It was hard to be the Mage Slayer’s son, that much was beyond dispute. That Arthur’s father was also a king meant there was some debate about whether being the oldest or the youngest was less desirable. As the third child of three, Arthur was firmly in his own camp on this point. Not that he didn’t appreciate the weight of his elder brother’s burden. He didn’t even resent that his brother was shaping up to be a worthy successor to a well-loved king, as much as that seemed to cast him in two shadows. Ruling was Nathans's destiny, and if he was honest, Arthur was glad. He found much greater satisfaction in pursuing the other half of his father’s legacy.

King Logan was a good ruler and a renowned warrior. If it was Nathan’s duty to surpass his father as a ruler, then it was Arthur’s, to do so as a fighter. He was thankful the second born had been a girl who had no interest in the mantle of King’s Blade, or else Arthur would’ve been without a purpose at all. As the second son, he was to be his brother’s Blade when Nathan became King, so when the summons came, it found him in the training yard.

Engaging two of his mentors at once. Fending off their joint attacks with light footwork and precise swordplay, a small shield strapped to his arm, and a training sword angled over the top. His movements were tight and precise. He turned one master’s lunge aside, sending him at the other as they attempted to come at him from both sides. Arthur stepped clear of the thwarted pincer maneuver and struck out with a solid chop at an exposed side. His body coiling back on itself like a snake, his mentor narrowly avoided the blow and Arthur was back on the defensive as the other combatant pressed the attack, forcing his attention off the more vulnerable man.

The prince had a longer reach, and sharper reflexes, both of which were employed to great effect as he baited the man into lunging for an opening that was not an opening. Arthur stepped into the attack, his buckler angled perfectly to shed the force of the blow, and what was left sent a satisfying jolt up his arm to be absorbed by his chest and shoulder. His ploy had blown a gap in the man’s defenses a mile wide, and Arthur’s follow-up strike would’ve opened an artery in his leg were it a real sword.

“I yield.” His sparring partner called out, raising his sword and shield in surrender as he stepped back and away. Immediately, the prince focused on the remaining opponent, resuming a ready stance with his buckler up and narrow blade angled over the top. Now fighting on more even terms, his tutor’s tactics became far less reckless. Trying to bait Arthur into a foolish attack by faking an opening, the man's buckler was a little too high, the angle just slightly off. A journeyman's mistake.

The two feinted back and forth as they circled, testing each other's technique and nerves. Clashing only briefly before withdrawing back into ready stances. Arthur was tiring, but as a man of twenty-two years, he was not doing so as quickly as his much older mentor.

Is that the true ruse?

He wondered to himself. It seemed more likely. Make him feel clever having spotted the fake opening, and then bait him into a reckless attack by feigning more believable tiredness? It was the sort of thing his mentor would do.

“Prince Arthur, your father requests your presence in the council chamber.”

Both men ceased their combat, standing upright and lowering their weapons.

“You’re slowing down Charles.” Arthur teased as he sheathed his sword, unstrapped his buckler, and began rinsing his face in a basin that was set aside for the purpose.

“The woes of old age, your highness. You get better while I get slower.” Reasonably more clean, Arthur dried his hands and clapped his instructor on the back.

“Well, I’ll take every advantage I can get,” Arthur joked. “I haven’t minded going to bed with more wins and fewer bruises.” Charles smiled but shook his head.

“Best if you don’t keep your father and brother waiting.”

“No, I think you’re right.” Arthur made a quick detour to his rooms to shift outfits into something more suitable for a formal meeting with his royal parent and then hastened to the council chambers.

“Arthur.” Nathan said as he approached. His older brother was waiting outside the closed doors of the council chamber, which was unusual.

“Is everything alright?” Arthur asked his older brother as he came within a comfortable speaking distance.

“I’m not sure. We hadn’t planned to meet until this evening, so I wasn’t expecting the summons. I-” but Nathan was cut off as the double doors opened, and a man and woman stepped through. Both were unusually tall and adorned in red-trimmed cloaks. Arthur schooled his expression to a careful blankness and nodded his head respectfully. His brother was almost a mirror of his actions, the only difference being that the pair of Mages acknowledged Nathan with nods of their own, and ignored Arthur entirely. As they passed, the brothers shared a look behind their back.

“Nathan, Arthur.” Their father spoke their names as he approached. The three of them watched the mages vanish around a corner, and then they all three moved into the council chamber and closed the door.

“What’s Academy City want, father?” Arthur asked as soon as the door was latched.

