Arcturus set off from Angela’s shop in a jovial mood, his coat partially undone despite Tylariel’s grumblings about ‘proper decorum’. The party that departed the now-repaired storefront was a simple one; Tylariel was there of course, and joined by Jess and Sumeko — both of whom volunteered to assist in acquiring both proper attire and helping with any ‘menial’ work. In spite of how much it irked Arcturus’ earth-born perceptions of equality, he had discerned quickly that questioning the social hierarchy was about as poor a choice as shouting a racial slur in the Dean’s office at Yale — especially given his supposed background then and now.

“Where to first?” He asked as he glanced at the eclectic passersby.

“Clothing.” Tylariel said without hesitation. “I will not suffer my apprentice to look like a vagrant, especially when this will be the first impression you leave on potentially long-term contacts.”

“Does a store owner’s opinion carry that much weight, Mentor?” Arcturus asked curiously, walking alongside the Archon and admiring the colourful crowd of armoured and victorian-clothed people respectfully parting around them — or more specifically, around Tylariel. “I thought I was meant to be above that.”

“Once again your ignorance rears its head.” His mentor scolded, flashing him a disapproving look. “The opinions of merchants matter, Arcturus, because the populace matters. If the flock do not respect the shepherd, how are they to heed when ushered to safety?”

“Pardon the interruption, Archon Tylariel.” Jess said from behind them. “If I may add to that?”

Tylariel waved a hand permissively, which Arcturus schooled himself not to roll his eyes at.

“Thank you, milady.” Jess said before looking to Arcturus. “It isn’t just about shepherding either, Your Hi—” She caught herself as Arcturus flashed her a look. “—I-I mean A-Arcturus.” It took her a moment to get through his name, much to his suppressed annoyance. “It’s also about your retainers, your oathsworn, and the banner-houses you will — that is, may—” she corrected herself again “—eventually command. Valarians especially are proud people, even by the standard of the Empire. Until you prove your worth in battle, it is things precisely like your presentation, oratory skills, political acumen, and martial prowess that they will assess you on. That goes not only for the Nobilis Imperia like her ladyship, but also common soldiers.”

“My ability to kill is directly correlated to my worthiness?” He asked with a flash of disgust, immediately repulsed — though admittedly not necessarily surprised — by the implied barbarity of Imperial society. “I remember Angela mentioning that. Still strikes me as primitive, especially for a society as seemingly advanced as the Empire.”

“Physical prowess is an indicator of power, Arcturus.” Jess replied after a hesitant glance at Tylariel, who seemed to be content to listen. “Among the people of the Empire, strength dictates worth. How can a weak leader properly defend what is theirs? How can a craven King protect a dominion?” She gestured around them. “The Empire has many enemies, and since its inception has defined strength as a mandated necessity for those who would govern. To control, one must have the strength to command. That doesn’t just mean physical prowess, though: It also means strategic and tactical capability. The ability to maintain supply lines, outmanoeuvre an enemy force, and properly wield the power of one’s domain both on and off the battlefield.”

“A succinct and eloquent explanation, young lady.” Tylariel said approvingly, earning a blushing smile from Jess. “Though ‘yes, so deal with it’ would also have been appropriate for my recalcitrant apprentice.”

Jess and Sumeko giggled at Tylariel’s words, drawing an incredulous look from Arcturus. The two women were as battle-hardened and capable as any soldier he’d ever met, but in front of the redheaded Archon they seemed to regress to girlish youths. It was bewildering.

“Okay, so perception is reality.” Arcturus conceded. “I can accept that.”

Look at that, common sense! Keep this up, and you might actually avoid looking like an ass. Or at least, any more of an ass.

Arcturus ignored his snide subconscious and directed his attention to the packed streets around him, taking note of the avenues and paved roads leading off in every direction. Though Angela’s shop was positioned on a main thoroughfare, he was quickly reminded that Luxanium was massive. Based on what he’d learned just from talking to his companions, it might have even dwarfed cities like New York, Paris or Tokyo. Another glance found him glaring up at the boundary wall that had stymied his earlier efforts to reach the Cathedral and he gestured to the offending barrier while speaking.

