There are three primary forms for initiating a duel between equals. The first and most common is ‘for the honour of my house’. This is the sort of contest which ends in defeat for one and some minor concession to the other.

*Translator’s note: Modern honour duels largely take place for ranking. They have been formalized to such an extent the initial text is no longer accurate. Still, 'for the honour of my house' is commonly used, or sometimes ‘for our mutual honour.’

Second, ‘for justice and recompense’ can be either to defeat or death. It can only be invoked against the wrongdoer, and must be witnessed by no less than three others.

*Translator’s note: There are other variations currently in use which are not recorded by the original text, such as ‘for the wrongs I have suffered.' or ‘for the vengeance of another's harm’, which further clarify the intent of the specific duel, though the more archaic original form is still accepted in most circumstances.

Third and least common of all, the ultimate final option. For duels of war and conquest. Any challenge ‘for the light you bear’ can only end in death.

*Translator’s note: This is a literal translation of the phrase, but whatever its deeper meaning or purpose was in ancient times has since been lost. This duel form is no longer used.

-On Dueling: The Original Guide (423 translation)

Hylet (Let) and Lanyss (Lan) were every bit as dedicated and serious about my investigation - our investigation now, it seemed - as Pel and myself. Lan was fiery tempered and seemed the sort to try and out-punch Pel if she got the opportunity. Hylet was much more even-tempered by comparison, but his quiet enthusiasm was no lesser for its calmer presentation.

After a fine, leisurely and entirely satisfactory lunch, we went over what I’d brought - Pel had already informed them, but they had questions about details - and what Vess had discovered in his trip to Varon. It was he, Pelys said, who’d discovered Desten 4’s whereabouts, and this discovery what had prompted his invitation for today’s meeting.

“Though I wasn’t expecting you to make things quite this complicated for me.” Pel laughed.

I enjoyed the afternoon, almost surprisingly, and by the time Aneeyha departed I no longer felt any awkwardness around Pelys. I looked forward to meeting Vess, and gained a solid appreciation for the sort of people Fylen chose to surround himself with.

I could easily see the camaraderie between them, the quiet places where Fylen ordinarily would fit in, the awkward moment as they fumbled around the gap in their unit, but instead of sitting around they were all trying to find the truth.

It was nice to forget, for a few hours, just how much of my life was built on deception.

Pelys offered to fly me back. I didn’t want to depend on him so much, and said so, but he gave me a stern look.

“I know what stonedrain looks like. You pushed yourself too hard. And that’s probably partly my fault, I didn’t realize quite how weak you are. But I’m not going to watch you kill yourself.”

I acquiesced, and we arrived back to Lirndyn Cottage safe, warm, and significantly faster than my flight going the other way.

Desten 3, clearly unhappy, handed me a letter when I entered. It was from Pelys, and basically said the same as we’d discussed in person: he was worried about my safety since I hadn’t kept my promise to update him, he had arranged for several of Fylen’s other friends to come over to his house for the afternoon, and would I be available to attend.

Well. At least it had all worked out. I tucked the letter into Astesh’s journal with its previous counterpart.

“You have got to stop upsetting that guy,” Desten said.

“It’s called taking control of my life,” I said with more bravado than I felt. “And right now I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

“Tomorrow is the finale. You coming?”

“No.”

Desten looked up at me pleadingly, and I sighed. “Where is it?”

“The Towers, of course.”

“Oh.” Same city as we were in. Practically next door. “Well, I suppose.”

“Yes! Thank you. I swear, I have no idea how to handle these sort of conversations without you. They always end up baffling me.”

“I’m leaving early,” I warned. “And there’s only so much that logic can do for your position. We fundamentally disagree on your methodology here.”

He regarded me flatly. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

I laughed and shook my head at him. “I suppose I deserved that. See you tomorrow.”

It had been some time since I last had to decide on the proper formalwear to attend an event in. Desten was dressed in his best, which wasn’t close to the quality of the items Desten 1 and the Varon reirn had provided to me. This made me feel awkward about outshining him, though in every possible way I ought to be considered his inferior. In the end I grabbed something vaguely fancy looking at random and set out.

As this would be a very short flight, I didn’t need to rush or wrap up in excessive layers. I could fly at my leisure without risking extreme wind chill or overstraining my power stone. It had recovered overnight, my usual glow returned to its usual strength, but I was wary of pushing too far again. Stonedrain had not been fun, and it made falling asleep an exercise in frustration.

I arrived before the press of arrivals had fully died down, but well past its chaotic peak. Fashionably late. Desten had already claimed a table on the third floor, where he sat sipping a pale rose-coloured drink and looking over his notes.

