Why do I feel embarrassed? I’m not the one who’s in the wrong.

But feelings didn’t care about facts.

My body felt sluggish as shame writhed in my stomach.

There were two men in armour at either side of me, keeping enough of a distance that their presence wasn’t overwhelming. We were in an elevator, facing forward as the contraption slid up; unlike those in my world which had doors connected to the elevator itself, this one didn’t and on the opposite wall was a continuous painting.

A long breath left me and I rubbed my eyes. I still felt low energy and would have loved to go back to bed, but the gloves had given me the extra impetus to go back to training – the sooner I started, the sooner freedom would come.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened into the bottommost floor of Allycea’s quarters. I wasn’t surprised to see that she and her ladies-in-waiting were already training. They spotted me but didn’t stop what they were doing: some were sparring, others doing target practice and Jaslynn — I shuddered as a weight settled on my shoulders, sapping what little energy I had — was walking on a thin beam near the ceiling. Freda had left the hospital but she wasn’t training like the others; she sat to one side, watching her friends.

None of them paid me any attention.

I knew what I was here to do and had something of a plan so I struck out on my own. I still hated exercise and I wanted to give up, but the feelings in my stomach seemed to resolve into a spite that pushed me further, giving me energy when my legs threatened to fold under each step.

Something was said by the girls, maybe a joke, and it was followed by a burst of laughter that made me feel embarrassed again.

Stupid.

I refocused on the training, keeping my mind on my goals.

Running, target practise and finally dodging practice.

Usually it was Jaslynn’s who threw stuff at me, but I wasn’t in the mood to approach them right. I called in my guards to take up the duty. They weren't as good a thrower as Jaslynn — which I appreciated — but they still managed to hit me, forcing me to get better.

After training I was supposed to get into academic studies, but things were in flux after my hiatus. I sent out a letter with a schedule, one that wasn’t as hectic and gave me more time for respite. I waited on bated breath, expecting Odysseus to swoop in and tell me that I didn’t have the authority; instead Dedrick returned to me with an affirmative from my teachers.

A tension that had been building through much of the day left me and I slumped with relief. It helped ease the complicated feelings around Allycea and her friends.

I started meditating again, working on filtering the impressions I got from the spatial gem.

Now birds, I thought and everything else dimmed, leaving only those impressions that flew around the island. I went broad: rodents — there were a lot of those in the castle and more on the island; cats — also a lot, scattered throughout the castle; and dogs — very small in number and all of them on the ground a distance away, there were a few in scattered about in the castle.

Soldiers, I thought. The impressions in my head dimmed, but no others appeared. Was that too broad?

Okay, people carrying swords. I waited and nothing happened.

What was the difference? For that matter, how did the stone know what it knew? Was that it or me? Was there an underlying intelligence in how magic worked or was it all a natural phenomenon?

My mind wanted to say there was an underlying intelligence because diagrams were out of left field, but most of the theory of how the world worked back on earth was headache inducing to try and unravel; and I didn’t think there was a greater intelligence behind that.

Impulsively, I went to my study and wrote a letter for Cicero. He had years of studying magic under his belt, he would know how to answer some of these questions.

But I stopped. I really did want to learn about magic, but I knew that Odysseus — and no doubt his father — didn’t trust them after their treason. Everything I had done so far could be reversed by an apology, but talking to Cicero would probably make him and the king paranoid, and that wasn’t something I needed.

I scrapped the letter and started to stew as boredom consumed me.

Allycea and her ladies were giving me the cold shoulder, probably because Odysseus had told them what I’d said and they didn’t like that. As awful as they were, and even though Jaslynn had pushed me in front of a spider, I needed them to survive. In a few days I was set to meet a few important people and if they didn’t help, I wouldn’t know what to do or how to act.

Okay, I thought. Tomorrow I’ll apologise.

Which sucked because there was really no reason I should apologise. They were looking out for themselves and I was getting in on that. What I was doing wasn't any different from what they were doing, and they did it unapologetically.

But that didn’t matter.

