Soldiers and Archers, with their bows knocked, watched Anton like a hawk, doubly so after their little incident, as they began the ascent up the white flight of stairs towards the Imperial Palace.

“Remember,” Anton spoke in a soft whisper. “Try not to gawk or stare for too long at anything. Don’t want them thinking we’re a bunch of rural hicks.”

“Wearing this?” Cetina raised a brow. Verona ran a hand over her chest, smiling wildly while Mezot’s eye twitched. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“They might think we’re stupid and uneducated…That might actually be an advantage sometimes, but I don’t think it’ll be one here.”

Cassius and Umbris split away, moving with small groups of loyal retainers and family members. Umbris playfully shied away from a tall willowy woman who proceeded to lightly slap him on the head. He laughed and kissed her hand, she rolled her eyes and took his hand. Umbris caught Anton’s eye and winked, what exactly he was trying to convey he didn’t know.

Anton followed their servant through the main entrance. Giant marble pillars flanked the main carpet walkway. Bright glowing crystals radiated a white light, illuminating the entire hallway. Just like Duchess Belinda's mansion, huge paintings, most larger than people, adorned the far walls. Anton stopped when he glanced up; the entire roof contained a giant mural, dedicated to some apocalyptic battle. Verona lightly pulled him forward but something caught his eye, something that was minutely out of place compared to the rest of the mural. Several of the soldiers looked...off. For some it was just their helmets, others their entire body was wrong, misshapen compared to those nearby. They wore armour but it was too bulky, cumbersome, to wear properly. Some even looked like it would have been a shell surrounding their body. Almost like…

"They've covered it up." Anton softly whispered to Verona. She remained quiet, waiting for additional information. "This palace, or at least parts of it, dates back to the United Empire. Back when Humans and Beastkin fought side by side."

"Why not get rid of it entirely?” Verona studied the murals. “They've had time."

"Probably because they wanted to hold onto a bit of their legacy, so they just covered up the bad bits.” Anton grimaced. "It's been so long that they probably don't even know. Or care."

The servants and maids continued to usher them deeper into the palace. Anton took the time to inspect what the others were wearing; only a select few wore anything as expensive as theirs, they looked like lords and merchants of nearly equal power to Cassius and Umbris. The rest still wore very good clothes, even the young children. All were of the age they could walk on their own but none appeared to be enjoying their time. Amongst them were men and women, mostly men, that were dressed in armour. They had no visible weapons but he guessed they could easily hide a small dagger inside a fold, he knew that Cetina had many. These armoured escorts acted as a buffer between the different groups.

"I take it that these events are used to introduce people's children to the world too?"

Mezot didn't respond. Anton offered his hand, tapping her clenched hand with his finger. Her face was drenched in worry, she was only a few moments from breaking; hundreds of people were bustling about, muttering angrily as they had stopped, all scrutinizing and judging them, hundreds of eyes looking over them. Mezot quickly grasped his tight, he saw the small muscles along her arms tense tight but Anton didn’t want to mention that it was like a child’s grip. Anton received a smile from Verona and Cetina as he asked the question again.

"Y-Yes." Mezot pulled closer. "Once-Once that is done can we please leave? I don't like being around so many people..."

"The moment we can we will." Anton smiled faintly. "One new Lecturer from the Academy won’t be missed, especially if we say you’re feeling ill and need to rest. Just…Just try and stay as calm as you can. We won’t be leaving your side until we get back."

Mezot smiled appreciatively. She looked back and her hand gripped his arm even tighter. Behind, by several groups of people, walked several Lecturers and Teachers of the Royal Academy. While they wore expensive clothes and were as prim and proper as they could be they simply couldn't compare to Mezot. Mezot's relative youth barely played a part. They stared at Mezot, a mixture of envy and annoyance but Anton was sure she didn't notice. Instead he smiled and waved. They turned their attentions elsewhere in a somewhat obvious fashion.

"They're just jealous," Anton whispered to Mezot. “Combined they don’t look as half as beautiful as you.”

Verona laughed. “They’ll probably think you’ve been holding back on them. If anything those old hags will want to know more about Anton, so they can get these dresses for next time.”

"I don't know if I want that attention." Mezot smiled nervously.

The crowds passed through another door, three great dragons emblazoned onto black and red wood from the Shadow Isles and into a truly gigantic auditorium. Anton caught himself gawking at the sheer size, the height of the roof which extended far beyond anything he anticipated to see in this world; giant clear glass windows adorning either side, one solid piece, allowed great streams of light through and illuminating the entire auditorium. Hundreds upon hundreds of tables, draped in an immaculate white cloth, and chairs, soft and plush, littered the giant room. A veritable army of maids, older and perhaps slightly more refined than those outside, formed a wall before the first table, behind those stood another line, less complete than the maids, of Royal soldiers. Their weapons and shields glowed with a faint magical aura.

Really don't like my chances against this lot. Especially with those weapons. Imagine what the United Empire was capable of if this is a fragment.

The maids stepped forward and began to disseminate the small groups of guests, ushering and leading them through the line of soldiers to their designated seats.

"Any idea where you'll be seat?" Anton asked Mezot.

Mezot silently shook her head while staring at the ground. Slowly the crowds began to grow around them, Mezot was hardly good with light crowds let alone so many self-important snobs all pushing to be first. He heard many derogatory comments thrown about, not necessarily directed at Mezot, but she was not spared for daring to be in their way, always touting their position in some faraway city. Anton pulled Mezot a little closer, Cetina moved to fill the gap so someone else wouldn't.

Eventually, a maid worked their way through the crowds to them. Anton noticed the other mages from the academy were no nowhere near the front, something they took great offence to.

The maid asked for their invitation and, after a brief look, the maid nodded and led them through the lines. Anton felt the soldier’s eyes follow them intently but the moment they passed the line they flicked to the next group. Word had yet to reach them about the nature of Anton's magic. Or they thought they could simply deal with him without much issue, something that Anton suspected they might just be able to.

"As someone from the Royal Academy, you will be situated over here." The maid gestured to a table on the far left of the auditorium, not quite at the back but close.

We aren't exactly associated with any of the big players in Graterious...Actually Mezot isn't, since she's just become a Lecturer and she's not the easiest to speak with. I should remember that this is her day. I’m just a guest.

Anton saw Mezot relax slightly. She still held his hand but nowhere near as tight.

Even if she's more than willing to let me do the talking.

The maid ushered them to their seats, Anton pulled out one for Verona and Mezot, Verona graciously accepting hers while Mezot...

"Is something wrong with the chair?" Mezot asked flatly.

Cetina whispered into her ear and Mezot hurriedly took her seat, raising herself just enough to allow Anton to slide the chair. Cetina said nothing but offered a knowing smile.

"Cetina?"

"I'll stand."

