Before leaving for his meeting, Euryphel opened the salon door into the outer palace hall with the guest room shared by Ian’s mother and aunt. On his way out, Ian grabbed a few sandwich triangles and waved halfheartedly.

“We can talk about this more later,” Euryphel said. “I know it’s a lot, but we can plan for every possibility.”

Ian nodded, then closed the door behind him with a light kick. He knew Euryphel was trying to comfort him, but the prince’s assurance only made him feel worse.

He breathed in deeply and cast off his worries for the moment. He walked over to his mother and aunt’s room, within which he could sense Mother, Aunt Julia, and Germaine.

“Hello?” Ian called out, knocking on the door.

The door opened inward. “Julian,” Aunt Julia exclaimed, beaming. “You look like a mess.”

Ian rolled his eyes and stepped around her, taking in the room. Mother was reclining in an antique upholstered chair, while Germaine was sitting on a bed, a glosspad in her lap.

“You have crumbs all over your face," Mother said, her voice resigned. “Your hair is tangled. Your stubble has grown into a shadow. And your clothes...” she finally let a bit of displeasure seep into the last word. “Why are they wrinkled?”

Ian looked down. While he hadn’t slept in these clothes, it might, in fact, be the case that they were the same pair he’d worn the night before...and unceremoniously dumped onto the floor in a heap.

“He was up late last night with me because I couldn’t sleep,” Germaine intervened. “It’s only natural that he’s...well.”

“And yet you don’t look like you have a hangover,” Mother muttered.

Germaine breathed out deeply. “Mother...”

“Are we leaving or not?” Ian asked, exasperated by their nitpicking.

“Leaving,” the three woman said at once, turning to face him in uncanny synchronicity.

As they entered the hallway, Aunt Julia asked, “Has Guardian Druni been following you around lately?”

Ian shook his head. “No, not since Euryphel made me his personal retainer. I haven’t needed an escort.”

“We apparently need an escort to go anywhere beyond the guest wing,” Germaine sighed. “I can’t wait for my studio to be ready so I can avoid being babysat.”

“Why did you ask?” Ian wondered.

“The way she talks about you when she brings us around the palace...” Aunt Julia said, trailing off.

“What does she say?”

Mother sniffed. “She won’t stop talking about you.”

Ian rubbed the bridge of his nose as he took them through the palace’s main exit. The guards seemed to recognize him, bowing their heads respectfully as he passed by.

“What’s that chain hanging down from your belt?” Germaine asked, frowning.

Ian glanced over. “Soul gems.”

“On the chain?”

“No,” Ian corrected. “Look closer.” He unfastened the chain and handed it over.

Aunt Julia’s face grew somber. “I have to admit I didn’t even notice,” she confessed. “You hid them under that Death energy jacket you’ve seemed to have grown fond of.”

Germaine looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Sorry, what am I looking at?”

Ian brushed his hand along the portion of the chain in Germaine’s palm. The chain was sinuous, flowing like liquid when disturbed. It was made of numerous small, crisscrossing gems linked and braided together.

“Each of these little links is a soul gem,” he explained. “They are all tied together by small threads of Death energy.” Ian had created the chain such that energy sustaining its connections was automatically sourced from the gems themselves.

“You have so many soul gems, Ian,” Aunt Julia murmured, her voice lowered. “Why not consolidate them? I know you can do it, and larger soul gems will fetch a higher price.”

Ian shrugged. “They’re much easier to sell this way. I feel like bringing in a huge soul gem will only cause us trouble.”

Both Mother and Aunt Julia shared a look.

“You’re worried about...trouble?” Aunt Julia asked, almost wincing.

“Ignatius, you’re being ridiculous,” Mother stated sharply. “Form them into larger soul gems while we walk.”

“Are they even going to be able to sell...?” Ian asked, expression defensive. It’s not like he’d never tried selling soul gems in the loop; people were always unwilling to buy the larger gems because they were too valuable. In contrast, the smaller ones sold easily.

Mother gave him a withering look. “You’re the personal retainer of the Crowned Prime. Where do you think we’re going to appraise and sell your gems?”

Ian’s leading foot hesitated; he turned around. “Where are we going?”

Germaine snickered.

