Celia led her sons into the Fortress inner halls. Many of the nobles and staff were tending to the many preparations for the funeral of King James Colton. Lyse had already seen his body burned; usually, they burn bodies as soon as there are sufficient witnesses for it. So they prepared a high altar, where his body was set on top of and lit on fire, on the peak of Mount Silondras, so that the winds may wash away his ashes like all those who preceded him. The funeral itself would be a formal celebration, where all nobility and royalty from across the empire would attend to honor his death, every king, every queen, and their royal line, as well as any other noble family who was able. But for now, sorrow shall be the symphony of mind for the empire. And the Opal family shared in this song. But for Lyse, now was not the time for grieving over his king. Now was the time for action.

Lyse wished that he had met his sister on much better terms. While it was great to see her, hugging her tightly and even talking much into the day on arrival, the occurrence of the siege and James's death has left a lot on their plates. All knights were sent to help in repair and reconstruction for as much as possible, made easy with their ability. By the third day, Lyse, Edlund, Elena, and Gray were sore from head to toe from how much debris they had to clear and how much aura they exhausted. But at least the initial panic was over. Pyres were set up for the unfortunate soul, and homes rebuilt. There are even plans for monuments and memorials to be built for this day. But the tension of the city still simmered because they still had no enemy to direct this hatred, and they won't be getting answers from the Royal faction or the noble faction any time soon. But perhaps things will be changing.

Celia led them to Jame's old quarters. The room was stripped of his personal belongings, repossessed to be set within the royal treasury. The bed, while still grand and larger than anything either Lyse and Edlund saw. The filigree the windows, a mirror. Even a small desk with a few candles and impersonal books was a luxury in a plains town like Broken Arrow.

"This may be Lyse's room soon enough," Celia told them.

"Seriously?" Lyse asked her, sitting on the bed. They had just been staying in the knight's quarters ever since they made it back. Admittedly, the room wasn't all that bigger than the noble bedrooms, but still, it was an honor to be sleeping in the same bed that the king stayed in during his reign. He casually flipped through a few books, mostly memoirs or tales detailing past wars from first-hand accounts.

"Well, at least I don't have to share a room with you," Edlund says. "But I will have to come back and fight you if yours is bigger than mine."

Massua looked to her mother. "Doesn't that mean you accept . . . being queen and all."

"I doubt I have a choice, honestly," she sighed. "Every time I even speak with nobility here, it's about the will and its validity. The council is still looking over it thoroughly, but they have yet to call me for any hearing. Only time will tell, I suppose."

"Whether that comes to past or not, we must not waste time in this business with Theurgy, mother," Lye said, sitting on the bed. "I can still . . . feel them. Where they are. We could start right now if we wanted to."

"But first, there are a few things that must be done," she said, then walked to the back of the room, near eh wardrobe now empty, waiting for any of Lyse's belongings to fill it. She stopped and knelt near its base and began pulling at a floorboard slightly out of place. It came out rather easily, Celia setting it aside to reveal a small hidden compartment with a small chest laid within. With care, she pulled it out and settled it on the bed. Then, without a moment's rest, she turned to the wardrobe and did the same to its floor. But instead of a box, she pulled forth a sword wrapped in clothe ad rope, bound. She, too, laid this on the bed as they all gathered around her anxiously.

"What is all this?" Edlund whispered.

"What James left for us," she picked up the box first. There was no visible keyhole, and the box was rather plain all around, only a visible seem indicating that it could be opened. But with only a little fiddling, she somehow opened it and revealed what laid inside. Another gem, the Pendent of Sight, was formally held by James. The soft glow bathed ita container in dull orange light. Lyse could feel its power, his pendant resonating with it like two living things. Yes, it was very much alive. But alive without direction, it wanted guidance; it wanted to be used. And it's the owner must claim it. After inspecting it for a few seconds, she nodded and closed it back, satisfied.

"We shall place that inside the vault till the time comes," she said, handing it to Makyra, who nodded.

"What's this then?" Lyse held up the sword. "Are we just going to put his old sword in the armory as well?"

"It's not just some old sword," she nodded to him. "Unwrap it."

Lyse was a bit confused, but he did so. The cloth was pretty old and stiff, but the rope was taut and sturdy in his hands as he began to undo the knots. What was revealed beneath was quite the sword and sheath. IT was rather decorative for his taste, with gold filigree and iconography along the scabbard indicating some high importance. One might even mistake it for a decorative piece. But why would the king hide such a thing beneath the floor then? Lyse got his answer when he felt a slight tingle in his hands, the kind of tingle one gets whenever they directly touch an enchanted blade. Sure, looking at it now, it seemed to give off the sort of aura one might expect from an inanimate object. But, Lyse knew that if he were to pour been an ounce of his power within this metal, it'd alight on command with its unique properties. He finally unsheathed it, revealing a one-handed sword, nearly a long word. It was surprisingly light, lighter than his old Nemean blade for sure. The curved cross guard held a red gem in the center, and those same symbols that decorated the sheath appeared etched along the edge. Lyse has only heard stories of such blades, the kind often found in the many tombs and dungeons of some ancient civilization far more magically advanced than even Torlak. The tingle even touching the edge was uncanny. But Lyse knew, somehow he knew what this blade was.

"That blade belonged to a great swordsman that James had respected," Celia said. "A gift for his comradery before his retirement."

The realization finally hit Edlund, who stared wide-eyed at the thing. "No way that's. . . "

"It's the blade dad was knighted with," Lyse chuckled sadly, holding it up to the light."

"He called it Stoicherimos," she said.

"The Elemental, in our old tongue," Lyse said. "You want me to keep it?"