Cetina moved behind Anton and kept her attention between everyone she could see. Anton realized, again, that nothing had been said about Cetina's eyepatch. Either they didn't know or they were used to it, perhaps weak magical artefacts were allowed in the presence of the Emperor. Probably not.

The maid stood to the side, one step back from Cetina's position, where she could watch over the table and still see the centre of the room.

"This doesn't look cheap." Verona ran her fingers over the white table cloth. "How much money is this worth?"

She glanced to the maid, who chose to remain silent with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"...Well,” Verona poked the cutlery. “I think the silverware is actually made of silver."

"So long as no one steals them it's not so expensive.” Anton shifted his chair. “I think that's what the maid is for."

Anton smiled at the young woman. "Make sure that low-level guests, like us, don't run off with a souvenir."

The maid almost cracked a smile. Instead she gripped her hands tighter and straightened her back.

Probably would get into trouble later if she did. I imagine some pieces have gone missing while one person distracted her with pleasant small talk.

Anton directed his attention to the rest of the auditorium. Royal soldiers filtered throughout the room, stationing themselves along the far walls and in small groups scattered throughout the auditorium. These groups were four soldiers standing back to back, so they could keep an eye on their guests without having to move even their heads. The guests had almost all been seated, each group had a maid or a servant assigned with those of a higher standing and importance assigned someone older.

They don't need a pretty face, they want someone that knows...Wait...Oh. This could be interesting.

"Verona?"

"Yes?" Verona had been idly inspecting the silverware, attracting a few odd glances from nearby tables. Someone dressed as well and expensively as her shouldn't behave like a country bumpkin.

"You remember Danafra? And the auction..."

Anton glanced to the maid. While her attention was still out over the rest of the auditorium she was clearly listening intently, not that she couldn't stop listening.

So that's the other reason. Think of them as nothing more than a fixture and who knows what dirty secrets you could spill.

"How could we forget?" Verona looked to Mezot, staring down at the table, saying nothing but not breathing heavily, for now at least.

"After we bought, you know who, we ran into that man who wanted to pay us? Didn’t give us a number and we just sort of ignored him?"

Verona tapped her ring.

"Probably not a good idea to use magic in here if we don't have to." Anton glanced at the maid, who nodded ever so slightly.

"Look at the table on the far side. Straight across the open area in the middle, the first table."

Sitting at the table was the hook-nosed man who wanted to buy Marion but had been outbid. Anton had snubbed him after the auction, after he tried to purchase her from them directly. Seeing that he was sitting so close to the centre of the room Anton presumed he was going to offer him political favours in lieu of money. Thankfully he was seated side on so he wouldn’t see them unless they drew attention to themselves.

"Oh...Shit." Verona cast her head down. "Do you think he'll recognize us?"

Anton nodded. "Absolutely. How many silver-haired short women do you know, that are accompanied by a Bebbezarian soldier?"

"I'm not that short," Verona grumbled softly.

Cetina caught the maid’s attention. "Who is that man?"

The maid followed their line of sight and a surreptitious point from Anton. "Lord Kaeso. A governor serving under Lord Vissulis. He controls substantial territory near the Seocurian border. I believe his land is poor in forestry but rich in agriculture and has abundant deposits of iron and marble, as well as general trade with Seocuria."

"Trade tariffs?"

"Only for merchants. And then not a significant sum. Lord Vissulis is of the belief that allowing the merchants to prosper is in the best interest of his territory and Graterious at large."

"Being that close to Seocuria," Anton lightly tapped the table. "Some of the workers, probably the miners, are Beastkin?"

"Correct. Beastkin serve as the main source of labour for heavy and difficult work in the northern lands of Qaiviel, especially those with good relations with the Seocurian Empire."

Anton gently nodded. There was nothing to be gained by investigating much further lest they draw suspicion upon themselves by their questions. It would be expected for them to know the most basic facts about Graterious, they were supposed to be important enough to be in the presence of the Emperor. Besides, Seocuria would soon be in flames. There didn't need to be someone remembering them acting suspiciously.

A servant, one of the oldest, lightly tapped a small glass. The light murmurs buzzing throughout the auditorium slowly ebbed away. Anton found the other Mages from the Royal Academy nearby, they weren't any further back but neither were they any closer to the centre. The Royal family did not care about their petty squabbles and treated them all equally.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Despite the man's age his voice travelled far without any muffling or echoing, most likely a feature of the auditorium. He stood in a very specific position, at the centre of a circular marking. "Thank you, one and all, for coming this day. I would-"

A child began to cry, his wails cutting through the silent air. The servant stopped, keeping his hand raised, while a veritable swarm of maids and servants descended upon the table with the screaming child. Within a few seconds the child and the mother were escorted out, much to the concern of the father left behind.

"I bet that kid won't be walking," Anton said quietly, both Verona and Mezot shot him an odd look. "To embarrass them so much, especially before the Emperor..."

"We won't do that. Will we?" Verona asked.

"Of course not."

The servant coughed lightly. "I would have the privilege to present the Emperor of Graterious, Marcovious the Second."

The maid silently urged them to stand. Anton wasn't certain of Graterian customs but if basic Royal etiquette applied here it would be rude to be seated as they entered.

To their left, opposite the gigantic doors, a dozen Royal Soldiers struggled to pull open a door made entirely out of Adamantium. Two people emerged, flanked by more Royal soldiers, one man and one woman. The woman looked decidedly plain, at least compared to those that Anton associated with, but still pretty. She wore a simple tight blue dress with several gold and jewel-encrusted necklaces. A bracer made from gold adorned her right arm and a small silver braclet on her left. The man, who Anton presumed was the Emperor, dressed slightly more ostentatiously. His clothes were very similar to Cassius's but with more gold and exotic fabrics. The only noteworthy item was the crown on his head; one made entirely from thin pieces of Adamantium and a single large green gemstone in the centre. Undoubtedly it was expensive but otherwise quite plain. It appeared the imperial family practised a measure of austerity, at least compared to the fabulous and ostentatious clothes of the royals of Earth.

Is this the man that set a bounty of Ferula? Seems relatively normal, so far at least. Could easily pass for someone just walking along the street, not that I’ll ever tell them that. Nothing that hints at a long line of incest.

The couple smiled and waved as they entered the auditorium proper. Those gathered, including the servants, began to clap loudly. Anton felt it was slightly forced but nothing like several brutal dictatorships of Earth.

The Emperor and Empress bowed and took their seats, more extravagant than their clothes and more in line with what Anton envisioned a powerful royal family would use.

That's more like it. Still, I shouldn't judge. They're probably ceremonial chairs made potentially hundreds of years ago. They certainly look old.

Neither said a word as the applause died down. Several people tried to sit down but were quietly told to remain standing.

"His eminence..."

The older servant stopped as the Emperor rose from his seat. He bowed and hurriedly backed away, allowing the Emperor to stand in the circle.

