hesitated, then sighed. ¡°In the Empire, Leporine like me¡­ we don¡¯t usually qualify for anything better than common classes. Unlike in my homeworld, where there are a lot more options tailored for my race.¡± She sighed again in frustration. ¡°There might be exceptions here, sure, but I¡¯d been hoping to take one of the ones my family has in any case. Not like that will happen now.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem fair,¡± Klarion said with indignation. ¡°Surely there is a way we can change that.¡±


    ¡°In theory, yes,¡± Hatsune admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s not easy. To qualify for a better class, I¡¯d need to find a class primer in the Archives that presents classes from my homeworld, or at least ones tailored to my race. Then, even if I am able to find one, it is likely the class that I end up deciding on will be rare, and then I¡¯d need specific materials to unlock it. Those materials aren¡¯t just rare ¡ª they¡¯re expensive. Way beyond what I could ever afford.¡±


    Klarion stopped abruptly, causing Hatsune to jerk to a halt to avoid running into him. ¡°Well, what if I helped you?¡± he asked. ¡°Given what you¡¯re saying, I already expect I¡¯ll need to track down materials for my class as well, so why don¡¯t we work together and get enough for both of us? You shouldn¡¯t have to settle for less because you ended up in the Empire as my bodyguard.¡±


    ¡°You do know how long that might take, or how expensive that might be? To help me?¡± At Klarion¡¯s dismissive shrug, her eyes widened, and her ears perked up in surprise. ¡°You¡­ you¡¯d do that? Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the right thing to do,¡± Klarion said simply. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t sign up for all this. If I can help you reach your potential, then maybe we can both come out of this stronger.¡±


    Hatsune did not respond immediately. She looked down at her hands, her expression a mix of shock and contemplation. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± she murmured. ¡°No one¡¯s ever offered me something like that before.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to decide right now,¡± Klarion said moving again in the direction of the second book he had come here to find. ¡°Take some time to think about it. But if you want my help, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    Hatsune nodded slowly, stepping up to keep pace at his side. ¡°Thanks, Klarion. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll think on it.¡±


    Finding the second book was as easy as the first. It was on a shelf full of other histories for this sector of the Empire, the Blacksword crest prominently displayed on the spine and cover. Unlike the primer on classes, Klarion did not open the book up to skim it, and instead only took the time to confirm it was the book he needed. Taking it in hand, he led Hatsune back to the assistant librarian¡¯s desk near where they had come into the Archives. Thankfully he was still at his desk pouring over a ledger.


    ¡°Here are the books, as well as the Sphere of Inquiry,¡± Klarion said, handing them over once he got the assistant librarian¡¯s attention.


    Setting the ledger aside, he took them from Klarion. Returning the Sphere of Inquiry to where he had taken it from, he then repeated the hand movements Klarion had seen done before for the fragment of Whispers of Black Steel. Intricate patterns were traced by his fingers in the air, and threads of golden light began to weave around first one book, then the other. Slowly, identical copies of both books appeared beside the original. As soon as the duplication process was complete, he stacked the originals above a label on his desk that said returns.


    ¡°Here they are,¡± the assistant librarian said, taking both magically copied books in hand. ¡°The primer on classes will cost you two Coins of Knowledge, and the history of House Blacksword¡­ well, that will be ten more.¡±


    Klarion nodded his agreement to the price in Coins of Knowledge. The assistant librarian then handed both books over to Klarion, and as soon as they were left in his hands, Klarion received a notification of the Coins of Knowledge being deducted from his total.


    ¡°Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Scion Blacksword?¡±


    Klarion shook his head, tucking the books securely under one arm. ¡°No, this is all I need for now. Thank you for your help.¡±


    The assistant librarian smiled warmly. ¡±Of course, Scion Blacksword. If you need anything else in the future, don¡¯t hesitate to ask.¡°


    Turning, Klarion motioned for Hatsune to follow him. She fell into step beside him as they made their way out of the Archives.


    ¡°You think that is all you will need?¡± she asked, indicating both books.


    ¡°For now,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°Let¡¯s head to The Hearth & Ember. Hopefully, I¡¯ll have some time to read before Valdre and Redrek get there.¡±

 Chapter 72

    As they approached the exit to the Archives, Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched slightly, her steps quickening as if she was eager to leave the building for the campus outside. For his part, Klarion couldn¡¯t blame her. As much as he enjoyed being surrounded by books and the quiet, and the fact there was so much knowledge here that he had access to that no one from Earth even knew existed, he also knew that he was running against a clock that started from the moment he arrived on campus. And he didn¡¯t know how much time was left on it before the next attempt on his life.


    Klarion quickened his pace, eager to reach The Hearth & Ember. The warm tavern offered more than good food ¡ª it would offer a chance to sit undisturbed for a while and dive into the book he had purchased on House Blacksword¡¯s history. As thick as the book was, he hoped it would finally help him uncover enough about his House¡¯s history to let him understand how he had been treated on campus and, especially, why so many other scions seemed to have a desire to kill him. Piecing together that information might even give him an edge in the challenges ahead. It also might give him a better understanding of what he needed to talk with Valdre and Redrek about once they arrived at the tavern.


    They had almost made it to the door when he heard her.


    ¡°Scion Blacksword,¡± a voice called, lilting and melodic, like the song of a forest wind dancing through ancient trees. The ethereal quality of the voice that he recognized from a few days ago compelled him to pause mid-stride. Klarion turned, searching for who had called out for him.


    Standing partially obscured by the towering shelves off to the side of where they had just passed through was the same woman who had called out to him as he had gone with his class to the Hall of Bonds. She stepped fully into view, and his eyes again traced down the elegant antlers that curled above her head like the branches of an ancient oak. As his eyes came down to her face, he saw that she once again had her amber eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow the space between them.


    Dizzy for a moment, Klarion shook his head, and the feeling was gone. Looking back at the woman, he saw behind her stood a bodyguard, a massive figure that had an appearance similar to that of a bear in humanoid form. An imposing figure, he towered over his charge. His muscular frame was covered in dense, dark-brown fur, and his bear-like features included a pronounced snout, sharp brown eyes, and rounded ears. Powerful claws extended from his massive hands, though what seized Klarion¡¯s attention most was the long scar that ran across his left shoulder. With how deep and wide it was, it looked almost as if someone had taken a massive axe to him, like trying to fell a tree. Given that he was still standing here, whoever had struck the blow probably hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to deliver another. He almost seemed to radiate an aura of restrained menace, his hand resting idly near the hilt of his blade.


    Klarion adjusted his grip on his books, his posture guarded but curious. Hatsune, however, stiffened immediately beside him as she stopped to see what had caught his attention. Her long ears tilted forward, and her soft features hardened, betraying her readiness to act at the slightest hint of danger.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± Klarion asked, his tone polite but wary.


    The woman¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile, though her sharp, angular features maintained a regal air. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself properly,¡± she began, inclining her head slightly, a gesture both deferential and commanding. ¡°I am Yona Veyrith, scion of the Ducal House Veyrith.¡±


    She said her name as if it carried some weight, though because he did not know all the intricacies of the Houses that had scions attending the Academy, he was unsure how to react to her introduction. That being said, a Ducal House was just one step below the five Archducal Houses from the ceremony he had gone through. That combined with the composure she presented and the authority running through her voice pushed him to be polite and cautious. Not that he had been anything else with every noble he had met so far.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Yona,¡± Klarion responded politely, his hand lightly tapping the spine of one of the books as if grounding himself in the moment. ¡°Since you already know who I am, may I assume you wished to talk with me about something?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Yona replied, her melodic voice dipping with interest. ¡°House Blacksword¡­ It carries with it an interesting legacy, does it not? A legacy I find quite fascinating, given my current situation.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she took a subtle step closer to Klarion, her presence protective without being overbearing. ¡°What¡¯s your interest in my lord?¡± Hatsune pressed, her voice sharper than her usual soft-spoken tone.


    Yona¡¯s eyes shifted to Hatsune, whom she regarded cooly, though not unkindly. ¡°I appreciate your vigilance, bodyguard, but this is a conversation for scions,¡± she said smoothly before her gaze returned to Klarion, dismissing her. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s not every day one encounters a scion of your background who has already managed to defy expectations as you have.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Klarion asked trying to keep the nervousness from his tone. He had assumed that Chadwick, Hector, and the others who had attempted to kill him by forcing him into the Dungeon would have wished to keep their attempt quiet to avoid attracting attention or censure. If they were freely spreading what happened around, he was less safe than he thought.


    ¡°I would advise that you relax,¡± Yona said, picking up on the panic that was starting to bubble up within him. ¡°Word of your recent actions has traveled swiftly, but they are still known to only a few, and even fewer care to get themselves involved.¡± Her amber eyes glinted. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, just as you have continued to earn the enmity of Chadwick Copperhand, you have also earned my admiration.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Klarion¡¯s jaw reflexly clenched at the mention of Chadwick, but he was able to keep his expression mostly controlled. ¡°What exactly do you want, Scion Veyrith?¡±


    ¡°Please, Klarion, I would prefer if you called me Yona,¡± she said as she took a graceful step closer. The weight of her presence seemed to press against the air in some way. As she walked, he was able to get a better look at her uniform.


    She was a third-year scion.


    ¡°I would simply like to speak with you,¡± Yona said when she came to a halt an arms-length away. Hatsune was practically vibrating at his side with the need to step in front of him. ¡°If you can spare a few minutes of your time, I believe our conversation could prove mutually enlightening.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s hand twitched near her side, and Klarion felt the tension radiating from her increase further. He reached his free hand down to touch her arm gently in silent reassurance, and she froze. ¡°All right,¡± he said to Yona. ¡°But let¡¯s keep it brief.¡±


    Yona inclined her head again, a gesture of acknowledgment. ¡°Follow me,¡± she said before turning, leading them deeper into the maze-like shelves of this area of the Archive. Her bodyguard moved with her, his silent presence a constant reminder of the need to be vigilant. This seemed like an opportunity for more information, but given Hector¡¯s recent betrayal, it only made sense to be more careful.


    Klarion glanced at Hatsune, who gave him a pointed look but followed without protest. As they walked, he couldn¡¯t help but feel as though Yona¡¯s presence carried with it layers of unspoken meaning, her every step deliberate, her movements almost too perfect. It was both impressive and unsettling. He wondered what her stats were. Probably high as she was a third-year from a Ducal House.


    Hatsune walked beside Klarion, her ears twitching intermittently as she scanned their surroundings with subtle tension. She hadn¡¯t said anything since Yona had introduced herself, but her body language was enough to tell Klarion she didn¡¯t trust the elk-antlered scion. He couldn¡¯t blame her ¡ª he didn¡¯t fully trust Yona either. Yet, something about her intrigued him, her words hinting at layers of intent that he couldn¡¯t ignore.


    Finally, they reached an open area along the wall where the light of the Archives seemed a bit softer, more dim. Set into the wall were several doors, and Yona led them to the nearest one. A sigil engraved on the wood glowed faintly as she placed her palm against it. With a quiet hum, the door unlocked and spun open, revealing a cozy study room lit by floating orbs of soft blue light. Inside was a table surrounded by plush chairs, the air having the faint scent of old books and pine. Klarion smiled as the room was revealed. He knew exactly where he would be studying in the future.


    ¡°I reserved this room earlier,¡± Yona said, stepping inside after gesturing for them to enter behind her. ¡°It¡¯s warded for privacy. No one will overhear us here.¡±


    Klarion hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, Hatsune close behind him. Yona¡¯s bodyguard followed last of all, pulling the door closed behind him. The door clinked shut, and a sigil on its surface flared briefly. He remained standing by the door, arms crossed as he watched them.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Klarion murmured, looking around the room before setting his books down on the table to take a seat. Hatsune remained standing behind him, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on Yona with suspicion.


    Yona moved to the opposite side of the table, lowering herself gracefully into a chair. She leaned back, her antlers casting faint shadows on the wall as her eyes studied Klarion. ¡°Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I realized my approach may have seemed¡­ abrupt.¡±


    ¡°¡®Abrupt¡¯ is one word for it,¡± Klarion replied, but he couldn¡¯t conceal his interest. ¡°So, what¡¯s this about?¡±


    Yona¡¯s expression shifted, becoming unreadable and he unconsciously tensed. ¡°I¡¯ll not waste your time with pleasantries,¡± she began, her bodyguard at the door shifting in place at her tone. ¡°I¡¯m aware of your conflict with Chadwick and, by extension, Caspian Brightcoin. I¡¯d imagine you have been beginning to plan for how to deal with such a¡­ precarious situation.¡±


    ¡°Precarious would be one way to describe it,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°But yes, I have been¡­ thinking things over.¡±


    Her smile returned, faint but as far as he could tell, genuine. ¡°A diplomatic answer. Yet, you¡¯ve already demonstrated that you¡¯re more than capable of handling yourself. Surviving that Dungeon, for one. And now, you¡¯re delving into House Blacksword¡¯s history. Expanding your knowledge on what might possibly lie ahead, perhaps?¡±


    Klarion frowned slightly, unsure how much to reveal. Not that he had much to reveal yet. ¡°Knowledge is power,¡± he said cautiously, opting to use one of the sayings his father had tried to drill into him growing up. ¡°If I¡¯m going to survive, it makes only sense that I need to know what I¡¯m up against.¡±


    ¡°Wise,¡± Yona said approvingly. ¡°House Veyrith shares a similar philosophy. Which is why I¡¯m here, talking with you.¡± She gestured lightly toward him. ¡°There¡¯s a storm brewing in this sector of the Empire, Scion Blacksword. One that has been building for some decades now, and will likely bear down on us soon. And whether you intend to or not, you¡¯ve placed yourself directly in its path.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s mind raced as he studied her, trying to discern her angle. ¡°And you?¡± he asked. ¡°Where do you stand in relation to this storm?¡±


    Yona¡¯s expression grew thoughtful. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I prefer to observe, for now. But I see potential in you, Klarion. Potential that could reshape the very foundations of this sector, the status quo of which so many have taken for granted.¡±


    Her words hung heavy in the air, the significance of their weight pressing down on Klarion. He exchanged a quick glance with Hatsune, who looked skeptical but remained silent. Perhaps still cowed from Yona¡¯s words earlier.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit I am unsure as to what you¡¯re alluding to,¡± Klarion said. ¡°So what exactly are you suggesting?¡±


    ¡°An alliance,¡± Yona replied simply. ¡°Knowledge for knowledge. Insight for insight. Allies are scarce in the Empire, especially for someone in your position. I propose we help each other, even if only in small ways for now.¡±


    ¡°And why could you be interested in me?¡± Klarion pressed, his tone sharper than before. ¡°After all, I am only in my first year here, while you are already in your third.¡±


    Yona¡¯s gaze softened, and for the first time, there was something almost vulnerable in her expression. ¡°Because I know what it¡¯s like to carry the weight of a legacy,¡± she said quietly. ¡°And because I¡¯d rather see someone like you succeed than be crushed by the kinds of forces that care nothing for those they destroy on their path to power.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Yona¡¯s face. Her words seemed genuine, and the vulnerability in her expression was disarming, but something about her tone ¡ª her careful choice of words ¡ª set off a faint alarm in his mind.


    ¡°Yona,¡± he said after a long moment of thought. ¡°I appreciate that, but there¡¯s something else you¡¯re not telling me, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    Yona straightened in her seat, the brief flicker of vulnerability retreating behind her usual poise. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, though the way her eyes traced along his face, it was clear she was examining him for some reason. Perhaps because he hadn¡¯t taken her words at face value?


    ¡°You didn¡¯t approach me just out of altruism or shared experience,¡± Klarion pressed, knowing he was on to something. ¡°You said you want me to succeed, but why?¡±

 Chapter 73

    She spent another few moments in silence, looking at his face. Not seeing whatever it was she was looking for, she leaned forward, resting her hands neatly on the table. Her expression was serious, but Klarion got the impression that she was secretly pleased he had pressed her for more answers.


    ¡°You may not be aware of this, but Chadwick Copperhand has close ties to Caspian Brightcoin.¡± At his cautious nod, she continued. ¡°What I am certain you don¡¯t know is that my own family, House Veyrith, has its own history with House Brightcoin ¡ª one that has left scars I¡¯m not inclined to forgive.¡±


    Klarion leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued. ¡°What kind of history?¡±


    Yona¡¯s amber eyes darkened, a flicker of something colder crossing her face. ¡°Caspian¡¯s older brother, Aldric Brightcoin, is a name I¡¯ll never forget. Years ago, when I was still a child, my family fell victim to one of his schemes. He manipulated trade agreements, undermined key alliances, and orchestrated a financial collapse that nearly destroyed House Veyrith.¡±


    Klarion frowned. ¡°Why? What did he stand to gain from doing all that?¡±


    ¡°Power,¡± Yona said simply, though she quickly corrected herself. ¡°And pleasure. Aldric enjoys watching others fall. All the better when he has a hand in it. My family recovered eventually, but the damage was done. We lost our standing in the sector¡¯s court, and with it, opportunities that should have been ours. It was a calculated move to weaken us, and he succeeded.¡±


    The room fell silent for a moment, Klarion taking time to digest her words. Hatsune shifted uncomfortably at his back but said nothing.


    ¡°And now you¡¯re here, talking with me,¡± Klarion said slowly, piecing it together. ¡°Looking for revenge?¡±


    Yona¡¯s lips curled back into a faint smile, though this time it lacked warmth. ¡°Revenge is a word some might use, yes. But I prefer to think of it as justice. Aldric is beyond my reach for now, but Caspian? He¡¯s within arm¡¯s length, and his downfall would serve my interests quite well.¡±


    Klarion leaned back, his arms crossing as he studied her. ¡°And you think helping me will get you there?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Yona said without hesitation. ¡°Like I said, you have already made an impression with those who are observant like I am. Your rivalry with Chadwick has drawn attention, and only a fool would not see that will lead to a deeper enmity between you and Caspian. You¡¯re in a unique position, Klarion. One that I believe could be mutually beneficial.¡±


    Hatsune finally spoke, her voice sharp. ¡°And what do you really gain if my lord succeeds?¡±


    Yona arched her brow at Klarion, not deigning to look at the Leporine. When he gestured for her to answer, she did so, her expression carefully concealing all but a hint of irritation at the interruption by his bodyguard. ¡°Is his success not enough? Damaging House Brightcoin would be poetic justice for what Aldric did to my family and yours. But I won¡¯t insult your intelligence by pretending this is purely altruistic. I gain satisfaction as well as advantages elsewhere, but in exchange, you will gain an ally who understands the intricacies of Imperial politics and the dangers he¡¯s facing at the Academy.¡±


    Klarion tapped his fingers against the table, his thoughts racing. Her mention of Aldric having taken actions against House Blacksword sent a jolt through him, stirring questions he knew he needed to get answers to. The weight of not knowing more about his family pressed heavily on him, and he cursed not having been able to read the book before having this meeting with Yona.


    ¡°An ally who could provide me information on those topics sounds wonderful, but what¡¯s to stop you from cutting all ties once I achieve your goal for me? If I agree to this alliance, how can you help me beyond this information?¡±


    Yona¡¯s smile widened, this time tinged with genuine amusement. ¡°Fair questions. Let¡¯s start with this: beyond the political knowledge I possess, I know just as much about a range of fields of study and have access to resources that most scions could only dream of.¡± She idly tapped her fingers on the table in the same pattern Klarion was tapping, her eyes going to the second book he had come to the Archives to get. ¡°You¡¯ve started researching classes, have you not? Perhaps even hybrid classes?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s tapping stilled. ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    ¡°A guess,¡± Yona said, shrugging. Klarion was not sure if he believed her, but she continued, ¡°And I happen to have some expertise in how to go about unlocking higher rarity classes, as well as the role that Essence plays in that process. Unlocking a class ¡ª especially a higher-ranking hybrid one ¡ª requires more than just brute strength or luck. It requires understanding and materials, and I can help you with that.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s confusion must have shown on his face because Yona cocked her head and asked, ¡°Has a professor not told you yet?¡± When he shook his head, she sighed, eyes closing in exacerbation. ¡°No wonder you didn¡¯t immediately jump on what I am offering you. Alright, I will explain.¡±


    ¡°The ritual to unlock a class is a constant across the Multiverse, as far as we know,¡± Yona began. ¡°No matter where you are, the process is identical. However, the ritual is far from simple. The rarity of the class you wish to unlock dictates how complicated ¡ª and costly ¡ª it becomes.¡±


    She glanced at Klarion, gauging his reaction. He did his best to keep his expression unreadable, not wanting to give away how excited he was to learn this new information from another scion who had already gone through the process. This alone made meeting with Yona worthwhile, even if the alliance did not end up happening. Still, he noticed that behind him, Hatsune was shifting uncomfortably, her long ears twitching in clear distrust.


    ¡°For scions of the Empire,¡± Yona continued, ¡°we are fortunate to have access to superior ritual chambers. These chambers don¡¯t just streamline the process ¡ª they can amplify the results. A properly equipped ritual chamber can mitigate the inherent risks of attempting to unlock a higher rarity class, and, if you are lucky, even grant you additional stat points during the process. This is an advantage that most people in the Empire can only dream of, and one no scion should squander.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression began to crack, unable to control the feeling of curiosity at learning more about the process. Yona must have sensed it because there was a shift in her posture as she grew more intense.


    ¡°Let me put this into perspective for you,¡± she said, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Common classes are the only ones that anyone can unlock without materials. That¡¯s why the majority of the Empire¡¯s population ¡ª those outside of military service or the nobility ¡ª hold common classes. They simply can¡¯t afford the cost of unlocking anything more. For many, even uncommon classes are a distant dream.¡±


    Hatsune made a small sound of derision, but Yona ignored it, keeping her focus on Klarion. She must have been able to tell that the weight of her words was hitting him.


    ¡°As the rarity of the class to be unlocked increases,¡± Yona continued, ¡°so do the requirements for unlocking it. An uncommon class might require a handful of rare materials, along with an Essence crystal of the appropriate type. A rare class? That might demand a specific artifact or a greater quantity of rare materials. Beyond that rarity, the resources needed can be extraordinary ¡ª costing more than an entire Imperial world produces in a year. And the higher you aim, the more precise you must be. A single mistake in preparation could mean failure, or worse, death.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    She allowed a brief pause, making sure that Klarion was keeping up. Despite the newness of the information, he was able to follow her. He nodded for her to continue.


    ¡°Now,¡± she said, her tone softening as she came to the point she was trying to make, ¡°as scions of Houses bound to an Empire as large as our own, we have the luxury of access. Our birthright provides us with the means to aim higher than most. But even for us, the process requires careful planning. That is what you will be receiving: my assistance.¡±


    At that point, Hatsune bristled visibly, but Yona did not react. She continued speaking, ignoring the Leporine.


    ¡°Not only can I provide you with advice on what class to pursue, but with my knowledge of the Archives and my understanding of Essence, I can help you narrow your options to something that aligns with both your strengths and your goals. And when you¡¯ve made your decision, I can assist you in tracking down the materials needed to unlock that class.¡± She leaned over the table, emphasizing the weight of her offer. ¡°This isn¡¯t a decision to be made lightly, Klarion. Choosing a class defines not just your capabilities but your trajectory. A hasty choice could limit you forever. But with the right guidance, you could avoid that risk. That is what I am offering you.¡±


    Klarion exchanged a glance with Hatsune, who still looked upset with Yona. Her ears twitched, and her tail swished sharply, betraying her simmering frustration. He coughed, loud and deliberate, cutting through the tension. Hatsune blinked, her eyes snapping to him as her glare softened ¡ª though only slightly. Klarion arched an eyebrow, a silent question hanging between them. She hesitated, her lips tightening as if to argue, but then she gave a sharp nod, reluctantly signaling her agreement to follow his lead. A knot of tension between Klarion¡¯s shoulders loosened, grateful for her trust despite her clear reservations, and he turned his focus back to Yona.


    ¡°That¡¯s an exceedingly generous offer,¡± he said. ¡°But it still seems almost too good. Why should I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Because you have little to lose by doing so,¡± Yona replied without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°And because, whether you like it or not, you¡¯ll need allies to survive the storm that is coming. Houses Copperhand and Brightcoin are not your only enemies, Klarion. They¡¯re merely the beginning.¡± She gestured at the book in his hands with the House Blacksword Crest. ¡°I encourage you to read over that. Soon.¡±


    He held her gaze, unblinking for several long seconds. As hard as he tried, he still couldn¡¯t tell if she was being fully truthful or if she was keeping something back. But she wasn¡¯t wrong. And he was worried he was already running out of time.


    ¡°All right,¡± he said finally. ¡°I¡¯ll agree to a preliminary alliance. But if you¡¯re lying, or this turns out to be a trap ¡ª ¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Yona interrupted firmly. ¡°You have my word.¡±


    She extended a delicate but firm hand across the table, her expression calm but expectant. Klarion looked at it a long moment before reaching out, grasping her hand firmly. Her skin was soft, her grip strong but not overpowering. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a faint blush on her dusty bronze cheeks, but it was gone before he could be sure.


    ¡°Done,¡± he said, releasing her hand. ¡°We¡¯ll see where this goes.¡±


    Yona inclined her head, amber eyes gleaming with what he assumed to be satisfaction. ¡°I look forward to working with you, Klarion.¡±


    Standing, Yona made her way to the door, her movements as light as a gentle breeze and just as difficult to pin down. Her hulking bodyguard opened the door, but she paused on the threshold, one hand resting lightly against the frame, and glanced back at him. Her antlers caught the faint light coming in from the Archive, casting elegant, branching shadows across the room.


    ¡°Remember this, Klarion,¡± she said, her voice lilting yet edged with steel. ¡°Alliances are rarely what they seem. Be careful whom you approach.¡±


    Klarion paused in the process of standing up, staring over at Yona. ¡°Is that a warning, or a threat?¡±


    Her lips curved into another faint smile, though this time it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Neither. Simply the truth. You¡¯re perceptive, Klarion, but trust is a treacherous thing. Guard it well should you seek alliances with others.¡±


    With that, she turned and stepped out of the room, her bodyguard following closely behind. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Klarion and Hatsune alone in the silence of the study.


    For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Klarion stared at the closed door, his thoughts jumbled. Yona¡¯s words replayed in his mind, but he still could not tell if she had been completely upfront with him, had lied throughout their conversation, and engaged in a mix of both. She had just been too hard to read. Perhaps it had something to do with her class, whatever it was, or that she was a third-year scion.


    ¡°She¡¯s something else,¡± he murmured finally, breaking the silence.


    Hatsune, who had been standing stiffly by the table, let out an exasperated huff. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it. I¡¯d call her manipulative and dangerous, but sure, ¡®something else¡¯ works too.¡±


    Klarion turned to face her, his expression wry. ¡°You don¡¯t trust her.¡±


    ¡°Of course I don¡¯t trust her,¡± Hatsune shot back, her ears twitching sharply. ¡°Did you see the way she carried herself? The way she looked at you? She¡¯s playing a game, Klarion, and she¡¯s very good at it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not blind,¡± Klarion said evenly. ¡°I know she has her own agenda.¡±


    ¡°Then why agree to work with her?¡± Hatsune demanded, her frustration bubbling over. ¡°You barely know her, and she¡¯s already talking about revenge and alliances like it¡¯s some kind of court intrigue. How do you know she won¡¯t turn on you the moment it suits her?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°But that¡¯s the risk you take with any alliance among the nobility, isn¡¯t it? If I shut out every potential ally because of the possibility of betrayal, I¡¯ll be standing alone when the real threats come.¡±


    Hatsune crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. ¡°And what happens when her ¡®help¡¯ comes with strings attached? What if she drags you into something you¡¯re not prepared for? She is a third-year scion!¡±


    Klarion sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s perfect, Hatsune. I¡¯m saying it¡¯s a step. I¡¯m not foolish enough to trust her blindly, but I can¡¯t afford to ignore the opportunities she offers either. Knowledge, connections, resources ¡ª I may be new to this game, but even I know that those things matter, especially when you¡¯re up against people like Chadwick and Caspian.¡±


    Hatsune fell silent, her expression a mix of frustration and worry. Klarion could see the concern in her eyes, the way her hands clenched at her sides as if she was holding herself back from saying more.


    After a moment, she shook her head. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to see you get hurt, Klarion. Or worse.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said quietly. ¡°And I appreciate it. Really. But I have to take some risks if I¡¯m going to survive this. You know that as well as I do.¡±


    Hatsune sighed again, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. ¡°Fine. Just¡­ promise me you¡¯ll be careful. Don¡¯t let her sweet-talk you into something you¡¯ll regret.¡±


    Klarion managed a small smile. ¡°You have my word.¡±


    Hatsune gave him a skeptical look, but didn¡¯t press the issue further. Instead, she gestured toward the door. ¡°Come on. You said you wanted to get to The Hearth & Ember before Valdre and Redrek, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Klarion said, grabbing his books and tucking them under his arm. ¡°Though with meeting Yona, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have as much time as I want to read before they get there.¡±


    ¡°Likely,¡± Hatsune replied. ¡°Let¡¯s go before I change my mind and drag you back to Blacksword Manor for a lecture.¡±


    Klarion chuckled, following her out of the study. As they left, Klarion found himself watching the Leporine as she led him in the direction of the exit of the Archives. She had been so stiff and reserved when they had first met, her words calculated and her demeanor almost unnervingly professional. But since then, she had begun to open up, showing a side of herself that he was certain not many had seen. Her sharp wit, fiery temper, and unwavering loyalty had already become constants in his life despite how new they were. They were comforting, in their way.


    He couldn¡¯t help but admire the way she voiced her concerns so openly, especially when they were about him. The other bodyguards he had met so far were more in keeping with what he had expected initially. Silent and subservient to their scions. But everything that Hatsune had been doing and says seems to show that she wasn¡¯t just following orders or protecting him because it was her duty; she genuinely cared. That care shone through in the way she challenged him, questioning his decisions not out of defiance, but out of concern for his well-being.


    Klarion appreciated that more than he could say. Her being around helped ground him, helped remind him that he wasn¡¯t alone in navigating the treacherous world of scions and rivalries. He was glad he had found her in the Hall of Bonds.


    He glanced at her, her ears twitching as she walked ahead. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly.


    ¡°For what?¡± she asked, glancing back, her tone a mix of curious and suspicious.


    ¡°For being you,¡± Klarion replied with a smile.


    Hatsune huffed, turning away with a flick of her ears, but not so quickly that he didn¡¯t see the faint blush on her face. ¡°Just don¡¯t make me regret it, Klarion.¡±


    He chuckled again, falling in step beside her as they made their way out of the Archives and towards The Hearth & Ember where he would be meeting with Valdre and Redrek over dinner. Then, he would explain what had happened in the Dungeon and do his best to convince his friends to help him against the scions who wanted him dead.

 Chapter 74

    The walk from the Central Archives to The Hearth & Ember went quickly, though the entire time they were walking, the tension from meeting Yona lingered in the air between Klarion and Hatsune. The Leporine said little after their last exchange, but her focus on their surroundings and the way her ears occasionally twitched betrayed her unease. For his part, Klarion tried to focus on the upcoming meeting with his friends, but his thoughts kept returning to Yona¡¯s words, her presence, and the tentative alliance they had formed. It was strange. A month ago, he would have been shocked into insensibility at how strange her appearance was, but within less than a week of getting started at the Imperial Academy, she barely merited a second glance, given all the other races he had seen in passing. Though he was still well behind in many things, it was strange how quickly he had adapted to learning that humans were so very far from the only advanced sapient life in existence.


    Pushing away the idle thoughts, as they had no bearing on his survival at the moment, Klarion turned his attention to the sense of welcome that practically seemed to radiate from the building that was The Hearth & Ember. Though he felt somewhat guilty at the thought, he couldn¡¯t help hoping that other scions hadn¡¯t yet discovered Ordran¡¯s establishment yet. The faint scent of roasting meat and spices wafted out from the tavern, carried by a cool breeze, making Klarion¡¯s stomach rumble in anticipation.


    Hatsune led the way, pushing open the heavy oak door, the comforting hum of conversation and clinking cutlery enveloped them both as they went inside. The tavern was busier than on his previous visits, but not quite so much that it could be considered crowded. He felt the instinctive tightening in his shoulders relax slightly as he saw not groups of scions eating at tables but rather a good number of older dwarves scattered around tables laden with food and drink. A quick glance showed each was completely bereft of the uniform that indicated an enrolled scion.


    The room grew quiet as attention turned to Klarion and Hatsune standing just inside, the door not yet closed. A grim dwarf, his face practically carved from granite and with hair on his head and face whiter than most, made eye contact with Klarion from across the room. If possible, the look on his face grew even more dour. As he made to stand, a number of dwarves at the nearby tables tensed and made to do the same. Hatsune tensed, stepping in front of him, her hand reaching down for the hilt of her longsword. Before she could draw it, a voice rang out.


    ¡°Ah, there ye are!¡± Ordran¡¯s deep, gravelly voice called out as he stepped from behind the bar.