“What’s with the wall in the middle of the city?”

“That’s the Outer and Inner divide.” Tylariel said simply. “Each city has one. Outer territories are for the far more numerous and squabbling members of the minor Houses. It keeps their skirmishes and inter-house conflicts from disrupting the High Houses.”

“That would have been nice to know…” Arcturus murmured, thinking back to the cute waitress that had given him directions. Probably slipped her mind, given how nervous I made her. Can’t hold it against her.

It was, nonetheless, frustrating.

“Where is your House based, Mentor?” He asked Tylariel, turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

A sudden thinning of his mentor’s lips immediately prickled Arcturus’ danger sense, and he realised too late that he’d likely just made another social faux pas.

Charisma Check successful!

As the notification pinged through his mind, Tylariel sighed. “It’s complicated. Until recently House Rubastra had been part of the High Houses and Inner Luxanium, but when House Honorum’s patriarch Leon Fortunis married Princess Artoria — your aunt — and Prince Leon Valoris was born…” Tylariel glanced at the massive wall. “My father, in his devotion to Arcturus Titus, refused to acknowledge the former Crown-Prince’s death. This inherently meant that Leon Valoris, as the eldest living direct male descendant of King Arcturus Honoris and House Valoura, was denied his recognition as Crown-Prince due to my father’s stubborn insistence on refusing to acknowledge Arcturus Titus’ death. Eventually, Leon Fortunis painted my father as a dissident.”

Arcturus’ eyes widened as he listened to Tylariel speak.

“It was bait, we knew it was bait, but of course my father’s honour could not suffer it in silence. He demanded a duel to force Leon’s retraction, at which point Leon demanded that my father not only accept the brand if defeated, but that he accept exile to Outer Luxanium for his dissidence. Whatever else he is, Leon Fortunis is a powerful Archon. My father, though strong himself, is quite a bit older. The result was... predictable.”

An even bigger ass than you. Miracles do happen.

“That’s… That’s awful.” Arcturus said with a feeling of revulsion. “All because your father wouldn’t accept that my dad was dead without proof?”

“Yes. He insisted that Arcturus Titus was “too powerful to die in silence”, to quote him. That’s why when I saw you…”

“You had a mixed reaction, because my existence validated your father.”

“Yes.” Tylariel admitted. “Which in turn meant that the rage and distance between us for what he did, especially on my end, was… Well, I was wrong.” She sighed quietly. “I was wrong, and instead of having faith in my father, I blamed him for ruining what I saw as my prospects for the future. My betrothal was severed, my life took a different path, and now I am without a husband, childless, and staring down the ambitious designs of multiple Houses once too cowed to ever come against us.”

“My lady, you have my condolences for the slander against your House.” Sumeko said from behind, joined by a nodding Jess. “In all that I’ve seen, such a cruel fate was ill-deserved.”

“Thank you, dear.” Tylariel responded almost by rote. “Yet what is done, is done. My focus now must be the present, and the future. I have been bereft of even the responsibility of an apprentice, due to the stigma surrounding my family. I will not settle for a lesser bloodline to give me a son, and I cannot in good conscience demand that a virile male from a good house doff his name in favour of a disgraced one. An Apprentice is my only way of leaving a lasting legacy.” She turned her gaze to Arcturus, who felt himself straightening his posture fully under her appraisal. “In that, I intend to brook no failure.”

Charisma increased by 1 Point!

Your earnest desire for knowledge has impressed your Mentor and loyal attendants. Despite your asinine, foot-in-mouth question, you have managed to turn Tylariel’s painful memory into a fierce determination, centred around your existence. Yet again you twist reality around you, you self-involved jackass!

“I will do my best not to fail you, Mentor.” Arcturus responded as formally as he could, meeting Tylariel’s expectant and determined expression with one as determined and respectful as he could manage. If nothing else, his father had taught him to honour loyalty, and Arcturus was reasonably certain that if his dad had heard what Tylariel’s father had done and suffered, all in the name of loyalty; he would have marched to Leon Fortunis’ door and taught him a lesson in respect.