"Thank you, Carothers." The Emperor nodded once to the servant. "Thank you all for coming from so far and so quickly. I understand that there are many things to be done before the snows begin to fall in earnest, so I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks for taking the time to visit us."

Don't think there's much of a choice.

"Our cooks have slaved all day to prepare a delicious feast-"

"This isn't so bad," Verona whispered.

"-But before we begin with the merriment I would like to introduce to you my son, Prince Proculus, and his new fiancé, Lady Nepia."

The clapping began once again, far more forced than before. Some of the servants clapped extremely loudly to account for the lack of enthusiasm. Out from the Adamantium door another couple emerged. Anton instantly understood why Ferula had failed.

The woman was very pretty and, just like the Empress, seemingly normal; long blonde hair, dark blue eyes with lightly tanned skin. With a moderate height, slim figure and a moderate bust Anton understood why she had been chosen to be the next Empress. However, her face desperately tried to hold back a pervasive sense of dread of every waking moment. The cause of which hung from her arm.

The prince was not attractive. In any sense. It was worse than simply being ugly, he was deformed. His lips appeared to be fat, as if he had just fought for his life and had been filled with collagen, chin non-existent, just a flow of fatty flesh to his neck with a few black marks where the few errant hairs forming a scraggly beard had been removed. Two large, wet green eyes nervously scanned everyone underneath a large pale forehead framed by thin whips of black hair. Thankfully he body appeared normal, doubly so compared to his face, but his clothes were very loose, easy to hide other deformities.

"That poor woman," Verona whispered. "She's..."

"We don't always have a choice," Anton replied.

"No." Verona smiled. "But I'm glad I got to make mine."

Prince Proculus bowed, a well-practised motion, and his fiancé curtsied. Emperor Marcovious smiled.

"I am honoured to know Lady Nepia, daughter of lord Vissulis-"

Many in the auditorium glanced to a single person. Anton felt a wave of relief, it wasn't directed at the man from Danafra, Lord Kaeso, but someone else on his table. He looked nearly identical to him except somewhat older. If anything he appeared to be his father.

If we ever go to war on Cassius’s side we might need to send an assassin to deal with him. I'm sure he's already prepared for that.

Anton glanced at Cetina, remembering King Leo’s war camp.

I know I wasn't.

"-Will soon join our family. There are simply too many people to meet immediately so they will introduce themselves throughout this exquisite feast. With that, I wish you enjoy your time. Long live the Empire!"

Another round of applause broke out.

"Is that it?" Anton wondered aloud.

Verona, Cetina and Mezot had no clue.

"Prince Proculus's fiancé will, one day, be the Empress of Graterious." The maid began. "As such, it is important to know, at the very least, what she looks like."

"But we don't know anything about her." Verona raised a silver brow.

"Do you expect this feast to be finished by nightfall?" The maid tilted her head innocently. "It might be done before midnight, if everything moves quickly."

Mezot whimpered. Anton gently reassured here that they weren't leaving her alone.

"When is it possible for us to leave?" Anton asked. "Providing that we do not break protocol."

"When the Emperor and Empress have retired. However, I do not believe that will happen anytime soon. Emperor Marcovious is to meet envoys from Xiam and Frindal today as well. Their dignitaries are attending this event as well."

The maid nodded to two groups situated near the back, either side of the door. Those from Frindal were separated into two distinct groups. One were the soldiers, wearing light armour, designed for ease of movement and heat reduction while having as much metal as possible. Only a slit around their eyes was exposed, everything else was completely covered. Their helmets were curiously tall with small slits near the top. Anton’s first thought was they were to allow the hot air to escape and not cook their head. The second group wore loose-fitting clothes, strangely thick but designed to keep the worst of the suns rays off their skin. Compared to the Graterian’s their skin was dark, darker than Cetina’s but less than the Dark Elves, and was very weathered. Anton didn’t understand who was the most important, as they worse different colours but something told him the eldest was not the most important.

And I can’t see any women. Perhaps they’re back in the Frindal quarters in the capital. Umikgruid said some unpleasant things about the Frindal Emirate and their treatment of women and homosexuals.

Xiam, however, appeared ripped straight from Ancient China, even down to their eyes, which were decidedly more narrow than everyone else. All wore immaculate green and dark maroon robes and curious square flat hats, which they refused to remove when seated. From the rear two corners hung two small lines of brown beads with a small golden star on the end. The more important appeared to have more points, with one person that had a single line for a star being treated little more than a servant. He all but bowed and scraped at every word, bowing so deep that his head nearly touched the table.

"Seems a long way to come," Anton said, taking his seat alongside the other tables. "Graterious is small compared to Xiam and Frindal."

The maid smiled. "Frindal is large but their...wealth leaves much to be desired. Xiam borders the Holy Kingsland, neither of which are at war but tensions remain high. They can spare a diplomat to, at the very least, ensure Graterious does not ally itself with the Kingsland."

Sounds a lot like Cassius's dealings with me.

Anton clapped his hands. "Well, if we can't leave for some time, we might as well enjoy it."

"Damn right," Verona smirked.

"Indeed." Mezot smiled. "Axia will be fine…Right?"

Anton nodded as Cetina shifted uncomfortably. She looked at an empty place on the table.

"Perhaps I should sit." Cetina reached for the chair. "Will they mind if I'm wearing my armour? I see a few others dressed like me..."

"Do not worry." The maid began. "The palace can afford such expenditures."

"Then don't mind if I do." Cetina took her seat. "So what is being served?"

---[]---

"That," Verona suppressed a burp. "Was way too much."

"I've barely gone through mine." Anton mused. He had eaten as much as he could but it hardly made a dent in the piles of food laid out before them.

Mezot, who ate a decent amount considering her physique, stared at Verona with a mixture of envy and awe. "How are you not fat?"

Verona's belly was now quite obviously swollen, the dress extremely tight around her stomach. Anton hoped it wasn't putting too much pressure on her budding baby.

"I honestly have no idea." Verona laughed. "I'm just glad I don't have to worry about that."

Mezot frowned but didn't press the issue. Anton wasn't sure if she'd come to her own conclusion or simply didn't know how to continue.

Mezot reached for Anton's hand. "Can we leave yet?"

Anton, even while eating mountains of succulent meats and fruits, still new to him despite travelling the width of the continent, had been keeping an eye on the movements of the Emperor and his family. Currently, he sat with the dignitaries from Xiam, for some time actually, while Prince Proculous and Lady Nepia spoke with Vissulis and Umbris respectfully. The squat man was very uncomfortable speaking with the Princess, not that the fault lied with her. It would be impossible to forget the loss of a child in such a manner.

I...I hope, pray, that I never have to bury my children.

"It would be a gross breach of etiquette to leave now." The maid said quietly. "Though Emperor Marcovious may not visit each table individually his wife almost certainly will. And so too will Prince Proculus and Lady Nepia."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be brave for a little bit longer."

