As soon as Jarun’mai left, Euryphel grabbed his secured glossy and sent a message.

Maria, your ultimatum is absolute trash.

A minute later, a message came back:

Dearest Eury, what wasn’t to your satisfaction?

Euryphel’s lip curled up. It seemed that she had some time to spare. He pressed the “secured video conference” option on the application; a moment later, he was staring face to face with Maria Sezakuin.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, nephew,” she said, smiling devilishly.

“Yes, Aunt Maria,” he said, gritting his teeth. They were barely blood relatives at all as cousins five-times removed; but if Maria called him nephew to belittle his youth, the prince wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to jab at her advancing age.

“It’s been about a month since we’ve last spoken,” she said. “How are you?”

Euryphel sighed. “Tired. Endless meetings.” He gestured to the screen. “I assume you’re in similar circumstances?”

She chuckled. “Just about. At least you don’t have to worry about the old men finding you a new consort.”

Euryphel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew that Maria found the prospect of finding a consort entertaining: She voluntarily hosted numerous galas for the purpose, and found pleasure in winning the attention of powerful, younger men. Some of them were even as young as her son.

“I’m going to speak honestly,” Euryphel said.

“What a surprise,” Maria said, chuckling, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. “Well, I’m waiting.”

“I want to keep the decemancer,” he said. “But out of respect for your investment in the Infinity Loop, I can pledge not to bind him by any oaths.”

His eyes were serious as he spoke, appraising.

“No oaths?” Maria said, frowning. “Isn’t that akin to treading on a precipice?”

“It would be no loss for you if I died,” he snorted.

Maria sneered. “No comment. But what you say is impossible: Your assembly would never permit you to keep an unbound decemancer of 99% affinity.”

“It’s not their decision,” he said coolly. “I’m allowed to keep a personal retainer.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Why not just return him to me? Because you seem to have some good will towards him, I can promise to treat him well and forgive his transgressions.”

“What use do you have for a decemancer?” he asked.

“What use do you have for a decemancer?” she retorted.

The two of them said nothing for the next few seconds, tension palpable even over the video conference.

Euryphel flexed his left hand. “I don’t know yet what use he is to me,” he replied.

“So why risk the ire of the Eldemari, Eury?”

Euryphel had already run scenarios throughout their conversation, choosing the words that best furthered the discussion. But at this moment, he found himself delving into a new scenario just to give himself a moment to think.

It was at moments like these that Euryphel doubted and resented himself.

Maria was right that he was being irrational. This business was all irrational, an apparently 99% affinity decemancer showing up at his door, the shock of a golden arrow lancing his hand. He couldn’t find a logical argument for why he should keep the decemancer–a deadly stranger–as an unbound retainer. The only thing he had to go by was a strong, nagging feeling at the back of his mind, a feeling that said no matter what, do not let this man go. A presentiment that doing so would only lead to regret and destruction.

So, why risk the ire of the Eldemari?

“I know what I feel,” Euryphel replied with conviction. “You know how us End practitioners operate. Sometimes all we have to go on is a feeling.”

Maria’s lips pressed into a fine line. “The two of you have destiny, I take it?”

“If you give me his Infinity Loop recording, I’ll pay ten-billion auris. In addition, I’ll convince the council to remove the embargo on Selejan alcohol.”

“It’s hurting you more than us,” Maria said, her voice biting. “If I agree to this, it will cost me a good deal of face. Losing a 99% affinity decemancer is like losing a priceless artifact.”

“But he was never yours to lose,” the prince replied, giving her a questioning look. “You have to know that. He never agreed to work for Selejo in exchange for using the Infinity Loop, did he?”

“A minor detail,” Maria said. “I’m losing a 99% affinity decemancer, one that you seem desperate to keep in your clutches. You’re lucky he’s not a fire elementalist, or I’d be unable to even consider your offer.”

Euryphel shuddered inwardly. A 99% affinity fire elementalist, the pinnacle of destructive firepower, would easily be a national asset worth billions, if not trillions, of auris. Death practitioners were one of the least valuable types of practitioner, by contrast; in this way, Euryphel was lucky.