    ¡°Been wonderin¡¯ when ye two would show up,¡± Ordran continued as he walked over to them, wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into his belt. The old, white-haired dwarf and his companions froze, half out of their seats behind him. ¡°Go on, take yer usual spot. I¡¯ll be right with ye once I finish up in the kitchen. Got a new roast on the spit that can¡¯t be left to its own devices, y¡¯see.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Ordran, we¡¯ll be¡ª¡± Klarion started to reply with a smile as Hatsune relaxed slightly at their friend¡¯s greeting before an angry growl came from the seated dwarf with the white hair.


    ¡°Ordran!¡± the old dwarf barked, his voice thick with anger. ¡°Who do ye think ye be sittin¡¯? That human scion ¡ª what¡¯s he doing here, in a respectable dwarven tavern?¡± He slammed his gnarled hand on the table in front of him, causing the tankards and plates to rattle. ¡±A pampered one like him, comin¡¯ in and makin¡¯ himself comfortable while true, hardworkin¡¯ dwarves like us simply want a fine meal away from his kind! Why do ye let him in, eh?!¡°


    Ordran¡¯s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing with barely-contained ire of his own. The previous welcoming gleam in his eyes shifted, a steely look overcoming his face as he turned to look over at the other dwarf. The tavern, quiet before, went silent.


    ¡°Ye have a problem with him, Vuldrin?¡± Ordran growled back, his voice low, carrying the weight of an old legionnaire who had faced worse than an old dwarf with a vendetta against scions. ¡°Klarion¡¯s no different than any other patron in my tavern. He¡¯s got manners, which is more than I can say for ye sometimes.¡±


    The mention of Klarion¡¯s name caused the old dwarf¡¯s face to redden further. ¡°Manners, eh? Ha! A scion, I tell ye! And ye let him sit there like he¡¯s like one o¡¯ us ¡ª like he¡¯s earned his keep and was not just born to it!¡±


    Ordran¡¯s fists clenched at his sides. He stood straight, shoulders squared, the muscle memory of his legionnaire training flaring back to life from the embers it usually lingered as. The rest of the dwarves, sensing if not seeing the shift, began to murmur about the confrontation. They went quiet once more when Ordran finally responded.


    ¡°Klarion,¡± Ordran said, his voice rising, ¡°has never demanded anything from me. He¡¯s never asked for special treatment, despite his rank. Unlike some highborn nobles I¡¯ve known, he doesn¡¯t expect anyone to bow or cater to his whims.¡± He paused, glaring at Vuldrin with, if possible, even greater intensity. ¡°The human even complimented my cooking, something that I don¡¯t hear from the normal pompous lot that wanders in through these doors. He¡¯s got more humility than the majority of the scions I served under in the Legions, so don¡¯t ye dare talk about him like he doesn¡¯t belong!¡±


    Vuldrin¡¯s mouth opened, but the words caught in his throat as he tried to process the words. Ordran shifted, his gaze never leaving the old dwarf¡¯s.


    ¡°And if ye don¡¯t like it,¡± Ordran spat, ¡°ye can leave. Ain¡¯t no room for that kind o¡¯ attitude here.¡±


    Vuldrin blinked, his fury mixing with a moment of shock as he tried to hold Ordran¡¯s gaze, but the weight of the veteran¡¯s words hung heavy in the air. A tense silence lingered for a moment, before Vuldrin grunted in disbelief. He turned away to sink back into his chair, and it scrapped as he settled into it. His fellow dwarves, after a moment, followed suit, though not daring to grumble as they sat down, too intimidated to challenge Ordran¡¯s commanding presence.


    The older dwarf cowed, Ordran let out a slight sigh, his anger simmering down to a manageable level. He turned to Klarion, who hadn¡¯t moved during the confrontation.


    ¡°Go on then,¡± Ordran gave him a small nod, ¡°Like I said, yer usual table¡¯s open.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ord¡ªmy friend,¡± Klarion replied with a smile that was mirrored on Ordran¡¯s face.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Of course, lad,¡± Ordran smiled. ¡°Far prefer ye and yer friends to the other pompous brats who come here every once in a while. Now, I¡¯ll be over in a few to get yer order.¡±


    As Ordran went back into the kitchen, Klarion turned with Hatsune to head over to the table they had previously used. As they settled into their chairs, Hatsune setting their things that she had carried beside her, Klarion glanced again around the room, noting that all the other patrons had returned to their meals and conversations. He was a bit surprised at the number of dwarves present, but given that The Hearth & Ember likely attracted a mix of students and staff perhaps it was to be expected. He felt himself relax deeper into his chair. This tavern was one of the few places at the Imperial Academy where Klarion felt he could truly unwind, away from the constant pressure and intrigue of other scions.


    Hatsune shifted in her seat, her eyes still scanning the room of dwarves warily. Still on edge, her ears twitched at every loud movement one of the other patrons made.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Klarion told her. ¡°Given Ordran¡¯s reaction to Vuldrin, and the fact there are no other scions here right now, this is probably the safest place on campus.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the tavern I¡¯m worried about,¡± Hatsune muttered.


    Klarion sighed, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward towards his bodyguard. ¡°Well, that is why we are here, waiting for Valdre and Redrek.¡±


    Before Hatsune could respond, Ordran came over to the table, carrying two steaming mugs. He set them down on the table, the rich aroma of spiced cider wafting up from them.


    ¡°There ye go, somethin¡¯ to warm ye up while ye wait,¡± Ordran said, his grin broad. ¡°And don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t add anythin¡¯ too strong to it. Just enough to take the edge off.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Ordran,¡± Klarion said, lifting the mug and taking a sip. The cider was sweet and tangy, with just a hint of warmth from whatever spirit the dwarf had added. It was perfect after the day he had just had.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be long now,¡± Ordran continued, straightening up. ¡°The roast is nearly done, and I¡¯ve got some fresh bread coming out of the oven. Ye won¡¯t be disappointed, I promise ye that.¡±


    ¡°We never are,¡± Hatsune said, her tone softer than before, though her expression remained guarded.


    Ordran gave her a knowing look, then clapped a hand on Klarion¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Good lad, this one. Always clears his plate, unlike some of ye younger folk. Keep yer appetite up, Klarion. Ye¡¯ll need it if yer gonna keep runnin¡¯ circles ¡®round the other scions.¡±


    Klarion chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    With that, Ordran returned to the kitchen, leaving Klarion and Hatsune to savor their drinks. Klarion watched him go. The grey-bearded dwarf¡¯s gruff demeanor hid a warm heart, something that Klarion had come to appreciate. Ordran never fawned over him or treated him with the cautious reverence that others often did once they saw the mark of his House on his uniform. To Ordran, Klarion was just another hungry customer ¡ª and that was a refreshing gift.


    Klarion settled back into his chair, enjoying the comforting crackle of the hearth nearby and the calm it brought after the last two days. Hatsune, though still a bit tense, appeared to be beginning to relax a bit more as she sipped her drink. With the Leporine watching the rest of the room, lost in her thoughts, Klarion pulled out the book on House Blacksword¡¯s history. The book was the first key to understanding where he came from and, perhaps most importantly, why he was being targeted on campus by the other scions. He knew he didn¡¯t have enough time now, but he intended to at least get started reading the book before the night ended.


    Before he could consider the book further, Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched to the door of The Hearth & Ember, and she turned to look. The heavy door jerked open, and a large man in armor stepped inside that Klarion recognized immediately. Garran. Stepping in behind him was his charge, the half-frost elf Valdre. Muttering something under his breath, Klarion¡¯s half-elven friend was soon joined by the hobgoblin scion, Redrek. Bringing up the rear was Kael, who kept his body angled to keep one eye on the street until he pulled the door closed behind him. While Klarion had expected his friends and their bodyguards to meet them, he had not expected them to be quite so on edge. Perhaps something had happened.


    Dwarven heads turned as a draft swept into the room. Glancing over, Klarion saw that Vuldrin had that same angry scowl on his face from earlier, but one piercing glare from Ordran behind the bar kept the troublemaking old dwarf firmly in his chair. It didn¡¯t stop him from muttering something to the other dwarves who shared his table, however. Something that brought grim looks to their faces.


    ¡°Klarion!¡± Valdre called out, his voice carrying over the sounds of the tavern. The half-frost elf¡¯s tone was urgent. His piercing ice-blue eyes locked onto Klarion as he rushed over, the others behind him.


    Klarion exchanged a glance with Hatsune, who sighed and muttered under her breath, ¡°So much for a quiet dinner.¡±


    His friends reached the table in no time. Valdre arrived first, an urgent look on his face. Garran remained a step behind him, scanning the room with a watchful gaze, much like Hatsune did whenever she was on the lookout for threats. Redrek and Kael brought up the rear. If it were possible, they looked even more tense than the half-frost elf did.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Klarion asked as he put the book back away.


    ¡°We need to talk,¡± Valdre said, his voice low and serious. Without waiting for an invitation, Valdre and then Redrek sat down in chairs facing Klarion and Hatsune. Garran and Kael followed suit, though their gazes continued to drift around the room, expressions unreadable.


    ¡°Everything alright?¡± Klarion pressed, glancing between the two scions. He had expected them to be upset, but everything from how they arrived to how they sat staring at him now told Klarion that something else was going on.


    ¡°That depends,¡± Redrek said, his sharp teeth flashing as he settled into his chair. ¡°Ordran¡¯s serving that roast special tonight, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Redrek,¡± Vldre said, his voice filled with equal parts exasperation and amusement. ¡°Focus.¡±


    Almost as if the hobgoblin¡¯s words had summoned him, the heavy footfalls of Ordran sounded by the bar as the veteran dwarf made his way over to their table. He moved swiftly, a smile on his face at seeing the two other scions already sitting.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Ordran said, glancing at the two latest arrivals and their bodyguards. ¡°I expected to see ye all tonight, what with Klarion being here, but not quite in the rush ye came in with.¡± He looked over the table as a whole, then asked, ¡°What¡¯ll it be, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the special,¡± Redrek said immediately, his fanged grin widening. ¡°I could smell that roast practically down the street from here.¡±


    Kael gave a brief nod as the dwarf¡¯s gaze landed on him. ¡°Same.¡±


    Garran, the quietest of the group, still had an eye on the door, but he grunted in agreement with Kael¡¯s order.


    ¡°And for you, Valdre?¡± Ordran asked, arching a bushy eyebrow at the half-frost elf.


    ¡°Can you make me something vegetarian again tonight?¡± Valdre asked politely.


    ¡°Aye, I¡¯ve got somethin¡¯ for ye,¡± Ordran replied with a smile, likely having expected the request from Valdre. ¡°Matter a¡¯fact, it¡¯s been cooking for a few hours now, since I was expectin¡¯ ye to come tonight. I¡¯ll bring it out with the rest.¡±


    ¡°Perfect, thank you,¡± Valdre said, offering a smile of his own.


    Ordran turned to Klarion and Hatsune. ¡°Ye want the special as well, lad?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Klarion said with a nod.


    Hatsune hesitated for a moment before she nodded as well. ¡°Same for me.¡±


    ¡°Good choice,¡± Ordran said, clapping his hands together, looking again at the others. ¡°I¡¯ll get it all sorted. Drinks¡¯ll be out first for ye four, aye? Sit tight.¡±


    As the dwarf returned to the kitchen, Klarion turned his attention back to Valdre and Redrek, his expression expectant. ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve got my attention. What¡¯s going on?¡±

 Chapter 75

    Valdre leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. ¡°There¡¯s been¡­ movement.¡±


    ¡°Movement?¡± Klarion echoed, while Hatsune¡¯s ears perked up as she straightened in her chair.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Valdre said, his tone clipped. ¡°Someone has been making moves behind the scenes. Someone, or a group of someones, is up to something, but we haven¡¯t been able to figure it out. Yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit cryptic, Valdre,¡± Klarion responded after a moment. ¡°How do you know something is going on?¡±


    Valdre clenched his hands on top of the table, his expression now filled with frustration. ¡°How do I know?¡± he repeated. ¡°Because the few scions I¡¯ve made acquaintance with beyond those at this table have been talking less than usual, and in places where they usually can¡¯t shut up. The kind of silence that reeks of fear or complicity with something currently happening.¡±


    He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. ¡°Contacts that used to share gossip about the Archducal Scions suddenly have nothing to say. The usual rumors about scandals or intrigue are drying up, and even the workers on campus are keeping their mouths shut. That doesn¡¯t happen unless something is in the process of happening.¡± Valdre¡¯s eyes narrowed as he added, ¡°Whatever it is, I think it¡¯s coordinated. I can practically feel it in the air, Klarion. The tension right before the storm.¡±


    The half-frost elf tapped the table with one finger, in a slow and deliberate rhythm. ¡°Something is going to happen. And the only reason I¡¯m not fully in the dark is that I¡¯ve survived enough schemes alongside my family before coming here to know when someone is trying to pull the rug out. The only problem is, I still have no idea who ¡ª or why.¡±


    Klarion frowned, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. He hated feeling like a pawn on someone else¡¯s game board. House intrigue, politics, secret plots ¡ª they were all part of a world he¡¯d been thrust into without any real preparation by Alesin and Rolfun. He realized bitterly that, despite bearing the name Blacksword, he had not really received anything beyond limited, outdated information about the current state of the House he was now associated with. In fact, despite what Franz had originally told him, his arrival at the Academy had been met with eerie silence from House Blacksword. No letters, no contact, no support. Without those, he was left in ignorance about so much. Indeed, ignorance was his greatest weakness right now. His eyes dropped down to the book about House Blacksword.


    He was going to stay up all night reading if he had to.


    Klarion turned his attention back to Valdre and Redrek, who were still watching him, waiting for him to respond. He straightened in his chair, resolve hardening in his chest. If Valdre was right ¡ª and Klarion suspected he was ¡ª then something dangerous was on the horizon. And Klarion couldn¡¯t afford to be caught unaware. But did it really matter right now? After all, he had only just survived an assassination attempt. Surely Chadwick, Hector, and their supporters among his classmates were the more immediate threat?


    ¡°I believe you, but is this more important than what just happened to us in the Dungeon the other night? Surely that is the more immediate¡ª¡±


    ¡°I bring it up,¡± Valdre said, interrupting him, ¡°because if it is Caspian Brightcoin that is making moves, that means his allies are, too.¡±


    ¡°Chadwick Copperhand being one of the more important ones,¡± Redrek added right after Valdre finished speaking.


    Klarion¡¯s tapping on the table paused as his fingers curled into fists. First, trying to take Hatsune, then the part he played in trying to get him killed. The thought of him playing a role in whatever scheming Caspian was capable of was enough to make his blood boil.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Klarion said finally. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    Valdre nodded, relaxing now that he knew they had his attention, but before they could delve further into the conversation, the sound of footsteps signaled Ordran¡¯s return, a round of drinks for the newcomers in hand. He set them down, only for them to be quickly snatched up by their recipients. Even Valdre was drinking tonight it seemed.


    ¡°Meals¡¯ll be out shortly,¡± Ordran said with a wink before returning to the kitchen.


    The tension at the side of the table that held Valdre and Redrek lightened as they enjoyed the drinks that the veteran dwarf had brought them. After a long, slow drink, Valdre sat his mug down. He wiped his face, then returned his attention to Klarion while Redrek continued drinking.


    ¡°Before I get to my speculation, I want to hear from you about the Dungeon. Garran mentioned that I should talk with you, but he didn¡¯t go into much detail. What exactly happened?¡±


    ¡°Before I tell you,¡± Klarion said, setting his own mug down, ¡°I first want to hear about what you have heard.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Valdre stared at him a moment before nodding. ¡°I¡¯ve heard some rumors. Strange ones.¡±


    Klarion tilted his head slightly. ¡°Rumors? What kind of rumors?¡±


    Before Valdre could respond, Redrek set his own mug down with a low chuckle, his sharp hobgoblin features lighting up with mischief. ¡°Oh, you know. The usual for Academy gossip. Except this time, it seems someone in the first year attempted the Dungeon known as The Pit.¡±


    Klarion frowned, his grip tightening on his mug. He had expected the events of the previous night to spread, but he hadn¡¯t anticipated the story being distorted into something so¡­ vague. He glanced at Hatsune, who returned his look with a slight narrowing of her eyes.


    ¡°And, I¡¯m guessing even before Hatsune spoke to Garran and Kael, that you both thought it was me,¡± Klarion said evenly, turning his attention back to Valdre and Redrek.


    ¡°Of course we thought it was you,¡± Redrek said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. ¡°Even though you hadn¡¯t tried to, you¡¯ve been making waves since you first got here, Klarion.¡±


    Valdre held up a hand, cutting off the hobgoblin¡¯s teasing. ¡°Yes, but I for one would like to hear the truth the rumors are based on,¡± he said seriously. ¡°Garran and Kael¡± ¡ª he gestured briefly to their respective bodyguards, who still stood silently behind them ¡ª ¡°mentioned that we should hear from you the rest of the story. Something about an¡­ incident?¡±


    Klarion exhaled slowly, glancing down at the table for a moment to gather his thoughts. He wanted to make sure he left nothing out. As he stared down, he could feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken demand for answers. After he had everything straight in his mind, he looked back up, meeting first Redrek¡¯s eyes then Valdre¡¯s.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, there is more to the story,¡± Klarion said. ¡°I was the one the rumors are alluding to. But I wasn¡¯t trying my luck in the Dungeon. I am not that foolish.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, what really happened was an attempted assassination by Dungeon.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a blade suspended over the table. Redrek¡¯s smirk disappeared instantly, replaced by a look of sharp interest. Valdre¡¯s expression hardened, and even though Garran and Kael knew a bit of what he was saying already, they still exchanged brief, wary glances.


    ¡°An assassination?¡± Valdre echoed, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. ¡°Are you certain?¡±


    ¡°As certain as I can be,¡± Klarion replied. ¡°Hector lured Hatsune and me into the building that surrounded the Dungeon under false pretenses. Once they had us where they wanted us, Hatsune was cast down into The Pit, and after more scions aligned with Chadwick showed up I was given a choice: jump in willingly or be thrown in by them.¡±


    Hatsune, who had been silent until this point, crossed her arms and leaned over the table. ¡°He¡¯s not exaggerating what happened,¡± she said, her voice cold. ¡°Chadwick and Hector set up the visit to the Dungeon to get Klarion into a position where The Pit could do their dirty work. It was only luck we were able to fight our way out.¡±


    The table was silent, the gravity of the situation settling over them. Finally, Redrek broke the silence with a low whistle. ¡°Damn,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ bold for a first-year. Especially this early in the year.¡±


    Valdre¡¯s brows furrowed as he leaned back in his chair. ¡°And you think the threats against you aren¡¯t over?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think,¡± Klarion said grimly. ¡°I know. Chadwick told me as much after Etiquette and Courtly Manners was over. He said, one way or another, I would be gone from the Academy before the end of the year. With how he said that, I think they will try harder next time.¡±


    ¡°Beyond Chadwick and Hector, do you have any idea who else was involved?¡± Valdre asked.


    ¡°I remember the faces of the scions who had been there, but I don¡¯t know their names or Houses.¡± Klarion glanced over at Hatsune who fidgeted a little under his intense look. ¡°I was worried about my bodyguard who had just been forced into The Pit during the time when the other scions arrived.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a dangerous position to be in,¡± Valdre said. ¡°Without names and the Houses they belong to, you can¡¯t act. And without action, you will remain vulnerable.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Klarion said, his voice tight as he turned back to the half-frost elf. ¡°That¡¯s why I need your help.¡±


    Redrek raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ¡°I know we have all come to an arrangement regarding supporting one another in unlocking their classes. But what you¡¯re suggesting is something entirely different.¡±


    ¡°Redrek is right,¡± Valdre agreed looking from the hobgoblin back to Klarion. ¡°If you are asking for our help specifically to counter those that engaged in your attempted assassination, we will be fully on your side from now until graduation, and likely beyond.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Klarion agreed. He drew in a steadying breath, aware that the weight of what he was asking would change things between them forever. He already considered them friends, and they had agreed to help each other unlock the classes they wanted, but this was something far more dangerous. What he was asking for went well beyond what they had previously agreed ¡ª this was about his survival.


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m asking,¡± Klarion began. ¡°And I know it¡¯s not small. We¡¯ve agreed to work together to research and help unlock the classes we want, and that is invaluable to each of us. But someone tried to kill me. Is trying to kill me.¡± He looked from Valdre to Redrek. ¡°I know I won¡¯t be able to deal with this alone, not based on how strong I am now. I have some ideas to even the playing field, but before I lay them out, I need to know: Can I count on your help?¡±


    Though the attention of Garran and Kael remained mostly fixed on the surrounding tables and the door toThe Hearth & Ember, each shot glances at their scions. Valdre and Redrek exchanged a long, weighted glance, no words passing between them at first. Klarion got the sense that, despite them being very different people from even more different backgrounds, they had more in common with each other than would be apparent at a casual glance. Hopefully, one of those things included an interest in helping someone being targeted by half the first-year scions.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°He¡¯s got guts,¡± Redrek muttered, his attention shifting back to Klarion.


    ¡°He does,¡± Valdre agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face as he did the same as the hobgoblin. ¡°Reckless, perhaps. But then again, most interesting decisions at the Academy would tend to be.¡±


    Without blinking, Redrek gave Klarion a short, satisfied nod. ¡°Been itching for a way to strike back against the bigots of our year anyway. Being the unending target of red skin and monster jokes gets old fast.¡±


    Valdre looked hard at Klarion¡¯s face, tracking every shift in his expression. ¡°Now, I¡¯ll say it again: if we say yes to this, we aren¡¯t just your research partners anymore. We¡¯re tying our fates to yours. That¡¯s no small thing in the Academy, especially if those targeting you right now decide to act directly against us as well. What you¡¯re asking is a two-way street.¡±


    Klarion nodded, his resolve still firm. ¡°I know. And I won¡¯t forget it.¡± He extended his hand across the table. ¡°You want a two-way street? You have it. With everything that entails. I might not have much to offer now, but I will. I¡¯ll do everything in my power to support you in turn, whether that means standing with you against your own enemies or helping you achieve your goals here at the Academy. Whatever it takes.¡±


    Redrek snorted, and before Valdre could respond, he reached across the table to grab Klarion¡¯s outhrust hand. ¡°Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?¡±


    Valdre shook his head, but his expression said he was, if anything, amused. ¡°I must be as reckless as you. Fine. I¡¯m in too.¡±


    Klarion let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. Relief mixed with gratitude flooded through him. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°From here on out, we watch each other¡¯s backs.¡±


    Agreement reached, Valdre pushed his amusement aside to focus on the topic at hand. ¡°Alright, assassination attempts tend to suggest that someone, or a group of someones, view you as a threat,¡± he said coolly. ¡°And threats either rise above the game at hand or get snuffed out. So. What ideas do you have?¡±


    ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t have any connections or resources at the moment. For some reason, I have received no contact from House Blacksword after arriving here, despite being told that I was being sent here on their behalf,¡± Klarion grimaced, but continued on anyway. Another thing to look into. ¡°Anyway, until I find out what is going on with House Blacksword, I can¡¯t rely on them. That much is clear to me. So, with that being the case, every idea I have is based on building up my own base of support.¡±


    Redrek¡¯s lips twisted into a wry grin. ¡°So you¡¯re thinking about making your own House, for all intents and purposes, then? Building your own power base from scratch?¡±


    ¡°Not quite that extreme, but something like that, yes,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°But to do that right, I need allies I can trust. Even with you both onboard, we¡¯ll need more support.¡±


    The weight of his words settled on the table like a heavy shroud. Valdre returned to tapping with his fingers, gaze locked on the middle distance as if contemplating what to say next. Redrek leaned back, lips pursed in thought, before letting out a growl that turned into a groan. When everyone surrounding the table looked at him, he let it die off.


    ¡°Look. Since we¡¯re laying everything ok, I might as well tell you,¡± Redrek said reluctantly after Kael nodded at him. ¡°Things haven¡¯t exactly been easy for us here. Beyond the politics of the Archducal Houses, and the fact that there is some movements happening in the background, there are other factions, too. The worst being The Ivory Banner. They¡¯ve been making things particularly¡­ difficult.¡±


    Valdre gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ¡°Difficult is putting it lightly. They¡¯ve been far more active among the first-years that my family warned me they would been. They have been a pain in the ass since I arrived.¡±


    Klarion straightened. The Ivory Banner wasn¡¯t something Rolfun or Alesin had told him about, and this was the first time hearing the name since coming to the Academy. ¡°The Ivory Banner? Who are they?¡±


    ¡°They are many things, but their core purpose is the fight for human supremacy,¡± Valdre practically spat before freezing, looking at Klarion to see how he would react. When he simply motioned for the half-frost elf to continue, he relaxed and said, ¡°They¡¯ve been subtle about it, for now. Whispers in the halls, backhanded comments, and minor inconveniences that just happen to impact the non-humans in our year. What few of us there are. Nothing blatant enough to call them out publicly ¡ª at least, nothing they can¡¯t deny or spin. And everything falls far short of needing to get the Sentinels involved.¡±


    Redrek scoffed, a frown forming on his face. ¡°Tell him straight, Valdre. This isn¡¯t just whispers and backhanded comments. It¡¯s about sending a message, making sure we know our place. Whoever is backing them has influence, Klarion ¡ª connections that go higher than the first-years.¡± Valdre grimly nodded, but let the hobgoblin continue. ¡°They don¡¯t like us because we¡¯re not human. But it isn¡¯t just us. I¡¯ve already seen a couple of my non-human classmates start skipping classes, despite how important this first year is. I¡¯ve even heard rumors that a wood elf scion has returned home already. Rumors that explicitly mention the influence of The Ivory Banner.¡±


    Klarion felt a flare of anger sparking in his chest. Anger at how his friends were being treated, but also at the fact that there was yet another potential threat he might have to deal with at the Academy. ¡°But they haven¡¯t done anything outright dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Valdre said. ¡°But it feels like it¡¯s only a matter of time. Garran and Kael have been on edge for days now. They¡¯re convinced that things are going to escalate further before the year is over.¡±


    Klarion looked over the other scions, seeking confirmation from their bodyguards. One of the dwarves at a nearby table sputtered curses as his neighbor tipped his full mug into his lap as a prank. No one at their table turned, instead waiting for the bodyguards to speak.


    Kael nodded, his expression unreadable but his body was still clearly tense, ¡°I can¡¯t confirm it, but I think we have been followed by someone, or a group, intermittently over the past few days.¡±


    Garran crossed his arms and added to what his fellow bodyguard said, ¡°The Academy might have rules, but rules only work if people follow them. And from the fact that an assassination attempt has already been made on an Archducal scion, I¡¯d say that it looks like there are plenty of scions here who think the rules don¡¯t apply to them.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to move quickly, then. The way I see it, the most important thing we need to figure out is who our enemies are,¡± Klarion said, having been thinking about what steps he could take with their support.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± said Valdre. ¡°Specifically, the ones who orchestrated the assassination attempt on you, but also the ones connected to The Ivory Banner. Though, I have a feeling there might be some overlap.¡±


    ¡°But how do we find them?¡± Hatsune chimed in, a mix of apprehension and determination in her voice as she spoke. Looking at her, Klarion could tell the seriousness of the conversation was getting to her, and though she clearly still seemed to want to stay silent, had voiced the question he was thinking about himself.


    Klarion saw how Valdre¡¯s eyes flicked toward Hatsune as she asked her question. The half-frost elf¡¯s lips parted, apparently ready to deliver a firm admonishment for speaking when he caught Klarion¡¯s expression ¡ª an unmistakable warning on his face. Valdre hesitated, reconsidering what he was going to say. He exhaled softly through his nose, a hint of tension dissipating from his posture. Instead of snapping at her, he shifted his focus back to Klarion.


    ¡°That¡¯s where we come in,¡± Valdre said smoothly, already forgetting what he had been going to say to the Leporine. ¡°Redrek and I both have some contacts ¡ª people who hear things, even in places we can¡¯t reach. We¡¯ll start there. Garran and Kael can also help by keeping their eyes and ears open around other bodyguards and the staff of the Academy.¡±


    Redrek chimed in, his sharp grin returning. ¡°And if we need to do some digging in places we¡¯re not supposed to? Well, I¡¯ve got a knack for that sort of thing.¡±


    Klarion was curious as to what the hobgoblin meant but decided not to ask for details. He had a feeling he didn¡¯t want to know.


    ¡°We also can help you rebuild the House Blacksword faction here on campus,¡± Valdre continued as if the hobgoblin hadn¡¯t interrupted him. ¡°Given those beginning to make moves against the non-humans in the first year, and the possibility that supporters of House Brightcoin have already associated us with you, keeping you alive will help keep us alive as well. While I expect you will eventually receive some degree of support from House Blacksword, that might not be enough. That means our involvement in recruiting other scions to our side, as well as gathering supporters and assets. Prestige and power go hand in hand at the Academy, and without them, we¡¯ll always be on the back foot.¡±


    ¡°Will there really be that many other scions open to aligning with us?¡± Klarion asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got to assume many of those in our year are already a part of one of the other Archducal factions.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Valdre acknowledged. ¡°But not all of them. Especially among the non-human scions. We just need to find them and offer them something they can¡¯t get elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Klarion asked.


    ¡°Safety, for one,¡± Redrek answered. ¡°And opportunity. Not everyone is here to play politics ¡ª some just want to get stronger or make connections that will benefit them after they graduate. If we can offer that, we¡¯ll have a chance.¡±


    ¡°But none of that matters if we don¡¯t get stronger. The Academy only requires us to take four classes this year, which leaves us with plenty of extra time,¡± Valdre said looking around the table at each of them. ¡°While we are working to pick a class, and eventually unlock it, we should use whatever remains wisely ¡ª extra studying, extra training, maybe even hiring tutors.¡±


    As Valdre and Redrek got swept up in talking about ways to go about maximizing their time to gain greater strength and levels, Klarion couldn¡¯t help but think over his own schedule.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask,¡± Klarion began, interrupting their talk over the benefits of various combat skills. ¡°Do either of you know why there are only four required classes? And three full days off? With so much free time during the week, it seems like the Academy could fit in more.¡±


    ¡°My father told me it was a test of the Academy,¡± Redrek said. ¡°As a scion, you can lay around, enjoying the food and company until you graduate to become another small cog in the machinery of the Empire. But the ones who want to get ahead, to secure themselves and their futures against others, will work to fill those gaps with optional studies, tutoring, and other pursuits to prepare for the needs of the Empire after graduation.¡±


    ¡°And more. We scions are the future of the Empire,¡± Valdre added. ¡°So the Academy provides a foundation for our education, but anything beyond that? That is left up to us to pursue.¡±


    Redrek leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. ¡°And it¡¯s not just about the week-to-week schedule. The same logic applies to the structure of the year. A second-year scion that I happened to meet told me that after the first four months of classes, we will have one month off before another four months of classes, after which there is a three-month break. It¡¯s designed that way to give us time to visit our families and to gain real-world experience.¡±


    Klarion frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Real-world experience? Like what?¡±


    ¡°I asked that too, and it depends,¡± Redrek said with a shrug. ¡°Apparently, some scions use that time to work alongside the Legions, honing their combat skills in real battles. Others dive into wild Dungeons, either for personal growth or to gather resources for their Houses. Then there are those who focus on governance ¡ª traveling to their House¡¯s outlying territories to learn how to manage their holdings.¡±


    ¡°But that is all down the road,¡± Valdre said, returning the conversation to their immediate goals. His eyes glanced over at the books Klarion had brought before returning to his face. ¡°I noticed you already purchased a primer on classes. Having an option beyond the Archives to look into classes could be useful, especially with enemies looking over our shoulders. Would you be willing to share it with us?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Klarion nodded. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to share it with you both. From the table of contents, it only goes up to rare classes, but it could still give us a better idea of what is out there and maybe help us plan our next steps.¡±


    ¡°That would be helpful,¡± Valdre said with gratitude. ¡°Most scions are unable to unlock a rare class, with some settling for uncommon, and even fewer unlocking something rarer. It¡¯s possible that the primer you have there might hold classes that call to each of us.¡±


    Klarion hesitated for a moment, before deciding he should return the trust they had given. ¡°I might also have a lead on another source of information and support. Someone who could be an invaluable ally. But I¡¯m not ready to reveal who they are just yet ¡ª I need to make sure I can trust them first.¡±


    Valdre nodded, his expression one of understanding. ¡°Fair enough. Trust isn¡¯t something to give lightly in the Academy.¡±


    The sound of heavy footsteps approached the table. Ordran returned, bringing with him a large tray balanced effortlessly in his large hands. The scent of roasted vegetables, perfectly seared meats, and rich sauces filled the air as he set their meals down on their table.


    ¡°Here ye are,¡± Ordran said, his deep voice gruff but warm. ¡°Specials for all but the half-elf who gets the vegetarian option.¡±


    Valdre gave a small smile as the dwarf set a plate piled high with steamed greens, roasted root vegetables, and a savory mushroom dish in front of him. ¡°Thank you, Ordran.¡±


    They each gave their thanks as the plates were handed out, Kael and Garran finding seats as well.


    ¡°Enjoy your meal, and holler if ye want seconds,¡± the dwarf said, turning back to head into the kitchen.


    The seriousness of the conversation dissipated as they all began to eat. For Klarion, the rich flavors and hearty portions were a welcome distraction from what tomorrow would bring. It was nice just to enjoy the warmth and camaraderie of his friends and allies after a long day.