Mezot nodded, holding her hands in her lap and biting on her lower lip. Anton continued to scan the room, there was little else to do. Small groups of people had begun to move about, only after the Emperor and his family had taken the first step, engaging in what Anton could only describe as some very aggressive bargaining. Every so often a brightly dressed child was ushered forward and motioning to someone else on the table. Some were clearly not interested and dismissively waved them away, they in turn held forced smiles as they retreated, their faces contorting in anger as near-silent curses escaped their lips.

While he could have used Tethra’s abilities to listen in he knew the soldiers, especially those wearing Mage attire, were keeping a watchful eye on him. There were certainly others that could use magic, like Mezot and the other members of the Royal Academy, he was an outsider of unknown strength. While not an imminent threat they would certainly be keeping a very, very close eye on him.

As Verona attempted to nibble at yet another piece of food he spotted movement just to the side of the Emperor's throne. A small column of well-dressed people emerged, holding a wide variety of wooden musical instruments. Some were little more than a violin while others required two people to properly handle.

It’s been so long since I’ve listened to music. Strange that I haven’t had the desire, but there are innumerable things more important than listening to a tune. Well, more tuneful than Verona’s humming.

Anton caught the maid’s attention. “It’s a little late to begin playing music, isn’t it?”

Verona and Cetina took notice of the small assembly. Mezot continued to stare vacantly at her empty plate.

“It would be too much to ask for the royal musicians to play during the entire feast.” The maid nodded to the centre of the room. “But he is a fan of dances.”

“Dances?” Mezot perked up.

“You know how to dance?” Anton was genuinely surprised and impressed.

Mezot slowly nodded, like she was merely confirming a well-known fact. “I was taught after I left my fishing village. Though I was born to a poor family I was expected to learn, to not embarrass my...”

Mezot’s face twitched in an usual display of annoyance. Though she had difficulty expressing her emotions it would be categorically wrong to say she did not have them. If anything she could be even more high-strung, as she did not have the ability to express them properly.

The central area was cleared of the few groups of people. A loose ring of new servants formed and ushered couples to their positions. Anton turned to Verona but Mezot’s chair squeaked. She now leant forward, watching the couples with an intense look.

“I…” Anton winced as another static laced memory tried to surface. He coughed it away, before anyone could notice. “Do you want to dance?”

Mezot nearly jumped out of her chair. She slowly turned to Anton, her face almost had a flush alongside a nervous expression.

“I…” Mezot gripped her hands tight on her yellow dress. “I do. But…”

“Are the movements simple?” Anton asked. Verona leant close while Cetina silently raised a brow as she munched on a small piece of meat from a bone. “I’m sure I could copy them, if you’re willing to lead.”

“I-”

“If you’re willing to be my teacher.” Anton smiled but Mezot remained completely still. Slowly a faint smile crept up the corner of her mouth.

Verona waved them towards the large space. “Go on, you two. Have some fun.”

Verona winked, a devious smile on her face as she whispered something to Cetina. Cetina agreed and smiled. Her body relaxed as she too began to partake once again in the piles of half-eaten food.

“This is your day, Mezot.” Verona continued. She mouthed something to Mezot but Anton just missed it, much to Verona’s delight. “Remember? Don’t hesitate to do something you like. Have some fun for once.”

Mezot took Verona’s words to heart. She stood up, the chair’s legs groaned against the floor, the maid rushed to her side as those nearby looked to the source. Mezot took only a few paces before stopping. Her foot tapped nervously as she looked back. Anton was already out of his chair and by her side. Anton offered his arm for Mezot, like the other men were doing for their partners. Mezot’s fingers twitched as she reached and held his arm. Her face almost held a smile, Anton had to pull her forward at a reasonable speed, as they neared the protective line of servants. One focused upon them, his eyes narrowed for just a moment before the professional smile took hold. Anton smiled and continued with a confident stride. Often merely looking the part was enough. He hoped that Mezot wouldn’t seize up and create a scene in front of the Emperor and his son.

“I’m going to need to rely on you,” Anton said. “What to do, what steps to make. Oh, and don’t hesitate to tell me if I’m making a mistake. Okay?”

Mezot nodded seriously as they took their position amongst the couples. Anton was glad to see there were couples far younger and older than them. They would slip unnoticed. Well, Anton would. Mezot’s dress was drawing significant attention, much to the annoyance of the female guests. Mezot seemed unaware and ran a hand over the golden jewellery over her ear.

“It’s very simple,” Mezot said softly. Her eyes were sharper, like she was teaching a new student. “Since this is the first dance it will be very simple, for beginners and the elderly. If we make a mistake no one will notice or say a thing.”

“You seem really excited about this. When was the last time you’ve done this?”

Mezot’s face fell. “Before Axia was born…”

A light noise came from the assembled musicians. A few were finalising tuning on their instruments, keeping their heads down from the curious glances of those nearby. Anton quickly found the Emperor and the Prince still on the far side of the room, now speaking with the representatives from Frindal.

“So what do we do?” Anton watched the other couples as they began to take their positions. They quickly entwined their hands while another head each other’s waists.

Good thing Verona isn't a jealous woman.

Mezot hesitated and looked to Verona. Verona smiled and gave a thumbs-up, rather thumbs raised high, much to the bemusement of Cetina and their maid. Anton offered his own, which Mezot took after much hesitation. Her hand shook slightly and, despite the lack of raw strength, he could feel her excitement. They were the last couple to be ready and were receiving some annoyed looks.

It's a few seconds. You'll survive. Unless you're actually trying to show off before the Emperor. Will I have to deal with such things one day?

"It's very simple," Mezot whispered, more for herself than Anton. "Very simple."

Anton gently nodded as he took hold of her waist. He wasn't about to let his hand hover over her, no one else was, but Mezot was still surprised. A moment later her normal demeanour returned.

A musician tapped his instrument and the music began. The soft melody, Anton placed it as somewhat 'classical' echoed throughout the hall. Without a word the couples began to dance, a slow but well-practised set of movements, spins and twirls.

Should have won better shoes. My toes are trying to slip over each other.

Mezot, true to her word, guided him as Anton copied the movements of the men around him. The soft hold became rigid, wrapping around his fingers and prevented them from moving. Anton expected nothing less from Mezot, to become so focused in her work that the word simply fell away. Anton quickly discovered the routine as it repeated in an endless loop while they slowly rotated around the room.

Who is actually watching? And not just because there’s a passing rear in a tight dress.

Many were merely leering at the dancers, Anton didn’t know what to say when he saw several women eyeing him off. As he had entered with some very noticeable partners, at the very least there should be some gossip. Anton caught Mezot’s eye. She stared intently at him, her grip had yet to slacken.

“I think I’ve got it,” Anton said. “So you can relax a little. No need to be so tense.”

Mezot’s fingers did indeed loosen, so too did the tension in her waist, but she remained quiet and focused.