Uneven power dynamics weren’t new, but this felt different because I had no choice but to participate. In more ways than one it felt like I was back at high school at its worst, where a teacher could be really shitty and I had no choice but to accept it. But at least with that it had been six hours and I could go back home for a reprieve, which couldn’t happen here.

These thoughts are unhelpful. You just have to do everything you can to survive, and that means apologising for stupid shit.

The next day came quickly. Allycea and Cybill weren’t in attendance, which left me getting the cold shoulder from Jaslynn, Ellora and Freda. It was such a petty thing, but without earphones to drown out my thoughts, my mind fixated until realisation hit — even though I didn’t want it to, their tactic still hurt. They were ignoring me like I didn’t matter, and that made me want to prove myself to them which double sucked because why?

They didn’t care about me and I didn’t care about them. Things were perfectly balanced.

I still need them though.

I felt all sorts of things as I walked over to Freda. She should have heard me coming but she didn’t turn my way, watching as her friends sparred and sometimes wincing at particularly loud noises.

“Lady Freda,” I said. She turned and smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. I swallowed. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay after you were hurt.”

“Yes,” she said. “I heard you were one of my protectors, for that you have my gratitude.”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. You would have done the same for me, right?”

Her expression flickered, quick and unreadable, before she turned towards the sparring. Guilt maybe?

Our conversation lulled and the sounds of hissing water filled the field.

Was this a part of the cold shoulder? If this was high school, Freda would have ignored me even when I’d come up to her, but maybe there were different social norms between home and here. Which made sense with everything Odysseus had already taught me. The nobility believed in having plausible deniability with their insults, and something like completely giving someone the cold shoulder required them to be direct and draw hard lines.

“Why aren’t you sparring with the others?” I asked, because I lost nothing when it came to wringing this stone for water.

That expression probably works better here when they can literally get water from rocks. I kept a smile from flickering past my expression.

“Though my body has been healed, matters of the mind are harder,” she said. “I am still addled, and to engage in combat would prove disastrous.”

“That sucks.”

“Yes,” she said, longing in the words, “it does.”

And then silence again.

I used the lull to try and think of an angle, a way to move the conversation and direct it towards the climate between me and the royal children without being obvious. But much though Odysseus had taught me the theory, I still found it hard not to be direct.

I took a breath and asked, “Is Her Highness upset at me for missing her party?”

“That would be a question better posed to her,” said Freda, and everything from how she sat and sounded told me she would rather this conversation be over.

“But she isn’t here,” I said. “You’re her friend and I want to know what this is about?”

“And by this you mean?”

“The whole ignoring me thing,” I said. “Usually I’ve got training and that’s not happening anymore.”

“We do not serve at your beck and call, Champion,” she said, the words chilly. “It is in favour to Her Highness that we agreed to train you. But your conduct, not informing us that you wished for time, was most disrespectful.”

“What?” I said, feeling a flash of anger. Freda winced and a hand went to her temple. The sparring stopped. Ellora and Jaslynn turned their attention fully towards us.

My heart jumped to my throat, both of them were dangerous and could beat me up if they wanted to. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” I said, “for hurting you, but…I think you’re mistaken. I did tell Princess Allycea that I needed a break, shortly before she recommended the hunt. I don’t think it’s my fault she didn’t tell the rest of you.”

That doesn’t sound like an apology.

Ellora and Jaslynn approached and I shrunk a little.

“Champion,” Ellora said, the words cold.

“Hey.”

“Are you all right, Freda?” Jaslynn asked, her eyes narrowed as they turned my way.

“I am,” she said and swallowed. “Though the Champion has informed me that he told Allycea of his hiatus from training.”

“That cannot be true,” Jaslynn said. “For if it were, Allycea would have told us.”

I opened my mouth, prepared to rebut but I stopped. What even was this? What was the point? It wasn’t like they would really listen to me.

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m misremembering,” I said. “For which I’m sorry. I should have told you I was planning to take a few days off. It must have been an imposition and a waste of time to guess whether or not I was coming.”