Apparently, there’d been another verdis match earlier in the day. I caught sight of Desten 2 with his usual entourage, looking unreasonably smug about himself, which made me strongly suspect who’d come out on top.

The Sarosa finale event wasn’t quite as crowded as Varon’s opening gala, but it was far busier than I’d remembered from the opening days.

“People trickle in,” Desten said, when I commented aloud. “Some come in a day or two early to beat the crowds, some stay a day or two afterwards to catch up with friends. But by the end of the week, everyone will be here. And there are no further verdis games in the area to prepare for, in the case of that crowd. Don’t worry, Leetan will be much emptier. Verdis is heading off to Utrenad next, and I don’t think there’s much more overlap between routes.”

“Metako,” someone said, overhearing. “And you’ll be able to catch a reverse match in Raysh.”

Desten smiled. “And are you interested in discussing the future fate of the world?”

She shook her head at him. “You either haven’t had enough to drink yet, or you’ve had way too much. Cheers.” She turned her attention back to her own table, which had grown somewhat crowded in the minutes since I’d made my way up here.

People still trickled in, but most were already present. Eating, standing and talking in small clumps, slowly wandering from tier to tier. I could hear the faint beat of the music drifting down from further up where the dancing took place. That was rather considerate, I thought, having the dancing take place where you could go downstairs to fetch a drink, rather than having to ascend higher still.

To my surprise, I recognized Hylet and Lanyss walking by arm in arm. They hadn’t mentioned touring or attending the Sarosa final ball, but after some consideration I supposed it was only natural that they’d be here. If there were a major event in one’s home territory, and possible friends or acquaintances visiting, why wouldn’t they attend?

I may be an asocial loner who preferred history to reality, but that wasn’t true for everyone.

Once this investigation was over and killer Desten dealt with, I was going to need a long vacation. Is that a thing nobles do? Or is, shudder, touring season considered the vacation?

On second thought, I’d rather not know. It wasn’t a priority at the moment to discover whether vacations existed.

I forced my attention back to Desten 3 and his papers.

We spent some time in quiet argument, going over the same general topics as we always did, until someone wandered by who seemed interested by the discussion. Most of these went nowhere. Toward the end of the evening one fellow with a particularly rotund shape and slightly more than socially acceptable level of drunkenness stumped over and slammed his fist on our table.

“I heard you been talkin’ this all night and you keep ignoring the answer. Just pay them. All of ‘em. Just give ‘em money. Land. New inventions. Special considerables. Tha’s it. Just pay ‘em. Teshy think they own the city, Whiten has it now? Just pay ‘em both. Then it’s not contested, it’s yours. Done. No more squibbling.”

He nodded firmly as though that were settled, then grabbed another glass of wine from a nearly-empty table nearby and wandered off.

“He raises an interesting point,” Desten said thoughtfully.

I sighed and shook my head. “You clearly don’t understand the scope of these things. It may be a fine concept, but how is anyone going to raise enough capital to buy out an entire city? Let alone twice over? Not even counting the adjoined territory under its control. I don’t know much about your economy at all, and even I know it’s completely impractical. Who would have enough money lying around to buy out entire cities? And if they could, why haven’t they yet?”

“So what we really need is an eleventh house. They could become the boundaries between those most likely to hold grudges. Once we get a few generations of people who know there’s no point in holding feuds against those who aren’t even nearby any longer, everyone can live in peace!”

I slumped my head onto the table. “I don’t even know where to start with how wrong that idea is. Even if you could create an eleventh house, where would they get the money?”

“We … could …” he trailed off, looking around as though for inspiration. “Oh! Maybe we could make the new house out of the contested cities? Then the inhabitants get higher rank and privilege, and the people who wanted to take them over won’t have the reason to fight the new house because they’re new.”

“Ugh. No, that’s not going to work. If you take a city full of Teshrons and tell them they’re, whatever, Borderite now, that may be just fine for them, but Wightok is not going to give up the city they’ve wanted back for hundreds of years just because you change the name.” I stood. “And it’s getting late. I’m leaving. Good luck.”

“I’m starting to think you were right.” Desten stood as well. “This is too big for us to solve on our own.”

“Desten Varon, giving way in the face of logic? Never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughed hollowly, and we flew back to Lirndyn Cottage side by side.

The next day, we departed Lirndyn Cottage for the last time, with a final appeal from Myrett that we really should consider buying his lovely home. I would have considered it, if I’d had any money. It was a lovely home. But Desten 3 was so far below whatever class line would be required to afford such a fancy house so close to the Towers, neither of us had much chance of ever seeing the inside of it again, let alone owning it.