I’m sure she’s enjoying it-

“Anton?” Mezot spoke far softer than normal. Just focusing enough to hear her words was almost enough to cause a mistake.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for coming.” Mezot looked towards another dancing couple. “I would never have done this...Any of this...Without you. I wouldn’t have completed my thesis and Axia and I would be living outside the Academy.” Mezot shuddered. “Or I might have to return home. I don’t even know if my parents are still alive...They were old when I left.”

“I’m glad to have helped.”

Mezot’s feet stopped. Anton lifted and spun her around, not the move he was supposed to do, so he wouldn’t trip nor cause the couple behind to fumble. On the outside it appeared they were simply having fun, not Mezot stopping dead in the middle of the Imperial Palace.

“Are you okay?” Anton glanced to their table. “Do you want to sit down?”

Mezot continued dancing but something was different. She was distracted by something. And it showed. She made more mistakes than Anton ever had.

“Mezot? Come on, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

Or at the very least say that you’re not feeling well, so we don’t make a scene.

Mezot looked him dead in the eyes, her own sharp green eyes shone with a desperate need for an answer.

“If I help you create your own Academy…” Mezot bit her lip, enough to almost draw blood. “You’ll find someone that isn’t...Isn’t…”

Anton said nothing as Mezot searched for the right words. This was not something to interrupt or make light of.

“Like me.” Mezot’s shoulders drooped. “Difficult. And...So different. I know that I am. I…” Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “I could barely take care of my only daughter. I’d become lost…”

Anton wiped away the tear that ran down her face. Mezot did not appear to notice. She hung her head low, her movements became robotic and had no bearing on what was happening around them.

“Mezot. I’m not going to ignore you, nor cast you aside just because I find someone better.”

Mezot looked up. Her eyes were red but the intensity soon returned.

“I would never abandon someone so important and precious to me. And that means that we stick together no matter what. I’d like for you to stay in Atros, more than just you being stuck in a room teaching our people. Remember our little excursion to the Lumber Mill?”

“I do,” Mezot said, only to acknowledge that she was listening.

“It was short but I enjoyed our time together.” Anton smiled. “And I know that you want to come back as well.”

Anton wasn’t completely sure about that, but Atros offered something that she had never experienced in the Royal Academy: an attentive class, people that would speak with her and those that understood her condition, even partially.

“So don’t ever think that you wouldn’t be welcome in my city or that I’d turn you away. Ever.”

Mezot smiled. “Thank you.”

Anton wanted to say something else but decided against it. It was a tiny moment for Mezot but he didn’t want it ruined. The dance continued for another minute before coming to an abrupt end. The couples split and some of the men kissed the hand of the women, especially the older couples. They giggled as their partners' lips made contact with their wrinkled hands. Older memories came forth, passionate times from their youth. Some of the younger men tried but were rebuked, much to their annoyance. Anton caught Mezot looking at them. Without saying a word he gently took her hand and gently kissed it. Mezot completely froze before her ears burned bright red. She tore her head away as Anton gently relinquished hold of her hand.

“I…”

Mezot looked away but she had the hint of a wry smile. Anton saw the servants suppress a smile at Mezot’s obvious embarrassment. Many of the couples dispersed and new ones formed to fill their place, those too nervous to dance on the first round.

Anton offered his arm. Mezot looked up, her face had returned to normal as she took his and returned to their table. Verona was beside herself with glee, bouncing side to side on her chair while Cetina smiled.

“How was that?” Verona asked. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I think so.” Anton pulled Mezot’s chair out. “I certainly did.”

“It…” Mezot took her seat. She touched her cheeks. “I haven’t danced in a long time.” Mezot smiled. “I thought I might have forgotten how.”

The music resumed and the couples began their dance. This was somewhat more complex than before, some of the new couples clearly thought it would be a continuation of the first set.

So it changes each time? I wonder when it gets back to the first one?

“Thank you,” Mezot whispered.

Anton smiled as Mezot fidgeted with her fingers. Verona made a noise as a small group of nobles, none of which Anton recognised, approached. It was less of a walk than a saunter, a confident stride knowing full well that they would not leave. He did not recognise them, nor any defining features on the clothes but they had been seated in Lord Cassius’s area of the hall. Anton heard Cetina straighten and rest her hand on the table. A dinner knife was not the same as a sword but a slit throat was a slit throat.

“Your dancing was very impressive.”

The leading man, wearing an expensive suit, smiled as he approached. Behind him walked two women, one clearly just in her teens, both wearing fabulous dresses. Unlike the man they had a small emblem on a special sash around their stomach. Anton did not recognise it but it looked very similar to Lord Cassius’s. Regardless, he was the first to even acknowledged their group. Anton smiled when he felt the angry glares from the other Masters and Teachers from the Royal Academy. They had only been approached by low ranking people, those even further from the centre and the Emperor’s throne then even them.

Mezot’s blank face greeted him. The man, nor the women knew what to do with someone who looked at them.

“Thank you.” Anton began, Mezot gave no sign she was going to speak. “It’s actually my first time. It’s thanks to Mezot’s skill that I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.”

Mezot smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I had asked our assistant,” The man motioned to a maid standing just behind, shadowing their movements. “About you. I was curious-”

Something caused Mezot to tense. Her green eyes constricted to a single point as she looked at something behind the man. Prince Proculus and Lady Nepia were several stables away but they were not what Mezot took issue with. Anton moved closer, followed her eyeline and found two people speaking with a table belonging to some kind of merchants. The man looked normal, for those attending this event; a little short, rotund but with a very well fitted red and black suit. Nothing too unusual. The woman was more interesting. Compared to the man she was considerably taller, immaculately curled brown hair and an extravagant amount of gold and silver jewellery, almost to a gaudy level. Her dress gave off vibes of Duchess Belinda’s design sense, except for one particular area. She was easily comparable to Verona in regards to bust, perhaps even Marion or Ulyaa in the right circumstances. When the couple moved away from the table Mezot’s eyes followed. Her body began to tremble, her head twisted to a sharp angle and her lips curled back. Never in his life did he think that he would see Mezot display such anger.

“Who are they?” Anton asked. Mezot did not answer, Verona and Cetina tried to follow Mezot’s furious gaze.

“Who?” The man stepped to the side, gently ushering the two women as well. “Oh. Lord Amulik and Lady Dossenia.”

Mezot began muttering something under her breath. Anton almost shouted as he recognised the words. She was trying to cast a spell, Icicle Tempest. Her hand grasped in vain for her staff. She clicked her tongue when she realised she could not find it. For once Anton was glad that Principle Mages were completely powerless without their charms.

“Please tell me you didn’t just try to do that,” Anton growled at Mezot, something he didn’t expect to directed at her, of all people.

“I…” Mezot kept her eyes firmly planted on the two. Her fingers relaxed and her head straightened up but she was still furious.