The words were rote and perfunctory.

“Your apology is graciously accepted, Champion,” said Freda.

“Though there is still the matter of missing the princess’ dinner engagement,” said Jaslynn.

“I would have thought Prince Odysseus would have told the princess why I missed that,” I said.

“And yet it is still polite to inform your host directly,” said Jaslynn. “You did not, and for that Allycea deserves an apology.”

“I was already planning to apologise,” I told her, my words harder than I meant. “But she isn’t here.”

“She rides with Baron Owain the Younger through the island’s grounds,” said Ellora. There wasn’t the same chill as before, and her expression had softened. A perfunctory apology and she was fine with it.

This place and the people here felt like a mockery of reality, where everyone had scripts they followed. I didn’t think any of them cared about me not attending training or Allycea’s dinner, honestly it might have been better for them in both accounts. But offence demanded an apology and they had to act as if they were.

Is this why Odysseus hasn’t come to me? Because I have to apologise as a matter of course?

My eyes found Jaslynn whose expression seemed almost challenging.

Does that mean that she expects me to do the same thing? To act the part when what she’d done would have killed me?

Again I prepared to say something, to demand an apology but even thinking about the hunt made me feel as if I was back there, in the narrow tunnel with a white, almost glowing spider coming towards me. I didn’t think I could just forgive and forget, especially if the apology wasn’t something she meant.

“If you would excuse me,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’d like to visit Prince Odysseus’ quarters before returning to my own.”

“You are excused,” said Jaslynn and she smiled.

I ignored it and left to visit Odysseus.

***

“No excuses or justifications,” I started. We were at the centre of an expansive library, lit from above by a mosaic of luminous gems. Odysseus sat with a few books in front of him, another, empty one sitting to the side, with an inkwell and quill beside it; his expression was hard to read as he gazed up at me. “What I did wasn’t good. I insulted you and didn’t show you the respect you deserve and I’m sorry for that.”

It really wasn’t much of an apology, just something I’d worked through while on the elevator. But if I was right, then Odysseus wouldn’t care.

“That is not much of an apology, Champion,” he said.

That’s not what you’re supposed to say.

“Usually when one apologises the affair is much grander, perhaps a gift or a sacrifice. From the looks of it, you have come empty handed. Why, you have not even invited me to dinner to set the occasion.”

“It’s not as though I can give you much of a gift, Your Highness. I don’t have money.”

He waved his hand. “Money is not worth much consideration. You are a Champion and thus are under the royal purview; be free to spend as you will, within reason, of course.”

It sounded like a joke so I smiled. It was tight and probably not convincing.

“Next time I make an apology I’ll go the mile,” I said.

He hummed. “Have you apologised for your slight against my sister?” he asked. “You did not attend her dinner and it's causing quite the stir, especially when not much later you invited Surefoot into your company and not the princess.”

I’d sort of known something like that would happen, but it had been abstract and I hadn’t given it much consideration. What had been important was keeping myself sane, and that was still important but there were also other priorities.

“Is the damage too bad?”

Odysseus let out a sigh, though I could see from the way his shoulders lost their tension he was about to get into a long academic monologue.

“May I sit?” I asked before he could get into it.

He nodded. “The matter is rather complicated and has a lot to do with history,” he said.

“Your favourite subject,” I put in.

His eyes visibly sparkled, a smile threatened to bloom before he evened out his expression. I was probably reading into it, but I couldn’t help but imagine that Odysseus had missed my company.

“You know, of course, that there is something of a history between the Urocy and humanity?” he asked.

“Snippets,” I said. “It was a passing note in my conversation with Surefoot. We shared our perspectives.”

“Did you?” he said. I shrugged. He sighed. “He no doubt gave you something of a biased perspective. Champion Reynold once said, in a matter between two parties there are often three truths. As the Urocy tell it, it was we who started war by hunting their kind; but history as it is written tells us they were nought but an intelligence brought forth by humanity.”

“That…” That doesn’t sound right, I finished in my head.

