Arcturus left the Rubastra Estate with Adam, Danica, Andy, and Caeara in a good mood. His morning had been occupied with extended discussions with Tiberius, and had yielded a fair amount of insight into both his father’s life and the legacy of House Valoura on Terra. Finding out that Tylariel had also been unaware of Tiberius’ tuition of Arcturus Titus, and seeing her reaction at finding out she had inadvertently mimicked her father’s footsteps had been uproariously funny.

She’d vacillated between pride and mortification, and chewed the older Archon out at length for failing to divulge such critical information — especially since it might have informed her own decision to teach Arcturus from the get-go. He hadn’t quite believed her when she’d said that, but the outrage and frustration had been palpable, and it had been gratifying to see his mentor regress into a girl mad at her father.

Arcturus glanced around him as they set a brisk pace away from the estate grounds, marvelling once more at how easily and smoothly his body moved with the enhancements to his Vitality, Strength, and Agility. Not only had his Vitality made him far better at taking a hit, and drastically increased his pain tolerance beyond earth-human capabilities (a fact he and Adam had discovered together during experimentation), but his Strength increased both his physical power and toughness, allowing him to withstand as much force as he could exert (which was substantial, compared to a regular person).

Combine the former two with the ease of movement and inherent flowing elegance granted to him by his Agility stat, and Arcturus felt like a completely different person every time he moved. It was his body, and he had felt every incremental change, but thinking back to his first days in the Estate and on Terra, and then comparing it to him as he was now… It was like he had lived an entire lifetime of difference.

“So is this just your normal fare now?” Andy asked casually as they walked, gesturing to Arcturus’ outfit.

“What do you mean?”

“Black shirt, black tie, black gloves, black pants, black vest, black boots…”

“Silver cufflinks!” Arcturus countered. “Silver patterns on the tie, vest, shirt, and pants…”

“Yeah. Aren’t you doing the whole monochrome edgelord thing to death, though? Even your sword-hilt is white and black!” He said while gesturing at Perdition, clipped to Arcturus’ arming belt.

Danica cut in before Arcturus could respond. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a theme. Arcturus is all gothic noir, while you look like every other wannabe-ninja jackass in Luxanium.”

Arcturus looked over Andy's outfit, which consisted of stylised leather and metallic cinches across it, with the odd mix of technology in the form of a pair of steel-topped gloves with illumination on the hands, and the same style to his boots and belt. He looked like a techno-assassin out of a mid-2000’s sci-fi.

“In fairness, he does look kind of cool.” Arcturus said diplomatically. “You all do.”

“That’s because you can’t go wrong with my stylistic choices.” Danica agreed.

“You look like a mix between a nun and a bellydancer!” Andy objected. “Except everything is red and gold!”

“I think it’s lovely.” Caeara interjected, herself clothed in a way reminiscent of Tylariel with a white ascot blouse and purple-and-gold high-collared coat, tight-fitting coat-matching breeches, and a pair of tan riding boots up to her knees. Her twin scimitars were sheathed on her thighs, adding a strangely alluring effect to her walk. Arcturus was willing to swear it had been neither that elegant nor that flattering prior to Caeara’s exposure to Tylariel and her views on using one’s body as a weapon.

“What do you think, Adam?” Andy demanded, only for the Battlemage to blink at them in momentary confusion.

“Think about what?”

“He was reading his Codex again.” Danica said derisively. “I’ll bet money on it.”

“How much?” Andy asked immediately.

“Aren’t you tired of losing marks to me, stabby-man?”

“I’ve got plenty to spare!”

“Sure you do.” Danica said disbelievingly, while rolling her eyes for Caeara’s benefit.

The money system in Terra had been relatively simple to wrap his head around, since the currency was relatively simplistic. The Empire traded in marks, each one magically marked by the Imperial Mint of each Dominion, whose economies were backed by a combination of precious metals, mutual trade, and stockpiles of ‘mana blocks’: Refined Aether used to power the technology that allowed the Empire to prosper.