    So of course that was the moment when the door to The Hearth & Ember slammed open and a group of scions entered with their bodyguards. Eyes jerking to their entrance, Klarion saw a familiar face at the front.


    ¡°Where are you, you red-skinned bastard!¡± cried the wiry woman from the Dungeon, her burly bodyguard with the axe right behind her.


    Looks like there was some overlap among the groups of his enemies after all.

 Chapter 76

    Klarion immediately recognized the woman in the front ¡ª she had been among those who had been at the Dungeon with Hector. Briefly looking around the tavern, her eyes found Redrek. More than the insult she had hurled on entering, the cold stare edged with a sinister glee she directed at the hobgoblin made it clear she had been searching for his friend for a specific reason. Behind her walked the same burly bodyguard he had seen before, a human man who loomed over the rest of the group, a large axe strapped across his back. As the scion made her way over to their table, the rest of her group followed, each radiating arrogance and contempt for the rest of the tavern.


    As they moved past the tables filled with dwarven patrons, their steps were heavy, deliberate, and aimed to attract attention. Practically challenging. Each table of dwarves they passed shifted in their seats, at once upset at still more scions bursting into The Hearth & Ember, but also reluctant to protest. To do so in front of some many scions, especially of their kind, would only lead to more problems. Better to let them get on with their purpose. Perhaps they would leave sooner.


    Klarion rose to his feet, his meal forgotten, Hatsune moving with him, her ears as she instinctively let her hand rest on the hilt of the longsword at her side. Redrek and Valdre stood a moment later, their bodyguards following suit. Garran mimicked the Leporine, hand dropping to his weapon, but he stepped in front of his half-frost elf charge. Kael, too, reached for his weapons, his posture a silent warning to any who might try something foolish.


    The oncoming group of scions and their bodyguards didn¡¯t even slow their pace. If anything, the woman in the front looked even more eager at the possibility of a confrontation.


    Klarion¡¯s fingers brushed against his side, thoughts going to the greatsword whose familiar weight he wished was still against his back. He looked once at the weapon he had found down in the Dungeon, that Hatsune had left leaning against her side of the table. No, the odds of a full-on brawl breaking out with so many other witnesses was low. Better to see what all this was about first. He returned to looking at the group heading their way. The wiry human woman was still staring at Redrek, the sinister glee on her face becoming more apparent the closer she came.


    A silence settled across the tavern that stretched to engulf where they stood, heavy and thick. The only sounds were the muted clinks of mugs and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. A dwarf on the other side of the room grumbled something, but his neighbors hissed for him to be quiet. None of them wanted to attract the attention of the scions.


    The group reached Klarion¡¯s table, and he didn¡¯t miss the way the woman¡¯s eyes shifted to him. Narrowed, her eyes seemed to be sizing him up.


    ¡°Quite the crowd you¡¯ve gathered, Blacksword,¡± she said, her voice sharp, laced with derision. Her eyes roved over everyone standing with him, glaring at all but Garran. ¡°Not surprised you¡¯ve chosen those like them to associate with, your House being what it is.¡±


    The way she looked back at him, it was clear she was looking for a reaction, for him to lash out. But he stood his ground. ¡°If you¡¯ve got something to say, say it. Then leave. We were having a pleasant dinner before you arrived. I¡¯d like to return to it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯d imagine that you would enjoy this kind of slop. Being a Blacksword, you would, of course, not have a very refined palate.¡± The woman¡¯s smile was cold as she continued, ¡°But lucky for you, The Ivory Banner does not bother with humans, even ones as wretched as you are. No, tonight we are here for someone else.¡± She looked at Redrek, then back to Klarion. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would move if we asked?¡±


    Klarion did not move. There was no way that he would let her get to his hobgoblin friend to do¡­ whatever her group had planned. Taking his lead, Hatsune¡¯s fingers tightened around the hilt of her weapon, and Garran¡¯s body shifted slightly, his plate armor clanking as he prepared himself to fight. Kael, silent as he was, had quietly palmed a knife.


    ¡°Fine, I guess I¡¯ll just have to move you,¡± the wiry woman snapped, her patience clearly wearing thin. ¡°Ort, if you would?¡±


    She made to step closer, her bodyguard pressing in at her back, but Valdre, who had been by Klarion¡¯s side from the start, intercepted her. The half-frost elf was calm but Klarion could hear the hint of a bite in his words. ¡°I¡¯d suggest you leave instead, before you make this situation worse. You¡¯re clearly not welcome here.¡±


    The woman glared at Valdre but didn¡¯t respond immediately. Again she looked at the other members of Klarion¡¯s group, taking them in and noticing how none moved aside.


    ¡°You think you can stop us from doing what brought us here?¡± she asked. ¡°You really think you can stand against The Ivory Banner? Against the power of our organization?¡±


    ¡°And what, exactly, has brought you here?¡± Klarion demanded, pulling her attention back to him.


    Before she could respond, the sharp sound of clanging metal came from the direction of the kitchen. Ordran came striding out, a large meat cleaver, still bloody from recent use, held ominously in his hand.


    ¡°What in the name of the Seven Princes is going on here?¡± Ordran demanded, but rather than wait for a response, he was already moving in their direction.


    Turning from Klarion, the woman, unfazed by Ordran¡¯s imposing presence, stepped forward to intercept him. She wasn¡¯t tall, but her posture was commanding, as if she knew exactly how to make herself heard. ¡°I am Lorissa, scion of House Silverwood,¡± she said disdainfully at the veteran dwarf. ¡°And I¡¯ve come to settle an old score.¡±


    Ordran looked over the rest of the group, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. His hand tightened around the cleaver¡¯s handle, but he made no move to strike against the contemptuous scion who stood before him. ¡°Settle a score, eh?¡± he muttered. ¡°Ye¡¯ve got some nerve bring tha¡¯ kind o¡¯ business into me tavern.¡±


    Lorissa ignored Ordran¡¯s warning tone, instead turning back to look at Redrek. ¡°The other day, I recognized this one.¡± She pointed a thin finger at Redrek. ¡°This red-skinned monster belongs to the same clan that attacked my family¡¯s territory during the Rhalgyr Incursion. Many of our people died that year, and I will not let it go unpunished when I have one of the attackers here before me.¡±


    Redrek immediately stiffened at the mention of the Rhalgyr Incursion, his posture faltering for only a moment. He looked to Klarion briefly before he straightened again, his expression going blank, but not before Klarion saw a wince. The hobgoblin did not protest the accusation, nor did he offer any defense. In fact, Klarion got the sense that his friend was more than a little uncomfortable, for all that he did not speak. In a way, the silence told enough by itself ¡ª this was something Redrek didn¡¯t want to talk about, but also something that couldn¡¯t be denied. Despite that, Klarion¡¯s trust in the hobgoblin did not waver. There would be time to find out the story from his friend later.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Klarion¡¯s attention returned to Lorissa, the other scions of her group looking almost gleeful at the confrontation unfolding in front of them.


    ¡°You think you can just hide behind your new alliances, hobgoblin? That your past doesn¡¯t follow you? You¡¯re no better than the monsters you came from.¡± Lorissa reached down to her side, and Klarion¡¯s group tensed, ready for her to pull out a weapon. But, rather than a weapon, she pulled out something unexpected given her accusations ¡ª a scroll, its edges curled and held closed by a heavy wax seal that showed what Klarion took to be the Academy crest.


    ¡°This,¡± she said triumphantly, holding the scroll high, ¡°is a formal challenge for a Duel to Submission, granted by the Academy itself. I am within my rights to demand this fight, and the vile creature known as Redrek has no choice but to accept it.¡±


    Klarion stared at the scroll she held. He¡¯d heard mention of duels before, but this was the first chance he got to witness an actual challenge being issued. He could feel his heart start to race as he realized that, no matter what he had hoped, a fight was going to happen after all.


    Behind Lorissa, the looks of satisfaction on her group of scions turned into full grins. They had clearly been waiting for this moment. But what Klarion noticed most of all was Lorissa¡¯s bodyguard. The burly man had an unsettling look on his face, as if he was already hip-deep in bloodshed and violence.


    Redrek still stood motionless, his expression unreadable but his posture nervous. When they locked eyes, Klarion got the sense that the hobgoblin was half-expecting him to step aside and let Lorissa have him. He nodded at Redrek, and the hobgoblin¡¯s shoulders slumped, his worst fears apparently revealed to be true.


    Klarion quite enjoyed the look of shock on his face when he stepped forward to come between the hobgoblin and Lorissa.


    ¡°Redrek wants no part in this,¡± Klarion said firmly. ¡°We¡¯re not here for your games. And our dinner is getting cold. If you¡¯ve got a problem with him, find another way to settle it.¡±


    Lorissa didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± she spat. ¡°My challenge has been issued. That creature has no choice but to accept.¡±


    Klarion turned back to Redrek, who still wasn¡¯t speaking. The hobgoblin might not have wanted to fight, but Lorissa still wasn¡¯t going to let him off the hook. So why wasn¡¯t he saying anything?


    ¡°Clearly it has frozen up in fright at the prospect of justice being served,¡± she barked, then gestured to her bodyguard. ¡°Very well, bind him. We will take our duel elsewhere.¡±


    Before any of them could react, the large man with the axe stepped forward, moving with surprising speed for someone his size. He reached out to grab Redrek by the arm, but the hobgoblin didn¡¯t resist, only stiffening as the massive hand closed around his wrist.


    Without thinking, Klarion¡¯s hands clenched into fists and he raised his arms. Hatsune had moved as well, her sword already halfway out of its scabbard, while Garran was only a moment behind her, though his eyes had latched onto Valdre, seeking directions.


    Kael was already lunging towards the other bodyguard¡¯s side, dagger clearly exposed for all to see.


    ¡°Enough!¡± bellowed a voice, loud and commanding, and everyone froze, even the shadow elf though he was mid-thrust.


    Ordran stepped forward then, ¡°Enough!¡± he said again, cleaver raised in the air. The force of his shout filled the room, and all eyes focused on the dwarven veteran.


    ¡°Ye want a duel?¡± Ordran said, looking at Lorissa. ¡°Then ye will have it here, where it can be witnessed by more than just yer group.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she spat, unrolling the scroll. Redrek clearly blinked as a System message appeared before him as the other scion began to read.


    ¡°The Duel of Submission is to be fought with fists until one party indicates they no longer wish to continue. No weapons. No magic. He can have a champion if he is so cowardly, and if he wins, he may walk away one hundred gold richer, but if he loses, he¡¯ll return to the dirt in the ground he calls home, leaving the Academy behind.¡±


    Pieces shifted and came together in his mind as Klarion began putting things together. There was more to this than just a grudge, and based on how several of the scions with Lorissa were looking at him, he wasn¡¯t the only one who knew that. It was a power play, not only to humiliate and send Redrek packing, but also to cut off some of the support Klarion had begun gathering to himself here on campus. Even if The Ivory Banner would want Redrek sent away anyway, it was all still tied to Klarion and his shadow war with Chadwick. No, this wasn¡¯t just a duel. They wanted to send a message.


    But Klarion couldn¡¯t afford to lose focus. He pushed thoughts of Chadwick away and turned all his attention to the immediate issue of Lorissa¡¯s challenge. His thoughts were interrupted when she handed the scroll over to Ordran to confirm the terms.


    ¡°It¡¯s authentic,¡± Ordran said, unamused. The dwarves sitting at the nearby tables, who had been watching the confrontation in silence, began to murmur among themselves. Some exchanged uncertain glances, while others whispered back and forth about the legitimacy of the duel.


    Ordran handed the scroll back to Lorissa, but the wiry woman wasn¡¯t done yet. She fixed Klarion and his friends with a smirk, her voice rising in volume. ¡°Now, as we¡¯re all gathered here, and the owner of this establishment has expressed his preferences, the duel will take place immediately,¡± she declared, her smirk showing her to believe she had already won. ¡°Fortunate for us all, I¡¯ve already arranged for a third-party referee to be present. A neutral party, of course,¡± she added, eyes gleaming with mock sincerity.


    A thin, greasy-looking human man emerged from where he had been standing out of sight, in the middle of their group. He was dressed in a well-tailored but plainly unremarkable outfit, and he seemed almost bored as he came to stand next to Lorissa. His pale face was slick with a bit too much oil.


    ¡°This is the neutral referee?¡± Ordran growled, stepping forward with a frown etched deeply across his face. He crossed his arms, fingers still tight around the cleaver he held. ¡°Ye¡¯ve got to be jokin¡¯. I know tha¡¯ man, and he¡¯s anythin¡¯ but neutral.¡±


    The supposedly neutral referee glanced over at Ordran with a knowing glint in his eyes, but he didn¡¯t say anything, choosing to stay silent.


    ¡°Do you have a problem with my choice of referee, dwarf?¡± Lorissa asked, unbothered. Likely she thought that, as the only duel referee available, it did not matter what anyone else thought.


    Klarion saw that Ordran was livid, but the dwarf kept his composure, though his accent thickened. ¡°Aye, I¡¯ve got a problem with ye bringin¡¯ him into me tavern,¡± Ordran said, gesturing at the referee. ¡°This man¡¯s ken fer makin¡¯¡­ questionable choices when the blood¡¯s runnin¡¯ hot, aye. If it¡¯s a fair fight yer after, ye¡¯d be wise tae seek another. In fact,¡± Ordran turned to point behind him, at the old dwarf that had harassed Klarion earlier. ¡°Old Vuldrin is also fit tae be a referee ¡ª an¡¯ he¡¯s a dwarf wi¡¯ more honor in his pinky than this slimy wretch¡¯ll ever see in a lifetime.¡±


    Lorissa¡¯s gaze faltered for a moment, but then her smirk returned. ¡°Vuldrin?¡± she asked, not expecting a response. ¡°Why would he be needed, I¡¯m sure the hobgoblin doesn¡¯t care which referee oversees his defeat in the duel. Better to just be done with it.¡±


    ¡°Vuldrin is who ye will use,¡± Ordran declared firmly over the half-hearted protests from the old, white-haired dwarf who was still sitting across the room. ¡°If ye are duelin¡¯ ¡®ere in me tavern, it¡¯ll be wi¡¯ him as the referee, or there¡¯s no duel at all.¡±


    Lorissa considered Ordran¡¯s response for a moment, clearly weighing the situation. Then, with a sharp nod, she turned toward the greasy referee. ¡°Fine. But only because we¡¯re here and there¡¯s no time to waste. Get on with it then.¡±


    At Ordran¡¯s insistence, and Lorissa¡¯s agreement, the greasy referee slinked back into the group of other scions.


    Redrek, finally showing some reaction beyond his expression to what was going on, stepped forward, almost resignedly.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Redrek said, coming to a stop in front of Lorissa, who glared at him with hate. ¡°So long as Vuldrin agrees, I am ready.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll referee,¡± Vuldrin grumbled, after having walked over to the two groups confronting one another. He came to stand next to Ordran, and glared at the younger dwarf. ¡°But don¡¯t think for a moment that I¡¯m happy to be involved. I expect my drinks to be on the house for the next while.¡±

 Chapter 77

    The atmosphere of The Hearth & Ember had been thick with tension ever since the other scions and their bodyguards had arrived, but now it was almost suffocating. Lorissa stepped aside as she motioned to her bodyguard. ¡°Ort, here, will be my champion.¡±


    The massive man, his bulk towering over most of the others in the room, even Klarion, reached up to seize the axe strapped across his back. The axe itself was a formidable weapon, and it gleamed ominously in the light of the tavern. Rather than brandish it, however, Ort simply handed it over to another of the bodyguards, a younger man who fumbled it, barely managing to keep his hold. The younger bodyguard¡¯s nervousness only seemed to amuse the giant, who let out a low chuckle as his counterpart struggled with the weight of the weapon. Ort then stepped forward to come even with Redrek, and the human¡¯s grin became twisted with a mix of arrogance and malice.


    ¡°This should be entertaining,¡± Ort said in a deep rumble. He sized Redrek up with an almost mocking look. ¡°I wonder how long it¡¯ll take me to break that red skin of yours, hobgoblin. You non-humans always talk a big game when The Ivory Banner comes calling, but I doubt you¡¯ve got the guts to back it up.¡±


    The insult hung in the air, and more than a few of the tavern¡¯s dwarven patrons shifted angrily in their seats. Likely none of them felt nothing but distaste for the hobgoblin in their midst, but the tone Ort used made it clear his words could just as easily have been directed against them as well. Klarion, however, felt his blood begin to boil at the casually cruel words the man had used. If this was what The Ivory Banner was all about, he wanted nothing to do with them.


    Redrek, for all that he had remained mostly quiet since the confrontation had begun, visibly stiffened at Ort¡¯s words, his stoic demeanor faltering. The hobgoblin opened his mouth as though to say something, but it was clear that he didn¡¯t want to give the brute the satisfaction of a response. However, Kael, ever observant, narrowed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. Garran, for all that he was Valdre¡¯s bodyguard first and foremost, still cracked his knuckles, clearly itching to get involved.


    Ort seemed to take notice of the brewing anger in Klarion¡¯s group, his grin widening as he continued. His eyes shifted over to Kael, the shadow elf¡¯s posture stiff from how angry he was on his scion¡¯s behalf. The human bodyguard then looked beyond Kael to see Hatsune standing next to Klarion.


    ¡°Well, look at this,¡± Ort said staring at Hatsune who shivered at the look he was giving her. ¡°A pretty little bunnykin, yet so full of rage. How cute. Looks like you have something to say, but maybe I¡¯ve got something else for that mouth of yours to handle after I send the red-skinned bastard packing.¡± He let the implication hang in the air, his words dripping with a venomous, almost predatory undertone.


    As he continued to look at Hatsune, unblinking, the Leporine shrank and stepped closer to Klarion¡¯s side. At her visible distress, a wave of fury shot through Klarion. He could feel the heat rise in his face, his blood boiling at the sinister implications of the man¡¯s words. He had already witnessed the nature of Ort¡¯s scion at the Dungeon, but this¡­ this went beyond anything he was willing to tolerate.


    Without thinking, Klarion slammed his hand down onto the wooden table, making their half-emptied plates jump and sending a loud smack reverberating through the room. The force of it silenced the tavern instantly, the laughter and banter from Lorissa¡¯s group cutting off like a knife had come slashing through it. The sound of wood shaking under the impact seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and those nearest him could almost feel the burning heat of Klarion¡¯s fury.


    ¡°Enough.¡± Klarion commanded in a growl, his eyes blazing as he stared daggers through Ort, who flinched at his outburst. ¡°You want to challenge Redrek? Then you¡¯ll have to go through me,¡± he declared. ¡°I¡¯ll serve as his champion.¡±


    There was an audible murmur of surprise that swept through the room, mostly from the dwarves who had been previously watching in stunned silence at the events unfolding in their midst. By their reactions, it was rare, apparently, for one scion to offer themselves as a champion for another in a duel, especially when it meant knowing they would be fighting someone of Ort¡¯s size and obvious strength. But Klarion was resolute in his commitment. The bodyguard¡¯s words had gone too far, and he wasn¡¯t going to let Ort get away with it.


    A System prompt flickered to life in Klarion¡¯s vision, but he barely registered the glowing text as it flashed. He took but a moment to note that it was a formal declaration, confirming his acceptance of the duel on Redrek¡¯s behalf as his champion. In small letters were the same rules Lorissa had stated previously ¡ª the fight would be to submission, no weapons, no magic. Only fists. Klarion wasn¡¯t sure why the System had even needed to prompt him ¡ª it was already a done deal in his mind. Klarion nodded, and the System confirmed his choice.


    With a deep breath, trying to get his fury under tighter control, he turned to face his friends, knowing that they were all watching him with wide eyes, some of them with fear, but all of them with concern. But it was Valdre¡¯s gaze that caught his attention. The half-frost elf¡¯s face was tight with nerves, his body coiled like a spring, clearly thinking something was about to go wrong.


    ¡°What are you thinking, Klarion?¡± Valdre hissed in a low voice, breathing fast.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking that I have the best chance against him out of all of us,¡± he replied, his voice firm despite the small speck of uncertainty within him. ¡°I won¡¯t let Redrek face Ort by himself.¡±


    Valdre gave a tight nod, though if anything the concern in his eyes became deeper. ¡°This won¡¯t be a fair fight, not by any means.¡± Before Klarion could respond, the half-frost elf leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, the words covered by the loud congratulations from the other group of scions to Ort for goading the Blacksword into a duel. ¡°This kind of duel has loopholes. If Ort is willing to fight dirty, he can exploit those gaps to avoid allowing you to give your submission. It¡¯s a legal loophole, but one that can lead to far worse than simple defeat.¡±


    Klarion didn¡¯t have time to answer, the congratulations dying off in the other group of scions. Ort turned back to him, grinning, clearly expecting the fight to be his easy win. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of guts, Blacksword,¡± the burly man sneered. ¡±But you¡¯ll need more than that to survive me.¡°


    The others behind Klarion all exchanged uneasy glances, their silent worry speaking volumes. It was clear they were all concerned for him ¡ª no one had expected this, and they likely were not sure how the fight would go. Even though Hatsune had seen him fight down in the Dungeon, and knew his advantage in stats, she still seemed a bit nervous as well.


    With the champions selected, Vuldrin began barking out commands to dwarves still sitting around the room to push the tables and chairs to the side, clearing a space for the duel that was about to take place. The clatter of furniture being moved was followed by hushed murmurs from a handful of dwarves who had begun to congregate near the edge of where the duel would take place. To Klarion, it sounded like there was some betting going on. He was grimly amused at the long odds against him.


    Near where they stood was Vuldrin. His wrinkled brow furrowed as he watched both groups of scions preparing for the duel, his old eyes examining both Klarion and Ort in turn. Perhaps Klarion was imagining it, but it looked like the dwarven referee was torn on who he wanted to win. A step in the right direction, given how he had reacted to Klarion and Hatsune coming into The Hearth & Ember earlier.


    Putting the old dwarf from his mind, Klarion stepped to the center of the cleared space to square off with Ort. The burly man continued to grin smugly, as if he already won, while Klarion remained calm, his body poised and ready. The tension fairly crackled in the air, the room so quiet now you could almost hear the sound of breath being held.


    ¡°You both know the terms,¡± Vuldrin said gruffly. He eyed both combatants with professional detachment. ¡°Let the duel begin.¡±


    Ort charged first, his massive fists swinging with the kind of power that could knock a door off its hinges. Klarion, though slightly smaller in size, was fast ¡ª faster than Ort had anticipated based on how wide his swings went. Klarion dodged to the side with a quick step, narrowly avoiding the brunt of Ort¡¯s attack but feeling the rush of air as the man¡¯s fists cut through it. Klrion¡¯s earlier fury had gone cold, and he moved fluidly, continuing to dodge and weave, trying to get a sense of Ort¡¯s style.


    After several seconds, Klarion could honestly say he was not impressed. The man was all brute force. Rolfun would have beaten him in seconds and then subjected him to a far more brutal hour of lectures on what he had done wrong.


    Given the gap in skill, Klarion held back at first. A slight misstep on a creaking board in the floor through him off for a split second, and Ort darted in close to hit Klarion hard in the stomach. Though he heard an audible gasp from the watching crowd at the blow, all he felt was a whisper of pain before his regeneration kicked it, quickly dulling it. Lashing out instinctively, his fist caught Ort a glancing blow across his cheek, staggering him, and this time the gasp from the watchers was one of surprise.


    When Ort was unable to land more than a single glancing blow over the next minute, he pulled up short, opening the space between them.


    ¡°You¡¯re quick, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± he jeered, wiping a smear of blood from his lip from where Klarion¡¯s fist landed earlier. ¡°But you¡¯re soft. I can tell. You¡¯re not used to fighting like this. Not like me. Not like the real men who¡¯ve fought in wars with the Legions.¡± His tone turned mocking, ¡°Likely the most you¡¯ve ever done is sparred with your daddy¡¯s maids.¡±


    The words stung slightly, not that they had an ounce of truth to them. Ort grinned at his own words, but when Klarion didn¡¯t react, the bodyguard glanced over to where Hatsune stood, and his smile turned into something darker.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, pretty bunnykin?¡± Ort called out, his lips holding that dark, malicious grin. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d end up watching a scrap like this tonight, huh? Don¡¯t worry, once I¡¯m done with the ol¡¯ pretty boy with red-gold eyes here, I¡¯ll make sure you get a turn as well.¡± His eyes flashed. ¡°Though that will be a different kind of struggle, I think.¡±


    Klarion looked over at Hatsune, who had stiffened at the words Ort had directed her way. Her ears were twitching nervously, but there was only a look of anger on her face. Anger that Klarion felt inside as well. But Ort didn¡¯t stop there.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, Blacksword,¡± he added, mockingly casual. ¡°Once this little show¡¯s over, we¡¯ll make sure she joins her scion in the grave. After a number of us have had our fun, of course,¡± he said, malicious grin growing wider at the catcalls now coming from the group he had come with. ¡°Chadwick mentioned some things he would like to do, you see.¡±


    The temperature in the tavern plummeted as Klarion felt something shift in him. A deathly silence fell, thick and suffocating, far more constricting than what those gathered had felt earlier. Even the dwarves, who had gathered, excited to see a scion and a bodyguard go at it, had gone still. Every other scion and bodyguard stared at Klarion, their expressions ranging from stunned disbelief to growing horror.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    But the burly man remained oblivious, grinning as if he¡¯d told some clever joke.


    Klarion¡¯s mind was fire and iron.


    This wasn¡¯t simple bravado anymore, or an attempt to get under Klarion¡¯s skin ¡ª this was a line drawn in blood. The fool had pointed it out, then crossed it with glee, and now Klarion was done playing by their rules. He wasn¡¯t fighting to help a friend anymore. He was fighting for her.


    Without a word, Klarion moved.


    The tavern blurred into the background as he surged forward, using every single one of his stats as he hadn¡¯t since the Dungeon Boss. Ort¡¯s grin faltered too late. The burly man¡¯s eyes only just started widening in disbelief when Klarion¡¯s knuckles smashed into his temple with a sickening thud, the force reverberating through the room. The bodyguard¡¯s feet lifted from the floor, only for him to collapse like a felled tree several feet further back, hitting the ground hard enough to rattle the floor.


    Silence.


    The entire tavern stood frozen, as if the room itself was holding a breath. Even the dwarves who had been taking bets moments ago, papers and pencils still in hand, stared wide-eyed. Mugs were paused halfway to bearded lips, and Ordran himself had frozen, a strange look on his face. The veteran owner of The Hearth & Ember turned without a word and rushed back to his kitchen, his expression not changing.


    From behind him, Klarion heard Hatsune¡¯s breath hitch. Turning, he saw Valdre, Redrek, Garran, and Kael all as still as statues, shock etched into their faces.


    Turning back to his opponent, Ort remained lying unmoving on the ground, his limp form a testament to the precision and power behind Klarion¡¯s blow.


    Slowly, Klarion straightened, his breath steady despite the surge of adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He stood over his fallen opponent, muscles still taut with fury.


    Klarion¡¯s gaze swept over to Vuldrin. The white-beared, old dwarf that had agreed to referee so reluctantly stood where he had been since the fight started, but as still as he was, he couldn¡¯t mask the flicker of unease on his face as he stared back at Klarion.


    Klarion¡¯s jaw tensed, his words cutting through the thick, charged air. ¡°As the referee,¡± he said, cold and deliberate, ¡°did you hear my opponent say he submitted?¡±


    The question hung heavy in the room for long moments. Dwarves, scions, and bodyguards alike waiting, knowing that Vuldrin¡¯s answer would decide if the duel was truly over ¡ª or still going.


    Vuldrin shifted his stance, his boots scuffing against the floor as he met Klarion¡¯s challenging stare. The tremor in his fingers betrayed him, though his gruff voice remained steady. ¡°Nay,¡± he admitted slowly, resigned to what was about to happen. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear him submit.¡±


    The weight of the referee¡¯s admission settled over the room. While both groups of scions and their bodyguards remained silent, the dwarves at once all began muttering, sensing what was coming.


    Klarion¡¯s red-gold eyes darkened as they returned to the crumpled bodyguard sprawled at his feet. Blood trickled from the man¡¯s busted temple, but his chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths. He was unconscious, but still very much alive ¡ª a fact that grated against the edge of Klarion¡¯s resolve.


    Boots creaked against the floorboards as Klarion stepped forward, each measured step deliberate and ominous. The tension in the tavern coiled tighter, breath caught in throats as eyes followed him like the grim shadow of fate.


    He crouched beside the burly man, his fingers brushing against the man¡¯s thick neck, searching. Life lingered there, faint but present.


    Klarion¡¯s lips set into a grim line. Not enough.


    With a smooth motion, he gripped the unconscious man by the throat and hauled him upright. The burly bodyguard dangled in Klarion¡¯s grasp like a rag doll, his weight meaningless against his strength and the lingering fury he felt.


    A gasp from the dwarven side rippled through the tavern. Vuldrin¡¯s knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands, but the old dwarf said nothing. He knew that once a scion¡¯s mind was set, interference was folly.


    Klarion stood, arm outthrust, his arm steady despite the weight of the man he held aloft. Muscles coiled beneath his uniform, strength born from his stats and his rage.


    Then, without another word, Klarion shook him ¡ª once, twice ¡ª each motion fierce and final.


    A sickening crack echoed through the tavern.


    The body in his hand went limp, the neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Gasps and sharp intakes of breath rippled through the spectators, but no one moved.


    Klarion¡¯s expression was cold as iron in the depths of winter. With a dispassionate toss, he sent the corpse bouncing and sliding across the floor, coming to a rest at the feet of Lorissa.


    Klarion turned slowly, blood smeared across his knuckles, his chest rising and falling from the intensity of the fight. His red-gold eyes blazed, locking onto Lorissa, whose face had gone a deathly shade of pale.


    Klarion¡¯s voice was ice, sharp and cutting. ¡°Do you see him?¡± he asked, deceptively calm as he gestured to Ort¡¯s crumpled form. ¡°That¡¯s what happens when someone threatens my friends. When someone states their filthy intentions to those I care about.¡±


    He took a step forward, his booted steps echoing like war drums against the floor. Lorissa flinched but tried to stand firm against his advance. Her entourage of fellow scions shrank behind her, doing all they could to avoid attracting Klarion¡¯s attention. Even their bodyguards, a mixed group of humans of different backgrounds, hesitated to do more than press closer to their charges.


    ¡°I¡¯m done playing around,¡± Klarion declared, his voice growing louder, more dangerous with every word. ¡°You come for Redrek? Valdre? Hatsune?¡± He looked at all the faces quailing before him, as he gestured back towards his friends and allies. ¡°You come for any of us again, and you¡¯ll get what Ort got.¡±


    Not a word was said back to him in response to his declaration, but the weight of his promise bore down on them like a weight.


    Klarion pointed directly at Lorissa, the strength of his glare causing the red of his eyes to flicker, briefly overtaking the gold. ¡°That goes for you, your Ivory Banner lapdogs, and Chadwick ¡ª especially Chadwick.¡± His lip curled into a snarl. ¡°Tell him I¡¯m waiting. Tell him that if he even breathes in our direction, I¡¯ll break him too.¡±


    Lorissa opened her mouth to speak, probably in some desperate attempt at a way to save face, but he cut her off with a harsh, biting laugh. ¡°You think you¡¯re untouchable because of your family name? Your status as a scion?¡± He shook his head in mock sadness, before returning his glare to the spiteful woman. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you have dozens of fancy titles. Titles mean nothing when your bones lie shattered on the ground at my feet.¡±


    Klarion took one final step toward her, his voice dropping to a low growl that sent a shiver through even the bravest dwarf in the room. ¡°This is your only warning. You want war with me and mine? I¡¯ll bring it to your doorstep. You¡¯ll wish you never crossed me.¡±


    Lorissa stumbled back, her confidence unraveling at the promise Klarion just swore before her. With a final glare that was more terror than anger, she spun on her heel, the rest of her group scrambling to keep up as they fled the tavern, their earlier swagger and laughing jokes completely gone. Two of their bodyguards lingered for a moment to take Ort¡¯s corpse with them. The door slammed shut.


    Klarion stood, watching the closed door of the tavern as the tension gradually eased from his shoulders. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he stared at it, but the rest of the tavern remained quiet as he did so.


    Redrek broke the silence. ¡°Well, Klarion¡­ I think you made your point. Not sure we¡¯ll see that lot again. At least, not with a fair few more bodyguards in tow.¡±


    Klarion exhaled slowly one more time, the fire in his veins finally cooling. ¡°Good,¡± he said quietly, eyes filled not with triumph but resolve, still fixed on the door where their enemies had fled. Somehow, he didn¡¯t think it would be that easy.


    He glanced back to Vuldrin, who had been watching him. The old dwarf¡¯s face was still pale, his eyes wide. Part of Klarion wanted to laugh, despite the seriousness of what had just happened. If he had to guess, next time Vuldrin saw him come to The Hearth & Ember for a meal, he wouldn¡¯t be protesting quite as loudly, or perhaps at all. Still, Klarion offered him a faint nod, acknowledging his role as referee and thanking him for it. When he received a slight, slow nod in return, Klarion made to return to their table, the dwarves who had watched the duel doing the same, though some continued eyeing Klarion and his group.