“You were hoping he’d notice eventually,” Mother muttered, giving Aunt Julia a knowing look.

“...You’re right, I had too much faith,” Aunt Julia replied. “Julian, we’re going back inside.”

Ian’s mouth popped open. “The palace?”

Germaine stepped in to explain. “Aunt Julia asked Guardian Druni to find an appraiser currently in the service of the princes. It’s convenient because after the gems are appraised, you can have them sold off through the palace.”

“That sounds easier than what I had planned,” he grumbled. Ian’s vague plans involved walking around Zukal’iss and visiting as many shops as possible, offloading as many gems as he could without causing too much of a stir. “Now we have to walk back around to the main entrance...”

Germaine gently pushed Ian around and forward. “Or we could just go back through the exit,” she suggested.

“We probably could,” Ian murmured. They’d only walked about fifteen feet away.

Sure enough, while the guards at the gate gave them quizzical looks, they let the four proceed to the palace, bowing as Ian walked past. They returned to the outer palace and began to head in an unfamiliar direction, Aunt Julia leading the way.

“You’re sure you know where you’re going?” Ian asked.

“Julian, we’ve been stuck in this palace for days; we’ve become well acquainted with its layout.”

“Makes sense.” In my defense, Euryphel’s just been spiriting me through doors, Ian thought. He’d barely done any walking.

“Why are you so distracted?” Mother questioned.

Ian raised his hand, revealing a number of partially-deconstructed soul gems orbiting around it. “I’m working on what you asked.”

Mother sniffed. “You’re distracted by something else. You spoke with Euryphel about what you told us earlier, didn’t you?”

Ian groaned. “What did I even tell you, again?”

“The reason for the footage of the training exercise between you and the Guard being withheld,” Aunt Julia continued. “Did you learn anything more?”

Ian frowned and turned away. What was he supposed to say, that the princes suspected he was going to cause a war?

“Nothing conclusive.”

The three women shared glances, completely unconvinced, but none of them decided to pursue the topic further: They had nearly arrived at the room in which they planned to meet the appraiser.

“Are you going to finish consolidating them?” Germaine asked, directing her gaze toward Ian’s hand.

“Oh, this?” He opened his hand and the half-formed gems accumulated in his palm like pieces of dry ice, their ghostly vapors mixing. He closed his fist, then opened it again, revealing a prismatic, ebony gem that rested comfortably in his palm. Ian noticed that its surface shone a deep violet wherever it glinted in the light.

“That’s it?” Germaine murmured. The chain he’d worn about his belt had been many times more massive, wrapping around his waist twice.

Aunt Julia gave Ian a look. “Is this as dense as it looks?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

They opened the door and stepped in, Ian going first. The appraiser was already inside, a middle-aged man seated on a plush pillow. The group of four sat around the other end of the table, causing the entire room to feel lopsided in their direction.

“It’s an honor to meet the prince’s new personal retainer,” the appraiser began, inclining his head. “You can call me Mr. Chirka. Skai’aren, please take out any gems or items you wish to have appraised.”

Ian noticed Mother’s expression suddenly turn reflective, though Aunt Julia’s face didn’t betray a bit of emotion. Seeing Mother’s expression made him self-conscious: he hadn't yet told his family about his courtesy name. It somehow made his practitioner status feel even more official.

Ian opened his hand and placed the brilliant black soul gem on the table. The appraiser instantly grew serious, taking out a magnifying apparatus to inspect it more closely. He could see that the tool was inspecting the gem’s physical form as well as its Death energy composition.

“This is an eighty-six carat prismatic soul gem,” the appraiser said, rotating the gem in place. “Enormous.”

Ian was unsurprised: The gem contained the vitality of half the jungle that had been reserved for the training exercise, in addition to energy from his foray over the bay. He’d kept the one massive gem intact, but had incorporated all the smaller ones into the prismatic gem.

The appraiser turned toward Ian. “Moreover, this is a soul gem composed of heterogeneous energy sources, increasing the challenge of proper crystal clarity and formation.” He shook his head, then picked up the soul gem in a piece of cloth and held it between his fingers. “Priceless.”

Ian nodded. Priceless: in other words, about as useful as a paperweight.

