They sparred on the ship’s deck, the sun beating upon their bare backs. Thael jabbed Krystos’ upper gut, causing the young man to bend over, cradling his stomach. He casually tripped him with a sweeping foot and the prince collapsed, groaning in pain. Sailors watched and laughed at the ,age’s suffering, even the captain pausing to witness them.

“At this rate a common born soldier is more likely to kill than the arch queen,” Captain Arnas called out. “And you.” He pointed at Thael. “What’s the use in beating the tar out of our future ruler for a few more months? He’ll know how to hold a sword by then before dying to the first soldier he fights.”

He stared up at the man. “Even a rabbit has teeth.”

“Quoting from your mother’s people?” Mitsune walked out from the shadowed steps leading below deck, her husband ever present by her side. “I do not know why you insist on training him yourself. Rao is teaching Krystos bladework and of the craft.”

“Your ways require at least a decade of training,” Thael stated. “He has two months. He needs to know what it takes to stand victorious, and what will happen if he isn’t.”

Krystos rose unsteadily, Thael sweeping him off his feet once more with a shallow kick.

“That’s enough,” Mitsune said quietly. Her protector walked over to face Thael. Though he stood six feet tall, the mage stood a head taller.

Thael stared blankly ahead. “It will never be enough.”

Rao squinted down at Thael. “Care for a wager?”

“He’ll take it!” Arnas exclaimed, the rest of his crew sniggering.

The mage continued, “Let’s have a friendly sparring match to test whoever’s skill is greater. The first to yield will no longer train the prince in bladework. Do you agree with these terms?”

Thael merely nodded, stepping back, the sailors cheering, forming a ring of men around them, his cadre looking on in silence.

Rao pulled off his long sleeved shirt and took the proffered wooden sword from Krystos, whirling it. He was a powerfully built man, torso scarred with silvery lines over his tan skin. Being the taller man, he had the longer reach. Thael had to get in close, and fast.

The mage dashed forward, extending his arm in a thrust. Thael backstepped, ready to counter. Except Rao flipped his sword to parry his sword’s strike. It was a feint to get in close, and Thael had fallen for it. The following punch to his gut knocked the breath out of him. The surrounding spectators yelled and cheered.

Thael grimaced. The mage knew how and when to strike. He was outmatched. But they were close now. He dropped his sword to tackle him to the wooden floorboards. Rao let go of his own sword and pinned Thael to the deck. He punched him again, this time striking his chin, making his vision sparkle.

Thael covered his head, the man pummeling his forearms, one fist looping round to ring his temple. His legs locked around Rao’s neck and he had him in a stranglehold. The crowd screamed their bloody fervor.

The man’s face reddened, turning darker with each second. He fumbled for the wooden sword close by. Thael saw his desperate ploy and released his legs only to wrap them round his sword wielding arm, bending his limb… until dark metal crept over to cover it into an unyielding armored shell. The crowd fell silent.

Thael kicked off Rao, rising to his feet.

“We never agreed to any craft,” Thael snarled.

“A man needs to know what it takes to stand victorious, and what will happen if he isn’t. We agreed to spar with bladework, not other means. Unless you wish to settle this with an Ourai?”

Mitsune stepped forward. “Rao. Stop this.”

“And what is an Ourai?” Thael said.

The Demon King grinned. “A duel to the death. I jest of course.”

“Do you?” he said drily. “So, who will train Krystos in the art of war, or what it takes to stand the victor?”

“You have proven yourself,” Mitsune said. “You will continue training the prince, and Rao will tutor him in the craft.”

Thael strode past the sailors who were complaining that their bets had been stymied. Once he reached his dark quarters he sat on his hammock, cradling his head as dull pain blossomed throughout his skull.

“You took a beating against a mage that could have killed you with his craft,” Verena said. “All to train Krystos, who has never been taught proper swordsmanship.”

It was the first time she had spoken to him since... that night. He grunted. “He’s our way back into the Empire.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t think your training style of beating him bloody suits him. I’ve seen how he moves, and I don’t think he was tutored before he even reached magehood. Allow me to train him for a week. Spar with him after and see if he’s improved. Then it’s your decision if I should keep training him.”