“And who are they?” Verona asked.

The man tried to avoid looking at her chest, a task he obviously failed, especially when Verona leant forward and rested her elbows on the table. He tore his eyes away before his wife, at least Anton assumed it was his wife, could see, but his daughter did. She looked at him in disgust but she too stared at Verona in disbelief.

“Eyes are up here, dear.” Verona winked at the young girl. She flushed furiously, a hand unconsciously moved to her own chest. “But, who are they?”

“They are nobles in Lord Umbris’s territory.” The woman spoke through gritted teeth. Anton wasn’t sure if she was more upset with Verona or her husband. “Lord Amulik family hold several mines and fisheries along the coastline. I believe that Lady Dossenia’s family owns several estates. Together they have quite a fortune.”

“Is Amulik-”

Mezot glared at Anton the moment the word left his lips. He needed no further confirmation.

“To think we’d meet them here.” Cetina mused. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Only…” Anton looked to Mezot, still furious but remaining seated, for now at least. “Only if they don’t...Oh, shit. They’ve noticed.”

Anton knew instantly that Dossenia saw and recognised Mezot. The woman uttered something to Amulik and ushered them towards their table. The unknown group knew something was brewing and quickly took their leave, even pushing their daughter so hard she almost fell over.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Anton told Mezot. He had to jab her leg for her to even register his words. She nodded but he doubted she would.

Great. Goes from one extreme to the other. Let’s try and get through this without Mezot trying to murder her ex-husband.

“Oh.” Verona clicked her tongue. “Let’s all be on our best behaviour.” Verona glanced between Mezot and Amulik. “I think you could do better, Mezot. Way better.”

Mezot said nothing and continued to stare daggers as they approached.

Lady Dossenia stopped a few paces away from the table, holding her hand in front of her face.

“Mezot. I didn’t think that you would ever amount to anything,” Dossenia spoke with an extremely haughty voice, annoying even without her attitude. “Last I heard you were nearly broke and on the verge of selling that frail body to keep you in that pathetic little Academy that you fawn over.”

Mezot was truly angry now. If she had access to her charm, or even a knife, she would have already tried to kill Dossenia. And Anton wouldn’t blame her.

“And who the hell do you think you are?” Anton said, since Mezot was still too furious to speak. “Coming here, on the Prince’s day, to antagonise someone. Are you really that pathetic of a woman?”

“And who are you?” Dossenia faked her mild bemusement. “You dress as if you belong but you clearly don’t.”

“I don’t even want to entertain this.” Anton caught their servant’s attention. “Can we please get rid of these two? They’re only causing distress and annoyance-”

“It’s been a long time, Mezot.” Amulik said softly. “Have you been well?”

“You left me.” Mezot’s voice was little more than a growl. “You left me and our daughter-”

Anton waved to the servant. “Now. Please!”

“-Alone!” Mezot slammed her fist onto the table, rattling the silver cutlery. “Because you-”

“I think he got what he deserved.” Verona laughed. “If he gave up someone like you and your daughter for some thing like that.”

The servant, finally, stood before Amulik and Dossenia. “You are causing distress to guests of the Emperor, and members of the Royal Academy. Please leave, or the guards will escort you out.”

Four of the Royal Guards slowly approached. They were listening very intently indeed.

“We have done nothing wrong.” Dossenia’s attitude was utterly infuriating to Anton, and everyone else at the table. “My Husband wishes to speak with her former wife. After how she treated him, completely disinterested in everything he wanted and ignorant to his needs, she is lucky that he even acknowledges her.”

Anton held Mezot’s hand over her lap, just to stop her from trying to grab a weapon and to try and calm her.

“You are an incredibly vile woman,” Anton said. Dossenia smirked. “Utterly vile. Thankfully we don’t have to deal with you. If we were outside of this place I’d probably push you into the river.”

“Ha,” Verona smirked. “I’d love to see her struggle to swim with all that dress…” Verona’s eyes narrowed to a squint but she didn’t say anything more.

“Is this the company my husband’s former wife kept?” Dossenia smiled. “No wonder he left you for me.”

Anton stared at Amulik. He matched Dossenia’s smile when she held his shoulder and brought it into her chest.

“There’s more to life than breasts,” Anton said, far louder than he intended.

Before either could speak the Royal soldiers had stepped behind the servant. In their presence, Dossenia’s previous arrogance and confidence began to wane.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong.” She pleaded to the guards in a sickly sweet tone. “We merely wanted to inquire about how one of our family friends-”

“You’re seriously going to lie like that?” Verona couldn’t hold back her own smile. “They aren’t stupid and they did hear you...I…” Verona’s smile widened. “I finally figured out what was bugging me about you. Something was wrong the moment I saw you.”

“What? You haven’t seen a real woman before?” Dossenia laughed while Amulik remained motionless.

“Axia is more of a woman than you,” Verona grumbled. She pointed to Dossenia’s chest. “Those. Those aren’t real.”

“What?” Dossenia acted bemused but Anton saw the twitch in the corner of her eye.

“Really?” Verona looked at her own chest. “Come on. If they’re really that big then there’s no way they’d rest that high on your body. Look at mine. They’re smaller than yours and they hurt my back. And…”

Verona started laughing, drawing attention from the nearby tables that had been listening in as subtly as possible, which was to say none.

“And mine don’t jut out of my armpits.”

Dossenia’s eyes twitched in fury but she could not respond.

“I heard that you became a Master,” Amulik said calmly, seemingly unconcerned with the soldiers almost blocking his view.

Mezot sighed. “Now. After so long. After you left me-”

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.” Anton squeezed her hand tight. “You don’t owe them anything. Especially after what you’ve been through.”

Mezot stared into his eyes. Slowly they softened and the anger left her body.

“Amulik.” Mezot flattened her skirt. “I am doing well, now, thanks to my new friends. People that want to talk to me. That are willing to help me even though my mind isn’t right. Isn’t normal. I hope that you are doing well…” Mezot took a deep breath. “But I never want to see you again. Ever.”

Amulik’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly. “I see. I just wanted to talk to you about-”

“Took you long enough to become a Master.” Dossenia cursed under her breath.

“So you wanted something that only a Master could do?” Verona scoffed. “You don’t actually care, you just want her for something? Get out of here.” Verona shooed them away. “You’re both terrible people and deserve each other.”

Amulik’s face hardened. He wasn’t interested in reconciling with Mezot, only using her connections, not that she was that well-liked in the Royal Academy.

The Royal Guards pushed in front of the two and formed a solid wall.

“This-”

“It’s time to return to your seats.” A guard spoke softly, yet his words carried a finality. “Now.”

Amulik and Dossenia grumbled to each other. Amulik started to walk away but Dossenia remained.