"I can think of none more deserving than his firstborn," she said. "It is up to you . . . no, all of us to continue their legacy: to honor them. And this is only a small competence."

Lyse told her of his meeting with his father in heaven and how he has been watching over them. Lyse hopes that he watches even now. The sword suddenly weighed for more than before imply knowing that fact. By placing this sword on his side, he knows he will be swearing another oath to his father. He unbuckled his regular sword and put the sword in the holster. It felt oddly natural as if made for him though he knows this is not the case. This blade has perhaps served a hundred masters in its existence, may even serve a hundred more. But he shall unlock all the secrets this weapon holds, and he hopes that he shall serve it adequately.

Suddenly, they got a knock on the door. Celia quickly began carefully moving the planks back in place, closing the wardrobe as Makyra hid the box beneath the bed and swiftly moved to open the door. They all stood still as statues as the door opened to a servent, bewildered to find so many people in one room. They bowed, making Lyse feel very awkward to stand, but Celia nodded and stood forward ahead of all of them, captivating the servent with her presence immediately.

"Why have you come?" she asked him.

"I was told you would be here, Lady Celia," he said plainly. "We seem to have a visitor asking for the family of Wilbur Opal, and they requested an immediate audience."

"Well, who is this guest of ours, if he even cared to give a name."

"He introduced himself as Wilbur's instructor," the servent said. "Lord Emerus."

"Emerus," Celia glanced at the sword and narrowed her eyes.

"Is he familiar, mother?" Lyse asked. "Never heard dad mention anyone like that."

"He trained both James and your father," she said before turning back to the servent. "Send word of our approach; we shall meet with him shortly."

The servent nodded before departing. Before following the servent down to the main entrance, Cwelia ordered Makyra to take the box back to the chamber when night comes, and until then, hide it in her room and never leave it. She called Makyra to hear from, with little protest in return as she wished to personalize her own space further while she had the chance. That left Edlund and Lyse to follow her down to the main hall before the throne room. It never crossed Lyse's mind that his father did have a master out there who taught him all he knew; he was just able to settle that his father had an instead decorated career as a knight and fought gods before. Though he believes this to be far more mundane, he found himself anxious to met this person, and he could feel the same from Edlund. Edlund doubts that this person would be anything like Gabbes. He expects this seven-foot-tall muscle-bound creature with skin like iron and a mean look to challenge them both on the spot or something like that. Even his mother looked a little uneasy to meet this person, despite her knowing little to nothing at all about him. But when they came to the main hall, they were met with an odd sight.

It was a man, for sure, though aged to a near decrepit state. Lyse has never met someone so old. His skin was so dark, and dry one could mistake he was some strange wood carving. His hunched figure blade seemed stable as he perpetually leaned forward, eyes forward and half observant. But most bizarrely was that he was sitting on a floating cushion that puts him barely on eye level with them. His white and grey robes draped his stick-like form, and a sword held in his lap. Flanking him were men in similar-looking robes. The eyeless helmets were trained in the aura, though they gave off vibes similar to the knights. But Emerus, Lyse couldn't believe his eyes when he saw what his aura looked like. Despite his decrepit appearance, his atmosphere was vibrant and serene, such a peaceful and mighty aura that dwarfed his own, checked his mother. Even if he cannot use this aura, it was an impressive thing to behold for knights of any capacity. Lyse and Edlund both got the urge to bow their heads in respect, which they did.

Emerus bowed his head as well, eyes gazing upon them both. He seemed to ponder something a moment, looking at them before his eyes settled on Lyse when he pointed the butt end of the sword towards him.

"You are Wilbur's progeny?" his voice was dry but surprisingly snappy.

Lyse's back stiffened. "We both are, lord Emerus. Though I am of blood, yes."

"Hmm," he glanced back at Edlund. "Well, I guess you will do fine as well. But, come, we do not have all day. The mountains get rather cold at night, and I can't be bothered putting on extra layers."

They all stood in bewilderment as his magic cushion began turning and moving out the door. Lyse watched as his two guards turned on their heels and prepared to leave as well. "Wait, do you wish us to leave with you."

"Of course," he did not stop or even turn. "How else am I supposed to train you two. I'm not psychic; at least, I don't think I am. Just come along."

"Training?" Edlund looked to Lyse and his mother. "Wait, what's going on."

"You deaf boy," he turned back sharply, then said in the old tongue. "How about if I say it slowly. Come. Along. Am. Going. To. Train. You."

"We understand you perfectly, lord Emerus," Lyse said. "But this is all very sudden, especially since my brother and I have already been knighted and recognized."

"You think a title means that you have nothing left to learn?" he snorted. "You certainly are your father's boys. If you believe you have learned all that is, then you may not be ready after all."

"No," Lyse quickly said, stepping forward. Emerus looked upon him, curious. Lyse patted the bade at his side. "I want to be worthy of wielding this blade. Please teach me all that you can."

"Me too," Edlund said, bowing once more. "I may not be Wilbur's son, but he is the only father I know. It will be an honor to learn from his teacher and carry on his legacy."

"You both have strong hearts," he spoke. "But that won't be enough. What awaits you is training far more grueling and taxing than the little drills taught to you. But, within six months, you will be worthy knights in any eyes."

"Why have you come?" Celia asked him. "You haven't been down from the mountain in nearly two hundred years, Emerus. Why now?"

He looked solemnly into the distance for a few moments before refocusing on her. "I know that something is coming, girl. And know the fate that fell upon my last students. It would seem that I have failed once more. I intend to rectify that with these two. This clan needs me, needs them. And I'm here to make sure they are ready. Ready to save our lands."