Desten confided in me that he’d only been able to rent it because a friend of his had an existing arrangement with the owners, and when he found himself unable to go touring this year he’d offered it to Desten at a substantial discount.

We boarded the shuttle platform to Leetan. I couldn’t help shivering as we passed over the river chasm deep in the mountains where Pelys had spent two days throwing me into the water. It still haunted my dreams.

There was something wrong with that man, his ideas of acceptable training methods are questionable at best. I couldn’t help liking him, but at the same time, I was very glad there would be a territory worth of space between us. And I desperately hoped that he wouldn’t abuse our itinerary to hunt me down. It was far too easy to imagine him hauling me out of bed at the crack of dawn, insisting that I’d had enough time to practice on my own and we’d be doing volcanoes next.

But, thankfully, Pelys did not appear, either during the trip across the mountains or after our safe arrival in Leetan's initial location.

I’d grown quite accustomed to Sarosa's upcity architecture, so Leetan's was a jarring change. While Sarosa built up in arcs and spirals, Leetan was very flat and sprawling. Well, as flat as it could be, built around the top of a mountain. But there was nothing utilitarian about their buildings; indeed, they seemed almost to be a painting or tapestry intended to be viewed from above. Buildings each had a distinctive form, many painted in vibrant colours, often highlighted with lines of coloured light to further accent the intended look.

Some were extensive and intricate, like a group of buildings that together resembled a bouquet of roses, while others simplified the intended form without explicitly detailing it; a house that curved like a sleeping cat, featureless, but clear in intent.

I felt like I could spend hours flying over Leetan, just trying to figure out what each building represented. Many were not so obvious; a rough L shape with jagged edges and a curved interior, two half-circles with cloud shapes on the interior, and more.

Few of their buildings were above two stories high, though a few looked to be three or four.

It was to one of these four-story buildings that we headed, with the accompanying crowd from the platform. I recognized several faces, people who’d traveled with us from Varon, and been around in Sarosa. Though I’d never spoken to most of them, I began to feel a sort of comfortable familiarity. These were our group, the people sharing in this relatively unpopular rotation.

We arrived at the location, a vaguely bird-shaped building from above, with triangular wings spreading out to either side of the main body of the building. The whole thing was decorated with more lights and carvings than anywhere else in the city, it would be hard to miss it.

Yellows, greens, and blues were everywhere, but even the blue had a different character to it than Sarosa’s clear cobalt. A faint nod toward green, just a tint, but noticeable in everything from decor to fashion. Speaking of fashion, I was surprised to see that most Leetan attendees wore a lot of black, with the ever-present green and yellow accents.

The actual party was disappointingly similar to those in Sarosa. Food, people, drinks, people, dancing, people, games, people, the occasional conversation, and yet more people. At least it wasn’t nearly as crowded - I doubted the bird hall would have held anywhere close to the quantity we’d had in Sarosa that last night.

I followed Desten around as he toured the place, introducing himself (and me) to various Leetan nobles in positions of authority. He didn’t gain a lot of momentum. Most seemed completely uninterested in talking about politics or the fate of the world and just wanted to relax. A couple gave him their address with an offer to visit them at a later date once touring was over.

Turns out, the sort of people who run events are less likely to have time to sit down and spend hours in deep conversation with one or two individuals. Surprisingly enough Desten didn’t see that coming.

Perhaps I should have tried to steer him away, but at a certain point I had to step back and let him make his own mistakes. It wasn’t my job to babysit him, and I doubt he’d have appreciated it had I attempted to do so. Our debates were one thing, since we were trying to reach a mutually beneficial conclusion, but trying to correct his behavior in public would go way over the line.

I could still make fun of him for it afterwards though.

And so our first day in Leetan was, in so far as any major event can be, uneventful. There were, it turned out, smaller events spread throughout the city, to which people could disperse, but Desten didn’t want to go without me, and I wanted to go to bed.

Our Leetan lodging was significantly less well-appointed than Lirndyn Cottage had been, a simple apartment with sparse furnishings. Sufficient, even extravagant by downcity standards, but far from the elegance and opulence I’d somehow come to expect.

Desten and I each had our own room, so that wasn’t an issue. But there was only one bathroom, which felt downright austere compared to having our own attached to each room.

After a mild argument about who should shower first, we sorted ourselves out and retired to our respective rooms. I’d just become used to sleeping on the Sarosa mattress, and now this one was different. What a terrible hardship, having to adapt to a different mattress every week.