With the aristocracy controlling the creation and distribution of such a resource, it was easy to dictate market fees and to control the value of currency as a result. Marks were, in the easiest form of translation, the equivalent to the dollar when converted in terms of 1:1 values. The lower denomination, or the equivalent to ‘cents’, was an imperial lowmark. Ten lowmarks made one mark, and ten marks made one highmark, with ten highmarks converting to one grandmark. At that point the nomenclature became more convoluted, and Arcturus hadn’t cared too much to learn it.

After all, even if he became King, he’d have people for that.

A glance at Adam had him grinning. He’d look good drowning in ledgers.

“I don’t like that look.” Adam muttered. “It means you’re plotting something.”

Arcturus just smiled as they continued on. “I was just thinking you’d make a great Treasurer.”

Adam squinted at him for a moment, then grunted. “You’re a dick.”

Arcturus laughed and turned his attention away from the group, admiring the sights and sounds of the Outer City as they left the expensive residential area belonging to the Old Money families of Luxanium, and entered the more densely populated sections of the sprawling megalopolis.

The sights and sounds of the city he’d come to love washed over them like a welcoming embrace, tantalising his senses with exotic foods and arousing his interest as hawkers cried out for their attention or criers advertised the deals on-going in various different shops and businesses. The eclectic combination of fantasy city and modern metropolis never ceased to enthrall him, with towering spires that obviously used technological aid to function paired with ancient brick-and-mortar buildings that defied all sense of modernization by their very nature.

Deeper and deeper they travelled into the heart of the Outer City, laughing amongst themselves and enjoying what the city had to offer as they wound their way to the east, towards the nearest Dungeon and Imperial Adventurer Bureau to the Rubastra Estate. Given the size of Luxanium, it was considered a relatively short walk at only forty-five minutes, and that was assuming a constant pace with minimal interruptions.

As it was, it took them the better part of two and a half hours to reach the high-walled demarcation that warned of proximity to an aether-saturation zone, and the dungeon that was carefully curated and left to grow within.

The boundary wall encircling the massive compound, itself easily three times the size of the Rubastra Estate, had a pair of reinforced gates with countless aethersmithing infusion runes marked upon their surface. As the five of them stepped through, Arcturus glanced over them in curiosity, and was amazed by the sheer power of the enchantments. The gates would have withstood anything short of a full volley from an entire armour column on Earth, and even that might not have been enough to break them.

“Welcome to the Imperial Adventurer Bureau.” A voice called to them from nearby, drawing the group’s attention as Danica and Andy ceased another round of bickering.

A boy who looked to be in his late teens was smiling at them from beneath a blue beret, bedecked in a uniform of blue and gold that was quite pleasing to the casual eye. A dead giveaway of one’s employment by the Bureau, as well. In front of him was a simple wooden pedestal, with a thick tome open on it for him to use.

“Are you here to delve?” He asked politely as he lifted a pen, holding it ready over the pages.

“Not today.” Adam said casually. “Here to register a new adventurer.”

“Oh! That’s awesome, which one of you will it be?”

The group of five parted and Arcturus stepped into the gap they created, his hands in the pockets of his pants as he approached.

The boy’s eyes widened as he noted his rich attire, and then fell immediately to Perdition where it rested on his left hip.

“My lord Archon! I apologise, I d-didn’t see you among the oth—!”

“It’s fine.” Arcturus said with a reassuring smile. “Do I need to speak to you, or is there somewhere else I have to go? I assume you’re just here to mark attendance.”

“Y-yes my lord. I m-mean no, my lord. I mean—”

“Take a breath.” Arcturus said easily. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of Archons come through here.”

“Yes, but they never bother to talk to me.” The boy squeaked, before turning pale.

Arcturus laughed.

“I bet they don’t. What’s your name?”

“Austen, my lord!”

What a refreshingly normal name.

“Very well then, Austen. My friends and I are after the person in charge of registrations. Where should we go?”

The boy seemed to brighten considerably at Arcturus’ attitude, and he happily pointed towards a tall, multi-levelled marble building some three hundred metres away. It looked strikingly similar to the capitol building in Rhode Island, when he’d visited.

“The administration headquarters is in there, my lord. You’ll also find the tournament in the sanctioned dueling grounds behind it!”

“Tournament?” Andy asked, stepping forwards curiously.

“Yes, my lord!” Austen replied happily, extending Arcturus’ entitlement to his friends. “There’s a special offer on today, as well. Anyone who defeats House Highblade’s champion will receive their weight in highmarks, and the favour of the Highblade Heiress herself!”