“Remember, I’m not going to keep him bound by any oath if you agree,” he said, reminding her. “If you give him a good enough offer, he should willingly leave my side and go to you.”

“This is true,” Maria said, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. “But if there’s fate between the two of you strong enough for you to be willing to take him on without an oath...I have an inkling no amount of money will bring him to Selejo.”

Euryphel looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to indicate whether she would agree or disagree to the terms.

“So, let me understand: In exchange for the loop video and the unbound decemancer, you will give me ten billion auris and advocate for removing the embargo on Selejan alcohol. Is this correct?”

“You know that embargo is worth at least ten billion auris in one year alone,” Euryphel pointed out.

“I’ll agree, but only because I like you, nephew, and would prefer not to see you deposed.”

If Euryphel hadn’t already seen this exact part of the conversation in a scenario, he might have been unable to conceal his shock. The Eldemari agreed to his conditions, just like that?

Maria continued: “I’m sure you’ve felt something is amiss: a tumult, an unnamed undertow of unrest.”

Euryphel took in a deep breath. Like himself, Maria had also inherited the blood of their shared Selejan ancestor, Yifara Selejo. When she was his age, her affinity as an End practitioner exceeded his own; now, with an age advantage of two decades, her purported 99% End affinity was paralleled only by Suran Rindo of Citelle.

“I’ve felt a growing unease, though I’m unsure of its source,” Euryphel replied.

“You’re going to need allies,” Maria said. “More than just your Guard.” He heard the unspoken follow-up: More than myself. Maria wasn’t an ally, per se, but she was the reason for the continued peace between Selejo and the SPU. If she wasn’t actively tempering the hawkish voices of her councilors, the peace would have ended years ago.

“There’s nothing else you can tell me?” he asked.

“You know very well how these feelings are,” she said. “Unclear, uncertain, but lingering. Something is coming. It’s the details that defy us.”

“Good luck, Aunt Maria,” Euryphel said, his voice solemn.

“Farewell.”

The video transmission cut off.

—

Ian couldn’t sleep. It was the second night since he’d left the loop; the first night he’d collapsed out of exhaustion, but now he felt antsy, his mind swimming with thoughts. He worried about Germaine, of Mother and Aunt Julia, of his choices since waking up. He knew he was second-guessing himself more than was rational, but his brain couldn’t seem to calm down after he began to internalize that his actions were now all permanent.

Sure, Aunt Julia had assured him that she’d take care of getting Germaine to Ichormai safely, but would it really be that easy? And he continuously worried about Euryphel’s decision not to force him into an oath, his mind running over backup plans in the event that the prince reneged on his agreement. Everything was uncertain...and thus dangerous, either to himself, or the people he cared about.

Ian got up from his bed, taking care not to wake Aunt Julia and Mother. He walked through the empty, cavernous outer palace, unsure of how to pass the time and quell his restlessness. He wasn’t supposed to leave the guest wing of the outer palace without Guardian Druni, but that wasn’t a problem: the wing was expansive and held numerous galleries and sitting rooms.

Ian eventually wandered into a gallery room, picking it on a whim. He couldn’t make out what was on any of its ornately-framed paintings given the complete absence of light, but that was fine. He was there for the small divan.

When he awoke in the morning, he realized with a start that he’d slept on the divan all night, its emerald color distinct from the stark white sheets of his guest bed. He didn’t know what time it was, only that the curtains in the room had been drawn, revealing a pastel sun.

He got up from the divan sheepishly and headed back to the guest room, trying his best to act inconspicuously. Thankfully, he managed to get back without being seen, and the two women were still fast asleep, no doubt recovering from the past few days.

He dressed himself in a white robe and headed for the guest bathing chambers. Druni had shown him the way the previous evening. Thankfully, the directions were uncomplicated: he needed only to turn left upon leaving the guest room and follow a corridor to a door marked with the stylized symbol of a man half-submerged in water.