    As Garran and Kael set the last of the chairs next to their table, which had also returned to where it had been, Klarion made his way back over to his friends amidst the sounds of the rest of the tavern being put back the way it was before the duel. The legs of tables and chairs thumped softly as they were moved. Above the sound of talking, he heard the sloshing of a bucket that a young dwarf, who had barely more than a wisp of a beard, brought a mop out to clean up the floor where the duel had been fought.


    Klarion took his seat, glancing down at the now-cold plate of food he had only half-finished. His knuckles were sore and bloodied, though whether it was from Ort or the force of slamming his hand down on the table, he wasn¡¯t sure. Grim amusement filled him at the thought of Ordran¡¯s table hurting his hand more than the man he had just killed.


    Hatsune again sat at his right, her ears still half-lowered, though the concern she was showing softened as he gestured that he was alright. And he was. Really. He had done what needed to be done. Ort had threatened Hatsune, Redrek, and all of them ¡ª mocking them as less than meaningless obstacles to be swept away by their so-called betters.


    He clenched his fist, remembering the feeling of Ort¡¯s neck breaking. It hadn¡¯t even been difficult with his stats. Just two violent shakes, and the man was dead. Klarion wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that ¡ª or if he felt anything at all. There had been a time, not that long ago even, when the thought of killing someone would have churned his stomach, weighed down his heart. But here? At the Imperial Academy, surrounded on all sides by potential enemies, enemies who had already attempted to kill him and Hatsune, to be bound by naive scruples was a weakness.


    The others might not have said it aloud, but they knew. They had accepted that truth some time ago. Which is why, rather than through accusations or abuse in his face for his choice, they simply took their own seats at the table.


    He glanced across the table at Redrek, who had started becoming more of his old self now that the duel was over. Valdre, ever composed, was now quieter than usual, his gaze still lingering at the door to the tavern, perhaps as though expecting Lorrisa and the Ivory Banner to return. Their bodyguards were more straightforward. Garran leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, but an approving look on his face as he met Klarion¡¯s gaze. And Kael? His expression was once again unreadable, but the subtle nod he sent Klarion spoke volumes.


    Their enemies had been sent running. That was what mattered.


    He looked once more around the table, his friends in unspoken agreement as they all again moved to pick up food and drink. All except Hatsune, who seemed to be done eating. At the glance he shot her way, she gave him a small, reassuring smile and made the universal motion for being full. It was at that moment that he had a thought that had slowly been rising to the surface of his mind for days now.


    As long as she¡¯s safe, the rest doesn¡¯t matter.


    If he had to dirty his hands to protect her and the others, so bet it.


    Klarion leaned back over his food, forcing himself to relax as he speared a cold piece of meat. Slowly the atmosphere shifted as the normal noises of the tavern returned.


    Redrek snorted as he grabbed his mug, raising it high. ¡°To Klarion Blacksword,¡± the hobgoblin declared loudly, his grin mischievous once more. ¡°My human champion who brings his fists down on bones and dinner tables with equal style!¡±


    And just like that the remaining tension shattered as laughter broke through the group. Even Kael cracked a faint smile.


    ¡°Careful, Redrek,¡± Klarion said dryly, spearing another piece of meat. ¡°Keep talking, and you¡¯ll be next.¡±


    Redrek laughed again, undeterred. ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances.¡±


    The mood lightened, but Klarion¡¯s thoughts remained sharp beneath the surface. This wasn¡¯t over, he knew. The Ivory Banner wouldn¡¯t back down ¡ª neither would Chadwick or anyone aligned with him. And when they came again, as they surely would, they¡¯d come harder, more prepared.


    But that was fine. Klarion had made his stance clear. He was not going to be some timid scion fresh from Earth anymore. He would be a warrior, as well as a killer if need be, and he would fight for his friends without hesitation.


    He chewed slowly, savoring the taste of roasted meat despite everything. His appetite had returned, driven not just by hunger but by resolve.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Hatsune¡¯s soft voice broke through his thoughts.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Klarion said. ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡±


    Hatsune tilted her head slightly, ears flicking again. ¡°You don¡¯t have to carry everything yourself, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said. But even as he said those words, he knew that some burdens would be his alone to bear. And if that meant standing between his friends, between Hatsune and the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Academy, then so be it.


    As the conversation at the table turned toward lighter topics ¡ª mostly regaling them with tales of hobgoblin mischief from when he had been younger ¡ª Klarion let himself ease into the moment. Enjoying the good food, and the good company he had found. And would keep. No matter who came against him.


    The Ivory Banner, Chadwick, and anyone else foolish enough to come for him would come to understand one simple truth:


    Mess with Klarion Blacksword or those he cared about, and there would be no mercy.

 Chapter 78 (Interlude 9)

    Ordran stormed into his kitchen, feet stomping across the floor as he hurried away from the main room of The Hearth & Ember. The heavy aromas of roasting meats and spiced breads lingered in the air, but they barely registered to the cook as he barreled past the broad oak counters, thick fingers clenched rather than reaching up to brush the gleaming brass pans hanging neatly from hooks as he usually did on entering the kitchen. Each and everything in its place and, most importantly, clean.


    Without thinking, he bypassed the wash station near where he chopped the vegetables for the meals he made. A sacred ritual he had never once neglected since opening this tavern several years ago, the deep basin was always filled with fresh, clear water ready to be used with the block of soap nearby.


    Never again, he had vowed, the memory of grime and field soot burned deep into his soul. After fifty years cooking for legionnaires on distant, war-torn battlefields, he had promised himself that his kitchen would always be spotless ¡ª a haven free from the chaos and filth of the greater world. Clean hands, clean kitchen, clean work.


    Yet now, for the first time, he unthinkingly broke that sacred promise.


    He charged past the station without a glance, the urgency in his steps pushing toward the back office tucked behind shelves stacked with barrels of vegetables and crates of imported spices that could not be found in most of the kitchens in the Imperial Academy. His mind raced faster than his feet, driven by a sight that he now recognized from old memories of years ago.


    Those eyes.


    Red-gold, searing with a cold fury that clung to the air like frost.


    Ordran¡¯s breath caught in his chest as he recalled the weight that had settled over the tavern in the moments before Scion Klarion Blacksword ended the duel. It wasn¡¯t just the tension of a fight nearing its brutal conclusion. No, he had been on enough battlefields and in enough fights to know well that feeling. No, it was something darker. The almost aura that filled the room had been suffocating, ancient in its wrath yet terrifyingly immediate.


    He had felt something like it before, years ago while in service with the Legions. But even among the Empire¡¯s elite nobility, trained killers who could command battlefield chaos with a mere flick of their will, none had radiated that. Even weak as it was, what the Blacksword had given off was different. He focused on the sense of it.


    It wasn¡¯t just power.


    It was certainty.


    The kind that came only when death was no longer a decision but an inevitability.


    And he knew as soon as he sensed it that Ort was a deadman who hadn¡¯t yet finished breathing.


    His office door creaked as he shoved it open, the wood groaning under his heavy push. The familiar scent of parchment and ink greeted him, a disheveled stack of orders and accounting where he had left them several hours ago. Ordran spared them only a single glance before he was moving around the edge of his cluttered desk, his fingers reaching for the worn grain of the wooden drawer as he fought to steady himself.


    The image of the Blacksword¡¯s eyes lingered, vivid and unyielding. They weren¡¯t the eyes of a scion still learning his place in the world ¡ª they were the eyes of someone who had already decided what that place would be, and woe to anyone who stood in his way.


    Ordran squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory refused to fade. Those red-gold irises, glinting like embers caught in a winter gale, pulled forth a long-buried recollection.


    He had seen eyes like that before.


    A shiver crawled down his spine as he opened his eyes, the memory pushed aside for the moment. He straightened, his grip on the desk loosening.


    Klarion Blacksword.


    The young scion had stepped into The Hearth & Ember like any other patron, but he had left an impression on him. Ordran had seen more than a few scions come and go since he had opened his tavern, their arrogance and entitlement a dime a dozen. But the Blacksword was different. Polite, kind even, he had quickly won an old dwarven veteran of the Legions over. And the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that spoke of battles fought and won ¡ª not just with fists and blades, but with willpower and resolve.


    And now, with what he had felt back in the main room during the duel, Ordran had a deep suspicion the Blacksword was a bit different from the others of his year.


    Ordran reached down, yanking open the bottom drawer with a strength born of urgency. The wood groaned as it slid free, revealing an assortment of documents neatly stacked alongside a few spare odds and ends.


    He would have to restack them later.


    With a grunt, he dumped the entire drawer onto the ground, scattering its contents across the wooden floorboards. Ordran knelt down, his thick fingers reaching into his desk until he grasped the hidden latch at the back of the cavity. A click came as he pressed it, and a small panel slid aside to reveal a concealed compartment.


    Inside, the first thing his eyes landed on was the medals ¡ª polished discs of gold, silver, and bronze, each etched with symbols and words of valor and service. They gleamed faintly in the dim light of his office, a testament to five decades of sacrifice and dedication. Ordran¡¯s fingers brushed over them briefly, his expression hardening as memories came alongside each one: desperate battles, hard-won victories, great beasts slaughtered before the walls of Imperial cities, and, most of all, the faces of comrades who hadn¡¯t made it back. He gently set each aside.


    Next were the commendations, parchment sheets bearing the signatures of high-ranking officers and nobles alike. The gaudiest among them was a thick scroll sealed with red wax, the insignia of an Imperial Archduke prominent on its face. Ordran sneered at it, the bitter taste of politics and empty platitudes rising in his throat. He had little love for nobility, especially the kind that decorated their legionnaires from a distance without ever dirtying their own hands. He set those aside as well, though with perhaps a bit less care.


    He reached in and pulled out a heavy bag made of thick leather, its weight unmistakable even before he lifted it free. The bag jingled faintly as he moved it, the sound of platinum coins clinking together filling the room. Inside was the bulk of his savings from fifty years of violence, earned through sweat, blood, and toil. That too was set aside.


    Ordran¡¯s hand trembled as he reached deeper into the compartment, his fingers closing around the smooth, cool surface of a small stone. He pulled it free, holding it up to the light.


    The communication stone glimmered faintly, its surface etched with intricate runes that shimmered in hues of blue and silver. It was a gift from the General, a man Ordran respected above all the others he had served with. The General had been a rare breed ¡ª noble by birth but soldier by heart. Where many of the nobility had focused their strength on greater threats, or simply avoided the fighting altogether, he had fought alongside his men, bled with them, and earned their unwavering loyalty through deeds rather than commission.


    The General gave a communication stone to each of his legionnaires¡¯ upon their departure, for emergencies only. Ordran had been in several difficult situations since he had left the Legions, but he had never once considered reaching out to the General. Until now.


    The Blacksword might be a good one ¡ª a rare scion with the potential for the strength of arms and character ¡ª but Ordran knew that the potential he suspected he had would not go unnoticed for long. There were forces within the Empire that would seek to control him, manipulate him, or destroy him outright.


    Ordran exhaled slowly, his resolve hardening. He had seen too many good men and women fall to the machinations of those who cared only for power. He pressed his thumb firmly against the divet in the communication stone, activating its runes. The stone pulsed in his hand, a faint hum filling the room as the connection was established.


    ¡°General,¡± Ordran rumbled. ¡°It¡¯s Ordran. I¡¯ve got a situation, and I need yer counsel.¡± He paused, then included a code for the seriousness of the situation. ¡°Steel to the heart, sir.¡±


    The stone in his hand pulsed once more, and the faint humming faded away, signaling that the message had been successfully transmitted. It would find the General soon enough ¡ª his former commander was many things, but inattentive wasn¡¯t one of them.


    Still, Ordran¡¯s hand trembled faintly as he set the communication stone on his desk. Reaching for the other drawer, he pulled out an expensive bottle of dwarven spirits, one he saved for the kinds of memories he was about to relive. He poured half a glass¡¯s worth into a mug left on the corner of his desk. The burn of his first swallow hit just as the memory did.


    The Legion had just been diverted from being sent to fortify a Throneworld in the midst of a Beast Wave to protect some city on a remote frontier world.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    A Baron¡¯s city.


    Their Legion had answered the call reluctantly; the mission had seemed beneath their expertise. But orders were orders, and the Baron¡¯s pleas for aid had reached the chain of command for the Imperial Legions.


    When their thousands had marched through the Portal, it became clear the Baron and his city had been under siege for weeks. Smoke drifted over stone walls, and gaping holes marked key defensive structures. The Baron¡¯s soldiers had fought back hard, but their enemy was elusive and relentless ¡ª a singular figure who struck with brutal precision before vanishing into the wilds beyond the city¡¯s walls.


    The Baron had met them there, before the Portal, practically begging them for the Legion¡¯s help, claiming his assailant was some frontier rogue warlord from beyond his territory that was bent on taking his city from the control of the Empire. He spoke of ambushes on supply lines, assassinations of trusted men, and the wholesale destruction of outposts critical to maintaining control over the local population.


    After the pleading, the General passed over a copy of the orders he had received, and while the Baron examined them, a squad of Hunters, seconded to the Legion for the mission, went out into the city proper to track down the attacker with their usual clinical precision.


    They cornered him at a modest inn on the city¡¯s outskirts.


    Ordran had been part of the General¡¯s personal squad when they had stormed the building, weapons drawn and senses sharpened for a vicious fight. He took another deep drink of the dwarven spirits, as he remembered how his pulse had thundered in his ears, muscles taut with readiness as the door had been breached. Legionnaires flowed inside like a tide, blades flashing in the light of the open hearth. The General himself had been shrouded in his Essences, leaving nothing to chance.


    He remembered the smell the most. Rather than the coppery tang of blood in the air, which they had expected given what the Baron had said about the viciousness of the enemy, the air inside simply carried with it the savory scent of spiced meat and fresh bread ¡ªa shockingly domestic contract to the grim anticipation of violence.


    And there he was.


    The one the Hunters had tracked sat at a simple wooden table near the hearth, steam curling from a plate of food before him. His midnight-black hair was neatly pulled back, and his posture was eerily relaxed, as though he were a lord dining in his own hall rather than an enemy of the Empire surrounded by the best of an entire Legion. His appearance would have fit any one of the scions Ordran had met throughout his service. But it was his eyes that the veteran dwarf would never forget.


    Red-gold, shimmering like embers.


    They held no fear ¡ª only a smoldering intensity that spoke of ruin. They were the eyes of a man who had walked through an inferno and carried its rage within him, tempered but ever ready to roar to life.


    He took another long drink, and then refilled his mug.


    Facing those eyes, Ordran remembered tightening his grip on his sword, expecting the man to rise and fight. Instead, the man had wiped his mouth with a cloth, leaned back in his chair, and regarded all the bared steel before him, and the Essences of the General, as one might a minor inconvenience.


    I take it you¡¯re the General?


    The entire room had frozen at the man¡¯s words, but the General had stepped forward.


    I am. And you are?


    The man hadn¡¯t wavered, only shifted to focus on the General alone.


    A father.


    What followed was a tale that etched itself into Ordran¡¯s memory ¡ª a grim, bloody story of vengeance.


    The man, who had refused to give his name, had waged a personal war against the Baron and his allies, tearing through their operations with ruthless efficiency. His reason was devastating: his daughter had been taken.


    She had been enjoying a rare day of freedom, free from her studies undertaken while they traveled, browsing the markets while he, her father, had left her to restock supplies for the next step of their journey.


    The Baron had spotted her in the market. He assumed that, as a veteran of the Legions and a noble of considerable influence in the local region, he was untouchable.


    He had been wrong.


    Ordran remembered how the General had asked the man why he had resulted to such tactics to get his daughter back.


    I didn¡¯t know where she was being kept. If I had, the city wouldn¡¯t still be standing.


    He hadn¡¯t been the only legionnaire present to again reach for his sword. But the General had waved them off, instead asking another question.


    Would you really have destroyed the entire city?


    Ordran finished his second mug, and filled it up a third time.


    The man¡¯s eyes had darkened, their molten hue intensifying until they seemed to glow with a fury that bordered on madness. The itself had thickened, heavy with an oppressive energy that had made it a struggle for Ordran to draw a single breath.


    Then it hit.


    A wave of raw, unbridled power exploded from the man, slamming into the gathered legionnaires like a tempest made solid. The very walls of the inn groaned under the force, timber creaking as if under the weight of a mountain.


    Ordran remembered how his knees had buckled, and he had collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. What was a struggle before turned to a crushing pressure, every breath one of the hardest battles he had ever fought. Then the heat hit as that same air seemed to ignite. Tables and chairs shuddered, their legs scraping against the floor as the force of emanating from the man threatened to tear the room apart.


    He remembered his vision blurring, dark spots creeping at the edges as he struggled to stay conscious. In those hazing moments, the only thing he remembered for sure was that the General himself was the only one who remained standing, though even he had braced himself against the onslaught. The Essences he had cloaked himself with wavered under the pressure.


    You ask if I would have destroyed the city? I would have rained hellfire down upon it and salted whatever ashes remained if it meant finding her.


    The power had surged again, redoubled, a primal force that felt like an executioner¡¯s blade was about to press down on him. He had lost consciousness just as the General¡¯s knees had hit the floor.


    When he woke, the labored breathing of Ordran and the rest of the General¡¯s squad was greeted by the sounds of quiet conversation. The General was seated at the table with the man, deep in negotiation. Not knowing how long he had been out, he did not know all that they talked about, but he did know what they agreed.


    The weight of a different memory hit him then, pressing heavily on Ordran as he slumped into his office chair, empty mug in his hand. He did not see the simple office of The Hearth & Ember around him, but the burning wreckage of a once-grand estate.


    The agreement made between the General and the stranger was a simple one. A pragmatic man, the General was fiercely loyal to the Empire but drew the line at senseless cruelty. The Baron¡¯s request for aid had initially seemed justified ¡ª a noble under siege by a powerful but lone assailant who threatened the peace of a frontier world. But when the truth unraveled, the General had the courage to change his mission.


    The General was no friend to slavery, and the abduction of children disgusted him to his core. It was one of the things he liked most about the man. Nobility be damned ¡ª there were lines that even those with titles and land had no right to cross. The father with red-gold eyes had made his intentions crystal clear: either the city died or the Baron did. The General decided to help, and confided in his men why they needed to be involved through to the Baron¡¯s estate itself.


    If we let him tear through the estate on his own, he will leave nothing but ashes and corpses. And honestly, I wouldn¡¯t blame him.


    And so, under the General¡¯s orders, the Legion struck against the noble who had expended all his political capital to get the Legion dispatched to his world. As much as the nobility were the foundation on which the security of the Empire rested, sometimes there were those who just needed killing.


    The assault on the Baron¡¯s estate was a thing of brutal efficiency. The gates had fallen swiftly under the surprise of their attack, and what few defenders responded were quickly cut down. Ordran had been with the General as they swept through those ornate halls. The estate was a labyrinth of luxury and excess ¡ª marble floors slick with spilled wine, grand tapestries depicting battles the Baron likely hadn¡¯t even fought in, and servants cowering in nearly every room, eyes wide with terror.


    But it was the hidden rooms that haunted Ordran¡¯s dreams.


    They had found the first chamber behind a false wall in the Baron¡¯s private quarters. A young legionnaire on his first term of service with the General had stumbled upon it, his armored hand brushing against some hidden mechanism. The wall had groaned as it slid aside, revealing a narrow passageway lit by flickering torches that the Legion used to scout the way.


    What lay beyond was a nightmare.


    Chains hung from the walls, and the stench of fear and filth was overwhelming. Cushioned benches lined one side, stained with dark things Ordran still didn¡¯t care to identify. The sick realization of who they had almost helped to save dawned on them all at once.


    Ordran had moved as quickly as he could with his comrades, freeing those they found shackled and broken. Some were too far gone to speak, their eyes hollow from the unspeakable torments they had suffered.


    Ordran¡¯s fists clenched at the memory, the mug cracking in his grip. With a wince, he set it aside. He had fought monsters before, but never had he seen anything so vile. So evil.


    And that was only the first chamber.


    They had pressed deeper, uncovering more secret passageways and hidden staircases that led to more chambers ¡ª each more horrifying than the last. The Baron had surrounded himself with decadence and cruelty, a festering rot hidden beneath the polished surface of noble privilege.


    And there, in that final room, they had found her.


    The Baron had kept the girl caged like an animal, her wide eyes filled with terror. She couldn¡¯t have been more than thirteen, her dress once pretty, now torn and dirty. Luck was with them, and they had arrived before the Baron could get her cage open.


    What happened next, he didn¡¯t remember, only that it had cost platinum for a Mind Surgeon of the Legions to excise the memories. Shame the star elf had warned him away from giving up more than that. Something about the integrity of his mind.


    Ordran clenched his hands, trying to stop the shaking that had snuck up on him. After several long minutes, it finally stopped, and he was able to put those memories away. Hopefully, it would be months until he had to deal with them the next time.


    The communication stone still lay dull and dead on his desk. He stared at it, mind going back to the duel that had just happened. Yes, the feeling of what the Blacksword had given off had been different ¡ª less refined, and far less overwhelming ¡ª but unmistakably cut from the same cloth.


    Ordran rubbed a hand over his face, the hair of his beard scratching against his palm. He had thought those few days were long behind him, that he would never again encounter a presence like that, especially here at one of the Imperial Academies.


    But here it was, manifesting in the young Blacksword scion.


    The communication stone on his desk pulsed faintly, signaling an incoming response. Ordran¡¯s heart steadied as he prepared to hear the General¡¯s voice. Whatever was unfolding now, he needed guidance, and there was no one better to provide it than the General.


    The communication stone pulsed again, a humming filling the room again. Looks like a live communication then. Ordran took a steadying breath and reached for it, his fingers grasping it like a drowning man a lifeline. The General¡¯s voice crackled through, steady and commanding despite the vast distance between them.


    ¡°Steel holds, Ordran,¡± the General said the countercode, confirming his identity. ¡°This is General Glaros. I received your message, Sergeant. What¡¯s this about red-gold eyes?¡±


    Ordran¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°General,¡± he said, voice low, as if the walls might be straining to overhear them. ¡°I think I¡¯ve found another one.¡±


    There was a long pause on the other end before General Glaros spoke again, though a crackle of interference obscured his tone. ¡°Tell me everything.¡±

 Chapter 79

    The tavern had gradually filled with the low buzz of dwarven conversation as it became clear the excitement was over for the night. Plates clattered, tankards thudded on tables, and laughter erupted sporadically around the room at the antics of two younger, red-bearded dwarves who had made their way behind the counter to begin distributing drinks to those who had not quite hit their limits for the night. Klarion had been about to say something, as he had only ever seen Ordran working in The Hearth & Ember, but a shout from Vuldrin for the duo to keep track of who owes what for the dwarven owner put him more at ease.


    After their friends had left for the evening, Klarion remained sitting with Hatsune at their table. He hadn¡¯t planned to linger this late, but staying seemed easier than leaving. The tavern was loud and bustling, Klarion and Hatsune were practically ignored by the dwarves by that point, and their table had been the perfect place to avoid thinking too deeply.


    Yet the truth was, he had been thinking after he no longer had his friends around to distract him. The duel had been ruthless, brutal even. The message he needed to send had been clear and uncompromising. But the part that gnawed at him was one simple fact: he didn¡¯t care. Not about the fight or the life extinguished.


    Hatsune leaned back in her chair, one arm drapped casually over the backrest, watching him with a knowing expression. She hadn¡¯t pressed him, not even after the others had said their goodnights and left. To be honest, he appreciated that. He wasn¡¯t sure what he would have said.


    Klarion looked around the room again, a slight smile coming to his face as the pair of dwarves behind the bar began tossing a bottle of whiskey back and forth while Vuldrin angrily made his way over to them. That old dwarf really could yell. The smile faded when he realized he still hadn¡¯t seen Ordran return from¡­ whatever he was doing in his kitchen. It was a bit unusual that he hadn¡¯t returned yet, especially since Ordran had previously made it a point to collect their plates and wish them a good night. But the kitchen door remained firmly shut.


    Klarion let out a long breath, deciding that it was late enough and that they should get going back to Blacksword Manor. After grabbing his new books, he pulled a few coins from those that he had found in the Dungeon, leaving them on the table. ¡°That should cover it.¡±


    Hatsune nodded, moving to stand as he did, only pausing to grab the loot from the Dungeon she had been carrying since they left the Infirmary. ¡°He probably got caught up with something,¡± she said, following his last glance towards the kitchen.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Klarion said, the scrape of his chair against the floor as he tucked it back under the table loud, even amidst the din. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. I¡¯m feeling a bit tired.¡±


    After making their way between the tables, the dwarves still larger trying to avoid making eye contact with him, they stepped into the cool night air. The street was quiet, as he had expected it would be. Klarion and Hatsune walked side by side down the quiet street, heading in the direction of his¡­ home? The word fit better than the alternatives. He didn¡¯t know exactly how long he had left at the Imperial Academy, but he would likely be staying there until then. He had to admit, a bit more cleaning and a few more people around to make it feel a bit less empty, and it would certainly feel like a home.


    ¡°You¡¯re quiet,¡± Hatsune observed a few minutes into their walk.


    ¡°Just thinking,¡± he said, attention still fixed ahead.


    ¡°About the duel?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah. Among other things.¡±


    ¡°Did you want to talk about it?¡±


    ¡°About the duel?¡± Klarion asked, turning his attention more fully to the Leporine. She was still watching him as they walked, a slight look of concern on her face, though her ears shifted with every sound that came from the darkness. Always on alert. ¡°Protecting me from myself, now?¡±


    ¡°If that makes it more likely for you to share what is on your mind, sure.¡±


    There was a quiet invitation in her tone, gentle yet persistent, offering him a chance to unburden himself. Her presence was steady, warm, and without judgment. That mattered more than he wanted to admit. She waited patiently as he looked at her.


    ¡°I was ruthless,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°I wanted to send a message, and I did.¡± He shook his head. ¡°But it¡¯s not that part that bothers me. It¡¯s that¡­ I don¡¯t care that I killed him. Even now, I feel nothing about it.¡±


    His Leporine bodyguard reached out, gently grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop. ¡°And you are thinking, what? That feeling that way makes you a monster?¡±


    ¡°No, not really,¡± Klarion said honestly. ¡°But shouldn¡¯t I care?¡±


    Hatsune didn¡¯t respond at first, a complicated look on her face. The silence lingered long enough that Klarion was about to break it himself when she seemed to come to some decision.


    ¡°My grandfather once told me a story¡­¡± she said before trailing off. The Leporine looked around, ears flicking around again. Whatever sound she heard apparently did not happen again, as they turned back to him.


    ¡°What kind of story?¡± he prodded, intrigued about any new information she volunteered from before arriving at the Imperial Academy.


    ¡°A lesson,¡± she said, as they began walking again. ¡°It happened when our pro¡ªhome was under threat from a man named Taigashi, a self-styled warlord who had carved out a reputation for cruelty and ambition. His followers had ravaged the region surrounding where my family lived and eventually set their sights on our home. After a long summer of fighting, my grandfather and his allies finally cornered Taigashi and his remaining supporters at the base of the Red Jade Falls. They were outnumbered, exhausted, and without supplies. Defeat was inevitable.¡±


    She paused, glancing over at Klarion to make sure he was still listening to her story. Like he could focus on anything else at the moment. Her voice, soft but laced with pain, held all his attention.


    ¡°Taigashi dropped his blade and knelt before my grandfather, swearing fealty. He claimed that all he wanted was a future for his people, those who had followed him. He offered an alliance if my grandfather would spare him. My grandfather, believing there was a chance to end the bloodshed and build something better, accepted. He granted Taigashi and his men clemency, offering them land and trade rights.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°That sounds¡­ hopeful.¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± Hatsune agreed, her voice darkening. ¡°For a time. Taigashi sent emissaries bearing gifts, and trade flourished. People began to rebuild, thinking the worst was behind them.¡±


    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t,¡± Klarion guessed grimly.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°No.¡± Hatsune¡¯s voice turned cold. ¡°Taigashi never intended to keep his word. He used the time my grandfather¡¯s mercy bought to secretly rebuild his forces. When he struck again, it was swift and brutal. Villages were burned, hundreds slaughtered, and every single raider pardoned turned against us.¡± She shook her head, mentally pushing some memory away, then continued, her voice back to normal. ¡°My grandfather¡¯s decision cost his us dearly ¡ª lives lost, homes destroyed, and trust shattered. Mercy had been extended with the hope of building a future where both sides could grow stronger together, but instead, it invited ruin.¡± She paused, looking at him. ¡°My grandfather regretted sparing him. And he did not give Taigashi another chance once he defeated him again. Not because he didn¡¯t believe in mercy, but because he had learned a harsh truth¡ªmercy, while noble, can be a luxury that enemies will exploit as weakness. And weakness invites ruin.¡±


    They returned to walking in silence, Klarion turning Hatsune¡¯s story over in his mind. It was a lesson he knew he couldn¡¯t afford to ignore. The duel he had fought earlier resurfaced in his mind ¡ª the quick, ruthless way that he had ended it. Yes, while mercy had its place, in an Academy filled with ambition, with deceit, and with enemies around gathering around him and his friends, he would likely have to send more than a few more messages to get his point across: if you come after me or mine, you will not walk away.


    No. Thinking on it further, there was no way the death of a single bodyguard was going to be anywhere close to enough. From everything he had experienced so far, many scions at the Academy had no issue sending their bodyguards to die. He might well have to strike a bit closer to home. Perhaps his enemies would leave them alone once they learned that they, themselves, were not safe from his wrath?


    He looked over at Hatsune again, his thoughts firming as he thought of her and the other friends that he had made since arriving at the Academy. He could endure the violence, the harshness, the darkness, as long as those who mattered to him were not consumed by it. The Academy could, no, would be cruel and unforgiving, but if he could protect them, maybe that would be enough.


    Klarion¡¯s thoughts finally settled as they continued down the last main road toward Blacksword Manor. Hatsune had been quiet, giving him time to digest the story she had shared with him. He glanced sideways at her, admiring how the moonlight brushed her silver-gray hair, making it shimmer. Her ears flicked slightly, sensing his attention, but she kept her gaze forward and around them. He was curious to know a bit more about her family, but he held off asking about them. It was late, and, as much as he wanted to learn more about Hatsune, tonight he needed to focus on


    Finally, they came to the dead-end street that held Blacksword Manor. Empty as always, Hatsune did not hesitate to step in front of him to open the door, heading inside first. Much like he expected, the manor had not been disturbed since they had left it. Making their way through the dark corridors, echoing steps across the stone floor following him, Klarion again reflected on the need for more than a few improvements to make the manor more like a home. Thankfully, he had some Coins of Service now, so perhaps another trip to the Hall of Bonds would lead him to someone that could help him with what he had in mind. Then there was the Mark of Bonds. Given how much time he spent with Hatsune, and the fact that he wanted protectors that would complement each other¡¯s skill sets, he¡¯d have to think carefully on how to use it. Perhaps the coming weekend he would have time to take care of both.


    They eventually made their way to the bedroom they¡¯d been sharing. It was the work of only a moment to get a small fire going in the hearth to light the room. He enjoyed the pleasant heat for a moment as Hatsune stopped before the dresser to place the bracers and the pouch that held the ring in front of the mirror. Leaning over, she set the old greatsword Klarion had found against the wall.


    Klarion looked at the loot of the Dungeon, eyes lingering on the pouch that held the ring in particular. ¡°We should probably figure out if those are enchanted ¡ª or cursed.¡±


    Hatsune blinked up at him, her expression curious. ¡°Cursed?¡±


    ¡°You never know,¡± Klarion said, but when her expression didn¡¯t change, he elaborated. ¡°I played a few too many games back on my homeworld, where cool loot turned out to be cursed. Rings that bound themselves to your soul, or bracers that drained your blood once you put them on. That sort of thing.¡±


    Hatsune gave a soft laugh, though he noticed she did step away from the items she had just set down. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize your world¡¯s games were so intense.¡±


    ¡°Do you know if there¡¯s a way to identify items like these?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± she admitted, standing up and heading over to her couch. ¡°But I do know that item identification is a rare ability, usually tied to specific classes. It¡¯s not something just anyone can do.¡±


    Klarion frowned. That made things more complicated. If she was right, and he had no doubt that she was, he couldn¡¯t just learn the ability himself. Unless he picked a class that allowed for it. ¡°So, we¡¯d need someone with that ability to check these out?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Hatsune confirmed. ¡°Or maybe there¡¯s a tool or ritual we could find to use. I¡¯m sure that we could look into it later in the Archives.¡±


    Hatsune stretched her arms above her head, her usual grace softened by fatigue that had become more apparent after she had entered the manor. ¡°Long day,¡± she murmured.


    ¡°Very long,¡± Klarion agreed as he stepped over to his side table to set the books down on it, next to the Assessment Orb he had been given. Popping his back, he turned to find Hatsune looking at him hesitantly, cheeks faintly tinged pink.


    ¡°I¡¯ll, um, get ready for bed first¡­?¡± she asked.