“Couldn’t care less about the second part, but that’s a lot of marks...” Andy muttered.

“Let’s check it out.” Arcturus said with a nod to the others, before turning back to Austen. “Thank you for your help, Ser Austen. You keep up the good work.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he snapped into a comical salute that near-knocked the beret off his head. “Yes, your lordship!”

Arcturus nodded and turned to leave, then paused when Austen spoke up suddenly.

“U-um my lord? Sorry, I forgot, but I do need to list your name in the guest registry. It’s protocol, you see, and—”

“I understand.” Arcturus said as he turned back around, crushing what little annoyance reared its head at the delay. The kid was doing his job, and it wasn’t his fault bureaucracy existed. “You’re ready for my name?”

“Yes my lord!” Austen replied happily, holding his pen over the page.

“Arcturus Regis Voltaire.”

Austen started writing his name, and then froze at the middle and end, glancing up at him in stunned silence for a moment, until Arcturus raised an eyebrow at him. “The book, Austen?”

“R-right!” The boy stammered, hastily returning to writing the name in before glancing up at him again. “My lord, please forgive me asking, but you said your middle name was Regis? Of House Voltaire, like the one in Regalia?”

“I did.” Arcturus confirmed.

“... wow.” Austen said in quiet awe. “That’s… intense.”

Oh look. A fan.

“Yeah.” Arcturus agreed. “It is.”

“Come on your pompousness!” Andy mocked from behind him. “We’re wasting daylight!”

Austen’s eyes widened in horror, as if he expected to see a massacre, but Arcturus simply sighed. “With friends like these…” He said with a wink to the boy, slipping him two marks and turning to follow his friends.

“Th-thank you my lord!” Austen called from behind, to which Arcturus only waved as he and his companions departed for the Administration building.

“That boy was so cute.” Danica said as they entered the Administration building and joined the various individuals streaming through the massive, decorated entrance foyer towards another set of doors on the other side.

“I liked him.” Caeara agreed. “It was good of you to be kind to him, Arcturus.”

“He was just a kid doing his best.” Arcturus said with a nod. “No reason to be rude.”

“You really aren’t like other nobles, are you?” Caeara said with a fond smile. “It keeps surprising me, even now.”

“He was rich back home, too.” Adam said idly.

And spoiled to boot.

“That’s only proper.” Caeara chirped. “He is roya—”

“Shh!” Danica said, clamping a hand over the Terran’s mouth as red suffused Caeara’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She said in a mortified whisper as they finished crossing the marbled flooring of the hall, and Arcturus glanced around to make sure no one had overheard.

“It’s fine.” Adam said dismissively. “It’s easier for us. He’s just our friend. I get that it’s harder for you.”

Caeara nodded, though still looked abashed and embarrassed as they exited the doors and emerged facing what Arcturus could only describe as an amphitheatre, with a smooth granite dueling ground at its centre.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go register me first?” Arcturus asked.

“And miss the tournament?!” Andy demanded. “Are you mental? Come on, bro, we’ve got marks to win!”

“Andy, you do realise that it’s a tournament run by a High House, right?” Adam asked with a sigh.

“So?” The Mageslayer demanded.

“It’s limited to nobles and their champions.”

“That’s fine, Arc can just name me—”

“House Voltaire is from Regalia, Andy. Arcturus is staying here under the auspices of House Rubastra. He has no leverage to appoint a champion.”

Andy’s expression fell. “So what, we can’t participate?”

“We can’t, no.” Adam said. “Arcturus, however…”

“Are you crazy?” Danica hissed at them both as the five of them descended down one of the amphitheatre’s open stairways. “He can’t afford to draw attention to himself like that!”

They do realise it’s you they’re talking about, right?

“And you think becoming a Dungeon crawling Archon’s Apprentice from House Rubastra with the name Arcturus Regis isn’t going to draw attention?” Andy snorted. “That’s the entire reason Tylariel was so against him registering.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t—” Caeara began, only for Adam to interject.

“He needs to hit Dungeons to grow. We can’t reveal he’s a Nephilim, but it isn’t uncommon for nobles to hire Nephilim to help their delves. Besides, this sort of thing could actually be good for us.”