“I can break it into smaller gems,” he suggested. “That’s what I originally planned, anyway.”

The appraiser immediately flinched, his fingers closing around the soul gem protectively. “That’s not necessary.”

“I was under the impression that I was supposed to make soul gems for the purposes of gaining money. What would we even be able to do with this massive gem?”

“Ian, it’s an energy source,” Aunt Julia said, giving him a disbelieving look. “It’s much more valuable to have such a small, dense source of energy than millions of auris, assuming that it can be properly put to use.” Aunt Julia made a face, as though doubtful the SPU had the means to fully harness the gem’s power.

“So will it actually be used, or is it just going to be held in reserve?” Ian asked.

“It will definitely be put to use if the Skai’aren decides to leave it in Ichormai with us,” Mr. Chirka insisted. “The western artillery would be greatly bolstered by such a power source.”

Ian considered the man’s words. “I have another idea for it, actually,” he murmured. He then reached into his belt satchel and pulled out another gem. “I know that this one is less impressive: It was made with bug and rat energy.”

The appraiser took this new gem into his hands as well, wrapping it in the cloth rather than let it touch bare skin. “It’s still a high-grade gem,” he said. “It’s large, but not nearly as dense, unfortunately. This one you could probably sell for twenty-thousand auris, if that’s acceptable.”

Ian turned toward Aunt Julia, giving her a questioning look. The gem hadn’t been particularly difficult to make, so twenty-thousand seemed reasonable, but he wasn’t sure if he was getting a good price.

“It’s a fair price,” she said, nodding. “Twenty-thousand auris is nothing to scoff at.”

“Very well, then. It’s yours,” he said. He reached for the large soul gem wrapped in cloth and affixed to the side of his belt. “I have one more.”

The appraiser’s eyes lit up, his fingers gingerly unwrapping the gem. “This gem is beautiful,” he murmured. “Holding it, I’m immediately reminded of the bay; unlike the other gem, the energy is homogeneous. What animal species did you use to make this?”

Ian didn’t have a clear answer, so he decided to explain himself. “Both in the Bay of Ramsay and in the Illyrian Ocean, there is a never-ending flow of Death energy from the surface to the depths. It’s possible to take in that energy and decompose it into a few key sources. I believe some of the energy comes from fish and plants, but I believe the energy used for this gem was from neither.”

Mr. Chirka frowned. “Not exactly the answer I was looking for, to be honest, but still...the homogeneity and puissant essence of the bay can’t be discarded. Not to mention the clarity and size...while not as dense as the prismatic soul gem, it’s a bit larger.”

“How much is it worth?” Aunt Julia asked.

“The gem is forty carats exactly; since it’s at peak-high quality, I evaluate it at around five-million auris.”

That was a number Ian could appreciate.

“It’s all yours. Where should I go to collect payment?”

Ian noticed that the appraiser had dropped the peak-high gem, his attention once-more absorbed with the scintillating surface of the prismatic soul gem. It took the man a moment to respond, saying, “Oh, the funds will be placed directly into your account with the Crowned Prime.”

“You should have a professional account as one of the Crowned Prime’s retainers,” Aunt Julia intoned softly. “Does that prince of yours tell you nothing?”

Ian coughed, ignoring her jibe. “Mr. Chirka, would you happen to know where one might obtain a glosSword?” In Godora, the swords were all owned by the state, and given to those of ranks Corona and Coronus as a reward for excellent service. Of course, they could be easily taken away if not put to good use. He hadn’t seen anyone in the SPU outfitted with the blades, however.

The appraiser’s face grew dark. “There are no glosSwords in the SPU,” he said. “You’re a newcomer, so I suppose you might not know, but the manufacturer of the glosSword is Pardus, a company in Godora.”

Ian’s eyes grew wide. No wonder they were so plentiful in Godora, he thought to himself, suddenly feeling foolish. How did I not know that Pardus is a Godoran company?

What Ian did know, however, was that there was no other weapon as sophisticated as the glosSword that used soul gems as its power source...at least none that were available in the West. He found himself reconsidering whether to give the prismatic soul gem to the appraiser, but ultimately decided to hold onto it.

I’ll think of something to use it for, he reasoned.