    Klarion offered a polite nod and turned his back without hesitation, facing the side table he had just set his new books on. The soft clink of armor being unfastened was soon followed by it being set aside. He was acutely aware of Hatsune behind him and the rustle of fabric that soon followed as she finished getting ready for bed.


    ¡°All done.¡±


    Klarion turned around, finding her already nestled beneath the thick comforter on the couch, her silvery-grey hair fanned out around her. She looked smaller somehow, her usual confident presence softened by the weariness of the day.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, sitting down on his bed to begin taking off his boots, ¡°if you keep sleeping in here, I think we need to get you a real bed. That couch can¡¯t be comfortable.¡±


    Her ears flicked as she stared at him, surprised. ¡°I sleep fine.¡±


    Klarion raised an eyebrow as he flexed his now-free toes. ¡°You say that, but I saw the way you stretched your back after that first night sleeping there. I¡¯m pretty sure that couch has a greater chance of hurting you than most of my enemies.¡±


    ¡°Our enemies,¡± she said firmly, then softly laughed, despite trying to stay serious. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡±


    Klarion leaned back on his bed, propping himself up on his elbows with a playful grin. ¡°You¡¯re too polite to complain. But seriously, if you¡¯re going to keep staying here, we should get a proper bed for you.¡±


    Her expression faltered, shyness creeping in again as she fidgeted with the covers around her. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t want to impose.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s smile softened. ¡°You¡¯re not imposing. I like having you here,¡± he admitted. He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. ¡°Besides, I think I¡¯ve been sleeping better knowing my bodyguard is close by.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s cheeks went slightly pink again. ¡°Oh¡­¡± she murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°I¡¯m glad that my being here helps make you feel safe.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just the truth,¡± Klarion said sincerely. ¡°So, what do you think? Real bed?¡±


    Her ears flicked again as she gave a nod. ¡°Maybe. If you¡¯re sure.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely, the room is big enough for it,¡± Klarion affirmed, sitting back up. ¡°We¡¯ll pick one out together. Something big enough that you can actually stretch out. With some real sheets and covers too.¡±


    That earned him another laugh. ¡°Alright,¡± she agreed, her eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°But no filly bankets.¡±


    Klarion chuckled in return. ¡°Deal. No frills, just comfort.¡±


    He leaned over, setting his boots to the side of the bed, and reached for the book on the history of House Blacksword. Thick tome in hand, he settled onto the edge of the mattress, looking down at the cover. His pulse quickened ¡ª not entirely from excitement at finally learning a bit more about his family, but also from a bit of unease at what he might find. Still, there was no turning back. He had come to the Imperial Academy, setting aside Klaus to embrace his identity as Klarion Blacksword. If he was going to carry the name, he needed to understand everything about it.


    ¡°You¡¯re staying up to read that?¡± Hatsune asked from the couch.


    ¡°Yeah. I need to,¡± Klarion admitted. ¡°There¡¯s too much I don¡¯t know about too many things otherwise. The biggest being the relationship House Blacksword, and by extension myself, has with the other scions at this Academy. I have to start piecing it together.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t argue with you¡ª¡± she said, a yawn interrupting her, ¡°¡ªbut try not to stay up too late. Good night, Klarion.¡±


    ¡°Good night, Hatsune,¡± he said, still staring down at the book in his hands.


    As her breathing evened out and the room settled into silence, Klarion opened the book and began to read.

 Chapter 80

    Klarion leaned back against the pillows piled behind him, settling into the comfort of his bed while the soft, steady rhythm of Hatsune¡¯s breathing filled the room. Looking over, he saw the Leporine had settled into sleep, curled up with the blanket bunched tight around her. It was odd, having someone else sleeping in the room with him, sharing his space like this. Yet he had meant what he had said earlier. He really did like having her around.


    Turning his attention back to the thick book in his hands, he was grateful for being a quick reader. He flipped through the initial pages at a brisk pace, scanning the lines with practiced ease, which was strange as it was not written in English but the language of the Empire. Still, whatever Rolfun had done to allow him to speak the Imperial tongue allowed him not only basic literacy but the ability to read even a niche book like this one.


    In some ways, he had expected the history of House Blacksword to feel less like a dry account of dates and deeds and more like an epic fantasy tale. You know the kind. Imperial knights slaying dragons to save noblewomen, or perhaps epic journeys to destroy ancient evil artifacts. As fascinating as those expectations were, Klarion couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit disappointed as he made it past the first few pages. The book¡¯s scope was broad, more a sweeping general history than an intricate record of the finer details he hoped to learn about House Blacksword. He had hoped for more personal anecdotes or perhaps even intimate glimpses into the politics and intrigue of his extended family.


    Instead, the narrative maintains a detached, almost scholarly tone. The author seemed more interested in presenting an unbiased account than indulging in storytelling flourishes. There were no dramatic revelations, no thrilling recounts of pivotal movements from a first-person perspective ¡ª just a methodical exploration of facts, dates, and key events.


    Klarion shifted against the pillows, adjusting his position slightly. Despite his initial disappointment, he had to admit there was value in the author¡¯s approach. The effort to remain objective was evident from the very beginning, with lengthy footnotes citing multiple sources and extensive appendices cross-referencing conflicting accounts. The author had clearly gone to great lengths to verify the veracity of what was written. He supposed that that effort alone helped justify the high price in Coins of Knowledge that he had spent to obtain a personal copy.


    Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming. Yet, as he continued reading, bits and pieces began to form a clearer picture of House Blacksword¡¯s history. The earliest generation were professional soldiers, carving their domain from the equivalent of untamed wilderness and enemy kingdoms across a dozen worlds in this region of what would become the western portion of the Treverorum Empire. He had partly expected that, given what he remembered about his own education growing up, during which he was taught about how Empires like those of the British and Russians often spread their control of territory and peoples through violent means. Indeed, what struck Klarion the most in those early pages was how what would become an Archducal House was perceived by those they encountered. According to some cited accounts, House Blacksword had been seen by the local races as ¡°monsters in the dark.¡± Apparently, the Blackswords had fought their way into the region, confronting entrenched powers with ruthless efficiency. Their methods were brutal, and their victories absolute. Entire kingdoms were razed across multiple worlds, the leaders opposing Imperial might brought to ruin.


    What struck Klarion most was the sheer scale of it all. The Treverorum Empire¡¯s expansion in the region, facilitated by House Blacksword, had spanned vast territories, a size that still boggled his sensibilities, bound as they were by Earth-born scales. He struggled to comprehend the distances involved, let alone the logistics required to maintain control over such a vast domain. The text spoke of how the Blackswords had not only waged wars across hundreds ¡ª perhaps thousands ¡ª of worlds within this region of space but also ventured into other areas of the Multiverse. His eyes slowed as they came across that word on the page. It was one thing to grasp the concept of vast, interstellar empires run on magic and the rules of a gamified system; it was quite another to accept that such entities crossed into entirely different dimensions of existence.


    Klarion returned to reading, and the mentions of the Multiverse quickly ended, the book returning to the more immediate circumstances of House Blacksword, particularly the reputation they had been accruing. The author did not shy away from acknowledging the reputation of these early Blackswords. ¡°To their enemies,¡± one passage read, ¡°the Blackswords were a force of unrelenting destruction, wielding steel and Essence without mercy. Yet, to their friends and allies, they were stalwart defenders and protectors, willing to spill their own blood to protect those they held dear.¡±


    Klarion leaned back, absorbing the weight of those words. Monsters in the dark, yes ¡ª but monsters who were fiercely loyal to their own. It painted a complex picture of his ancestors, one that he had to admit resonated deeply with him given his situation, despite the vast cultural and temporal gap between them and his own experiences back on Earth.


    He thought of the way Houses interacted here at the Imperial Academy, with alliances and rivalries simmering just beneath the surface. The notion of unwavering loyalty to friends and brutal vengeance against enemies was no longer foreign to him. Given the accounts in the book, it would be fair to say that he had entered a new existence in which a universal constant was power as the ultimate currency.


    The book continued to describe how the new House Blacksword had quickly become counted among the elite of the nascent Treverorum Empire in the region. Originating from the Core Provinces themselves, the author briefly departed from his unbiased tone to praise how Blackswords had earned their place not just through martial might but also shrewd political maneuvering and unwavering dedication to the Empire¡¯s cause. Despite their initial reputation as reavers of the battlefield, they had been instrumental in stabilizing the region, helping to set up and protect new trading relationships while securing hundreds of border worlds. Even the locals, once hostile to the Blackswords, had gradually come to respect ¡ª and even rely upon ¡ª their strength.


    Pausing for a moment to digest what he had read, Klarion¡¯s mind drifted as he considered what the early legacy of House Blacksword meant for him. His time at the Imperial Academy had shown him from the first day that many other scions eyed him with suspicion, disdain, or even outright hostility.


    And yet, there were also those who had already aligned themselves with him. It reminded him of the dichotomy described in the book: brutal to enemies, protective of friends. That was a lesson that really resonated with him. And one that he didn¡¯t think he would have a problem adopting for how he did things going forward.


    Klarion returned to the book, flipping another page, skimming through more accounts of the expansion of the Blackswords and their consolidation of power. Battles against opposing factions, marauding monsters, and rogue dungeons all painted a picture of him sharing a lineage that had been defined by war, struggle, and survival. Throughout, there was a clear pattern ¡ª those who committed acts of cruelty or sought to destabilize the region through terror and savagery were dealt with mercilessly. House Blacksword did not believe in half-measures when it came to protecting their people.


    His brow furrowed as the authored referenced an account of one such campaign. A neighboring House had resorted to enslaving an entire Imperial frontier world and using dark magic against the Blacksword over a dispute they had. When House Blacksword learned of what they had done, they left no stone unturned, and over the course of a decade, they dismantled the enemy House in its entirety.


    There was no glory in the descriptions of the actions House Blacksword took, only grim necessity. Klarion felt some understanding ¡ª sometimes, hard choices were required. The end of the duel with Ort had been how he had chosen to send a message of his own. Perhaps House Blacksword¡¯s reputation as monsters in the dark wasn¡¯t entirely unjustified, but he hoped it was incomplete. That they were also protectors as much as the were protectors, that they were willing to bear the burden of harsh deeds so that others could live in peace.


    As he read on, Klarion felt more than a little relief. Additional notes and short mentions of other actions taken by the Blackswords, made clear the fact that his House was also defined by loyalty, honor, and justice ¡ª though their interpretation could be harsh by Earth standards. That was more than a bit relieving. He had been worried he had been bound without choice to a family of monsters. That they also honored their friends regardless of race, forming alliances and trading agreements with species and cultures that other noble houses might have dismissed or looked down upon simple because of who they were was not only something that Klarion agreed with, but hoped would provide some early opportunities for building up his own alliances at the Imperial Academy. Still skimming, he mentally marked a few pages referencing specific Houses that he might look into at a later time. As soon as he was done, he flipped to the next chapter.


    And that was when the tone of the book shifted.


    The early chapters had been filled with stories of conquest and expansion, the vivid portrait of a House whose legacy stood as a bulwark against chaos and enemies beyond the walls of the Empire. The latest chapter delved into more recent events, and the picture painted was grim. House Blacksword, once a preeminent force in this portion of the Empire, was all but in ruins. Its name, previously synonymous with strength and power, had fallen into disgrace; what reputation it had remaining, in tatters.


    The author didn¡¯t mince words, suggesting that the House was being targeted by multiple covert enemies. Apparently, this fall had begun with a grand wedding between an outside power and the ¡°gem of the heirs¡± in House Blacksword. The choice of words was interesting, but the author provided no further elaboration on that heir¡¯s identity. Instead, attention shifted to the chaos that followed. According to the author, an ambush had taken place during a massive invasion of the House Throneworld itself ¡ª an event that shook the very foundations of the Blacksword, given the historical inviolability of that world.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Though the book refrained from detailing the sides involved, the author did note that House Blacksword managed to beat back the invasion. But victory came at an unimaginable cost. The power structure that had defined the house for generations was left in ruins, shattered beyond immediate repair.


    Klarion¡¯s hands tightened around the edges of the book as he read more about the aftermath. The core family, once a bastion of strength, was reduced to a mere handful of surviving members. They had been forced to rely heavily on the branch families of the House to maintain even a semblance of their former power. The imagery conjured by the author was bleak ¡ª House Blacksword standing amid the ashes of its former glory, desperately trying to regroup as vultures circled overhead.


    And the vultures had names.


    Klarion¡¯s eyes sharpened as the author mentioned House Brightcoin. The revelation came with a caveat; it had taken the author considerable time to confirm the involvement of that rival house. According to what he had been able to unearth, House Brightcoin and its allies had moved covertly at first, striking from the shadows. But as time went on, their actions had become bolder, their intentions clearer. By the time of his writing, the author considered it to be an open secret: House Brightcoin was leading the charge against House Blacksword, seeking to dismantle what little remained of its power and influence. Indeed, beyond waging a covert war, House Brightcoin also leveraged its considerable financial resources to purchase the territories and worlds once held by House Blacksword. Some had been lost through despoilment by other enemies; others had been wrested away in cunning deals and betrayals.


    Despite the grim reality described on the pages, Klarion sensed a defiant undertone in the text. The author noted that House Blacksword had not gone quietly into the night. They had executed what amounted to a fighting retreat, refusing to surrender even as the odds mounted against them. That stubborn defiance was something else Klarion recognized. It was a trait he held as well ¡ª the refusal to yield, no matter how dire the circumstances.


    Turning his attention back to the book, he moved to the next chapter, seeing that there was not much remaining. He was getting tired, especially his eyes, but he refused to go to sleep until he had finished the book. His gut was telling him tomorrow was going to be a busy day, despite it being the start of the long weekend.


    His persistence was rewarded in the first few paragraphs, during which the author revealed that the downfall of House Blacksword was not solely the work of House Brightcoin. The other Archducal Houses in the region had played their part as well. Though none seemed to hold a true vendetta against House Blacksword, they all had seen the weakening of the once-mighty House as an opportunity too tempting to ignore. The result of those several decades of struggle ended up being referred to as the Five-House War.


    He blinked several times, trying to bring the pages back into focus. Fighting against the looming presence of sleep, he read faster, less skimming and more bouncing from page to page, looking for any important details. Mention was made of many minor families of nobility aligned with the Archducal Houses as having swooped in to claim scraps from House Blacksword¡¯s misfortunes as well. Territory, trade routes, and key resources that once bolstered his family¡¯s House were now scattered amongst dozens of opportunistic rivals before the war gradually shifted into a state of ceasefire. Though they were not driven by deep enmity, but simply the nature of politics and survival, Klarion had a hard time finding it within himself to forgive them.


    The last portion of the chapter made reference to the unraveling alliances of House Blacksword. Many of the other Houses that had once stood firmly by his family¡¯s side abandoned it, either out of fear or self-preservation. The political landscape was shifting, and few wanted to be dragged down alongside a House teetering on the brink of collapse.


    But not all had turned their backs.


    Klarion made another note of the page that mentioned a small number of Houses that had remained fully loyal, refusing to betray old bonds despite the growing pressure to do so. He struggled to read their names, his vision going in and out of focus. He really wanted to sleep. But not yet. He turned to the final chapter, where the author shared his final observations about House Blacksword.


    Contrary to his expectations, the author took a step back to focus on the region as a whole. With House Blacksword¡¯s power waning, and the infighting increasing, the borders of the Treverorum Empire in the region weakened as well. What had once been a stronghold of stability had become a fractured and vulnerable frontier.


    And this vulnerability could not have come at a worse time.


    According to the author, aid and support from the Core and other regions of the Empire had decreased in recent years. Political turmoil, economic strife, and military campaigns elsewhere had stretched the Empire¡¯s resources thin. The Western region was now left largely to fend for itself.


    Klarion¡¯s chest tightened as he read the author¡¯s grim warning, dated to only a few years ago. Outside powers, sensing weakness, were beginning to gather to exploit the situation for their own gain. Given its size, immense resources, and massive populations of various races, the region was more than a tempting prize for ambitious enemies of the Empire. The thought of foreign forces descending upon the region, sowing chaos and destruction, filled Klarion with a sense of foreboding.


    Earth.


    His homeworld was about to go through the Integration process in the next few years, and he could imagine what would happen to it if the region of the Empire it was supposed to merge into was descending into any number of new wars and invasions. Shaking away visions of bloodshed and the bodies of his friends and family back in Volksturm, Klarion pushed his weary eyes to continue looking over the last pages of the book.


    He was glad he did, as the author¡¯s final words struck him hard and gave him a small measure of hope to offset the trepidation he felt. ¡°House Blacksword, though diminished, still stands,¡± the author wrote. ¡°Its survival, precarious as it may be, is a testament to its resilience. Yet, if it is to rise again, it will need strength, unity, and leadership capable of navigating the treacherous waters ahead. The fate of the region ¡ª and perhaps the Empire itself ¡ª may well hinge on the choices made by the scions of House Blacksword in the years to come.¡±


    Klarion closed the book slowly, the weight of what the author said settling heavily on his mind. The room was silent save for the soft crackle of the fire and Hatsune¡¯s quiet breathing. He exhaled, feeling a mix of determination and dread. Though sleep continued trying to sink its claws into him, he kept it at bay for a few minutes more to consider what he had read. The history of House Blacksword, his House, had begun as a tale of triumph and strength but had changed into one of decline and desperation. The book had painted a far grimmer picture of the Archducal House than he had hoped.


    And now he was here ¡ª summoned from Earth to the Imperial Academy as a scion of that House.


    Yes, his presence made sense. House Blacksword clearly needed every potential scion with a drop of blood of their family it could muster. Only through securing the family could they continue to pursue the strength, allies, and resources needed to rebuild the fractured legacy of the Blacksword. Klairon being at the Academy must have been a part of that desperate strategy.


    Given how it was besieged on all fronts from multiple parties, perhaps that explained why no representative or message had yet arrived from them to him. They were simply too busy struggling to survive against enemies both covert and overt. But if he was so important to their plans, surely they would be trying to contact him at some point, right?


    He frowned, setting the book aside on the side table. No messages, no representatives, no resources ¡ª nothing. As much as the book had provided clarity as to the overall situation for House Blacksword, it had also raised more questions about his own personal circumstances, and the silence that had followed him since his arrival at the Academy weighed on him more than ever. Regardless of their intentions for him, his family had left him to fend for himself without so much as a token gesture of support.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath, slumping back into his pillows. The sharpness of the word felt right. It was the only thing close to being capable enough of capturing his frustration at that moment. It was hard to put the pieces together, to grasp the true scale of what was happening. Klarion wasn¡¯t foolish ¡ª he knew that a family he had never known didn¡¯t owe him anything. The world, after all, was a place where power came at a steep price, and loyalty was a rare commodity. But still, the bitter sting of his apparent abandonment burned deep in his chest.


    He felt disconnected, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. He grimaced. The more he thought about it, the more the situation made sense only if House Blacksword truly didn¡¯t care about him. At least not in a way that mattered. They cared about power, about status, about positioning themselves to weather the storm. He was just a part of that equation ¡ª an heir who could be disposed of when the time came. A symbol of their legacy, but little more than a pawn in their games.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he repeated, the word this time filled with more venom. He rolled onto his side, the weight of his thoughts sinking him into the soft mattress beneath him. There was nothing left for him to cling to. No safety net. No family. Klarion knew only one thing for sure in that moment: he couldn¡¯t rely on anyone but himself.


    That truth settled in his mind, and for a moment, the weight pressing down on him was gone. House Blacksword, as powerful and as feared as it might have been, wasn¡¯t coming to his aid. No one in the Empire outside the pocket plane of this Imperial Academy cared whether he lived or died. The only thing that mattered now was him. And what he chose to do.


    If he was going to survive ¡ª if he was going to build a life for himself beyond the shadow of his family¡¯s legacy and become strong enough to help Earth when the time came ¡ª he would have to build towards his future from the ground up. No more relying on others outside of his friends here. No more waiting on some future message or letter from his family. He would have to plan on carving his own path, and he would have to protect himself from the same enemies that had threatened House Blacksword for centuries now. Building alliances, fostering relationships, and securing his position at the Academy would be crucial. But Klarion also recognized the limitations of his current situation.


    He needed a class.


    Without a class, Klarion was at a significant disadvantage. Everyone would be harder without one. And he needed the best class he could get. Once he had one, he had a feeling that everything would change. He could feel it in his bones.


    The thought brought with it a stronger sense of resolve. Klarion had never considered himself weak, but now he understood that strength wasn¡¯t just about physical power or skill with a sword. It was about control ¡ª control over his destiny, control over his own actions, and control over his future. He couldn¡¯t wait for anyone else to come through for him. He would be the only one who could shape his fate.


    As his thoughts began to settle, Klarion finally lost the struggle with his eyelids. The exhaustion of the day, the emotional toll of the revelations contained within the book, and the weight of his future caught up with him all at once. He turned over onto his side, pulling the sheets over himself as sleep began to claim him.

 Chapter 81 (Interlude 10)

    The tiny park had no name as far as J-65 knew. It was simply a small space that held a single, ancient star-oak with a stone bench ready for any passersby to sit for a while. She had been coming here for years, and she had yet to see anyone else sitting to enjoy a brief break from the responsibilities of the Imperial Academy. As the sun drifted below the horizon, above her head, silver leaves began to shimmer with captured moonlight in the evening air. Normally, she would be enjoying the gentle light herself, being a star elf. But not tonight.


    In her gloved hands rested the white mask that had defined her for over a decade ¡ª a polished, featureless thing designed to strip away individuality and replace it with one purpose. Being a Sentinel. She stared down at it, her thumbs tracing where the features of her face would have been painted on a different mask long ago.


    The mask Jezeri had worn as a child.


    Jezeri continued to stare down at the symbol of her position in the Imperial Academy, her thoughts swirling in a way they rarely had over the past decade. Sentinels were trained to be present, efficient, and, above all, without distractions. But here, in this quiet park, hidden away from the endless demands of duty, memories she had long buried rose to the surface, whispering to her like ghosts.


    Jezeri.


    That name felt fragile now, distant and worn like a fabric faded by time. She couldn¡¯t remember the last time anyone had spoken it aloud. It had slipped from her life the day the previous scion of House Blacksword had been removed from the Imperial Academy. Though over a decade ago, thinking over those memories revealed that the ache of that severance lingered down to her bones.


    Jezeri idly flipped the mask over, revealing the intricate runework on its interior that allowed her to speak, see, and hear through that blank, featureless white visage. House Blacksword. The name still carried weight, even if the House itself was still dwindling away. And yet, for Jezeri, it was more than a name ¡ª more than just another noble House ¡ª it was an anchor of her past, the source of both her greatest joys and sharpest sorrows.


    She had fled a life she refused to remember beyond that mask she had worn as a child. What came before the Hall of Bonds was a dark blur, stained with shame and pain. So much pain. That place had offered her a fresh beginning, though at a cost. There, girls like her were assessed, cataloged, and sold to scions able to purchase their service. Some that had been sold alongside her became chambermaids. Others companions or scribes. Jezeri hadn¡¯t cared at the time. She only wanted escape.


    She started paying more attention when her escape came in the form of a contact signed by none other than the scion of House Blacksword of the time.


    Before arriving at the Hall of Bonds, Jezeri had known well the reputations of the most important Houses of the western region of the Empire, House Blacksword chief among them. House Blacksword was synonymous with brutal efficiency on the battlefield and cold detachment in political circles. Their warriors were forged in harsh conditions and trained from a young age to wield weapons and strategy without hesitation. To outsiders, they were a House of unyielding steel, ruthless in pursuit of victory and survival against the myriad threats that worked to destroy them.


    Yet she knew that there was an unsettling undercurrent to that reputation as well. Rumors spoke of harsh discipline, fractured family ties, and a relentless expectation of perfection that crushed many under its weight. Their scions were said to be merciless, both to their enemies and their own kin, living by the creed that weakness had no place in the Blacksword legacy.


    Being chosen by such a House was a mixed fate ¡ª prestigious, certainly, but dangerous for any who couldn¡¯t meet their exacting standards. When Jezeri had been claimed by the female scion, she had braced herself for a life of cold commands and exacting servitude on and off the battlefield.


    Instead, she had been trained as a simple maid.


    Her duties were easy, light even: maintaining the scion¡¯s chambers, tending to garments finer than anything she¡¯d ever touched, and other small, miscellaneous tasks that might need doing. For all the monotony, life had been good then. There was a simple dignity in the work, and for the first time, Jezeri had felt safe.


    But that peaceful routine hadn¡¯t lasted. She still didn¡¯t know why the scion had chosen her, of all her servants, but her role changed roughly six months into her service. Under her Mistress¡¯ direction, she was trained in the arts of observation, subtlety, and self-defense. Her hands, once accustomed to polishing silverware and folding dresses, learned to wield daggers and extract secrets from guarded lips. Jezeri slowly became more than a simple servant ¡ª she became a confidante, a shadow moving unseen through the corridors of power. A spy in plain sight.


    Looking back, those days had been even better. She had found purpose, a true calling, doing something she had been good at. And despite the differences in their ranks, she had forged an unlikely friendship with her Mistress.


    Mistress Blacksword, as she asked to be called, was fierce and brilliant, with a laugh that could light up the darkest room of Blacksword Manor. She treated Jezeri not as a servant but nearly as an equal in all but name. They shared whispered conversations late into the night, discussing matters far beyond Jezeri¡¯s station. Politics, strategy, even dreams for a future where House Blacksword might rise again to its former glory.


    Jezeri smiled faintly at the memory, though the smile did not reach her eyes. Those days had ended abruptly. Mistress Blacksword had been forced to leave the Imperial Academy, and Jezeri¡¯s place at her side had ended. The bonds that had once given her a sense of belonging were severed, and Jezeri found herself adrift. She hadn¡¯t been with Mistress Blacksword when it started, but she later learned what had happened with the scion of House Brightcoin from others.


    It had started with words. A subtle insult here, a veiled remark there ¡ª sharp-edged barbs exchanged between Mistress Blacksword and Scion Brightcoin.The Brightcoins were one of the most influential noble Houses in the western region of the Empire, in large part due to how their coffers were overflowing with wealth accumulated from trade and their covert war against House Blacksword. House Brightcoin had a reputation for getting what it wanted, no matter the cost, and their scion that shared Mistress Blacksword¡¯s year was worse than most of that greedy House. Valdar Brightcoin had a reputation for getting what he wanted, and for arranging accidents for those that prevented him from doing such.


    Mere rivalry, even open hostility between Mistress Blacksword and Scion Brightcoin she could understand, even expect. But what Jezeri hadn¡¯t expected was what Mistress Blacksword had confided in her several weeks into the escalating conflict. The star elf remembered that night, and the fury and disbelief with which Mistress Blacksword spoke, well.


    ¡°Valdar Brightcoin had the audacity to ask for permission to court me,¡± Mistress Blacksword had said, pacing the length of her private study. ¡°He claimed it was to mend the rift between our Houses. But the truth is far uglier. He lusts after me, Jezeri, and worse ¡ª he has a plan to ensure I won¡¯t survive past our wedding night.¡±


    Jezeri had felt her blood run cold. ¡°How do you know this, Mistress?¡±


    Mistress Blacksword had given a bitter laugh. ¡°Because I listen, and I watch. Much like you, Jezeri. There are always whispers if you know where to find them.¡±


    Jezeri had been kept at the edges of the ensuing conflict, her role limited to support and intelligence gathering among other servants outside House Blacksword. She had watched from the shadows as Mistress Blacksword navigated the dangerous terrain of noble politics, maneuvering against Valdar Brightcoin and his scheming allies. Jezeri had admired her courage but had also felt growing unease that things were slipping beyond her Mistress¡¯ control.


    The final blow had come swiftly, as such things often did. A command had come down from House Blacksword itself ¡ª her Mistress was to be withdrawn from the Imperial Academy. No formal reason was given, but Jezeri understood the truth. House Brightcoin had won.


    Jezeri still didn¡¯t know all the details of how it had happened. Other servants spoke of betrayals, political pressure, and perhaps even bribes exchanged. What mattered was the outcome: Mistress Blacksword was gone, exiled from the Academy and stripped of nearly everything she had once commanded. The estate¡¯s vast assets the Mistress had painstakingly built up were liquidated in a humiliating series of auctions, leaving only the manor itself intact. Even the servants had not been spared. Jezeri, despite her close ties to Mistress Backsword, was also to be included in the auctions.


    Jezeri¡¯s hands clenched tightly around the Sentinel mask in her hands, so tight the edges began to cut into her palms. Mistress Blacksword had sworn to return, that she would find a way to reclaim what was being taken from her. Jezeri had believed her then. Mistress Blacksword had never been one to break her word after all. But days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. No representative came for her.


    The auctions were to proceed.


    And so, Jezeri had stood on that dias once again, her hands trembling despite her best efforts to appear composed. The auctioneer¡¯s voice had droned on, detailing her attributes and skills in impersonal tones. Though she was no longer a wide-eyed girl, Jezeri knew her features ¡ª soft and exotic yet marred by faint scars ¡ª still made her desirable in a way she wished they did not. She had caught more than one pair of eyes lingering on her during that wretched event, but none had filled her with more dread than Valdar Brightcoin.


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    The scion of House Brightcoin had lounged casually near the front of the audience, his rank affording him excellent seating. Her eyes had unwillingly drifted his way, attention attracted to how his golden hair gleamed in the light. His lips curled into a smile that didn¡¯t reach his cold, predatory eyes. Jezeri had known that smile too well; it was the kind worn by those who saw others as unthinking prey.


    She remembered the moment his gaze had locked onto her, a spark of cruel amusement flaring in his eyes. Lust and violence simmered beneath his aristocratic veneer. Even now, years after he had graduated from the Academy, the memory made her skin crawl. He had leaned toward one of his syncophants, whispering something while looking in her direction that made his supporter chuckle darkly.


    that he was a Blacksword, a surge of anger had nearly undone her composure.


    Academy campus with practiced efficiency. Klarion had thanked her sincerely, his expression genuine, and something about that simple gratitude lingered with her long after she watched him disappear into the grand Amphitheater of Induction.


    known would be woefully unprepared for the dangers of the Dungeon. It had been an assassination attempt, clear as day to someone like Jezeri, who had seen her share of backroom plots and deadly ambushes. Klarion was strong, but he was naive¡ªtoo trusting, too inexperienced in the treacherous world of noble politics. That combination made him an easy target.


    The path ahead for Klarion would be filled with challenges, but she found herself hoping he would rise to meet them. He was different, yes¡ªbut sometimes, different was exactly what was needed. Exactly what she needed.

 Chapter 82 (Interlude 11)

    Jezeri stood outside Scion Copperhand¡¯s campus residence, calm after committing to the decision she had made back in the park. Night had descended in full now, and she counted it a sign that the sky above her head was empty of clouds, allowing the stars she loved so much to sparkle above her.


    A brief look to either side of the road outside the scion¡¯s residence and, seeing no one, confidently made her way over to the fence alongside the simple, unguarded gate. People, let alone scions, rarely paid attention to Sentinels beyond a cursory glance. They assumed that any Sentinel wandering around the campus was likely on official Academy business ¡ª likely securing it against potential threats. That assumption worked to Jezeri¡¯s advantage as she looked the fence over, seeking a spot to pull herself up and over that would minimize the chance she would attract attention. This part was a bit frustrating, actually. She had the stats to just jump over, but doing so would likely attract too much attention.


    Jezeri heard a dog bark in the distance, and she froze. All at once, the weight of the actions she was about to take pressed heavily against her. But, despite her position in the Sentinels, it was not guilt she felt ¡ª it was purpose. The star elf knew exactly why she was here, even if the idea of risking her status as a Sentinel for someone else would have seemed absurd to others.


    Because, at some point over this past week, she had come to see Klarion as someone who mattered to her. And she still wasn¡¯t sure when that had happened.


    The dog ceased barking, and Jezeri moved swiftly, scaling the wall with practiced ease. Her fingers found purchase on the metal on the top, and within moments, she was perched atop it, surveying the grounds on the other side of the fence, making sure she hadn¡¯t missed anything. The Copperhand residence, while quite a bit smaller than Blacksword Manor, was nonetheless lavish, with neatly trimmed hedges and a cobblestone path leading to the entrance. Lanterns glowed softly along the path, casting light across the manicured garden.


    No movement. Nothing out of place.


    She dropped near silently to the ground, landing in a crouch. Her senses sharpened, attuned to every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind. The air smelled of jasmine and damp earth. Using old skills, she moved like a shadow, skirting the edges of the garden, avoiding the pools of light cast by the lanterns.


    Reaching the side of the building, Jezeri pressed herself against the wall, her fingers tracing the edges of a narrow window. It was locked, but that was a minor inconvenience. Pulling out a slender tool that she hadn¡¯t used in years from the pouch at her side, she deftly worked the mechanism. A soft click signaled her success. She thanked the System that skills lasted forever once learned.


    Lifting the window gently, Jezeri slipped inside, landing lightly on polished marble floors. Once she verified there was no one else in the hall, she reached back to close the window in order to cover her tracks. That done, she focused on her surroundings, trying to think through which direction she should head in. The walls, painted in gaudy shades of gold and crimson, gleamed under the soft glow of candles. Much like in Blacksword Manor that she remembered, the Copperhand residence had decorative pieces covering every available surface, but where those belonging to House Blacksword reflected the history of the entire house, the ones she was now looking at were of a singular focus.