“Good. Then you can begin by complying with my instructions regarding your attire absent complaint.”

Arcturus winced at her catching him in a trap and nodded in concession, recognising when he’d been beaten. It wasn’t as if he truly had been complaining, but it was probably wise of Tylariel to head off the chance of it occurring before it did. He knew himself well, and in all likelihood he would chafe under the boredom of trying on item after item. His mentor was one step ahead of him, it seemed.

A glance at his map showed Arcturus that they’d walked a decent distance from Angela’s store — he still couldn’t think of her as ‘Alyerial’ — and were heading in a looping westerly direction along a massive thoroughfare that seemed to loosely circle the dividing wall.

“Where exactly are we going, Mentor?” Arcturus asked as they walked. “We’ve passed by a lot of stores.”

“Even outside the Inner city there are gems, apprentice. One such gem is just ahead of us. Even the most prestigious families go to Maurice for their attire. The man’s a genius.”

“So why isn’t he inside the wall?”

“He doesn’t discriminate. If you treat him with respect and don’t try to cheat him, he’ll sell to anyone. It causes a bit of a fuss with some of the more elitist families, but he was a favourite of the late Queen’s and that means he’s protected.”

“Because of my grandfather?”

Tylariel shot him a look and he lifted his hands in apology. “Sorry. The King, I mean. Because of the King?”

“Yes.” Tylariel said simply. “Because of the King.”

“Aren’t you worried he’ll recognise me?” Arcturus asked, even then wondering how nobody else had recognised him.

“He will, but he also knows not to get involved in the affairs of those too far above him. Maurice didn’t survive on the King’s goodwill alone. He is a smart man.”

“And why has no one else recognised me?”

“My aura.” Tylariel said matter-of-factly. “It’s also why they’re not impeding us. I’m letting my Aether bleed and they’re avoiding looking at us or engaging us. It’s a common trick when dealing with crowds of mundanes.”

“Isn’t that kind of obvious, Mentor?” Arcturus questioned.

“That’s the idea.” Tylariel said enigmatically as she led them steadily down the thoroughfare.

“I don’t understand…” Arcturus muttered to himself, glancing at the passing crowds and the way they seemed determined not to look at him or the three women.

“It’s a common facet of life in the Empire.” Jess said nearby, drawing his attention as they walked. “Archons project auras and most mundanes and lowborn stay far, far away from them. It’s actually considered something of a courtesy, especially if there is a House war brewing. Nobody wants to accidentally be mistaken as an Archon’s companion if things are reaching a bad point.”

“So it’s a mutual understanding?” Arcturus questioned.

“Yes. Archons avoid drawing others into their intrigues, and in return are left alone and to whatever business they have. Even the most vicious or deadly warrior will hesitate before crossing even the weakest Archon, because you aren’t just crossing them.”

Perception Check successful!

“You’re crossing their House, their Mentor, their Apprentices — if any — and their allies as well.” Arcturus surmised. “I can see why mutual non-involvement is preferred.”

“It’s just common sense, really.” Jess said with a nod.

Arcturus noticed that they’d changed direction at the same moment as Tylariel took a sharp turn to the right and cut through the crowd on the opposite side of the thoroughfare, leading their party into a well-lit and spacious side street with colourful streamers and pennants hung between the tops of buildings above them. Various pieces of iconography and decoration adorned the fronts of stores with words like ‘emporium’ in liberal use. The sunlight was warm and encompassing, with shafts of golden light reflecting off of clothes and jewelry that even Arcturus could recognise as exquisitely made.

Well-dressed men and women of several different ethnicities parted around them as they moved, as well as other individuals that seemed to part the proverbial sea of people with their presence alone. None ever came close to their party, but Arcturus could pick up the tell-tale signs of an Archon’s presence from the ripples of the crowd. At one point he even thought he glimpsed a pair of feline ears atop the head of a passerby. “Catgirls…?”

Easy there tiger.

“Did you say something, Arcturus?” Sumeko asked as they walked.

“No, it’s nothing. Just an overactive imagination. I hope.”