“And to think after everything you’ve done to him, for your daughter’s sake-”

Mezot snatched a knife and threw it at Dossenia’s face before Anton could stop her. It struck the guard in the back of the helmet and bounced harmlessly to the ground. He turned and stared at Mezot. Mezot was already reaching for another piece of cutlery. Anton grabbed her hands and pushed her back into the seat, hard enough for the chair to slide back. She glared at him when Anton refused to relinquish his hold of her wrists, effectively pinning her in her seat. Dossenia smiled as every nearby table was watching, even some of the dancers had stopped and whispers were spreading.

“It’s time for you to leave.” The maid motioned the soldiers towards Amulik and Dossenia.

“She attacked a guard.” Dossenia tried to act surprised. “She should be arrested and thrown in the dungeons!”

Fuck’s sake.

Anton glared at Mezot. She was unrepentant and continued to struggle against him.

“What’s happening here?” A soft male voice spoke from several tables behind.

The Royal Guards stiffened, the guard facing them grimaced as he shot Mezot a worried look.

Dossenia looked very happy, Amulik decidedly less so, as Anton’s heart sunk. Prince Proculus approached, a smile on his distorted face. Anton kept his face flat as the Prince approached the servant. Before the servant could speak the glint of the silver knife caught his eye.

“How did a knife get there?” Proculus asked. “Did you drop it?”

Mezot’s hands began to shake. She started to understand the predicament she was in. She mumbled an apology as she no longer resisted his hold.

“My Prince.” Dossenia bowed deeply. Proculus barely noticed her until his eyes fell on her chest. Verona clicked her tongue in moderate disgust. “This woman tried to attack me.”

Proculus eyes wandered off of Dossenia and back to the silver fork. He reached down, a Royal Guard moved to pick it up for him but the Prince hissed at him, baring his teeth behind his swollen lips. The Guard reared up and stood perfectly at attention. Dossenia frowned as the Prince held the fork aloft.

“A little damage…” He held the fork close to his eye. “But I’m sure that it can still be used.”

He looked to Anton’s table, his eyes fell on Mezot’s place, the only person that was missing a piece of cutlery.

“I believe you dropped this.” Proculus delicately placed the fork on the table, though it was only at the very edge of the table and out of reach of everyone.

“Thank you,” Anton said softly.

A young woman, Lady Nepia, hurriedly stepped to Prince Proculus’s side. “I wondered where you went.”

She tried to affectionately rub his arm but the revulsion was clear the moment Proculus looked back to Mezot.

So far he seems normal. I hate to say it, but more normal than Mezot. Apart from the face. And the body. Is he going to become a lecherous creep? This we might just have to endure.

“You can’t just leave in the middle of a conversation.” Nepia continued. “They were rather confused.”

“Hmm?” Proculus appeared genuinely baffled. Nepia smiled and nodded back to the table they had left. The merchants smiled back but were more confused than offended. “Oh...Oh. I heard something fall on the floor, but it was just this fork.”

Proculus pointed to the fork as he rubbed his skull and the thin strands of hair that hanged limply against his skin. “How did it get there? From over there?”

Is this an act or a ploy? If he acts like a fool then people might think he can be manipulated. Or...He might be genuine.

“She threw it at me!” Dossenia shouted. “She wanted to kill me!”

Dossenia tried to approach the prince but the Royal Guards stopped her. She frowned but tried to continue to push. Amulik tried to pull her back but Dossenia was having none of it.

I’m sure I’ve met these sort of people back on Earth…

“Really?” Proculus was genuinely surprised. “But...But this is meant to be our day-”

“And it is.” Nepia smiled. “But I think that it’s-”

Proculus raised his hand. “I just wanted to know what was happening.”

No way out of this.

“Prince Proculus.” Anton bowed his head. He didn’t know if he was supposed to stand but it was, at the very least an attempt. “Lady Dossenia tried to antagonise Mezot, in retaliation for failing to provide them with a favour.”

Anton didn’t know what the two wanted from her but it was a solid guess.

Proculus looked to the fork. “Seems to have worked.”

Why was Ferula…

“She has also only recently been promoted to a Lecturer position at the Royal Academy.” Anton continued. “An Ice and Water Mage. And this, the debut of yourself and Lady Nepia, was her first official function. None of us were expecting to have such horrible things said about us on such an important day.”

Proculus had stopped listening about halfway through. His eyes had drifted away from Anton and fell on Verona and Cetina. Both were very beautiful, for different reasons, but most attention fell upon one particular part of Verona’s anatomy. Verona’s hand reached for Anton’s leg and held tight.

“Dear?” Nepia stroked his arm.

A mist had covered Proculus’s eyes, the look of lust and desire.

If he’s the Emperor’s son he might not have been denied something before…

“Dear,” Nepia spoke more firmly.

“Forgive me, dear.” Proculus smiled and gently held her hand. “I have never seen such beautiful-”

A growl escaped his fat lips. Verona’s skin crawled and Cetina looked visibly distressed. Nepia flashed them a worried smile and squeezed the Prince's hand tight again.

“How much did you have to pay for a Silver Eagle Clanswomen?”

Verona shrunk into the chair. Proculus looked at her like she was nothing more than a toy, something that he could amuse himself with for a few hours then discard. Anton wanted nothing more than to punch the man but he managed to keep his calm. When Proculus licked his lips Nepia’s eyes flicked either side and she pulled his arm close to his.

“Dear!” Nepia raised her voice. Whatever trance Proculus had fallen under was dispelled. “I think it’s time to leave these poor people alone.”

“Oh?”

Nepia smiled. “They’re clearly overwhelmed by being in the presence of the future Emperor.”

Proculus puffed out his chest, Nepia wanted to vomit.

“I suppose you’re right.” Proculus smiled. “It has been a long day too, hasn’t it?” He bowed his head to Mezot. “Congratulations on your promotion. I was informed by my advisors that a powerful Ice Mage had just been promoted. I didn’t expect that they would be invited to our debut.” Proculus held what passed for his chin. “I thought my advisors would have told me about something like that.”

The guards shuddered. Anton didn’t want to know what was about to happen to that poor man. Or worse if it was a woman.

“Thank you,” Mezot whispered.

“I’ve had ice cooled drinks before.” Proculus smiled. “Maybe the Royal Academy will soon be able to send someone to the Imperial Palace. I know my father would love to have them all the time. It would even help him with that sore back of his, especially in the morning.”

Anton forced a smile as Proculus laughed like he was the greatest comedian on the planet. When it faded he spun on his heel and turned to leave. Dossenia stepped in front of the Prince.

“She-”

“Who are you?” Proculus frowned. “You come from Umbris’s territory and yet you are a very annoying person.”

“I-”

Amulik forcefully took Dossenia’s arm and pulled her to the side. She glared at him but didn’t speak. Nepia whispered something into Proculus’s ear and the two moved back to the table with the merchants. They all acted as nothing had happened.