    Marble busts of Scion Copperhand himself, detailed tapestries depicting him training for war or pursuing private studies, and even an obnoxiously large portrait of the man at the end of the hall she was walking down, his smug grin captured in painstaking detail.


    Jezeri couldn¡¯t help it. Her lip curled in disdain under the Sentinel mask she wore. The things she saw were garish and, worse, self-indulgent. Scion Copperhand had not designed his home to welcome guests or to provide comfort but simply to trumpet his own inflated sense of importance. You¡¯d think he was an heir of the Empire the amount of times he had thrown his face up on the walls.


    Banishing the scion¡¯s questionable taste in decorations aside, Jezeri moved quickly but cautiously, her steps as silent as she could keep them as she navigated the halls. She softly opened each door she passed to check if it was the scion¡¯s office. If there was evidence of his involvement in the assassination attempt on Klarion, it would be there.


    She ghosted down another hallway, pushing her skill in stealth to the limit, her sharp eyes also scanning for servants. Given how early in the year it was, and that this was only a residence of a first-year, she did not think there would be anyone else in the house at this time of night but the scion and his bodyguard, but she had been surprised before. Thankfully, she noticed no one, so she was able to make good time.


    The end of the hall opened into a lavish sitting room filled with even more gaudy decorations ¡ª velvet drapes, jeweled vases, and another portrait of Scion Copperhand, this time dressed in the armor of a Legion captain. As if he had ever seen battle. Jezeri suppressed a scoff, thinking about how the arrogant scion probably counted a military parade as combat experience.


    Turning her attention away from the painting, she spotted a door flanked by ornate columns. It had a solid, authoritative look that suggested it led to an office or study. Hopefully, this was the room she was looking for.


    She approached the door cautiously, scanning for signs of magical or mundane traps. Once again, it was not something she expected to find, but it was better to be too cautious than not cautious enough.


    Her fingers traced the edges of the doorframe, feeling for hidden runes or pressure plates. Nothing. She crouched low, checking the floor for any sign of subtle enchantments. Still nothing.


    Satisfied with her examination, the star elf gripped the handle and slowly eased the door open. It didn¡¯t creak, which she appreciated. She slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her.


    The room was spacious but cluttered, with shelves lining the walls, crammed high with ledgers, scrolls, and books. A large desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with papers, writing implements, and even a gaudy quill set adorned with gold filigree. The sheen of it indicated either the scion cleaned it after each use or, more lightly, had it displayed as another decoration. She had guessed right. This was the scion¡¯s office.


    Jezeri¡¯s eyes swept the room, cataloging every detail. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the faint tang of ink. A single lantern glowed on the desk, casting shadows across the walls. The scion must have forgotten to take it with him when he had turned in for the night, as there was no area of the room for him to hide in if he were still present.


    Much like the window she had picked earlier, Jezeri hadn¡¯t done something like this in a while, but she remembered the best approaches to finding information based on what Mistress Blacksword had taught her. As she moved swiftly over to the desk, she briefly thought how it was strange to think about her previous Mistress without any of the old emotions she had come to expect. Perhaps she had started to move on. Or perhaps she had simply moved her attention onto the current scion of House Blacksword.


    Setting her musing aside, Jezeri methodically worked her way over the scattered piles of papers and documents cluttering the desk. Scrolls, parchments, and a single ledger detailing financial dealings from before his attendance to the Imperial Academy sat in disorganized chaos on over a third of the desk itself. She skimmed over lines of text, searching for anything that could link Scion Copperhand to the assassination attempt on Klarion. It was slow, meticulous work, but Jezeri thrived on precision. Years as a Sentinel had honed her instincts, even if they hadn¡¯t given her greater practice with the skills she had picked up while a servant of House Blacksword. Her touch was gentle, careful not to leave traces of disturbance, and she made sure to return everything to exactly where she had found it.


    No luck on the top of the desk, so she reached down and gently pulled open the first drawer. Inside was a neat stack of correspondence ¡ª letters from minor nobles seeking the favor of House Copperhand, additional mundane financial records, and a few invitations to social events when the scion left the campus for the summer break. Nothing incriminating.


    The second drawer yielded much the same.


    Jezeri¡¯s patience remained steady. This was a game of persistence, and she was well-versed in that. Though she did wish she had some of those spells that true Imperial spies had at their beck and call. The class required to use them was rumored to be rare ranked at least, but a girl could dream.


    Sliding open the third drawer, she found another collection of letters, these ones tied together with twine. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the crest of House Brightcoin on several of them. Sliding the topmost letter free, she opened it up and scanned through its contents. The language was flowery and indirect, but the intent was clear enough to one who had been taught about such things: veiled discussions of ¡°handling obstacles¡± and ¡°ensuring favorable outcomes.¡± Unfortunately, while damning to her, Scion Copperhand¡¯s correspondence with House Brightcoin wasn¡¯t specific enough to tie him directly to the Klarion¡¯s near-assassination.


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    Jezeri cursed under her breath and continued searching. Her fingers brushed against a faint ridge at the bottom of the drawer, immediately drawing her full attention. There you are.


    She pressed down firmly, and a previously hidden compartment slid open. Inside was a single parchment, the ink still fresh. Jezeri¡¯s fingers trembled slightly


    Blood and ash, she''s a Sentinel. We shouldn''t even be doing this. You don''t mess with the Sentinels."


    arrangement will still be honored.¡±


    "Now then," he hissed, turning back to face her, "you''re going to tell me everything you know about Klarion Blacksword¡ªor I''m going to enjoy breaking you piece by piece."


    Guardian Dash.

 Chapter 83

    Klarion stirred from sleep, his mind struggling to pull itself from the depths of unconsciousness. His body felt heavy, limbs sluggish as if weighed down by invisible chains. The world was a haze of shadows, shapes shifting in the dim light of the room. The fire had likely been reduced to embers some time ago.


    His head throbbed, senses still dulled by sleep. He was just starting to drift back into sleep¡¯s warm embrace when a voice pulled him back. Close. Urgent.


    ¡°Klarion. Wake up.¡±


    His eyes snapped open to find Hatsune leaning over him, her face mere inches away from his own. Her silver-grey hair framed her sharp, worried features, long ears twitching toward the door as she listened to something beyond his hearing. She was already dressed in her armor, it fitting snugly over her form. Even in the dim light, he could tell that her green eyes were sharp, alert, and focused. Whatever woke her wasn¡¯t a bad dream.


    ¡°Hatsune?¡± he mumbled, still hoarse with sleep. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ what¡¯s going on?¡±


    Her nose twitched. ¡°Someone¡¯s banging on the front door.¡±


    The fog of sleep lifted a little more, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. It wasn¡¯t just the words she spoke, but the tension in her voice, the way her fingers rested on the hilt of her sword. She was ready for trouble.


    Klarion closed his eyes, and tried to listen for whatever it was that had woken the Leporine. For a long moment, he didn¡¯t hear anything. Then just the barest bit of sound. Straining his hearing as far as he could, he could just make out a rhythmic thudding echoing through Blacksword Manor. The longer he listened, the more it seemed like each impact vibrated through the stone walls, heavy enough that Klarion was surprised that he himself hadn¡¯t been jerked from sleep.


    Someone was at the front door. No, someone was beating on the front door.


    Klarion¡¯s instincts flared, his mind finally catching up to the urgency of the situation. He tried to push himself up, but his body protested, heavy and unwilling from a lack of sleep. ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Middle of the night, perhaps a bit later,¡± Hatsune answered. ¡°No one would come here at this hour unless it was important. Or dangerous.¡± She looked to the door of the room, her ears still straining to catch any noise, before turning back to him. ¡°The banging hasn¡¯t stopped. It¡¯s been rhythmic since I woke you, like someone¡¯s using all their strength. Might be trouble.¡±


    That got him moving. The haze of sleep vanished as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the cold floor. He ignored the bright blush on Hatsune¡¯s face, and the way her eyes darted across his body as he bent over to pull on his uniform. Once dressed, he stepped around the Leporine to take the greatsword Rolfun had given him from its spot next to the dresser. His hand closed around the hilt, the familiar weight a comfort.


    He looked for Hatsune, finding her already moving toward the door, the hilt of her sword gripped tightly in her hands, ready to be drawn at a moment¡¯s notice. She looked back at him, her expression firm. ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡±


    He wanted to protest, to remind her that he was the one who should be leading the way, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She was his bodyguard, sworn to protect him. He couldn¡¯t take that from her.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he agreed, nodding. ¡°But stay close.¡±


    Hatune¡¯s ears flicked, and a small, determined smile appeared on her lips. ¡°Always.¡±


    whatever was on the other side.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

 Chapter 84

    The renewed silence that followed the Lord Sentinel¡¯s question was suffocating. His crimson-streaked mask bore down on Klarion with an intensity that made his chest feel tight, each breath a struggle. Beside him, Hatsune had just forced herself back up to one knee, her body tense, muscles coiled as though ready to flee despite her expression being one of mixed fear and determination. Neither of them dared to move under the weight of the Lord Sentinel¡¯s glare.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    He had noticed the moving pinpricks of light before, but across her face and neck, they had grown in size to tiny, ethereal glimmers visibly moving beneath her skin, like stars twinkling in the night sky. It was subtle¡ªalmost illusory¡ªbut unmistakable. A celestial dance of light and shadow, and he was struck by the otherworldly beauty.


    must be removed from the Sentinels. That is what Academy law demands,¡± the Lord Sentinel said without apology. "But since she came here, acting on your behalf, I wanted to give you the option of claiming the Bond first."


    you. She acted for you. In the eyes of the Sentinels, in my eyes, you have the first right to claim her.¡±

 Chapter 85

    Klarion adjusted his grip, his arms tightening around the lithe body of J-65 as she hung limply in his arms. They made their way through the hallways of Blacksword Manor, Hatsune opening doors as they went, searching for a room with a bed. Though the former Sentinel¡¯s body was lighter than he expected, delicate even, she still possessed a surprising solidity to her ¡ª muscles honed from years of rigorous training, tempered strength hidden beneath her graceful exterior. The weight of her in his arms aside, Klarion was beginning to grow frustrated with the unfurnished nature of his home at the Imperial Academy. He could still feel the lingering tension in J-65¡¯s body, the unconscious flinches with every step, the echo of pain she likely still felt from both her wounds and losing her class.


    Her head shifted from where it rested against him as Hatsune opened the latest door to no luck. Strands of her white hair brushed his neck, soft as silk. The contrast was stark ¡ª her hair, white and almost luminous in the right light, stood out sharply against her dark skin, even with the pinpricks of light still dancing across her skin. Without meaning to, he noted that, even in this state, bruised, battered, and bleeding, her beauty was breathtaking.


    His grip tightened instinctively as Hatsune lead them to the next room, a fierce surge of protectiveness flooding through him. The Lord Sentinel had left her with him as his responsibility and his to protect now. His warning, to prove worthy of her loyalty, was already something Klarion worried about.


    He wanted, needed, to find out why she had done what she had to protect him. His mind already spun with questions, despite how tired he remained from the late night of reading and the abrupt events of the last half hour. Why had she gotten involved? Why had she risked everything to uncover the truth behind the attempt on his life? She was ¡ª had been ¡ª a Sentinel. Wasn¡¯t she supposed to have been neutral? Uninvolved? Yet, she had defied her own code, her own organization, and suffered for it. She had fought for him. Bled for him. Why?


    ¡°There has to be another room around here that has a bed,¡± Klarion muttered after they left yet another empty chamber, his voice rougher than he intended. ¡°Or at least a couch¡­ somewhere she can rest.¡± His eyes flicked down to J-65¡¯s bloodied face, her breathing shallow but steady, each exhale a fragile whisper.


    ¡°There¡¯s one place that we know has a bed,¡± Hatsune whispered after the next three rooms were found to be empty, her ears twitching as she looked up at him, eyes wide with concern. ¡°Your room.¡±


    Klarion hesitated. His room. The room he shared with Hatsune, his first bodyguard. It felt strange, the idea of bringing J-65 there. An unspoken intimacy to it. But there was no other choice. She needed rest. A safe place to heal.


    His eyes traced the faint shimmer beneath her skin, the stars that seemed to dance with each breath. Unbidden, likely from his exhaustion, he thought about how he wanted to ask her about them. About who she was beneath the mask she had worn. But he wondered if it would be rude to ask about her appearance. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t. Perhaps...


    He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. There would be time for questions later. For now, she needed to rest. To recover.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Klarion said as he made his decision.


    Together, they made their way back to his bedroom, the one room in the entire manor that they knew was furnished and livable. The room where he and Hatsune had been staying since their arrival at Blacksword Manor.


    Hatsune pushed open the door with her shoulder, leading them inside. The room was barely lit with the remaining glowing embers in the fireplace. Klarion carried J-65 over to his bed. The covers were as he had left them, slightly rumpled from where he had thrown them off when they woke to the banging on the front door.


    Klarion moved to the side of the bed, kneeling as he carefully lowered Jezeri onto the mattress. Her head lolled to the side, hair spilling across the pillow in a shimmering cascade. Her face softened at the comforting embrace of the soft mattress, the lines of pain easing, heightening her delicate, almost otherworldly beauty. Her long lashes rested against her cheeks, her lips parted slightly as she murmured something incoherent. Klarion worked to control a snort of relief when he realized it had sounded like she was asking for five more minutes.


    A soft hand touched his arm, and he looked up to see Hatsune watching him, concern in her wide eyes. ¡°She¡¯ll be alright,¡± she murmured, her voice gentle. ¡°She¡¯s strong.¡±


    Klarion nodded, his shoulders relaxing. Strong. Yes, she was that. Even broken and scarred, she was strong. Otherwise, she would not have been able to escape Chadwick and make it here in her state.


    Turning away from the bed, he moved to the couch along the wall, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion. Hatsune followed, only pausing to pull her armor off, then settled beside him. When he did not move, she hesitated, then lightly laid her head against his shoulder. He was too tired to do much more than shift, so she was more comfortable. It was¡­ nice.


    Hatsune wrapped her arms around herself as they stared across the room at the sleeping star elf.


    ¡°A Star Elf...¡± Hatsune repeated from earlier as she sat next to him, her voice tinged with awe as she stared down at Jezeri. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see one.¡±


    Klarion looked over at his bodyguard, her wide eyes fixed on the sleeping star elf. ¡°What do you know about them?¡± he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. ¡°Are they... really that rare?¡±


    Hatsune nodded slowly, her ears twitching. ¡°They¡¯re more than rare. They¡¯re practically myths. It is probably simply gossip, but it is said that they are born under falling stars, with magic that flows through their veins. Their skin glows because of it¡ªstarlight trapped beneath the surface.¡± Her eyes lingered on the shimmering glow beneath Jezeri¡¯s bruises. ¡°Even without the benefit of classes or levels, they¡¯re supposed to be immortal... or close to it.¡±


    Immortal. Klarion¡¯s gaze flicked back to J-65¡¯s sleeping face, his chest tightening. He had thought she had been younger, if stern and stoic when he had first met her. But what if she wasn¡¯t? Centuries of life. Centuries of pain. How much had she seen? How much had she suffered?


    ¡°Their magic is said to be powerful, too,¡± Hatsune continued, pulling Klarion¡¯s attention back to her. ¡°Supposedly, it¡¯s innate to them, tied to them as a result of their race. Not like the magic we learn or acquire through abilities or classes. It¡¯s a part of them, of who they are.¡± Her voice dropped lower, reverent as Klarion curiously listened to her. ¡°They say Star Elves can bend light and shadow, perhaps even manipulate space itself. The oldest of them perhaps even see the world differently... move through it differently. As if they walk between the stars.¡±


    ¡°But... if they¡¯re so powerful, why have I never heard of them before?¡± he asked, confusion knitting his brow. ¡°Granted, I¡¯ve not been in the Empire long, but certainly I should have heard something. Right?¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily.¡± Hatsune¡¯s ears drooped slightly, her gaze shifting to the floor. ¡°What everything I¡¯ve heard about them from my family and teachers agrees on is that they¡¯re secretive. Reclusive. They don¡¯t live like other races. They stay in small groups, far away from other races, hidden in places no one else can reach.¡± Her shoulders hunched, her voice trembling. ¡°They¡¯re practically myths because they never let themselves be seen. They don¡¯t get involved with others... ever.¡± Her eyes lifted, meeting Klarion¡¯s. ¡°Which makes this even more unbelievable. She¡¯s here. With us. A Star Elf... in the middle of all of this.¡±


    They both turned their eyes back to Jezeri, lying fragile and broken on the bed. Her white hair spilled across the pillow, her dark skin shimmering faintly even in sleep, the starlight beneath her flesh still flickering softly. A piece of legend brought to life. And she was his to protect now. Bound to him by the Mark of Bonds.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    What a strange life he was living.


    Hatsune¡¯s voice, small and uncertain, came from his shoulder, pulling him from his musing. ¡°She said she was trying to help you, didn¡¯t she? That¡¯s why she got hurt? Why she¡¯s here now?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­?¡± It was a statement that turned into a question halfway through. What was Hatsune getting at?


    Hatsune shifted, looking up at him, her expression hardening with resolve. ¡°Then¡­ she¡¯s our responsibility now.¡±


    Klarion glanced down at her, his eyes widening in surprise. ¡°What?¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s gaze was unwavering, her ears standing tall. ¡°You made a Bond with her. You claimed her as your own, as another bodyguard. She¡¯s yours to protect now. But I¡¯m your bodyguard too,¡± she said firmly, her ears shifting to face the sleeping star elf then back to him.¡°That means she¡¯s our responsibility. Her safety... her future... it¡¯s in our hands now. We can¡¯t abandon her.¡±


    Still caught off guard, it took him a moment to respond. ¡°I won¡¯t let her down,¡± he promised, his own determination hardening. ¡°I don¡¯t know why she did this... but no matter the reason, I agree with you. She is with us now.¡±


    Hatsune smiled softly, her eyes warm with approval and something else. ¡°Good, then we¡¯ll protect her together.¡± The Leporine¡¯s voice lowered to a whisper, tinged with vulnerability as she stared into his face. ¡°But¡­ what does that mean for us?¡±


    Klarion shifted to look more directly at her, his head tilting in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Hatsune looked down, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. ¡°You have another bodyguard now. A Star Elf, no less. I...¡± Her voice wavered, breaking as she forced herself to continue. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be replaced.¡±


    The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Klarion¡¯s eyes widened in shock. He hadn¡¯t even considered how she might be affected by J-65 joining them. ¡°Hatsune¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s silly,¡± she said quickly, her ears flattening as her shoulders tensed. ¡°I know I¡¯m just a Leporine. That I¡¯m not as strong or... or as powerful as she might possibly be once she gets a new class.¡± Her voice dropped, barely audible. ¡°I¡¯m just worried you won¡¯t need me anymore.¡±


    Klarion felt a pang of guilt at the pain in her voice, at the way she shrank in on herself, trying to hide the hurt she felt. She had been more cheerful, so full of life and energy, even opening up more about her past and her family. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable and afraid, made him feel more than a bit guilty. Well, he would need to fix that.


    ¡°Hatsune, that¡¯s not true,¡± he said firmly, his voice gentle as he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re irreplaceable.¡±


    Hatsune looked at his hand, then up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. ¡°But... she¡¯s a star elf,¡± she said, her lips trembling. ¡°She¡¯s beautiful and strong and... special. How can I compare to that?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s gaze softened, his hand tightening on her shoulder as he pulled her closer. ¡°You¡¯re special too,¡± he said, his voice unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re clever and brave. In the short time you¡¯ve been with me, you¡¯ve helped me adjust to the Academy, protected my back in the Dungeon, and, most importantly, been a friend I can rely on. You make me laugh when everything feels hopeless. And I can always rely on you.¡± He shook his head, his eyes locking onto hers. ¡°In fact, I bet I wouldn¡¯t still be here without you.¡±


    A small gasp escaped Hatsune¡¯s lips, her ears twitching as her cheeks flushed a soft pink. ¡°You... you really mean that?¡±


    Klarion smiled, warm and earnest. ¡°Of course I do. You¡¯ve never once let me down. You¡¯re not just my bodyguard, Hatsune. It¡¯s like I said, you¡¯re my friend. My partner. I need you now more than ever.¡± He glanced over at where J-65 slept on the bed. ¡°Everything¡¯s changing. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen next, but I need you by my side to face it all.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. The fear and doubt that had weighed on her shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a spark of hope. ¡°Promise?¡± she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.


    Klarion¡¯s lips curled into a gentle smile, his hand giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he released it. ¡°Promise.¡±


    Relief flooded her eyes, and she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. Her fear passing, she spoke, inner thoughts laid bare. ¡°You big dummy,¡± she muttered, her voice cracking as she fought to hold back tears. ¡°You can¡¯t just say stuff like that... making me cry...¡±


    Klarion chuckled softly, his own chest tightening with emotion. ¡°Guess I¡¯m just full of surprises.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears flicked as she looked back at J-65, trying to direct attention away from how emotional she was being. ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    Klarion followed her gaze to the star elf lying in his bed.


    ¡°Yes...¡± Klarion admitted, his voice low. ¡°She is.¡± But, beauty was only a part of it. There was strength there, too¡ªa fierce, unyielding courage that had driven her to defy everything she knew to protect him. She had sacrificed her status, her power, even her identity as a Sentinel.


    For him.


    Hatsune watched his face carefully, her eyes narrowing. ¡°You¡¯re not falling for her, are you?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes snapped back to hers, his face heating. ¡°W-What? No! It¡¯s not like that!¡± He looked back at Jezeri, his jaw tightening. ¡°I just... I respect her. And I might owe her my life if she was able to find out who is after us. Remember, I don¡¯t even understand why she did it. Why she risked everything to help me.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s expression softened, a knowing smile playing on her lips. ¡°Well, I guess you¡¯ll have to ask her when she wakes up.¡± Her ears flicked playfully, her earlier fears now replaced with a spark of mischief. ¡°Just remember... You promised you still need me.¡±


    Klarion met her gaze, his heart warming at the light returning to her eyes. ¡°And I meant it. No one could ever replace you, Hatsune.¡±


    Her cheeks flushed again, and she looked away, her ears twitching with embarrassment. ¡°Good. I¡¯m not letting some shiny star elf steal my place,¡± she muttered, crossing her arms stubbornly.


    Klarion couldn¡¯t help but laugh, the tension in his chest easing. Exhaling the rest of his tension away slowly, his shoulders sagged under the weight of everything that had happened. ¡°Alright, watching her isn¡¯t going to make her recover faster. We should get some rest too,¡± he said, his voice firm despite the pressing need for sleep rising in him again. ¡°When she wakes up, we find out why she did this.¡±


    He made to stand, before abruptly realizing that, given how tired he was now, he hadn¡¯t thought where he would be sleeping for the rest of the night if J-65 was in his bed. He turned his attention to the couch he was sitting on. It looked even smaller now that he was considering sleeping on it¡­ with Hatsune.


    Hatsune¡¯s ears twitched as she followed his gaze. ¡°Well,¡± she said, her voice light but her cheeks tinged pink, ¡°I guess it¡¯s the couch for us.¡±


    Klarion cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah... looks like it.¡± He hesitated, his eyes flicking back to J-65¡¯s still form. ¡°She needs the bed more than we do.¡±


    Hatsune nodded, her face softening as she watched the rise and fall of J-65¡¯s chest. ¡°Yeah... she¡¯s been through enough.¡± She moved over to the far side of the couch, motioning for Klarion to take the other. ¡°Go on, lay down. I promise I won¡¯t bite.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s face flushed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t... I didn¡¯t think you would.¡± He shuffled over on the couch, awkwardly leaning his side against the armrest on the other end. Shifting, he looked back to the Leporine, only to see she wasn¡¯t that far away, really. The couch was even smaller than it looked.


    Hatsune¡¯s lips twitched with amusement, her ears flicking as she hugged a pillow to her chest. ¡°Relax, Klarion. It¡¯s not like we haven¡¯t been closer before.¡±


    Klarion choked, his face heating. He shouldn¡¯t have risen to the bait, but with how late it was, and how tired he was increasingly feeling, he couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°Th-That was different! I was trying to save you from the Dungeon!¡±


    She grinned, her ears now flicking mischievously. ¡°True. But you were still holding me pretty tightly.¡±


    His jaw dropped, his cheeks blazing. ¡°I was... Just making sure I wasn¡¯t going to drop you!¡±


    Hatsune laughed, a light, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. She was surprised how much her words were getting to him, and she enjoyed his reactions. ¡°Sure you were.¡± She nestled deeper into the pillow, her blue eyes sparkling. ¡°Goodnight, hero.¡±


    Klarion grumbled under his breath, his face still burning. He folded his arms across his chest, pointedly looking at the far wall. But as the minutes passed and the room grew quiet, his eyes grew heavy, his head lolling to the side.


    Hatsune¡¯s voice cut through the silence, soft and teasing. ¡°You know, if you¡¯re going to stare at me, you could at least say something.¡±


    Klarion jerked, his eyes snapping back open to see that Hatsune had leaned closer, looking into his face. ¡°W-What? I wasn¡¯t... I wasn¡¯t staring!¡±


    Her lips curved into a playful smirk. ¡°Oh really? Because you were looking right at me for a good minute.¡± She hugged the pillow tighter, her ears twitching furiously now. ¡°Were you wishing I was holding you instead?¡±


    Klarion¡¯s face went scarlet, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He wanted to deny it, to come up with some clever retort, but the truth bubbling in his sleep-addled mind slipped out before he could stop it. ¡°Of course I do... you look like you¡¯re great at cuddling.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s eyes widened, her face turning bright red, her ears flattening against her head, and she realized she had pressed her game too far. ¡°I-I... wh-what did you just say?¡±


    But Klarion didn¡¯t answer. Not even thinking about the words he said, he had already shifted against the armrest, his eyes fluttering shut, his breathing evening out as sleep claimed him.


    Hatsune stared at him, her face still burning as his words echoed in her mind. She hugged the pillow even tighter, her heart racing. She, too, turned away to her side of the couch, ears twitching one last time, though she did steal a final glance at his peaceful face. A soft smile played on her lips. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless, Klarion.¡±


    She nestled against the pillow, closing her eyes as sleep began to tug at her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn¡¯t stop the smile that lingered on her lips.

 Chapter 86

    Klarion woke slowly, his mind drifting up from the depths of sleep, warm and comfortable in a way he hadn¡¯t been in some time. He tightened his hold instinctively, fingers curling around something soft. Something warm.


    His eyes blinked open. It took him a moment to process the sight before him ¡ª Hatsune, nestled against his chest, her breathing slow and steady. Her arms were wrapped around him, her smaller hands clutching him as if she was afraid to let go.


    Klarion froze, a stretch dying before it could even begin. His face burned, but even in the strange panic that was threatening to rise in him, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to move. She was warm, so warm, and impossibly soft. In the night, his arms had wrapped around her in turn, holding her close, and for a long, breathtaking moment, he simply enjoyed holding her.


    It felt¡­ nice. More than nice, actually. It felt right.


    He shut his eyes again, taking in the way her body molded against his, how perfectly she seemed to fit in his arms. Her scent was light and sweet, her hair silky against his cheek. It was like waking from a beautiful dream and finding it wasn¡¯t over just yet.


    But as much as he wanted to savor the moment, he forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. He couldn¡¯t read too much into this. There was too much going on, too many complicated emotions tangled up in all of it.


    Hatsune was here because of him ¡ª because she had been sold to the Hall of Bonds and he had picked her as his first bodyguard. He was the only person she really knew and trusted since coming here. And after last night, after he had assured her that she wouldn¡¯t be replaced by J-65, she must have felt a sense of relief.


    It made sense that she would cling to him now, both literally and figuratively. It didn¡¯t necessarily mean anything more than that. He shouldn¡¯t let himself hope for more.


    Even if¡­ he kind of wanted to.


    Klarion swallowed hard, eyes opening to look down at her sleeping face. Her lashes were long and delicate, her lips parted slightly as she breathed. Her ears twitched every now and then, brushing his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.


    His heart ached, and a wave of emotion that he hadn¡¯t felt in quite some time surged through him. He cared about her. Maybe more than he should.


    But that was a thought for another time. For now, he just needed to get out of this situation before she woke up and things became awkward.


    expected to maintain a household, to have servants and guards and everything that came with the title. It felt strange, almost wrong, like he was playing a role in someone else¡¯s life. Yet, he was gradually adapting to the mindset of the nobility, whether he wanted to or not.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Anyone could have walked right in.


    mine.¡±


    Though, as it turned out, he should probably have made thirds, given how she looked at his plate as he was finishing eating.


    Hatsune wiped her mouth with a napkin and set it down with a satisfied sigh. ¡°Thanks for breakfast, Klarion.¡±


    He smiled, his chest warming at her appreciation for what he made. Even with his future as one of the higher-ranking nobility of the Empire, he didn¡¯t think he would ever get tired of people saying how much they appreciated his cooking. ¡°Glad you liked it. Figured we could both use a good meal to start the day. Do you have any plans?¡±


    Whispers of Black Steel once we forge appropriate weapons.¡±

 Chapter 87

    Shifting in the chair to get more comfortable, Klarion opened The Path of Power: A Comprehensive Guide to Imperial Classes Common to Rare. The leather creaked beneath him as he settled in, the heavy primer resting on his lap. He took a moment to appreciate the intimidating weight of it before he flipped it open, past the title page and what looked to be an elaborate dedication to the Emperor and the Seven Imperial Princes. After six pages, he found the introduction. He skimmed over the neat, flowing script, eagerly seeking to absorb all he could in order to make the best decision he could about the class he would be aiming to unlock.


    Classes are the lifeblood of the Empire, shaping the destiny of every citizen, the text began. Within the Multiverse, a Class determines not only what one can do, but also one¡¯s capacity to fulfill one¡¯s chosen role. To hold a Class is to hold purpose, the text continued. To step into one¡¯s destined role and contribute to the harmony of the Empire. From the humblest Common rarity class to the most exalted Rare Class and beyond, every path serves the greater whole.


    excited. Gaining a class meant gaining more power, which he could use to protect himself and those he cared about, and perhaps finally end the threat his enemies posed to him at the Academy. Or at least have a better chance at surviving them.


    Cook specializing in making breakfast dishes, he knew that was never going to be possible in his case. Background and scion status aside, his appearance and the stats that he gained with every level would make him stand out soon enough. No, better to pick a class type that would allow him to accelerate his gain in power and strength rather than pick one that fell under Crafter or Occupation in some misguided hope he would be able to hide away.


    Beyond class type, the rarity of a Class plays a crucial role in determining not only the strength of one¡¯s abilities but also the number and type of ability slots available to the class holder.


    Common Classes, the book explained, tend to have fewer slots, and those slots are often limited in versatility. Ascending to the ranks of the Rare Classes, however, not only have more slots but also possess a more favorable distribution, allowing for greater strategic complexity and power, though even then, the range of options is shaped by the Class type itself.


    With that thought in mind, he flipped the pages to the next chapter in the book. Though he did not expect the section to be useful, he began by skimming over the list of Common classes. As the book explained it, they were the most basic and accessible classes within the Treverorum Empire and, as such, required no special materials or Essences but only a simple ritual anyone could perform to unlock. Essentially, the classes provided just enough power and access to abilities that the majority of the population would be able to go about their lives more easily and, if necessary, be able to contribute to the common defense in times of war.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Or at least that was what the author claimed.


    Klarion¡¯s fingers tapped against the pages as he reviewed a few of the classes to get some context for their comparison to the Uncommon and Rare classes he would be looking at next. There were more of them than he¡¯d expected, though perhaps he shouldn¡¯t be surprised. An Empire as vast as the one he was a part of now would have an equally large range of roles to be filled in its society. Farmer, Guard, Scout, Hunter¡­ the list went on and on. Each was practical, purposeful, and designed to utilize abilities that would allow the class holder to fulfill that specific role in the Empire. Which made sense, really. Not everyone needed to fight for their survival on a daily basis. And the Empire did not run on battles and magic alone. It ran on food, trade, craftsmanship, and knowledge, with those able to fight ensuring that those engaged in the former were protected.


    He flipped to the next section of the primer: Uncommon classes. The next step up from the Common classes, the primer made mention within the first paragraph that these classes required a few special materials, which varied based on the class, and a slightly more complicated ritual. Given that those extra materials likely had costs associated with them, it was likely that this rarity of classes was limited to richer commoners or families who saved up to give their children a better chance in life. Perhaps minor nobles who did not possess territory or a significant source of income.


    From the first few classes listed in the pages that followed, it was easy to see they offered more power than the Common rarity classes, sure, but they were still limited. A step above the everyday Farmer or Guard, but not enough so to allow the class holder to rise to the level of an elite. And that was the problem and why Klarion would not be picking an Uncommon class. An Uncommon Protector class might be able to lead a band of soldiers, but he¡¯d never be a match for the might of a Rare class of the same type. No, he needed something better, something that would allow him to gain the power that would let him face his enemies head-on.