“How?” Danica asked dubiously.

“If Arcturus does well, it’ll make him look good. Make a name for himself. The better his reputation before the Masquerade’s big reveal—”

“—the stronger my claim will be.” Arcturus finished, drawing their collective eyes as they came to a halt near the bottom of the amphitheatre’s seating and looked down into the arena.

“Oh god, he's got that look.” Danica said resignedly.

“What look?” Caeara asked.

“That look, like he’s made his mind up.”

Arcturus, in fact, had made his mind up. “Wish me luck.” He said simply before departing his friends’ company, ignoring the theatrical groan from Danica and the whoop from Andy as he made his way around the edge of the railing overlooking the arena and towards where he saw some people in Adventurers’ Bureau clothing speaking with a small group of well-dressed individuals.

“—can’t demand a rematch so soon, Lord Berenthal. I’m sorry, but Lady Highblade’s rules were clear.”

“This is outrageous!” The man in question, a robust gentleman with cropped brown hair and blood-stained red tunic, objected as Arcturus slowed his approach to listen.

“The rules are final.” The blue-and-gold Bureau official said apologetically, her expression of mild impatience unaffected by the tall noble’s stare.

“Who are you to deny me my rematch?” Berenthal raged. “You’re just a commoner! I demand—”

“By The Highest, you’re quite the caricature, aren’t you?” A bored voice said, drawing the attention of the functionaries, Berenthal, and the men and women Arcturus assumed were the noble’s compatriots. A handsome boy — no, man, Arcturus realised — with jet black hair tied back into an elegant foxtail was watching the exchange boredly, wearing a red tunic with golden lions twining around his sleeves. His chest bore a double-headed eagle, designed with hard lines in a minimalist and martial manner.

Now that’s a protagonist.

When he spoke, his red eyes bore a cunning and intellect that Arcturus couldn’t help but like. There was a familiarity to the cut of his jaw, and the way he seemed to be quietly amused as if he knew a joke no one else. “You’re the son of a Baronet, Berenthal. Your family is barely a Lesser House. Just accept your licks and move on. You’ve embarrassed your bloodline enough.”

“How dare you!” Berenthal raged, rounding on the stranger. “Do you have any idea who my father is?!”

Oh this should be good.

The functionary looked at Berenthal like he was an idiot, as did her male companion. One of the Baronet’s lackeys also seemed to realise something was amiss, because he leaned in urgently to whisper to the tall brunette, only to be ignored. “I demand satisfaction! You have insulted me, and I will not stand—”

“You should probably pay better attention to your surroundings.” Arcturus interrupted this time, feeling as much as seeing every eye turn to him this time. “You’re so busy ranting and raving that you didn’t even notice what’s on his hip, Lord Berenthal.”

Anger and confusion warred on the tall Noble’s face, and then he spun back to the mysterious stranger — before blanching at seeing an Archon’s aetherblade resting easily on his right hip. “I—I didn’t know.” Berenthal said hoarsely, while the stranger just snorted.

“Apparently. Now, can you get lost? I think that handsome chap behind you is about to try his luck next.”

Berenthal glanced back at Arcturus angrily, until his eyes fell on Perdition’s hilt — and he turned a sickly shade of green. With a mumbled apology, the tall noble all but fell over himself to retreat, followed by his nervous-looking lackeys. Watching them go, Arcturus couldn’t help but feel the strangest sense of pity.

He’d never seen a real life candidate for ‘killed by his own stupidity’ before that.

“I appreciate the intervention, friend.” The stranger said with an easy smile as he stepped forwards, nodding after Berenthal. “He was about to force me to do something I’d regret.”

“It’s never fun to bully the weak.” Arcturus agreed. “Especially when they’re too dense to realise they’re weak.”

I disagree. Go punt that giant idiot!

“Oh, I don’t know.” The other man grinned. “It’d at least be amusing.”

“Ah, my lord?” The functionary interrupted carefully. “I apologise, but will you also be competing?”

“Oh, me?” The stranger laughed. “Heavens no. I’m just here for some entertainment.” The woman seemed almost relieved at his words, and Arcturus filed the reaction away for later dissection as she turned to him. “And you, my lord…?”