“To demand our help and deliver veiled threats.” The King said as he took his seat at the head of the table. As Nathan sat on the king’s right side, so too did Arthur sit on Nathan's right. The council room was long, the thick mahogany table dominating the center. On one side, tall windows were running the length of the wall, and on the other. Peace treaties, trade deals, and royal proclamations were framed inside glass and hung on the wall. The council's achievements.

King Logan raised a hand, and an attendant moved quickly to his side.

“My daughter?”

“A runner has been sent, your Majesty. She should be here any moment.” Almost prophetically, the recently closed doors pushed open, and Princess Marie arrived, flanked by attendants. With a gesture of her wrist, she froze them all in place, on the outside of the chamber, and the King made a motion to his own servant, who nodded and left.

As Marie sat opposite Nathan, the doors closed and Arthur mentally added the meeting as one of the rare instances in which the Royal family had been completely alone.

“Academy City is in crisis.” The King said without preamble. “They’re trying to play down the severity, but the messengers they sent have shown their hand.”

“What is it, father?” Nathan asked.

“Typically, new Mages are born within the walls of the City. They come into being as young men and women. This is the only way Mages are born to our understanding.” Arthur wanted to point out that they all knew this already, but he held his tongue.

“It seems that whatever magic that tells them where to appear has been disrupted.”

“So no more new Mages?” Marie asked

“No,” the King shook his head, “Now they have begun appearing everywhere. All across the continent.”

“So there are Mages, new ones, wandering around out there, that Academy City doesn’t control?” Nathan asked his voice tense. Arthur could feel it, too. This revelation could change everything.

“They came here and told you this?” Marie asked, confused. “Doesn’t that seem… strange, revealing such a weakness?”

“They came here to threaten me,” Logan said, “to demand my help in finding these rogue elements, and to encourage me to turn them over.” The king placed an emphasis on the word ‘encourage,’ and Arthur was incredulous.

“They threatened you? The King of the Lowlands? The Mage Slayer?”

“Son, with what is at stake for them. I have no doubt that they will threaten anyone they feel they must.”

“So, what do you intend to do?” Nathan asked, “Will we give up Mages to Academy City?”

“Unlike their High Councillor,” The King spoke the title with a tone of disdain, his nose wrinkled as if he smelled something foul, “I am not a tyrant. I intend to consult the wishes of any Mages we might find, and to make available all the facts. What Academy City truly is and who they will become living in its shadow. I will offer them a place, and if they accept or refuse is up to them.”

“Father, do we know where they might appear?” Arthur asked, his pulse quickening as a plan formed. The King approached a large map that hung on the wall and gestured to each side.

“They arrive at the furthest points from the City, In some cases beyond the boundaries we have mapped.”

“You mean they’re appearing in the True Wilds?” Marie asked, her face going pale at the thought.

“Some of them, maybe.” The king tapped his finger on a northern mountain range. “Julian is reinforcing all the other outposts with Mages to help search, except in the north. Our people in the city report that one of his rivals is serving a political exile in an outpost near The Gap.”

“So he would limit his efforts and lose Mages out of pettiness?” Nathan asked.

“It sounds more like fear to me.” Arthur disagreed, and his father gave him an approving nod.

“Julian has spent years trying to undermine the influence of his rival. He fears putting a large number of Mages under his command or even allowing him to be effective at recovering lost Mages.”

“He wants him to remain obscure except in failure,” Marie noted, her nose wrinkled as she smelled something foul. Arthur gently tapped his fingers on the table, turning the situation over in his mind.

“I should go north.” He declared, not realizing for a moment that his brother had been speaking. His family looked at him, each wearing a unique expression. Nathan was incredulous, Marie calculating, and his father smiled. This was Arthur’s chance to make something of his name. The Prince who brought Mages into the Kingdom. Who helped tip the balance of power against Academy City. It was the chance he’d been waiting for.

“That’s an excellent idea.” The King said, and Nathan turned to him in shock.

“Why should Arthur go? Why not send envoys?”

“Because part of this message is the one who bears it.” Marie said, “The Kingdom who sent their own prince to help these lost Mages. It has weight.”

“Exactly,” The King agreed, “and who better to send than Arthur? He is the best trained, and most in need of the reputation. As the future King's Blade, the more your enemies fear and respect him, the better.”

“I won’t let you down, not our kingdom, and not my family.” Arthur’s hand was balled into a fist atop the table's polished surface, and he met each of their eyes in turn. “I promise.”