    He flipped the pages, faster now, to get to the next section, the one he really cared about. Rare classes, the book said, require Essence attunement, more special materials than Uncommon classes, and a specialized ritual chamber to unlock. These classes provide considerable power and are generally only found among the nobility of the Empire or those rare few without Imperial rank that nonetheless have sufficient wealth and influence to obtain them.


    potential Epic class, and, most importantly, no time, it was better to aim for something that he could actually obtain. If the author was to be believed, even the vast majority of scions that attended places like one of the Imperial Academies typically settled for Rare classes, and they were still powerful enough to dominate the political landscape of the Empire. They had the strength to defend themselves, the influence to control their destinies. If Rare classes were good enough for them, then they would have to be good enough for him.


    might be making some progress.

 Chapter 88

    Lumina Cleric


    (Healer Class - Rare)


    Hailing from the celestial Coreworld of Aethelgard, nestled within the southern region of the Treverorum Empire, Lumina Clerics are beacons of holy grace. They channel pure Light Essences and Nature Essences to mend wounds, purge afflictions, and empower their allies. Their abilities are not merely magical; they are prayers made manifest, woven from the very fabric of hope. Within the Treverorum Empire, Lumina Clerics serve as battlefield medics, spiritual advisors, and even diplomats, their presence a balm to the weary and a symbol of unwavering service.


    Focus: Healing, buffing allies, access to powerful resurrection and restoration abilities.


    Stat Points per Level: Wisdom +4; Charisma +2


    Free Stat Points per Level: +5


    Essence(s) Required: Light Essences; Nature Essences


    Ability Slots: Passive (4), Utility (4), Offensive (2), Defensive (6)


    wanted ¡ª to fight. To be at the front, standing against his enemies, not hiding behind someone else¡¯s shield.


    Terran Colossus


    (Protector Class - Rare)


    Born from the primordial earth of the Titan¡¯s Cradle, a world of towering mountains and deep caverns, a Terran Colossus is a living embodiment of resilience. Their connection to Earth Essences and Might Essences allows them to manipulate earth and stone, forming impenetrable defenses and unleashing seismic tremors. Within the Treverorum Empire, they serve as guardians of settlements, protectors of caravans traversing treacherous territories, and shock troops capable of shattering enemy formations. Their very presence anchors their allies, bolstering their resolve in the face of overwhelming odds.


    Focus: Survivability, protecting allies, controlling the battlefield through earth manipulation abilities.


    Stat Points per Level: Constitution +4; Endurance +2


    Free Stat Points per Level: +5


    Essence(s) Required: Earth Essences; Might Essences


    Ability Slots: Passive (4), Utility (5), Offensive (3), Defensive (4)


    Stormforged Champion


    (Striker Class - Rare)


    Forged in the heart of tempestuous storm worlds like Volgoth, Stormforged Champions are warriors who channel the raw power of Lightning Essences and Air Essences into their strikes. Their movements are as swift and unpredictable as a lightning strike, and their blows carry the force of a crashing thunderbolt. Within the Treverorum Empire, they serve as elite shock troops, leading the charge into enemy ranks, and as duelists, their lightning-fast strikes overwhelming their opponents. The crackle of energy that surrounds them is a testament to their volatile power, a force that can both inspire awe and instill terror.


    Focus: Swift melee combat, vanguard of the charge, controlling the battlefield through lightning and air manipulation abilities.


    Stat Points per Level: Dexterity +4; Strength +2


    Free Stat Points per Level: +5


    Essence(s) Required: Lightning Essences; Air Essences


    Ability Slots: Passive (4), Utility (5), Offensive (5), Defensive (2)


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Valiant Sunlord


    (Striker Class - Rare)


    The sun-drenched peaks of Mount Cinderheart on the volcanic world of Ignis XI is the original source of the Valiant Sunlords, who embody the radiant power of the sun in the flames they wield. They are no mere spellswords; they are living conduits of Fire Essences and Might Essences, channeling purifying flames to smite their foes from up close or at a distance. Their weapons blaze with incandescent light, and their presence inspires courage and dispels despair. Within the Treverorum Empire, Valiant Sunlords are revered as commanders who lead their forces with righteous fury and unwavering conviction. Their dual nature as both fierce combatants and inspiring leaders makes them a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield.


    Focus: Explosive melee combat, overwhelming damage in-close or at-range, enhancement of allies¡¯ abilities.


    Stat Points per Level: Strength +2; Intelligence +2; Charisma +2


    Free Stat Points per Level: +5


    Essence(s) Required: Fire Essences; Might Essences


    Ability Slots: Passive (4), Utility (4), Offensive (5), Defensive (3)


    The Path of Power: A Comprehensive Guide to Imperial Classes Common to Rare with a quiet thud, exhaling as he set it back on the side table next to the food he had brought up with him for J-65, now long cold. His gaze


    ¡ª we ¡ª want to learn, Whispers of Black Steel.¡±


    Yamabushi Shadowblade.¡±


    Yamabushi, legendary warrior-monks who balanced martial prowess with mysticism, blending stealth, combat, and other esoteric arts. But why was that word associated with a System class an entire universe away from Earth? Another question that he was not sure he would find the answer to anytime soon. He wanted to think on it more, but pushed it aside when he saw that Hatsune¡¯s smile was starting to crack in the silence of his non-response.


    Yamabushi Shadowblade isn¡¯t just about taking out a target. It¡¯s about knowing when to strike and when to wait. It¡¯s about control.¡±


    Valiant Sunlord.¡±

 Chapter 89

    Klarion stepped out into the warm afternoon air, the sun high up in the sky, casting long golden rays over Blacksword Manor and the surrounding empty dorms. Hatsune was close beside him, her ears moving back and forth to track the sounds of the campus around them as they made their way into the more populated areas.


    As soon as they were out of sight of Blacksword Manor, the campus was bustling with activity. Young scions, out of their school uniforms and wearing richly embroidered tunics and fine cloaks, moved about and socialized, their bodyguards trailing behind them. Though still early in the year, Klarion noticed that some already had servants attending to them as well. Some carried books and satchels, others simply tending to their scions¡¯ whims. The hum of conversation filled the air, a strange blend of college life and aristocratic privilege.


    Klarion couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange sense of . Everyone and everything he passed on their walk was so reminiscent of his own experience in college back on Earth in many ways. Yet, the closer he listened to the surrounding conversations, the more it stood out exactly just how different his second time through college would be. Back on Earth, students talked about course loads, social events, and the best coffee spots on campus. While there was some of that here as well, he also caught snippets of discussions about many other things that would never have been talked about back on Earth, such as which kinds of servants were best suited to enhance their scions¡¯ success in the Academy, which seemed to be the focus of more than a few conversations.


    ¡°¡ªA chef and a personal tailor are essential, of course, but having an elite trainer possessing an Essence can make all the difference in the Trials in the next few years. Speaking of¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªwhich is why my lord father sent me some money. I hear the House of Bonds has a new batch of alchemical assistants¡ª supposedly ones capable of brewing potions tailored to enhance your capacity to learn magic skills. An investment, really, and¡ª¡±


    "My father insisted on a strategist as well as a bodyguard. Someone to oversee my preparations for the battlefield assessments next year, and to ensure I develop proper command techniques. You¡¯re only as strong as your retinue, after¡ª¡±


    Trainers and Tutors, disappearing inside.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    absence of certain races.


    Name: Erynn Vaselle


    Race: Forest Elf


    Class: Ebon Ink Scribe (Rare)


    Level: 18


    Cost: 45 Coins of Service


    Name: Leoric Stonearm


    Race: Hill Dwarf


    Class: Iron Artificer (Rare)


    Level: 15


    Cost: 40 Coins of Service


    you directly. A good Butler will organize your schedule, manage visitors, and make sure your personal needs within the estate are met.¡±

 Chapter 90

    Empire ¡ª worked. He had spent enough time on campus to grasp the edge of the rigid hierarchies of power ¡ª from titles to bloodlines to mere proximity to power ¡ª determined one¡¯s worth. That didn¡¯t mean he had to like it.


    presence ¡ª the kind of quiet authority that came not from rank or titles but from sheer competence.


    her being interviewed, he was the one being evaluated.


    wasn¡¯t trying to flatter or stick a knife in him ¡ª only determine whether he was competent enough to be her employer.


    didn¡¯t know about running a proper household.


    needed ¡ª Margaret.


    expected outcome. As if she had known she would be hired the moment she walked into the room.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    lot stricter around Blacksword Manor.


    small¡ªquite a bit shorter than Hatsune, with slender frames and hunched postures. Their green-scaled tails dragged just slightly behind them, moving with a hesitance that spoke of uncertainty, if not outright fear.


    . They were used to protecting each other.


    . Common class."


    . They were a unit that worked together, relied on each other, and probably had for years.


    hopeful.


    meant¡ªfor them.


    saved them.


    knew it.


    mountain of muscle and brute strength, standing easily over eight feet tall. His broad shoulders trained against the simple tunic he wore, thick cords of sinew and knotted muscles bulging beneath the fabric with every slow step. His gray-green skin was a patchwork of scars, old wounds crisscrossing his powerful frame like trophies of violence ¡ª proof that he¡¯d been subjected to a lot of pain before, but never enough to break him.


    strong. He knew he was strong.


    Grognak. We¡¯ve¡­ had problems with him in the past."


    ownership. The gaze of a creature that saw something small and delicate and thought, Mine.


    "If you take me on," the ogre said, his deep, gravelly voice laced with lazy arrogance, "might I receive part of my pay as time with the cute bunnykin?"


    changed.


    felt it.


    truly sensing¡ªhim for the first time. A flicker of unease passed over his brutish features.


    fear.


    attempt resistance as the Sentinels seized his arms and dragged him back toward the door. His thick fingers twitched at his sides, as if his body had to fight the ingrained urge to lash out¡ª


    didn¡¯t.


    unwise.


    fill the room with his presence. Instead, he paused just inside the doorway and gave a polite, short bow before standing attentively.


    . If a Camp Cook was experienced with anything similar to what he had to do while camping when he was younger, then Baruk wasn¡¯t just a simple meal-maker¡ªhe would be adaptable, used to working under rough conditions, often with limited resources. They knew how to stretch supplies, how to forage when needed, how to turn whatever could be eaten into something worth eating. That was a kind of practicality Klarion appreciated, especially because he had yet to sort out an income source for Blacksword Manor. Otherwise, the gold he had earned in the Dungeon and from the duel would not last long.


    already thinking that far ahead¡ªalready planning the path to advancement¡ªspoke volumes. This wasn¡¯t just some orc who cooked because it was all he knew. This was someone with drive. Someone who wanted more. And Klarion respected that.

 Chapter 91

    The minutes started to stretch but the door to the interview room did not open.


    Finally, it opened, only for another attendant to enter the room.


    Klarion noted that the man had entered alone, posture rigid and stressed. He briefly bowed to Klarion before turning to head over to the female attendant who had been helping him. Leaning in close, the man whispered something in her ear, then returned to the door, bowed to Klarion once more, and left. The door closed behind him, and no one else came inside.


    The attendant who had been helping him to this point gave a bow of her own. ¡°My apologies, Scion Blacksword. I regret to inform you that there are no longer any available candidates at this time for the position of Steward in Blacksword Manor. It seems I spoke in error earlier about there being potential candidates to consider.¡±


    Klarion leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. ¡°No available candidates? At all?¡±


    The attendant hesitated, an almost imperceptible pause, but Klarion caught it. ¡°More accurately,¡± she amended, ¡°the few candidates we had available for the number of Coins of Service you have remaining, have¡­ declined consideration.¡±


    From her place at his side, Hatsune stiffened. Klarion didn¡¯t need to glance her way to feel how upset she was.


    ¡°They refused because of my House.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question.


    And the attendant¡¯s silence was answer enough. Instead of confirming it outright, she gave another small, deferential bow ¡ª a gesture that acknowledged the reality of the situation without speaking it aloud.


    Klarion suppressed the frustration he could feel building in his chest. He¡¯d suspected that House Blacksword¡¯s reputation might turn into a problem for selecting servants, but when all the other interviews for positions, except for the ogre¡¯s, had progressed so smoothly, he had begun to hope it wouldn¡¯t be an issue. But apparently it was.


    Or perhaps there was active interference from another scion? After all, the position of Steward would be a prestigious one. A coveted role for those with the right skills. And the servants here didn¡¯t have the luxury of being picky in most cases. They would likely almost be forced into taking what placements they could get, knowing as they did that refusing a scion¡¯s patronage might well lead to losing out on future opportunities. Then again, perhaps the reputation of House Blacksword was just that bad.


    His fingers flexed against the armrest, but he kept his expression calm.


    Hatsune, however, had no such restraint. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± she snapped. ¡°Are they blind? The whole point of this system is to secure placements like these.¡±


    The attendant didn¡¯t react at first, but when she saw that Klarion did not react to his bodyguard¡¯s words except to continue looking at the attendant, she responded in a level tone. ¡°I understand the frustration,¡± she said evenly. ¡°However, we cannot force any candidate to accept a placement they do not wish to take.¡±


    A polite way of saying that they had a choice. And they still refused you.


    Klarion exhaled slowly. No, the candidates for Steward could not be forced, and even if they could, he wouldn¡¯t want that to happen either. The Steward was an important position, and anyone who filled it who had resentment against him and his House could potentially do a lot of damage. Even if adhering to whatever requirements Klarion asked of them, he knew that there would be ways to hold to the letter of their service while not fulfilling the spirit of it. Better to avoid that situation altogether, even if it meant no Steward for Blacksword Manor.


    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing else to be done,¡± Klarion said calmly. ¡°I appreciate you taking the time to assist me today, attendant.¡±


    The attendant blinked. For just a fraction of a second, the carefully constructed neutrality in her expression cracked, giving way to something like surprise. She had expected resistance. Protest. At the very least frustration.


    Instead, Klarion had let it go.


    And that, more than anything, appeared to have unsettled her.


    But only for a moment. Then her features smoothed over once more, and she dipped into another short bow, relieved. ¡°Of course, Scion Blacksword. If anything changes in the future, you are welcome to return at any time.¡±


    Klarion nodded once. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± He pushed himself to his feet, straightening his uniform, and turned to Hatsune. ¡°Let¡¯s collect the servants and head back to Blacksword Manor. I¡¯m sure there is a lot of work they can get done yet today.¡±


    Hatsune huffed, her ears flicking back, clearly still bristling on his behalf, but she followed without any further comments. The attendant moved to open the door, and closed it behind them as they moved down the corridor back to the main room of this portion of the Hall of Bonds. He was already thinking ahead to what things should be prioritized in fixing up Blacksword Manor, but his planning fell away as soon as the three of them returned to the room where the cells of servants waited.


    The moment he entered, he knew something was wrong.


    It wasn¡¯t just the shift in atmosphere ¡ª though that was palpable. There was a stillness, a tightening in the room, as if something was about to happen.


    Then he heard a sharp cry of pain, followed by the thud of flesh striking armor.


    Klarion¡¯s gaze snapped to the far end of the chamber, on the very edge of the cells of servants allotted for consideration by the first-year scions. There the chaos was unfolding.


    Four figures ¡ª red-skinned, black-horned, their long tails lashing in panic ¡ª were being dragged from one of the cells by a group of Sentinels. The four occupants of the cell clearly did not want to leave it, with the result that it had quickly turned into a brawl. And the Sentinels were not being gentle.


    The lead Sentinel drove an armored elbow into the ribs of the tallest of the four, a broad-shouldered man whose face bore the hardened lines of experience. He staggered, sharp fangs bared in a silent snarl, but he didn¡¯t fall. Instead, with a sudden, desperate surge of strength, he shoved back, forcing the Sentinel a step away ¡ª only for another to slam a gauntleted fist into his gut. The force of the blow sent him reeling, a strangled cough breaking from his lips. Nearby, the youngest of the men let out a guttural growl as one of the Sentinels grabbed him. His claws flashed, raking across metal gauntlets, his body twisting in an attempt to break free.


    But it was the smallest of the four ¡ª a girl, barely past her teenage years if he was any judge ¡ª who looked the most desperate. She clung to the bars of the cell with all her strength, her feet kicking wildly as a Sentinel yanked at her. Her long tail wrapped tightly around the bars in a frantic attempt to secure another anchor for herself, her black eyes wide with terror.


    Then the eldest, a man even older than the broad-shouldered one, his crimson skin darkened with age, his black horns carved with deep grooves and surrounded by grey hair, saw the girl struggling.


    The old man¡¯s roar split the air.


    With a single, violent motion, he threw the Sentinel restraining him aside, sending the armored man crashing into the stone floor. He lunged toward the girl, arms outstretched, trying to shield her.


    He didn¡¯t make it.


    A Sentinel swung the rod he carried into the back of the old man with a sickening crack. The old man crumpled to the floor, a snarl of pain coming from him.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Klarion¡¯s voice rang through the chamber.


    Hatsune was at his side in an instant, her entire body coiled like a drawn bowstring. Her hand had come to rest on the hilt of her sword, her focus split between the Sentinels and the group of four being dragged from the cell.


    While one of the Sentinels glanced their way, the rest simply tightened their grips on the four, the fight beaten out of all of them. Their captives secure, they looked like they were about to escort them somewhere, and Klarion¡¯s gut said it was not for an interview with another scion.


    ¡°What is going on, attendant?¡± Klarion demanded angrily.


    The attendant, who had been following just behind them, let out a tired sigh, rubbing her temples as if the entire ordeal was little more than an inconvenience.


    ¡°The Vileborn are being removed from consideration for Household Staff,¡± she explained, voice still carefully measured. ¡°Their time is up, and since no scion chose to claim them, they¡¯re being taken to the Arena.¡±


    Klarion felt his stomach twist at that loaded word, and he only needed to glance at Hatsune¡¯s pale face to know his gut was right. Back on Earth, arenas had been famous for bloodsport and violent combat for the enjoyment of the masses, especially within the Roman Empire. Here, and given Hatsune¡¯s expression, the Arena was likely a training ground for scions, where they could hone their combat skills which, apparently, included failed servants.


    The attendant might as well have politely said execution.


    Klarion returned to looking at the Vileborn, who had all but given up in the grips of the Sentinels that held them.


    ¡°And you¡¯re not surprised by this?¡± he asked the attendant.


    The attendant merely shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re Vileborn. Even under ideal circumstances, they¡¯re difficult to place.¡±


    Klarion frowned. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°They are a race mostly comprised of criminals,¡± the attendant said honestly. ¡°No one is exactly sure where their ancestors came from, but the majority have been banished to the dozen worlds of the Vile Marches for some crimes they committed long ago. Some of them have tried to earn a place in Imperial society, but given the stigma tied to them, the majority invariably end up involved in criminal activity.¡± Her gaze drifted toward the struggling figures, utterly indifferent. ¡°These four? All confirmed criminals sentenced to become servants in penance for their crimes.¡±


    Klarion watched as the eldest Vileborn, still dazed from the strike to his back, dragged himself to one knee, his movements sluggish but determined. A criminal then. And yet, the moment the young Vileborn girl had been in danger, he hadn¡¯t hesitated. He had thrown himself in front of her, knowing it would cost him. The other two weren¡¯t fighting for themselves, either. Their struggle wasn¡¯t the blind, chaotic violence of someone lashing out in fury. It was desperate, practiced. A fight against something they believed was worse than whatever they had already endured.


    Klarion didn¡¯t have all the details. But he knew what he saw.


    And what he saw was a family desperately fighting being dragged to their deaths.


    The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    He had made his decision before he even fully processed it.


    ¡°Stop.¡± Klarion didn¡¯t shout. He didn¡¯t need to. His voice carried the weight of command that he was slowly becoming more comfortable with.


    The attendant blinked at him in mild surprise, but the Sentinels remained unmoved. It wasn¡¯t until the attendant raised her hand that the Sentinels finally froze in place, their captives still locked in their grasp.


    Klarion walked forward, Hatsune and the attendant behind him, his attention focused on the four Vileborn.


    The eldest had been forcibly lifted from his knee, sucking in pained breaths. The girl ¡ª perhaps his granddaughter ¡ª had wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She met Klarion¡¯s gaze with fear and uncertainty, her tail curling protectively around her ankle. The two younger men ¡ª her brothers most likely, now that he was closer to see them better ¡ª were just behind her, their bodies tense in the grasp of the Sentinels that held them.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°I would like to speak to them,¡± Klarion told the attendant.


    The attendant hesitated. ¡°Scion Blacksword, I must advise ¡ª¡±


    ¡°Now.¡±


    For a long moment, the attendant simply stared at him, weighing her options, perhaps. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, she lifted her hand. ¡°You heard the scion,¡± she told the Sentinels. ¡°Let them up.¡±


    The Sentinels released their captives, none too gently, before stepping back. The four Vileborn staggered upright, their movements wary. Given how they had just been treated, Klarion couldn¡¯t blame them.


    Klarion approached until he was only a few paces away from them. He studied them properly now, taking in their features, trying to get a feel for them. Red skin. Black horns. Long, sinuous tails that flicked and curled with each motion. Sharp, pronounced fangs and sharp teeth glinted slightly in the light of the chamber. They almost looked like devils out of a fantasy game he had played back on Earth. But they weren¡¯t fictional. They were real. Flesh and blood. People about to be discarded for nothing more than scions not wishing to give them a chance.


    The attendant cleared her throat at his side, drawing the attention of the Vileborn. ¡°Consider yourselves fortunate,¡± she told them. ¡°Scion Blacksword has expressed interest in your service. If you want to avoid the Arena, I suggest you answer his questions. Truthfully.¡±


    After a brief silence, the eldest of the group straightened. Though his posture remained wary, there was an undeniable air of dignity to him. ¡°My name is Solivair,¡± he said, his voice deep and rough, like gravel beneath a boot. He gestured at the other Vileborn. ¡°These are my grandchildren ¡ª Damian, Kodrian, and Lilian.¡±


    The two younger men, Damian and Kodrian, stood stiffly beside him, their fists clenched. The youngest, Lilian, remained slightly behind all three, her eyes darting between Klarion and the attendant who had just spoken with some suspicion.


    He returned his attention to Solivair after looking over his grandchildren. The old vilebron had a bearing that spoke of hard-won experience, and it was becoming more settled, more confident by the moment. Klarion got a sense that the Vileborn had both seen and lost much. The sharpness in his dark eyes was dulled only by resignation ¡ª a man accustomed to making impossible choices.


    ¡°Tell me about your backgrounds. Your classes.¡± Perhaps he would get lucky and one would be able to serve as his Steward after all.


    Solivair let out a slow, pain-filled sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly before he caught himself and straightened. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±


    Klarion motioned for him to continue. ¡°I¡¯ve got time.¡±


    Solivair gave a bitter chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m sure you do, Scion Blacksword. But I¡¯ll still try to keep this simple.¡± He clasped his hands behind his back in a gesture that reminded Klarion of his father back on Earth when he had his business meetings. It was a strange thing to recall in the moment, but it was soon forgotten with the next words the Vileborn grandfather said. ¡°I have the Rare class, Crimelord.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he was not surprised. Not really. Given what the attendant had said, he had expected a class like that. Just not at the level of Rare. He expected Solivair¡¯s Crimelord class denoted power, influence, and likely an unpleasant history in the underworld of society.


    Beside him, Hatsune shifted subtly, but she said nothing. She appeared to have an opinion but was leaving it up to Klarion to make a decision.


    Solivair continued, nodding toward the two young men standing beside him. ¡°My grandsons both unlocked racial Uncommon classes.¡±


    ¡°Vileborn Rogue,¡± Damian said, his voice clipped, his eyes assessing Klarion like he was weighing him in his mind.


    ¡°Vileborn Thief,¡± Kodrian followed, his tail stirring restlessly behind him, his jaw set.


    Klarion absorbed the information, filing it away. Their classes indicated they were trained to survive in the shadows, to move unseen, strike fast, and disappear. That alone told him what kind of life they had lived up until now. While not useful for the typical Household Staff many other scions likely considered essential, Klarion could already see their usefulness given the number of potential foes arrayed against him because of his membership in House Blacksword.


    Solivair hesitated again, then sighed once more. ¡°And my granddaughter, Lilian, has the racial Uncommon class of Vileborn Assassin.¡±


    A brief silence stretched between them as Klarion absorbed the significance of this bit of information, only for Lilian to lift her chin defiantly at her grandfather. ¡°It was my choice.¡±


    Solivair rounded on her, his voice sharp. ¡°And that choice might well get us all sent to the Arena.¡±


    Lilian met his glare without flinching. ¡°It¡¯s my class. My skills and abilities.¡±


    Klarion recognized a frequent topic of argument before they even began. A fight between generations, one side wanting to protect, the other refusing to be caged by that protectiveness. He wasn¡¯t interested in listening to it.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Klarion said firmly. ¡°Whether or not it was a bad decision on Lilian¡¯s part isn¡¯t the issue right now.¡± He turned his attention fully on Solivair. ¡°The real question I have for you is ¡ª can you handle the duties of a Steward?¡±


    That actually seemed to throw the old Vileborn off. His brows knit together. ¡°A Steward?¡±


    Klarion nodded. ¡°I need someone to manage my household. Finances, staff oversight, day-to-day operations. You¡¯ve got a Rare class that is likely designed to do more than just engage in criminal activities. I doubt you don¡¯t have at least something that might be applied to running Blacksword Manor.¡±


    Solivair studied him for a long moment before giving a slow nod. ¡°There¡¯s potential for¡­ overlap,¡± he admitted. ¡°Some of the abilities I have unlocked could possibly be repurposed, and I have more than a few skills that could be of some use.¡± His lips curled slightly, a shadow of amusement passing through his eyes. ¡°After all, running an organization ¡ª criminal or otherwise ¡ª requires similar management.¡±


    Klarion carefully controlled a smile. That had been the answer he had been hoping for. He wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to believe he could entirely trust Solivair, given his past. Yet power was power, and Klarion had no intention of wasting an opportunity. If Solivair could apply those same instincts toward managing Blacksword Manor, not only in its everyday functioning but also against his scheming scion enemies, then Klarion wouldn¡¯t hesitate to use him. He would just have to figure out some roles for his grandchildren. Perhaps guards?


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll take you,¡± Klarion declared. ¡°All four of you.¡±


    The attendant let out a pleased hum. Apparently, she hated seeing potential servants heading to the Arena. ¡°Excellent, Scion Blacksword. Since you¡¯re taking all four, I¡¯m happy to offer a discount ¡ª bringing the total price to exactly the number of Coins of Service you have left.¡±


    Solivair blinked, clearly stunned at Klarion¡¯s declaration after he had shared their classes. ¡°You¡¯re actually serious?¡±


    Klarion nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t make offers I don¡¯t intend to keep. I could use you four, you most of all.¡±


    The old Vileborn scoffed, but there was something new in his eyes ¡ª something reluctant but real. Something that looked suspiciously like hope, buried beneath layers of cynicism. He folded his arms, shaking his horned head in disbelief. ¡°Why?¡±


    Klarion frowned. ¡°Why what?¡±


    ¡°Why take us?¡± Solivair¡¯s voice was low, almost wary. ¡°We¡¯re criminals. Vileborn. No one else would even consider us. Aren¡¯t you worried about what the other scions will think?¡±


    Before Klarion could answer, Hatsune snorted at his side. ¡°Other scions? He¡¯s too busy dodging their assassination attempts to care what they think.¡±


    Solivair blinked. ¡°...What?¡±


    Klarion smiled wryly. ¡°She¡¯s not wrong. I¡¯ll start worrying about their opinions once they stop trying to kill me.¡±


    Solivair looked between the two of them. ¡°Pardon me scion, but you¡¯re either a fool or more dangerous than you look.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I¡¯ll let you figure out which. That is, if you are willing to come with me.¡±


    Solivair didn¡¯t reply, but he gave a slight nod. Not quite the full acceptance he had hoped for, but Klarion would take it.


    Seeing that the agreement was made, the attendant stepped to Klarion¡¯s side once more and, within moments, he had no more Coins of Service. The exchange complete, the Sentinels returned to their stations along the walls of the massive chamber. Business concluded, Klarion and Hatsune led the Vileborn over to where the other members of his newly acquired staff stood near the exit of the chamber.


    Margaret stood with her arms crossed, scrutinizing the Vileborn as the followed behind her scion. The kobold sisters huddled together in the woman¡¯s shadow, their tails shifting nervously as they eyed the latest servants to join them. Baruk, the orc Camp Cook, raised a brow but said nothing.


    A ragtag bunch, to be sure.


    The attendant pulled up some System interface that only she could see. ¡°With this,¡± she said, tapping something in the air, ¡°the transactions are formally complete.¡±


    A chime echoed in Klarion¡¯s mind.


    Congratulations on your selection of nine Household Staff!


    New Staff Assigned to Blacksword Manor:


    Margaret (Estate Manager - Housekeeper)


    Vaila, Shaya, and Noqui (House Maids - Maids)


    Baruk (Camp Cook - Cook)


    Solivair (Crimelord - Steward)


    Damian (Vileborn Rogue - Household Staff)


    Kodrian (Vileborn Thief - Household Staff)


    Lilian (Vileborn Assassin - Household Staff)

 Chapter 92

    Blacksword Manor had changed. Klarion could feel it in the air, a subtle shift to the very foundation of his new home. Where once there had been emptiness and the ever-present shadow of what the place had once been, now there was new life. The new staff he had been able to recruit with Coins of Service moved around the manor, taking note of what needed to be cleaned and what rooms needed to have replacement furnishing and new furniture. If they were bothered by the fact that they now were part of the household of a Blacksword scion, it didn¡¯t show.


    Yet, even as he walked the halls of the manor, feeling the difference as it started to feel more filled with life, Klarion¡¯s mind was elsewhere.


    He turned to Hatsune, who walked beside him as he led the way to their bedroom. Her ears flicked nervously, and she seemed somewhat on edge as they went to check on the former Sentinel. For his part, Klarion was not sure why.


    As they approached the door to their bedroom, Klarion found that the door stood slightly ajar, just enough for a thin beam of light to cut into the dim room beyond. Hatsune pushed the door open and went in first, then abruptly stopped just inside the bedroom. Coming up behind the Leporine, Klarion saw what he had hoped to find.


    J-65 was awake.


    And not just awake, she was standing.


    The star elf¡¯s posture was rigid, shoulders squared, fists clenched as she stared at them. With her Sentinel armor gone, she wore only the simple linen and cotton underclothes that had been beneath it. But what struck him most was her face, now alive and exposed to view.


    Her white hair, freed from the mask she had worn, tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves. Her skin, dark as he remembered, had come alive with those same pinpricks of light, now moving at a visible speed across her skin, like the stars in the sky over the course of a long night. Her white eyes were fixed on first Hatsune then him as he entered the room.


    Klarion stepped forward, but before he could speak, J-65 lifted her chin, her voice steady but quieter than he remembered, like a blade that had once gleamed bright but had now been dulled by too many strikes.


    ¡°My words are for the Scion of House Blacksword alone.¡±


    Hatsune stiffened beside him, eyes narrowing in indignation at what the star elf had said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to ¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Klarion interrupted, heading off what she had been about to say. He put his hand on the tense Leporine¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Give us a moment.¡±


    Hatsune¡¯s ears flicked back, a clear sign of silent protest, but thankfully she didn¡¯t argue. Still, she lingered for a moment, looking between him and the star elf before stepping over to the door. As she stepped through, she turned, ¡°If you need me¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll call,¡± Klarion assured her.


    Hatsune hesitated for only a breath longer before stepping away from the door, casting one last wary glance toward J-65. Then, reluctantly, she closed the door behind her with a quiet click.


    Klarion took a step forward, closer to the star elf, but she remained perfectly still next to the bed.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± he said, the words falling somewhere between relief and expectation.


    J-65 nodded once. ¡°And you still live.¡± There was no humor in her voice, only observation.


    Klarion let out a slow breath. ¡°For now, at least.¡±


    J-65 looked downward, at her own hands. She flexed her fingers experimentally, almost like a warrior gripping a sword for the first time in years, gauging the unfamiliarity of it.


    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked slowly. ¡°I remember the Lord Sentinel. I remember my mask breaking. And then¡­¡± She paused, shaking her head slightly. ¡°It¡¯s fragments. My System messages say that my Sentinel class was removed. My level reset. My stats diminished.¡± She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. ¡°And that I am now your bodyguard.¡±


    Klarion nodded, confirming her words. ¡°That¡¯s all true.¡±


    Something flickered across her face. It was not surprise. Acceptance, perhaps. Almost like a soldier receiving her orders, whether she agreed with them or not.


    J-65¡¯s voice was quieter when she spoke again. ¡°The Lord Sentinel took everything from me.¡±


    ¡°Not everything.¡±


    She went still.


    Klarion folded his arms, speaking deliberately, ¡°You¡¯re still alive. You¡¯re still you. And you still have the memories and skills that made you who you were when you still had the Sentinel class.¡±


    She took a slow breath. Not quite steady, not quite broken.


    ¡°And how did I end up in your service?¡±


    Klarion held her gaze. ¡°Because of a Mark of Bonds.¡±


    J-65 blinked, something unreadable in her expression. ¡°You had another?¡±


    ¡°I earned one in the Dungeon I survived.¡±


    She said nothing, waiting.