One of the Royal Guards lightly jabbed Amulik’s side. He took the wordless instruction and pulled Dossenia away. She managed a final hateful glare before walking away.

Verona whimpered, collapsing into her chair. “Was...Was I about to be raped?”

“I think he wouldn’t have accepted a no.” Anton grit his teeth. “Let’s just be thankful that it didn’t get that far.”

Anton turned to Mezot. “And for you...What the hell were you thinking?”

Mezot shrunk in her chair. “When she started saying those…” She cast her head down, her face burning red with shame.

“Please don’t ever do something so stupid.” Mezot nodded, suppressing a sniffle. “But I think this is as good a time as any to leave.”

Anton caught the servant’s attention. Compared to the other servants she was very distressed. She, like the younger servants that had waited on them outside, clearly regretted being assigned to them.

“Yes?” The servant sounded extremely tired.

“I think it’s best if we leave,” Anton said softly. “Is it possible that we can? None of us...Are feeling well.”

Verona and Cetina silently agreed, Mezot kept her face cast down. The servant softly sighed.

“I believe that can be arranged. Dessert can be missed, I’ll explain to the Emperor, should he ask, what has happened.”

Hopefully, he doesn’t ask. Maybe we should have bought cheaper clothes, but that’s all hindsight.

The servant left without indicating they could leave. Mezot began to sniffle. Anton gently held her hand, which calmed her a little. He meant what he had said, he wasn’t about to apologise for it, but there was nothing to gain by lamenting over it.

The servant returned with two new Royal Guards. “I have just spoken with the Emperor-”

I didn’t think it’d go that high.

“-And he has agreed that you may leave early. You have met the Prince and his new wife, in a sense.”

“Thank you.” Anton rose up.

“I have a sword,” Cetina said. “That I gave up before I entered the palace.”

“It will be returned before you leave. Now, if you will please follow me.”

The women rose from their seats, Mezot continued holding Anton’s hand, not that Verona or Cetina said anything, and followed the servant and her guards. Other tables turned to look, curious as to why someone was leaving early and whispered amongst themselves. The others from the Royal Academy too whispered, it might reflect poorly upon Mezot but her reputation was essential nill. Anton caught Amulik and Dossenia look at them but he promptly ignored the troublesome pair.

“I thought I recognised you.” A voice called out from behind.

Anton groaned internally as he stopped and turned to the source. The hook-nosed made from Danafra stood behind, Lord Kaeso, with another man. Anton felt his body turn even colder as he recognised him as Lord Vissulis. They well and truly could pass for brothers.

“I’ve never forgotten a face before.” Kaeso smiled.

“I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.” Anton forced a smile. “I don’t think I’m ugly.”

“This is more than you said to me last time.” Kaeso chuckled. “Last time you just stared blankly at me, like you were some sort of mute.”

Anton didn’t want the conversation to continue but simply ignoring them was not a good idea. Their servant waited patiently to the side along with the Royal Guards, none were willing to interfere with what appeared to be a normal conversation.

“I had a lot on my mind.” Anton gently pushed Mezot forward. “But our friend here is not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse us-”

“Danafra is a long way from Porswea,” Vissulis spoke very softly. “And yet you’ve travelled there and back here, to be in time for Lady Nepia’s debut. You certainly like to travel far.”

“Who doesn’t like to see new places?” Anton forced a smile.

“People from the south tend not to like mingling with the Beast-kin.” Vissulis continued. “And yet you went all that way to spend almost eighty gold coins on an old Beast-kin woman.” Vissulis’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you do something like that? I cannot understand it, it...Confuses me.”

“Why was Lord Kaeso interested?” Anton asked.

Kaeso smiled as he placed a hand in his pocket. “I have interest in peculiar specimens. One of the few Beast-kin to produce a Human Half-breed would be very interesting.”

Verona raised a brow. “Were you going to try?”

“No. Of course not. But I must admit that I didn’t expect the price to go so high.” Kaeso’s smile softened. “While I was not able to match your budget, perhaps there is something else I could offer?”

“What would that be?” Anton asked. “No.” Anton raised his hand. “I’m sorry, but we must be going.”

“You should be careful in the south,” Vissulis spoke louder as they began to push forward. “A madman runs rampant there. Tullas, I believe. He doesn’t take kindly to those that interfere in his business.”

Anton stopped. “I’ve heard of this Tullas. But it sounds like you know him quite well.”

Vissulis smirked. “It’s my business, my duty, in fact, to know of everything that happens in the empire, even if they aren’t happening in my lands.”

“Is that your official position?” Anton asked.

“No. But I’ve heard that Cassius,” Vissulis looked to Cassius’s table. He wasn’t looking towards them, instead engaged in an intense conversation with someone from Frindal. “Recently found many of their hideouts. Not through his usual brutish methods, simply beating them until they speak, but something far more insidious. Magic. Magic that can compel anyone to tell the truth.”

“An interesting ability,” Anton said. “I’m sure the Emperor would want to employ such a person.”

“Indeed.” Vissulis smiled. “I’m glad you understand the situation. Next time you are in Boreana you should speak to the Commander of the Imperial Guard. He would be very interested in such magic. But I think that we have taken so much of your time already.”

Vissulis looked at Mezot, he had barely paid Verona or Cetina any attention. “Congratulations on your promotion. Mages of your calibre are always in short supply and high demand. Even your daughter appears to have quite a high aptitude...Shame. A true shame.”

Kaeso glumly nodded with his eyes closed.

“What are you saying?” Mezot asked. The grip on his hand grew very tight.

“Your new friends have made some powerful enemies,” Vissulis spoke very flatly. “On all levels of the social ladder. And someone has just had one of their major hideouts destroyed. Many hideouts and is quite angry. I was actually about to come over and talk to you.” Vissulis coughed. “But those two fools, and the Prince, came to harass you instead. Has that been sorted? None of you looked particularly happy to see them.”

“For now,” Anton said softly.

“Hmm. Well, I was going to tell you that I’ve heard rumour that Tullas has agents in the Royal Academy, and that someone who has annoyed him has taken interest in one of the Masters.”

Mezot’s hand tightened.

Vissulis gently nodded. “Of course, that person isn’t there right now.”

Mezot squeaked. Fear consumed her face. There was only one person that Mezot truly cared for.

“But someone closely related to them is. And the vast majority of the powerful mages here, leaving only the dregs and cowards behind. No one strong enough to stand up to a forceful request by someone impersonating authority, even if they are corrupt and rotten to the core.” Vissulis nodded to the guards and turned to walk away. “I do not believe that tragedy should be used to form alliances.”

“Let’s go,” Anton whispered harshly.

Mezot’s hand was like a vice. Verona and Cetina were equally worried as they began to walk out of the room at great speed. The servant noticed and quickened her own pace.

A helpful warning, or did he order it and he’s going to use that to get on our good side? Hold on, Axia. We’re coming.