I glowered at myself in the mirror. Since my infiltration of the nobility, my priorities had become very strangely skewed. What happened to the scribe who spent weeks on the road, sleeping at a different inn every night? Had Astesh utterly consumed any traces of my former self? Was this what I would be from now on, with only brief glimpses remaining of the person I’d once been?

Sometimes, I found myself rereading Astesh’s journal to verify whether my memories of the past were true or fictional. Some of the lies I’d invented, I’d repeated to myself so many times I’d started to believe them myself.

Was that really okay? Could I go on this way indefinitely? Keep pretending forever that this was always me and I’d never been that scribe accustomed to travel and hardship? That I’d never come close to starving, that I’d never fought and clawed my way into barely making a decent honest living, that I’d always been provided for and pampered and could expect such treatment to go on indefinitely without a care?

The Astesh staring back at me was well-groomed, clean and neat, in clothing perfectly sized. I hardly noticed anymore how everything had been tailored so specifically for me. I took the soaps and perfumes for granted; I’d never walk into a party smelling like sweat and road dust, only crisp and clean.

Who was I becoming?

I knew I had no choice, that there was no going back, but I’d finally started to make it on my own. I had my own business, and it was working well. I had finally paid off my debts, finally established myself, attained levels of skill to match anyone in the territory. And yet all that amounted to less than the cheapest apartment that Desten casually rented for a weeklong vacation in a territory a week’s journey away, that we could reach in less than three hours by air.

I began to think I hated Astesh. The stranger in the mirror regarded me with cold indifference, examining me with a passionless disconnect that should have terrified me. Instead, I stared back with the same indifference.

I was so tired. Tired of people, tired of lies, tired of Desten and his naive ignorance. Tired of myself.

Desten began snoring softly in the other room. I’d never noticed before, as our suites in Lirndyn had sufficient insulation to block out any such interruptions.

I should sleep. Everything would be better in the morning. I was just overtired. That was it.

My reflection stared at me, clearly unconvinced.

I sighed, and turned away.

No Destens in Leetan. I did keep an eye out at parties in case any of the Varon or Oros Destens were touring, but we’d been with the same group for some time now and none of the other three tour cycles were in Leetan at the same time as us. Which was good, because people with yellow power were the clear majority here. It would have taken months to narrow it down.

I continued to spend the days researching, sparing a few hours for practice of my aura bubble and to write a brief ‘we’re alive, don’t come storming in today’ message to Pelys.

I ended up backtracking on my resolve to fly myself from city to city; Desten was faster, stronger, and had his bubble to protect us from wind and cold. My one experience with flying from one city to another convinced me that I was trying to push too hard too soon. I shouldn’t be internalizing Pel’s unreasonable expectations. Even when he had to stop to rest from carrying both of us, we still got there faster and more securely than I could have done alone.

Leetan week passed quickly, as I got into a rhythm of research, boring event, sleep, repeat. I’d begun to connect the various territorial holdings to the cities that controlled them, and things like ‘Leetan controls 40% of all manufacturies’ began to translate more clearly to specific cities and products. I could confidently say that over half the furniture in most upcities would be manufactured in Leetan, while nearly all windows and a good portion of metalworks would be imported from Utrenad.

Progress.

I was all set to mark Leetan off as an entirely unimportant stop on our tour, just one necessary step between Sarosa and Metako, when everything changed.

The final day, the Leetan grand finale, came to an abrupt and dramatic halt.

For some time, it seemed, a mixed group of bored men and women had been standing on a balcony, watching the light show being performed in the distance, when something much closer distracted their attention. Flares of fire, uncontrolled, blasting in every direction from a single spot. They’d pointed and gossiped for a while, thinking it might be part of the show, but a distant scream alerted them to the possibility that something untoward was happening.

Then there was an explosion, the sound shaking the walls even at this distance. That was the first indication to the rest of us that something was happening. A few people laughed and clapped; a few took off to get well away in case the building collapsed. (Most of these were from Metako, who had the most frequent experience with earthquakes.)

Several people flew out to the site of the explosion to see what had happened.

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Mateirn Envas Leetan, a prominent and respected man in the community, had been brutally killed. And his powerstone was missing.

Fear slithered into my chest.

I tried to convince myself that it could be anyone else, anything else, but the more I heard about the event the more convinced I became.

Yellow fire. A sudden explosion at the end.

It had to have been him.

No more than a minute’s flight away.

Any sense of security, of complacency, of investigating at a safe distance, vanished in an instant.

Killer Desten was here.