“No doubt you think this is hubris on our part,” he said.

I shrugged. “It’s…um…” I shrugged again.

“The Fates created the world and the creatures who live upon it,” he said. “Altheer created humanity and he did so in his likeness, giving us a sliver of the power of the gods. It is why we too have the ability to create: from the architecture we build, to the music and art we create, to civilisation itself. Altrine created animals to serve us, but through our likeness to the gods, we gave them of our intellect.”

“How?” I asked, even as my stomach turned. It felt horrible to even consider that what he said might be true.

“They were squandering the potential of the Memory Spheres,” he said, not noticing my discomfort. “It is a great tool for learning and passing on knowledge, but they used it only to communicate. It was in the Great Kingdom of Praneth that experimentations of the Memory Spheres began in earnest, and there that the first of the Urocy were given human intellect. What follows next is only speculation, but through their usual means of communication, they spread the gift humanity had given them.”

I nodded. “There’s a thing that’s said in my world about history, and it’s probably why I never much enjoyed learning about my country’s past: History is written by the victor.”

Odysseus chuckled. “You are learning our ways, Champion,” he said. “At any rate, even so many years after the war between our two peoples, there still exists an amount of animosity. By having dinner with Duke Surefoot, well…”

“I’m picking sides in something I didn’t know was a thing in the first place,” I said, feeling relief.

“Made worse when you chose not to attend Allycea’s dinner,” he said. Odysseus pursed his lips, eyeing me.

“What?”

“It reminds people of Rowan,” he said. “He used a similar tactic to take Washerton.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said. “I’m not sure about anything with the guy. I know that he’s a big bad, but…I sort of don’t get it? When Baron Owain mentioned him, he was talking about mines,” and how people were being executed but you didn’t seem offended by that in any way. “How is that a war?”

“It’s a pilfering of resources,” said Odysseus, as if that was supposed to make things make sense.

“He’s taking territory?” I asked and again it didn’t feel like war.

Wars weren’t a small thing and most of those I remembered were ideological, fighting against a great evil. This, though…it felt like people in power protecting their power and pretending it was a bigger deal than it was.

Would it surprise you if that’s exactly what this is?

“And breaking the established order,” Odysseus continued. “He forces us to focus on him, and that keeps us from ensuring that peace reigns and there is stability in the kingdom.”

“That’s a little too abstract for me,” I said, doing my best to keep my tone even. “What does peace and stability mean?”

“It means prosperity for all,” he said. “It means our knights are better able to protect villages from dire beast rampages. Entire farms have been lost, villages destroyed and peoples displaced which leads to problems of squabbling nobles.”

I frowned, turning everything around in my head and finding that something bothered me; it felt like there was context there that I was missing, but I didn’t have enough information to ask the right questions.

“Like budgets and stuff?” I asked, because that felt like it was in the right direction.

“I am unsure what you mean,” he said.

“I mean, if people are moving from one part of the country to another, like a province or whatever. It makes sense that whoever is running it would need more money sent their way to build and maintain infrastructure, and other things like that.”

“No,” he said. “I admit myself quite interested to learn how your country works, though now is not the time. And Rowan is not important to you when we have barely secured you as an important figure.”

There was something there, probably something Odysseus didn’t want to tell me because the change in topic felt abrupt. It was too easy to get in the rhythm of my surroundings and forget about the screwed-up bits, but I had to remember that the information I received was heavily propagandised.

A message from the grave from Champion Reynold.

I sighed, it was better to keep the conversation moving. “I’m gonna be honest to you, Your Highness. I still have no idea what I’m doing here, what impressing these nobles mean. What do they want to see from me?”

“They will want to see that you can be great.”

A laugh left me. “But how do you show someone that?” I asked. “It makes no sense. Can you give me something here? What did the other Champions do? How did they prove that they were great?”

“Champion Reynold called himself a politician,” said Odysseus. “He had no official office, though he managed to unite two warring houses in Susserton. Champion Botan is the inventor of the arc welder, a contraption which is easier to create and use than any artefact, because of his work the Sunward Empire’s fleet has sailed further than most, even with the dangers of the high seas. The Champion King Zeus—”

Odysseus’ mouth continued to move but my mind had suddenly stopped.