Thael merely nodded.

Krystos appeared before them then, and Verena said, “I’ll train you for a week. Meet me above deck after supper.” She left them.

The mage was first to speak. “Are you alright?”

Thael grunted. “I’m fine.”

“You could have refused and let Rao instruct me. Why bother facing a mage known as the Demon King?”

He shrugged. “That mage is a man. If you’re going to survive this, you need to know what you’re capable of.”

He rose despite his pounding head and pressed his pointing finger to Krystos’ forehead. “You use whatever means you can to survive.” He curled one fist and held it in front of him. “War has no honor, no dueling. It’s about killing men in their tents while they sleep. Executing citizens before they can alert nearby soldiers. Poisoning wells. Burning fields and the farmers, so the enemy doesn’t have supplies. That is what we do. The arch queen will do these things and no code of honor will stop her.”

Krystos stared back at him. “What then, can I do?”

Thael grimaced and lay back on his hammock. “The empress and the duke will know. Much of what she predicted came true. Her mind is sharp, but she is only mortalborn. Her body is feeble, just like mine. It will age and die. You should learn from her mind. Know her tactics. Learn her ways of thinking. Keep yourself close to her, as she needs your support to take back her homeland once this ends.”

The young man paused. “You’ve given me much to think about. And thank you, Thael. For fighting for my sake. For all our sakes.”

He left Thael to rest and close his aching eyes.

The days blistered by in a haze. Light sent stabbing pain through Thael’s head, so he stayed in his quarters, only leaving to eat or toss over his chamber pot at night. Cyrus and Loric had tried for conversation, leaving after Thael’s command to, “Fuck off.”

Verena stayed by her hammock beside, guarding him in silence when not training Krystos.

After a week the pain had faded to a dull ache spread between each temple. After another Thael could stand the daylight.

He faced Krystos, his training sword resting downward.

It was dusk, orange sun ebbing with the lapping waves, painting them in its final soft light.

Thael feinted a thrust, the mage standing his ground, still and composed. He feinted another before a slash that Krystos batted away. Thael kicked out, Krystos stepping aside, only for Thael to kick with his other leg against his exposed gut. He had drew in his strike, but it was still enough to knock away Krystos’ breath.

He held out a hand, looking up to the darkening horizon. “You’ve improved.”

Krystos took his hand, Thael pulling him up. “I’ve had…” he gasped, “good teachers.”

Verena stepped towards them. “Before you maim our future king, let me further improve his forms.”

Thael nodded, handing her his training sword.

Krystos grimaced. “I didn’t know this was my fate, to become arch king.”

“All this–” Thael waved a hand to the Haolan ships in the distance “–depends on your fate. What you do with it is your own choice. To lead Arcadia into peace, or continue your sister’s legacy.”

The young mage set into his stance, raising his sword. “Let’s begin, then.”

Verena’s training set Krystos into a dance of tapping wood, allowing him enough space to start his own attack. It was a flurry of clicks and clacks, a flourish of stepping maneuvers and elegant swordplay that made Thael scowl. He did see however the roots of his training under all the… playing, for lack of a better word. Verena did not whack Krystos across his head for placing himself in such a position, merely restarting the dance of swordplay.

Their training finished when night began, Krystos padding to Thael.

“The Empress wishes to speak with us,” he said, bending forward to catch his breath.

“Lead the way,” Thael replied. He had been waiting for such a thing. Whatever they would discuss, he was sure it would have repercussions across the realms.

Thael and Krystos stepped down below deck, passing darkened halls to see Rao, her husband, standing guard in front of her door.

The Demon King opened the door before following them in.

Mitsune stood over a table, a map of Orr and all its realms spread before her. She nodded absentmindedly to them, staring down at the jade figurines still yet to reach the Isles.

“Once we reach Vinnia, the grand duke will resupply us and join us with his own fleet,” she said. “We will then cross over to Umbra.”