    Klarion took another step closer to the star elf. ¡°The Lord Sentinel offered me a deal. My Mark of Bonds in exchange for your service.¡± His red-gold eyes darkened slightly. ¡°In recognition of the fact that you acted outside your role as a Sentinel. Not out of duty. Not out of obligation. But because you chose to act on my behalf without my knowing. To protect me.¡±


    J-65 continued to stare at him, unblinking.


    ¡°And you accepted?¡± she asked finally, voice quiet still, and careful.


    Klarion nodded. ¡°Of course I did.¡±


    J-65¡¯s white eyes searched his face. ¡°Why?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t an accusation. It was something far heavier.


    ¡°You could have taken the Mark of Bonds to go select another bodyguard of your choice,¡± the star elf continued. ¡°You could have selected someone to complement you and the Leporine, someone stronger, perhaps someone who was ready to claim their class, someone¡ª¡±


    ¡°There was no way I was going to let you be taken away to be auctioned after what you did for me.¡± He said cutting her off.


    J-65 stopped, inhaling sharply. She stared at him harder, as if seeing him for the first time.


    Klarion met her stare, his red-gold eyes meeting her white ones, unwavering. ¡°You risked everything for me,¡± he said with emphasis. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to. But you did. How could I possibly cast you aside like you were nothing after that?¡±


    The star elf turned away in that moment, staring at the opposite wall. But he still got a glimpse of her face from the side. Something shifted in her. Breaking. Rebuilding. And then¡ª


    J-65 laughed.


    It was soft at first, a breath of disbelief more than anything, then becoming something lighter, something real.


    Bright. Unrestrained.


    Like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.


    Klarion had never seen her smile before, but there she was. Standing before him, stripped over everything she had been but days ago, J-65 was laughing with a smile on her face.


    She looked radiant.


    And while he still was admiring that smile, she turned back to him and spoke of her past. It began slowly at first, but with every memory she shared, the speed of her sharing increased until it was a torrent of words spilling forth.


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    Jezeri - had told him. Her story had been a long one, weaving through years of pain, betrayal, and indignities she had suffered.


    trouble.

 Chapter 93

    The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the rest of the manor.


    saw what happened, Klarion. You didn¡¯t invite that kiss. You didn¡¯t even react to it. Not really.¡± He tensed again when she scoffed. ¡°But you also didn¡¯t push her away, either.¡±


    do know is that I¡¯d rather it had been you who kissed me.¡±


    of my family ¡ª are clear. If I were to¡ª¡± She stopped herself, shaking her head, ears flattening as she blushed deeply. She didn¡¯t finish the sentence.


    wanted to say more. She just couldn¡¯t for some reason.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡±


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    Whispers of Black Steel beside me?¡±


    Whispers of Black Steel alongside you, and, oh, I don¡¯t know¡­ meet your family before we got to that step.¡±

 Chapter 94

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    waiting.


    him alone sent a thrill through his chest. The thought of such a weapon was enough to push the pull of sleep off briefly. For his part, there was no question in his mind what kind of sword he would want.

 Chapter 95

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    Though Valdre and Redrek had a different professor for their Foundations of History course, he was sure they would be covering the same content. He would have to see about comparing notes with them later.


    vision.¡±


    greater was built."


    Emperor Valerian Astraeus Magnus Treverorum


    by whatever means necessary. And they did. Through blood, steel, Essences, and, above all, unyielding will. Our Empire was forged in war, but not enough remember that our enemies are not always outside of our borders.¡±


    apply it in the years to come. He knew little about this region of the Empire, but his gut told him that, much like Empires that had existed back on Earth, this Empire was not static. It was not done growing, and there would always be new threats. New challenges. And those who did not learn the lessons of its founding ¡ª who failed to grasp the necessity of the methods the Emperor and his supporters used ¡ª would find themselves crushed or pushed aside by those who did. Because they had learned and had the will to do what was necessary.

 Chapter 96

    Klarion left the class still turning over in his mind how Professor Mordrane had spoken about the early years of the Emperor¡¯s rise to power. She had emphasized how it was not just strength or power but vision that had been the true foundation of the Empire. It made sense to him, and was in fact almost obvious after she had pointed it out. Without vision, power was directionless, strength was fleeting, and ambition was little more than a candle flickering in the wind. Professor Mordrane said that the first Emperor had understood this. He had not merely conquered; he had reshaped the Imperial portion of the Multiverse according to his vision. That, more than any might or ruthless cunning, was why he had succeeded where so many before him had failed.


    Klarion¡¯s steps slowed. Around him, students who had already filtered out of their classroom in twos and threes loudly speculated about the lecture. Some openly marveled at the Emperor¡¯s approach, at his brilliance in using the early Legions to enforce his vision on those he integrated into the new Empire. Others spoke of wanting to learn more about the military prowess of the early Legions as a result.


    While the group nearest to him talked over what they hoped would be covered next, Klarion wondered over what the vision of House Blacksword was. Or perhaps it didn¡¯t even matter to him. Maybe the more important thing was that Klarion find a vision of his own while here at the Imperial Academy. After all, his House had no banners hanging from the halls of the Academy. No one here spoke to him of his House¡¯s storied triumphs, no sagas of its rise. No one had approached him, seeking to get in the good graces of his House. In fact, those concerned with House Blacksword seemed to simply be motivated by removing its first-year scion. Whatever legacy his House did have had no real bearing so long as the threats against him continued.


    Klarion frowned as he stepped out of the way of a scion from another class rushing past. Before he could consider why the other scion had been in such a rush, purposeful movement to his right attracted his attention, causing him to come to a stop. A small group of scions ¡ª scions he recognized ¡ª had positioned themselves near a staircase heading up to the second floor. For a moment, Klarion hoped they would actually go up the stairs, but the motion that had caught his attention was from one of the scions gesturing in his direction.


    Chadwick Copperhand turned to face him.


    Chadwick muttered something to the cluster of sycophants gathered around him. They all laughed at some joke Klarion couldn¡¯t hear, but the way they looked at him like jackals scenting fresh blood made it clear what it had likely been about. As Chadwick stepped off the stairs, leading the group in his direction, Klarion caught sight of Hector near the back. While he was standing among a few of the scions who had been involved in the attempt to kill him in the Dungeon, Hector alone looked uneasy. He walked with the rest, but his arms were crossed, and his jaw was tight. In fact, the young man that Klarion had thought once could be his friend looked to have deliberately positioned himself slightly to the side, not quite a part of the group¡¯s easy camaraderie.


    ¡°Why, Blacksword,¡± Chadwick said as he came closer, sycophants behind him, calling out loud enough to draw nearby attention. ¡°I was hoping to run into you. I thought it was about time to give you a friendly reminder.¡±


    Klarion crossed his arms, shifting to put the nearest wall behind him. While he didn¡¯t think Chadwick or his followers would attempt anything right now, it still made sense to be careful with his own safety. ¡°How thoughtful.¡±


    ¡°I do try,¡± Chadwick smirked. ¡°After all, everyone knows how forgetful the scions of House Blacksword can be. A history of not quite understanding their place with the regional Imperial hierarchy.¡± He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want you to make any unfortunate mistakes with timing, so consider this a courtesy ¡ª leave before the year is out. Before the deadline to unlock a class.¡±


    Klarion didn¡¯t respond at first, instead letting the silence stretch between them. When he finally spoke, an edge of amusement was in his tone as well. ¡°That is¡­ kind of you. I had assumed you¡¯d arrange an accident instead. Perhaps something similar to what almost happened with the Dungeon?¡±


    Chadwick¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but the slight shift of his stance¡ªso subtle most wouldn¡¯t notice¡ªtold Klarion he had struck a nerve. ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he denied.


    Klarion exhaled through his nose, amusement still present in his tone. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t.¡±


    When Klarion didn¡¯t continue with his unstated accusation, Chadwick¡¯s smirk returned. ¡°You¡¯re an outsider playing at being one of us, Klarion. Those at this Academy¡ªwe don¡¯t care about how much fight you have.¡± He stepped forward, lowering his voice slightly. ¡°And no one wants a Blacksword here. Especially one who uses Sentinels to infiltrate another scion¡¯s home. You are a relic of a time that no longer holds any importance to this region of the Empire.¡±


    Klarion¡¯s expression did not shift, but inside, his thoughts were moving fast. Chadwick had just confirmed not only that he knew Jezeri had infiltrated his residence on campus, but that he was openly acknowledging it in front of an audience. Even as quiet as he had said it, he was sure the scions nearest them had heard what he had said. And that meant Chadwick wasn¡¯t concerned about keeping it secret.


    ¡°You seem awfully calm about admitting that a Sentinel broke into your home.¡±


    Chadwick snorted, shaking his head with amusement. ¡°Oh, Blacksword,¡± he said, as though speaking to a particularly slow child. ¡°I¡¯m not the one who should be concerned about what was just admitted. After all, we both know that Sentinels are required to follow very strict rules, don¡¯t we? And yet¡ª¡± his smirk widened, ¡°¡ªshe violated them. Luckily for you¡ªand her¡ªI have no interest in your pet Sentinel. If she even is a Sentinel any longer.¡±


    Before Klarion could respond, Chadwick waved a dismissive hand, his expression still one of amused condescension. ¡°No, in a way, I¡¯m a little impressed you figured out the rules aren¡¯t as rigid as you might think so soon after a certain someone sought to exploit them to the detriment of your allies.¡±


    Klarion frowned slightly at that, his mind immediately turning over the implications. Not as rigid as he thought? He had thought the rules governing the Academy, and the rules governing the Sentinels, were meant to be ironclad. At least strictly enforced with little room for interpretation. And yet, Chadwick was speaking as if they could be bent, manipulated.


    His confusion must have been obvious because Chadwick let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if Klarion¡¯s ignorance was an exhausting burden. ¡°Really, Blacksword? You¡¯ve already seen an example of this.¡±


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    Klarion¡¯s frown deepened, though it was less from trying to figure out what Chadwick was talking about and more from considering how to get out of this conversation. Not only was Chadwick an enemy, but he was a smug, annoying enemy. And he was getting tired of his talking.


    ¡°The duel,¡± Chadwick clarified, completely unaware of Klarion¡¯s thoughts. ¡°The one you had at The Hearth & Ember. That shouldn¡¯t have been allowed, should it?¡± Chadwick continued, watching Klarion¡¯s realization dawn. ¡°And yet, it was. Because, you see, certain individuals can bend the rules slightly, so long as there¡¯s a sanctioned referee nearby to oversee it.¡±


    So that is what it was: a loophole. Not a blatant violation, not an outright dismissal of law, but a carefully arranged technicality that allowed things to happen that normally wouldn¡¯t. And if the same principle applied to the Sentinels...


    Klarion¡¯s thoughts shifted again, returning to Jezeri. In a roundabout way, Chadwick wasn¡¯t stating that Jezeri had broken the rules¡ªhe was implying that the strict rules governing Sentinels could, in the right hands, be molded to fit a desired outcome. How that would actually happen, however, was unclear. Nor did he think Chadwick would clarify it for him.


    As interesting as the mostly one-sided conversation was, there wasn¡¯t much that Klarion thought he could gain from continuing it. Except perhaps to lose only more precious time he could be devoting to planning out how to unlock the class he had picked.


    ¡°As much as I have enjoyed this conversation, Chadwick, I have some things to take care of.¡± So saying, Klarion made to leave to find Hatsune, but Chadwick¡¯s next words brought him up short.


    ¡°Of course, of course. I think my words aren¡¯t really sinking in, Blacksword. So, how about a bargain?¡± When Klarion stopped, turning to look back, he continued. ¡°A festival is coming up in a few weeks¡ªthe Festival of the Dawn. A grand celebration, lasting an entire week, during which no classes are held, and the entire plane is given over to revelry and spectacle.¡± He paused deliberately, letting the weight of his words settle. "If you promise that you will take your ¡®classless self¡¯ away from the Imperial Academy by then, I will see to it that you¡ªand anyone foolish enough to align with you¡ªare left alone until the festival is over. I¡¯ll even promise to leave that whore of a Sentinel alone. A generous offer, wouldn''t you say?"


    The surrounding scions, who had drawn closer as Chadwick had voiced his offer, chuckled darkly, some nodding in smug agreement. They cut off as Chadwick waved for them to be silent.


    ¡°I imagine you''ve read it by now. That bit of personal correspondence, detailing exactly how much power is arrayed against you.¡± His eyes flickered with cruel amusement. ¡°I almost pity you, Blacksword. You should consider my offer.¡±


    Noble¡¯s Agreement (Binding)


    Scion Chadwick Copperhand extends the following terms in a Noble¡¯s Agreement (Binding) to Scion Klarion Blacksword:


    1. Scion Klarion Blacksword will voluntarily withdraw himself from the campus of the Imperial Academy before the commencement of the Festival of the Dawn, a week-long festival during which all Academy courses are suspended.


    2. Scion Chadwick Copperhand, and all that associate with him, will be bound to not interfere, directly or indirectly, with Scion Klarion Blacksword nor those who associate with him. Should this occur, Scion Chadwick Copperhand, and those aligned with him, will forswear any future actions at the Western Imperial Academy against Scion Klarion Blacksword.


    3. Should Scion Klarion Blacksword not follow through with his side of the Noble¡¯s Agreement by the end of the Festival of the Dawn, he will be required to engage in a duel to the death with Scion Chadwick Copperhand with the terms to be negotiated at the time the terms of the Noble¡¯s Agreement are broken by Scion Klarion Blacksword.


    Accept: Yes/No


    The Noble¡¯s Agreement listed the exact terms that Chadwick had just uttered, though with the addition of a duel to the death between them should Klarion not follow through on his side of the agreement. Though it did not state anything further, the reasoning behind offering the contract was clear: accept the terms, or reject them and face the risk of escalation by Chadwick and his supporters.


    Where before he had been in a hurry to leave Chadwick and his supporters behind, now all he wanted was additional time to think. The weight of the decision pressed down on him like a physical force. For long moments, Klarion weighed his options, though thankfully, Chadwick seemed to savor his silence and was not interrupting him. Klarion thought of the list Jezeri had given him, the names of enemies, the subtle machinations likely already in motion against him. To agree to the Noble¡¯s Agreement meant he would be able to buy time¡ªtime to research the materials he needed, to unlock the Essences essential for his chosen class, and to solidify his strength without interruption from Chadwick and his ilk for the inevitable challenges ahead. But it would also mean a deadline to get a class, one that would end in a duel to the death. While confident in the stats he might gain over the next few weeks if he were to put all his efforts into leveling, he was less confident in knowing how strong, and how skilled, Chadwick might be in a duel.


    It was a risk.


    To accept meant guaranteed survival, but only for the immediate future. It meant time to research, to prepare, to train. Most importantly, it meant time to unlock Essences and the class he had chosen. To reject meant potentially stepping into a battlefield he wasn¡¯t yet ready for, given how Chadwick would then know Klarion¡¯s intent to remain at the Imperial Academy no matter what. He already knew which way he was leaning, but the duel to the death concerned him. With how the Imperial Academy worked, that duel could not be evaded. So if he did accept the Noble¡¯s Agreement, he had to be damn sure he would be able to win in a fight with Chadwick.


    He looked back to Chadwick. The other scion was watching him with an insufferable smirk, arms crossed as if he¡¯d already achieved his goal of scaring Klarion away from the Imperial Academy. Around him, his supporters waited, their postures arrogantly confident as well. They all thought this was the end for Klarion. They thought he would take the Noble¡¯s Agreement and then slink away, tail between his legs, another failed scion of a House that they saw as being all but dead already.


    Fuck that.


    He wasn¡¯t going to run. And he wasn¡¯t going to lose either.


    Jezeri¡¯s list had shown him that there were more than a few scions already moving against him. If he refused the Noble¡¯s Agreement, he would continue facing them all at once. If, however, he accepted, he could focus on Chadwick alone. He could make his next moves without interference. All he would have to do was unlock his Essences and then unlock his class. Then, he could focus on the duel to the death with Chadwick.


    [You have accepted the Noble¡¯s Agreement (Binding) offered to you by Scion Chadwick Copperhand.]


    [Departure Deadline: Festival of the Dawn. Failure to depart will result in an official duel to the death with Scion Chadwick Copperhand.]


    [Safe Passage Activated: Under penalty of censure, Scion Chadwick Copperhand and those who associate with him are now restricted from interfering with your affairs until the contract deadline.]


    Chadwick¡¯s lips curled into a wicked smile as he inclined his head in approval. ¡°Excellent. I look forward to the festival, then,¡± he said with gleeful menace. ¡°And if you still remain by the time the festival ends, I expect you to last at least a minute in our duel to the death. Until then, take care, Blacksword.¡±


    Klarion stood still, his hands clenched at his sides as Chadwick and his sycophants left to go up the stairs they had been waiting near when he had left Foundations of History. The laughter, the smug glances thrown his way, the condescending arrogance¡ªit set his teeth on edge, but he let it go. Let Chadwick think he had won, that he had Klarion backed into a corner.


    Klarion waited until Chadwick and the rest disappeared up the stairs, then turned away, his movements slow, deliberate. If any of Chadwick¡¯s lackeys had still been watching, they wouldn¡¯t have seen a man defeated. They¡¯d have seen someone composed. Resolved.


    Chadwick had made a mistake. He just didn¡¯t know it yet.


    He was going to enjoy the look on Chadwick¡¯s face when he drove his greatsword through the arrogant noble¡¯s chest.

 Chapter 97

    Hatsune


    own class. It was what he would do if he were to find himself in Chadwick¡¯s shoes after the Festival of the Dawn ended. With that being the case, Klarion knew he would have to pursue the longer list of materials eventually. Perhaps Valdre and Redrek would have a better idea of how he could get his hands on the materials he needed.


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    never unlock an Essence. That is the nature of power, even in a place like the Imperial Academy, where you have access to many benefits. For those unable to unlock an Essence, the Academy will not waste resources on those who are incapable of doing so. While those who fail to unlock an Essence by the time of their second year will not be removed from the Academy ¡ª so long as they unlock a class of Uncommon rank¡ª they would still be advised to adjust their aspirations accordingly.¡±


    all to focus on is one of the most common triggers for unlocking an Essence: heightened emotion. Records diligently collected over the time this Academy has been in operation have been enough to confirm this phenomenon. Moments of terror, fury, desperation, sorrow ¡ª even overwhelming joy ¡ª have led scions to unlock an Essence. It has been found to be statistically significant that these surges of feeling allow the scion to tap into something deeper within themselves, something beyond mere reason or will.¡±


    looked afraid,¡± Klarion corrected. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it was because of me or because of whatever happened in the room at the time.¡±


    you,¡± a haughty girl from the House of a Count sneered. ¡°Ogres don¡¯t scare easily. You think a servant panicked because the air got cold?¡± Her gaze flicked over him, assessing. ¡°You did something, Blacksword. Whether you meant to or not.¡±


    this crucial, then their futures were already being shaped by their ability¡ªor inability¡ªto achieve it.

 Chapter 98

    The sounds of his fellow scions shuffling out of the classroom gradually faded as Klarion remained seated, fingers drumming lightly on his desk.


    not unlocking Essences while at the Academy.


    always widen and deepen your potential.¡±


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    if you manage to unlock an additional Essence after obtaining your class, you will not receive the same benefits as if you had acquired it beforehand.¡±


    ¡°Is that strange?¡±


    must push yourself into situations that force you to grow, that demand you either become stronger or fail. The stronger the emotions, the deeper the struggle, the greater the risk to your life, the higher the chances of unlocking an Essence." Professor Stormcloak gave him a deliberate look, hand reaching up to the door. ¡°Now, if there was nothing else¡­?¡±


    Expeditionary Hall, near the Central Archives


    truly ambitious. The only reason he had any hope whatsoever was how, according to the professor, there were no innate restrictions, and the only thing stopping someone from wielding more Essences was their own capability¡ªespecially their willpower.


    weeks¡ªnot months, not the rest of the year¡ªto unlock Essences, to then unlock a class, and then become someone capable of facing a scion of Chadwick¡¯s background.

 Chapter 99 (Interlude 12)

    Solivair sat in the quiet solitude of his new office, the dark wood of his desk smooth beneath his calloused fingers. It was a simple room in Blacksword Manor, refurbished after years of disrepair, and yet it suited him well. There was no gaudy opulence, no unnecessary ornamentation¡ªonly a sturdy desk, a chair, a locked cabinet that would eventually hold his forms and records, and the quiet crackling of a lantern to stave off the gloom. A fitting place for a man who had spent his years in the shadows, now finding himself once more in service, though to a master unlike any he had known before.


    He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The long years sat heavily upon him, though his body had yet to betray him entirely. Age had darkened his crimson skin, deepened the grooves along his horns, and stripped away the reckless edge of youth, but it had not dulled his mind. Nor had it stripped him of purpose.


    Lord Klarion Blacksword had already left for his studies, the Leporine woman¡ªa warrior, sharp and watchful¡ªtrailing at his side. That left Solivair here, alone with his thoughts, a rare moment of quiet in a life that had never afforded him much of it.


    It was strange, this latest twist of fate. To be here, in a manor that belonged to one of the highest ranking noble houses of the western portion of the Empire, and at the express invitation of one of the scions of said Archducal House at that. It was not where he had expected to be.


    But then again, life had never led him where he expected.


    The past had a way of creeping up on a man when he least expected it. Sitting in his newly appointed office within Blacksword Manor, Solivair found himself dwelling on the winding, treacherous road that had led him here. The quiet crackle of the small flame on his desk cast flickering shadows on the walls, reminding him of the alleyways and hidden chambers he had once called home.


    He had been content there. Once. For decades, he had lived as a man of status¡ªnot noble, but respected in the circles where it truly mattered. His name had carried weight in the underworld, and those who knew the name Solivair had known it was spoken with either reverence or fear.


    That life had been good to him. His family had never wanted for anything. His children, his extended kin, had lived in comfort, untouched by the desperation that drove lesser criminals to take foolish risks. Solivair had been a man of pragmatism. There was no glory in chaos, no sense in reckless bloodshed. Their work had been precise, an art honed over generations.


    He let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair as his tail curled absently around the leg of his desk. Yes, his family had always walked the edges of the Empire¡¯s laws ¡ª though that could be said of nearly all Vileborn ¡ª skirting the lines between survival and crime, necessity and ambition. Thievery had been their trade, smuggling their art, and when needed, blood had been the price paid to ensure their continued existence. They had never dealt in the indiscriminate spilling of it, never worked for those who would bring the wrath of the Empire¡¯s enforcers down upon them. No, their blades had been reserved for those who lived as they did, who played the same game and just happened to lose against more skilled opponents.


    For decades, he and his family had played that game well in the capital city of Alluria, a border world in this part of the Empire. He had built something lasting, something strong. A network of thieves, merchants, and informants, all bound together in the silent agreement that survival came first.


    And yet, as the years passed, he had known that the life he had forged would not last forever. The new generations were hungrier, more reckless. They did not understand the rules that had kept men like him alive. His children, his grandchildren¡ªthey had grown up in the shadow of his choices, inheriting his debts as much as his legacy.


    And then it had all crumbled.


    A rival house¡ªone he did not care to recall the name of¡ªhad engaged in a betrayal against him.


    A war had happened then. Not the grand kind fought between nations, but the quiet, seething conflict that burned through the streets like an unseen wildfire. A feud between crime families that had simmered for years until someone had decided patience was no longer an option. Deals had soured, debts had been called, and suddenly, there had been no place left to hide.


    His family had been wiped out. His sons, his daughters, his cousins and kin, all gone in a matter of weeks. The streets they had once ruled with quiet authority had become hunting grounds where they were the prey.


    And he, Solivair the careful, Solivair the calculating, had been left with only three members of his once large, extended family. Damian, the eldest, who had always been the sharpest of his grandchildren. Kodrian, restless and reckless but full of potential. And Lilian, still so young, too young to have been caught in such a storm.


    He had been left with nothing but them.


    And vengeance.


    Vengeance had been the only thing left to him, the only course that made sense. He had taken the last of his wealth, the hidden caches of coin and favors long stored away, and turned to the one weapon no man, no matter how powerful, could escape.


    Poison.


    It had been swift, brutal, and final. The rivals who had torn apart his family never saw it coming. They had been cautious of blades, wary of open conflict, but in their greed and arrogance, they had let their guard down at the wrong moment. A drink, a meal, a mere touch of the wrong substance, and they had withered from the inside out.


    By the time the City Watch arrived, backed by the heavy boots of Imperial Legionnaires, it was already over. The men who had come for him did not care for the reasons. They cared only for the fact that among the dead was one with noble blood. A wretch of a man, no less vile than the rest, but noble all the same.


    And in the Empire, bloodlines mattered.


    He and his grandchildren had been shackled, thrown onto a transport, and sent to a mining labor camp. A place where those sentenced to die were made to break their bodies for the Empire¡¯s gain before execution was finally deemed a mercy. That should have been the end of it. It would have been, had fate not taken an unexpected turn.


    More bodies had been needed for the Hall of Bonds at the Imperial Academy in their corner of the Empire. A rare chance, a stroke of cruel luck. He and his grandchildren had been selected, plucked from the slow march toward death and placed into a different kind of servitude.


    It had been a strange transition. From what brief glances he had been given, the Academy was an awe-inspiring place, a domain of power and learning beyond anything he had ever imagined. He had seen scions beyond his cell, the chosen heirs of noble houses, speaking of grand ambitions and legacies, of classes and Essences, of things he had never thought he would be close enough to witness.


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    Yet for all the opportunities that surrounded them, and the reason why they had been sent to the Hall of Bonds, no one had picked them. The scions of the Academy had looked at him and his grandchildren and seen nothing but refuse. Vileborn, criminals, remnants of a fallen house of shadows and blood. No one had wanted them. No one had even considered them.


    He had thought it was the end when they had lingered in the Hall of Bonds far past the selection of every other potential servant that had arrived alongside them. He thought it had been roughly a year of time spent standing in that cell, waiting to be claimed or cast aside. When no scion had so much as glanced their way, he had known what was coming.


    The Arena.


    For a Vileborn well past his prime and his three remaining grandchildren that he still saw as little more than children too young to stand a chance, it was a sentence worse than death.


    The last few weeks, he had just been waiting for the final axe to fall. And then his worst fears had come to light, and the Sentinels came to tear them resisting from their shared cell. To be taken to the Arena as fodder for some scion seeking to gain more levels.


    Until Scion Klarion Blacksword.


    A scion whose name had been as empty as his own, a noble in title but stripped of all power. A young man with, from what he could tell, no established standing, no allies, no certainty in his own future. And yet, Klarion had looked at them and seen something worth taking in.


    Solivair still did not understand why.


    Perhaps the young lord had simply seen an opportunity¡ªloyalty from those who had nowhere else to go. Perhaps he had recognized something in them that others had missed. Or perhaps, like Solivair himself, Klarion understood what it meant to be left with nothing but the will to rise again. Whatever the reason, it had led Solivair here.


    As a Steward.


    He let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against the desk. It was almost laughable. A lifetime of crime, of ruling the streets and shadows, and now he managed household affairs.


    And yet¡­ he did not resent it.


    There was a strange peace in this role. Klarion was no fool, that much was clear. He was young, ambitious, and reckless, but there was something about him¡ªan edge, a quiet intensity that reminded Solivair of the men who had ruled the underworld before the fools and butchers had taken over. More than that, there was potential. And his grandchildren were safe. For now. That alone would have been enough.


    His sharp eyes flicked to the papers on his desk, records of what little remained in the estate¡¯s coffers, a list of supplies that needed to be procured, the names of merchants and contacts that might be willing to extend favors¡ªthough favors were dangerous things to owe. Klarion had ambition, that much was clear. He would need power, resources, and the kind of connections that could not be bought with coin alone.


    Solivair had spent a lifetime knowing where to find such things.


    The young lord had taken a risk in taking them in. Perhaps he was a fool. Perhaps he was something else entirely. Either way, Solivair had made his choice.


    He would see where this road led.


    The soft but firm knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Solivair called.


    The door creaked slightly as it swung open, revealing Margaret. The human woman stepped inside with the practiced efficiency of someone who had spent a lifetime managing estates, her sharp gaze sweeping over him like a drill sergeant evaluating a new recruit. She was a woman of strict principles, her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, her posture straight despite the years that weighed upon her. She carried a small ledger under one arm, likely filled with notes on the manor¡¯s progress.


    Margaret had proven herself invaluable since the day Klarion had chosen them from the Hall of Bonds. Unlike many others in the Empire, especially among the humans, she had never flinched at Solivair¡¯s presence. She had not sneered at his crimson skin, nor recoiled from his tail or the horns that curved back from his head. She had looked him over with the same scrutiny she would any other man and had simply nodded before setting about her work.


    It was a refreshing change from the prejudice he had long since grown accustomed to.


    ¡°Steward,¡± she greeted, her tone as crisp as ever.


    ¡°Margaret,¡± Solivair replied with a small incline of his head.


    She wasted no time in launching into her report. ¡°The refurnishing efforts are progressing, but we are still far from completion. The grand hall has been restored to a functional state, and the west wing¡¯s primary chambers are now livable. The scion¡¯s quarters, of course, were our priority, and those are in proper order. The kitchen has been cleaned, though there are still issues with the storage rooms¡ªsome of the shelving has rotted through and will need replacing.¡±


    She flipped open the ledger, scanning down a list before continuing. ¡°The upper floors are another matter entirely. Many of the rooms there remain in a state of disrepair, with broken furniture, dust thick enough to choke on, and more than a few places where the ceilings need reinforcement. That doesn¡¯t even account for how much is actually missing. It will take significant time and effort to restore everything properly.¡±


    Solivair nodded, taking in the information. It was what he had expected. While they had made good progress, the manor had been abandoned too long for this to be a quick fix. They would need many more weeks to get it back into shape.


    Margaret sighed, tapping a finger against the open pages of her ledger. ¡°And then there¡¯s the issue of money.¡±


    Ah. There it was. Solivair laced his fingers together, leaning back slightly in his chair as he regarded her with a smirk. ¡°Always comes down to coin in the end, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Margaret gave him a pointed look. ¡°It does when we¡¯re running low.¡±


    He chuckled, though there was little humor in it.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been stretching what we have as far as possible,¡± Margaret continued. ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping costs down where I can¡ªprioritizing essentials, ensuring we¡¯re not wasting funds on unnecessary luxuries. But restoration costs coin. Good labor and good materials don¡¯t come cheap, and we¡¯ve nearly exhausted what we had. If we don¡¯t secure more funds soon, we¡¯ll be at a standstill.¡±


    Solivair studied her for a long moment, appreciating the bluntness of her words. Margaret did not dance around a subject, did not sugarcoat reality. She spoke plainly, a quality he had always respected.


    More than that, he appreciated her lack of fear.


    Had they met in his former life, she would have been the type to clutch her purse tightly upon seeing him, to cross the street when he passed by. Perhaps she would have called the City Guard had he lingered too long in her presence. Or, if she had known his name, she would have fled outright.


    And yet here she stood, speaking to him as she would any other man.


    It was amusing in its own way.


    ¡°Your concerns are noted,¡± Solivair finally said. ¡°And well-founded.¡±


    Margaret exhaled, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°And what do we plan to do about it?¡±


    He chuckled again, waving a hand. ¡°Patience, dear Margaret. Our young lord seems to have a plan for coin, though I suspect he has not yet shared the details.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°You trust him to handle it?¡±


    Solivair tilted his head. ¡°I trust that if he does not, it will become my concern to bring it to his attention.¡±


    Margaret crossed her arms. ¡°And what if his ¡®plan¡¯ doesn¡¯t pan out?¡±


    ¡°Then we shall have words,¡± Solivair said, his tone casual yet firm.


    Margaret gave him a long, considering look, then let out a small huff. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right about him, Steward. I¡¯ve served plenty of nobles who thought money would fall into their laps without effort. It rarely does.¡±


    Solivair inclined his head. ¡°Our Scion Blacksword is not like most nobles. He does not have the luxury of waiting for fortune to come to him. He knows he must seize it with his own hands.¡±


    Margaret tapped her ledger closed. ¡°Then let¡¯s hope he seizes it soon. Because if we run out of money before this manor is properly restored, it won¡¯t matter how much potential he has.¡± She turned to leave but hesitated for a moment before glancing back at him. ¡°And Steward¡ªif it does come to that, I expect you¡¯ll make sure he understands the severity of the situation.¡±


    Solivair¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Oh, I will. Rest assured, Margaret, I do not intend to let this place crumble after all the work we¡¯ve put in.¡±


    She gave a curt nod and exited the office, leaving Solivair alone once more. His smile faded as he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. Margaret was right, of course. Coin was a pressing issue, and if Klarion did not secure more soon, they would find themselves in a difficult position. But Solivair had been in difficult positions before. He had clawed his way out of worse. And now, he found himself in a strange new role, overseeing an estate rather than a criminal empire. A steward rather than a crimelord.


    It was almost absurd.


    Yet, strangely enough, he found himself growing invested in this place.

 Chapter 100 (Interlude 13)

    his staff¡ªwere 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¡ªthen 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¡ªand the ruthlessness¡ªto reshape the Empire itself.


    Blacksword again.