“Wait,” I said. From the frown I must have interrupted him, but I really didn’t care. “Zeus?” I couldn’t help it, a bark of laughter left me, short and mad. “Zeus, really?”

“You find something humorous, Champion, but I am unsure why,” he said.

“Just…Zeus? Was there ever a Champion called Poseidon or Thor or, god-forbid, Jesus?” I asked, unable to keep the stupid grin from plastering itself across my face.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” said Odysseus, still confused.

I let out another chuckle. “Okay, what did Zeus do, then? What greatness did he show?”

“He was the first Mandon King,” said Odysseus. “The ancestor of the Mandaron line. King Zeus was a hunter when he was younger, moving from village to village, felling rampaging and dangerous dire beasts, and it was through his ingenuity that the concept of hunter guilds was formed. It was during this time that he rescued Princess Cindel and sought to save her against a usurper who took her birth right. After which they married and he took his place as king at her side.”

“How young was he when he was called into this world?” I asked.

“Unknown,” said Odysseus. “Champion Zeus’ call was an accident, accomplished in a time when spatial mages were still experimenting with transporting people; he was thought of as a peasant boy and given to servants before he ran away. Past data, though, suggests he might have been fourteen when he was called into our world.”

“And how old was he when he became king?” I asked.

“I see the direction your thoughts are going, Champion, however such truths will not help you now.”

“It feels like you’re all expecting me to pull a miracle out of my ass,” I said. “Your Highness.”

“Such crudeness is unneeded,” Odysseus said.

“Doesn’t make me wrong, though,” I countered. A long breath left me and I focused on my breathing. “It’s been what…a few months? And I get the feeling you’re already expecting me to be a full-fledged Champion like Zeus or whoever else.”

“It is not a fully formed Champion that is needed,” he said. “But the nobles need to know that you can become one.”

“Become a warrior,” I corrected. “I don’t know anything about the past Champions, but I’m gonna take a guess. All the ‘genius’ Champions through history have been able to flourish because they had time and space, they could do whatever they wanted, learn about themselves and grow; while all those who died young did so because they were in environments like these, being pushed into doing stuff that was beyond them because of a legacy.”

Odysseus opened his mouth and no words came out. “Huh,” he said after a moment. “This will require more study. But it does not change the path set before us.”

Fucking hell. All of this was so exhausting.

I sighed. “So what now?” I asked. “I messed things up by inviting Duke Surefoot into dinner. It’s made some people paranoid because Rowan did something similar…”

Tell me more about Rowan. What’s his deal? What type of person is he?

“We will have to introduce you to some of the nobles who call the castle home,” he said instead, “but that will be after you have been tested by a Healer. There you will meet important figures in Althor — Father amongst them — and it will be important that you be on your best behaviour. You have something of a temper, speaking out of turn when you are upset, that cannot happen. Your objective during the meeting should be to seem a loyal servant, to show them how far we have gone in the little time we have had.”

“And if I can’t?” I asked. “If I mess things up?”

“The Dukes and Earls have always been secure in their power,” said Odysseus. “From the very beginning it was unlikely that anything we did would persuade them if their minds were set. The barons, however, are another matter. They are important, yes, but they are insecure in their standing, wanting always to get closer to important figures. We will give them our company, ensuring they are on our side.”

“I feel like there’s still a lot about how this place works that I don’t get,” I said, because again it felt like there was something missing.

“Yes,” said Odysseus. “Thankfully for you, as your educator it is my duty to teach. Unless of course, you wish again to rebuke me.”

“No,” I said. “Not rebuke.” I swallowed. “But things will be different from before. I’m setting my own schedule. This is one of those things that aren’t negotiable.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to accept,” he said, his voice light, but his expression set in stone.

“I sort of wanna start things off with a question,” I said. “How does your government work? Give me the nitty-gritty.”