“Why Umbra?” Thael asked. “The Empire declared war upon their nation.”

“The arch queen declared war upon them. They are a prodigious and powerful nation, possessing lost magic and knowledge. They seek to be at peace with the Empire, same as us. We have spoken with their ruler for some time.”

She produced a silver locket from within her plain green robe, kneeling to place it on the floor.

“What is this?” Krystos asked.

“A scryer. A relic of the Mythic.”

The Mythic artifact sputtered out light, casting the form of a dark skinned man as if he were standing atop the device. He wore a grey form fitting uniform. His black curly hair was knotted and braided. He stood with his shoulders pulled back, broad chest outward, his hands clasped behind him. A soldier’s posture.

“Mitsune. Rao,” he said. “You have not yet reached Vinnia’s shores?”

Mitsune shook her head. “The arch prince stands before you.”

“Which one is he?”

Krystos gave a hesitant bow. “Are you real?” he said.

The Umbran man turned to face him. “I have heard much about you, Krystos Danir. I am Ziad, the fifth of my cycle. Your sister has killed many of yours and my own people.”

The young mage straightened. “I am not my sister.”

“We have yet to see that. Regardless of a child’s upbringing, the child does not belong to their family nor home, but to their people. Do you care for your people, prince?”

Krystos blinked. “Yes.”

“Are you willing to die for them?”

“I don’t know. Would you die for your people?”

“It would probably do more harm than good should I die prematurely. Just as the Empire would be without a just ruler.”

“I have heard of your peoples’ doings in Arcadia,” Krystos said. “What happened between the Empire and Umbra was… irredeemable.”

“My people were ready for such a sacrifice. But were yours?”

“Many died in the Great Cleansing,” Krystos said. “It was a culling. Thousands of innocents murdered.”

The Umbran man sighed. “We did not expect the queen to kill her own people, nor her own countrymen to do the killing.” He turned back to the Empress. “So. Once Vinnith’s fleet joins yours, you will liberate Casparn?”

“Together,” Mitsune said. “I hope we can make history—for the better.”

Ziad nodded. “My people stand ready for war. We will reach the Heartlands at your call, and move north together to the capital.” He looked back to Krystos. “Prove me wrong of your namesake. Prove us all wrong, Krystos of the line Danir.”

Mitsune said softly, “All of our nations seek one thing should you become arch king. And that is peace. Do you wish to fulfill such a thing?”

“If I do become arch king, then I will do whatever is in my power to maintain it,” Krystos declared. “I am a Mage, but I am also a man. I’m not sure if I can do what all of you expect of me. I’m inexperienced and untested. But I tell you this now. If your interests harm the Empire, I will not hesitate as arch king to drive you out of Arcadia. I won’t be a puppet. I will act in my people’s best interests.”

Ziad smiled. “I have seen enough.”

The image of the man faded.

“That was well said,” Rao remarked beside Mitsune.

“Indeed,” the empress nodded. “Spoken as one with nothing to gain, despite the way of things. It will be a few more days before we reach Vinnith. We will resupply then join with Duke Lothair’s fleet. Together, we will liberate the eastern kingdom of Casparn.”

“Does that mean you will raze and sack the city?” Thael asked.

Mitsune shook her head. “We are not raiders. The city will choose their leadership. There are organized rebellions hidden throughout the southern kingdoms, fully supported by its citizens. My agents will rally them to breach Casparn’s defenses. They will join us in this coming war.”

“You make it sound as if they’ll just open the gates for us,” Thael said. “The arch queen has more than just mages and legions.”

The empress nodded. “I know the legend of your order, Thael. Men and women riding atop tamed wrynn of the sylven forests. It is why we will march together with Umbra, onward until we reach the capital of Delphi.”

“The march to the capital will take weeks. You know that the arch queen is no fool. She seized your nation.”

“A necessary sacrifice for the fleet,” her husband answered. “We will retake our homelands and give it back to the people.”

Mitsune said, “The queen is trapped. Her people rebel against her rule. They need a ruler, Krystos. We can only champion your cause. Prove us all right.”