Upon opening the door, he found himself in a small room with shelves and hooks upon which to place clothes, along with two stacks of fresh white towels. He turned toward a small hook and unfastened his robe, hanging it up and slipping out of his sandals. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed for the baths.

A row of pools of different temperatures lay within, each infused with different scents and oils. There were a few people there, but none of them seemed to be powerful practitioners, so Ian allowed himself to relax.

One thing he did notice, though, was that all of them appeared to be in excellent shape, their bodies toned in a way that suggested they were all athletic. Ian cocked his head, analyzing the energy signatures of the people. Lesser practitioners, all of them, he thought.

He’d been stuck with his frail, bony physique for four years, never given the opportunity to permanently improve it. He definitely didn’t feel self-conscious bathing his scrawny ass next to all these warrior men. Definitely not.

As Ian sank into one of the pools, he felt his muscles relax. He groaned as the hot water eddied around his back, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met,” someone said.

Ian opened his eyes. “Hello,” he said, smiling. So much for choosing an empty pool. “I don’t believe we have.”

The man, a young twenty-something year old, grinned. “I’m Dellan, and this is Yatze.” He pointed a thumb to the other young man by his side. “Did you also just arrive to start the officer program?”

Ian blinked. “No. I’m Ian, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Ian,” the two of them chorused. “What are you here for, then?” Yatze asked.

“I’ve just accepted a position working for the Crowned Prime,” Ian said.

The two men looked like they were about to spit in shock.

“...You’re...wow, congratulations,” Yatze said, chuckling nervously. “Uh, erm, wow, haha.”

Ian suddenly felt guilty. “It’s nothing, really,” he said. “It’s something my aunt arranged.”

With this, a look of realization came over the two. Dellan coughed. “So...you haven’t heard about the officer program?”

Ian nodded. “What is it?” He wondered if it was anything like the program the Godorans used to train their officers.

“Well,” Dellan began, adjusting his position so that his arms rested on the ledge of the pool. “Yatze and I were scouted a few months ago at our base camp in Yuruv’a. We were sent here to start officer training at the start of the new year.”

“We don’t know much about it, to be honest,” Yatze added.

“Well, from what I know, you’ll probably be forced to memorize lots of things. Probably 80% of your time will be spent learning how to survive paperwork,” Ian said. “Though this could just be my Uncle Iggy telling stories.”

“I don’t know how I feel about paperwork,” Dellan said, frowning.

Ian smiled. “You’ll do just fine. It’s not difficult, just tedious.”

“What work are you going to be doing for the Crowned Prime?” Yatze asked, pivoting the conversation.

“I’m not exactly sure yet,” Ian replied. “So far, I’ve been helping to exterminate vermin.”

“Y’jeni, you’re a saint,” Yatze sighed, sinking into the water up to his chin. “I keep seeing cockroaches in the bathroom.”

Ian chuckled. “There were lots of cockroaches, but there were far more in the inner palace than the outer palace. You both probably had it easy.”

Yatze poked Dellan. “I wish there was a simple cantrip for dehydrating nearby bugs.”

Ian recalled Druni’s dehydration capabilities. While her range wasn’t incredible, she could easily dehydrate nearby insects.

“I’d need at least 60% affinity to do it as an area of effect,” Dellan pointed out.

“Then you gotta work harder,” Yatze said with mock solemnity, patting Dellan on the back. “I’m a bug magnet. Away from civilization, I’m gonna need a personal exterminator.”

“Do you anticipate being sent away anytime soon?” Ian asked.

Yatze shrugged. Dellan sighed, then began to explain: “We’ll be sent out eventually. It’s possible we might even be sent East for joint exercises in one of the regenerating rifts if we do well enough.”

Ian didn’t know much about training in rifts, but figured it would probably offer good combat experience. A different kind of experience than standing on a battlefield, but experience nonetheless.

The conversation soon devolved into basic chatter about the weather and upcoming events in Zukal’iss. After washing himself, Ian waved the officer trainees farewell. He toweled off, donned his white robe and sandals, and returned to the guest room to get dressed.