“Yes.” Arcturus answered with an easy smile. “I’ll take a shot at it.”

“Eager for the Lady’s favour?” The stranger teased.

“Not at all.” Arcturus said with a shake of his head. “I just want to see how I match up to a High House’s champion.”

The other Archon — an Apprentice, Arcturus assumed from his similar visual age — seemed surprised by the statement, but was stopped from further enquiry by the functionary.

“Very well, my lord. I just need your House name for the records.”

“Voltaire.” He replied with a nod, thankful he wouldn’t have to give his full name. “Lord Voltaire, of Regalia.”

“Lord Voltaire.” The functionary nodded. “Thank you, my lord. We’ll call you shortly.”

The woman and her companion departed almost immediately, likely to check in with the Highblade official sponsoring the tournament. That left Arcturus and his new acquaintance alone, at the edge of the ring.

“Regalia, eh?” The other man said thoughtfully. “You’re pretty far from the capitol dominion.”

“I took an unplanned vacation.” Arcturus said truthfully, his lips twitching at the words. “Took everyone by surprise, but I think it’s for the best.”

“And you’re staying with…?”

“House Rubastra.” Arcturus answered with a wry smile. “Archon Tiberius is an old friend of the family.”

“Ah.” The stranger said with a nod, looking away and back to the middle of the arena. “You really don’t care about the Lady’s favour?”

“Really really.” Arcturus confirmed.

“You’re a strange one, Voltaire.”

“Back at you, Simba.” Arcturus quipped before he could stop himself.

“Simba?” The other man asked quizzically.

Arcturus sighed. “Sorry, bad habit. I hang around Nephilim too much. It’s a joke from their shard.”

“Simba…” The other man said after a moment, before grinning. “I like it. Very well, my friend, I shall be ‘Simba’.”

Arcturus looked at him in bewilderment, and then both of them burst out laughing.

“Ah. I haven’t had such a nice conversation in some time.” The other man said after their laughter died down. “You’re good for the soul, Voltaire.”

“Back at you.” Arcturus agreed. “Kinda crazy, but I swear you seem familiar.”

“I could say the same for you.” Simba agreed. “Uncanny, really, but with how much intermarriage there is between the dominions…”

Arcturus nodded along, grateful for the lead-in. “Yeah. I suppose some baseless familiarity is inevitable.” He glanced up at his friends, then back to the other Archon. “Which House are you from, anyway?”

The other man opened his mouth to answer when they were interrupted by a roar from the crowd, and the sound of a portcullis opening in the arena below.

“Ah. I’d say that’s your cue, Voltaire.”

That’s just annoying!

Arcturus nodded as he spied the functionaries running back towards him, looking annoyed and frazzled in equal measure. “I suppose it is. Will you be around after the match?”

“I wouldn’t miss the chance to watch my new friend get pulverized, no.”

Arcturus snorted. “Thanks for the show of confidence.”

Simba flashed him a brilliant, warm smile before turning to head up to the audience stands.

“Lord Voltaire!” The functionary puffed as she came to a halt before him. “Your petition has been accepted—” She took a gulp of air “—by the Highblade Heiress. Please make your way down to the arena to—” another gulp of air followed “—meet her champion in combat.”

“Any rules I should be aware of?” Arcturus asked as he glanced down first at the stone floor of the arena, ten metres below, and then up at the near-cloudless blue sky. Good visibility, no shadows. That would mean his armour’s hiding skill would be useless, and he definitely couldn’t use his [Stealth] capabilities. Traditional combat it was.

“Archons are not permitted to use elemental armour, to make it fair, and combat is to be conducted primarily by sword and sorcery. Victory is determined by incapacitation or surrender. There is no killing permitted.”

“How will they signal a surrender?” He asked as he approached the railing.

“You—…” The functionary paused as she properly parsed his words. “—...whichever combatant surrenders will only need to raise their dominant hand into the air, palm open.”

“My dominant hand is my right.” He said for clarity before catalyzing his [Telekinesis]. The functionary stepped back as Arcturus seemed to walk up into the air, stepping onto a series of platforms faintly outlined in monochrome sparks and dancing flames, before dropping nonchalantly into the arena below.