“Here we are.” Tylariel said just ahead of them as she came to a stop outside of a large black-painted storefront, with the word “Maurice’s” in golden-flake text across closed glass double-doors. Arcturus could respect the mix of success and confidence that using only one’s name as an identifier spoke of.

“Maurice has style.” Arcturus said as Tylariel opened the doors, following his mentor inside as Jess and Sumeko brought up the rear. The interior of the store seemed to light up as they entered, and Arcturus let his eyes wander over the incredible variety of clothing on display. Tunics, shirts, coats, dresses, leggings, even underwear that made him blush at the mere thought of seeing a woman in them.

It was only a minor surprise when Sumeko beelined for those particular displays, and Arcturus hastily focused on following Tylariel instead of dwelling on that fact.

“Is that the lovely Archon Tylariel gracing my humble store?” A cultured male voice asked silkily.

Arcturus came to a halt as a bronze-skinned man roughly around six feet in height stepped out from seemingly the middle of the walkways, flashing a warm smile to the redheaded Archon. Tylariel hardly seemed to mind, stepping forward to exchange air kisses on each cheek with the man Arcturus assumed to be the famous Maurice. His clothing was cut in the same victorian style as many others, with gold-trimmed charcoal material that matched the theme of his storefront.

His eyes were a vibrant blue, and when he laughed at something she said Arcturus spotted pristine white teeth.

Arcturus almost used [Inspect] to check him out, before thinking better of it. After what had happened with Tylariel, he was going to err on the side of caution when it came to inspecting other humans. He wasn’t sure if it was an isolated incident, but he didn’t want to risk damaging his interface just in case it was something more. That wasn’t usually how it worked in games or in the isekai and LitRPG novels he’d read, but it was better safe than sorry.

“And what brings you here, my dear? I daresay you purchased enough clothes to last you every ball and formal event for the next three months, last time.”

Tylariel laughed warmly at Maurice’s words, and Arcturus looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. When she waved him off with a companionable smile, he barely had time to suppress his shock before she directed Maurice’s attention his way.

“I have a new project for you, Maurice. One I think you will find most… interesting.”

The shopkeeper’s expression showed curiosity as he turned to Arcturus, and then froze.

“It can’t be.” He whispered in quiet disbelief, gliding forwards with far more grace than Arcturus could manage on his best day. Despite the size difference and his newfound musculature, he found something intimidating about the sheer intensity in the clothier’s blue eyes as they fixated on his own red ones.

“Hello.” Arcturus said more confidently than he felt while struggling not to squirm under the shorter man’s intense examination.

“No, not Titus. The cheekbones are too sharp and he’s too easy to read. Titus had eyes like iron.”

“His name is Arcturus Regis.” Tylariel said with a surprisingly evident amount of pride. “He is my apprentice.”

“I thought Titus died without an heir. Tell me, child; how is it that a miracle such as you exists?”

“I’m a Nephilim.” Arcturus said with a glance at Tylariel, thankful for the approving nod she gave. He wasn’t sure if he was even meant to say that.

“The prodigal prince is a Nephilim?” Maurice said with palpable incredulity as he scanned Arcturus’ features. “This will shake the Dominion to its core. Perhaps the Empire as well. Do you have any idea what your existence means, my boy? When Leon Valoris learns a son of Titus lives and is a Nephilim, let alone when Fortunis learns of it…”

“We are hoping we will be able to control when that information reaches both.” Tylariel said calmly.

“Yet you bring him here so brazenly?” Maurice questioned.

“My aura dissuaded any overt observation.”

“You put too much faith in such things, Lady Archon. A persistent soul could end this game before it begins, should you not take proper steps.”

“Is that not all the more reason to bring him to you, Maurice?”

“Perhaps.” The shopkeeper conceded. “Though I am curious about how you plan on obfuscating his identity when you take him to be registered as your apprentice.”

“I won’t need to.” Tylariel said confidently.

“You are plotting something.” Maurice accused with a smile.

“The King’s masquerade is in three months.”

Maurice’s eyes widened and he looked back at Arcturus, who remained cautiously silent. “Heavens above, Lady Archon, you are daring. If you could reveal him there during the unmasking…”

“Then neither Valoris nor Fortunis can intercede with King Honoris seeing him for himself. Besides, I have a secret weapon to ensure he is recognised.”

“Only a blind man would miss the Valouran blood in his veins. However, that can’t be all you’re banking on. It would have to be something truly...” The shopkeer’s eyes widened, and he looked at Tylariel in surprise before turning back to Arcturus intently. “Pardon my impudence, young Regis, but would you mind smiling for me?”

Arcturus blinked in confusion at the request, and after a glance at Tylariel and nod of approval he mentally shrugged and did as requested.

The shopkeeper’s eyes misted a moment later, but he smiled nonetheless. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Tylariel admitted readily.

“You knew it would hook me.”

“I did.” She confirmed again.

“Damn you, Tylariel.” Maurice whispered. “Damn you… and thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She responded warmly, which only worked to raise Arcuturus’ confusion further.

“I’m sorry, but can I ask what just happened? All I did was smile, and not a very convincing one at that.”

Maurice looked at him in silence for a moment before answering. “No one ever told you you inherited your father’s smile, did they?”

Arcturus blinked, then realised after a moment that it was true. “No, they didn’t. But why…?”

“Because you inherited someone else’s, my boy.”

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in question.

“Your grandmother’s.” Maurice said with a strangely sad smile of his own. “You inherited your grandmother’s smile. I would recognise it anywhere.”

“How do you recognise it, though? I know she favoured you, but that doesn’t really explain that level of familiarity.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Maurice asked with a glance at Tylariel.

“It wasn’t my place. No one knew other than Titus, the King and a handful of others including my father.”

“Excuse me.” Arcturus said with mild annoyance. “Tell me what?”

“Queen Ekaterina wasn’t just a patron of mine, dear boy.”

Your life is so ludicrously melodramatic.

“Oh god, did you hook up with my grandmother?”

Maurice laughed abruptly at his words, and even Tylariel snorted in amusement.

“Nothing nearly so sordid, my boy, I assure you.” Maurice said reassuringly.

“Oh. Okay, because that would be—”

“She was my sister.”

“—weird.” Arcturus finished.

There was an awkward silence as his brain raced to catch up.

This would barely be believable in a bad story, let alone your actual life.

“So that makes you my, what, grand-uncle?”

Charisma Check successful!

“Something like that.” Maurice said with another smile.

“Alright then.” Arcturus said with a look at Tylariel to highlight his annoyance at her secret-keeping, mentor or not. “What happens now? My mentor said I needed new clothes, and that you were the best person to buy them from, uh, sir.”

“Call me Maurice.” His newly discovered relative said soothingly.

“Maurice, then.” Arcturus agreed.

“As for your clothes, that is a far simpler matter. You need items that will allow you fit in with your future peers, grant you a broad range of movement for your swordplay, and allow you to remain incognito until the proper hour. Luckily I happen to have some items I recently produced which fit those very requirements.”

“The usual price?” Tylariel interjected as the far-older-than-he-appeared shopkeeper moved away towards the back of the store.

“Heavens, no.” Maurice chided. “The boy is family.” He threw Tylariel a dazzling smile. “Thirty percent off.”

Arcturus snorted despite himself, earning a recriminating look from Tylariel, a giggle from both Jess and Sumeko, and a sly smile from Maurice himself before the clothier vanished behind a door at the back of his spacious store.

“You could have told me.” Arcturus said as he approached Tylariel. “You didn’t need to make a production out of it, mistress.”

“It was not my secret to tell, as I stated. Archons live by a strict code of honour, Regis. Or at least, they should. I could not break Maurice’s confidence that way.”

“What… What sort of clothes do you think he’s going to bring me?” Arcturus asked with mild trepidation.

“Whatever he brings, it’s sure to make you stand out in exactly the right ways.”

“I thought we wanted to keep attention away from me, mentor?”

Tylariel smiled at him knowingly. “For the next few days, certainly. After that, apprentice, we’re going to make you the most prominent face in the Valarian Dominion.” She nodded towards where Maurice had vanished. “And it is Maurice’s clothes that will achieve just such a feat.”

Arcturus sighed.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”