“That was out of character.” Jura laughed. Okami padded along in a more manageable size as they headed to the headquarters of the Hunter's guild. Excited at the idea of sunning himself and napping while the sun was still high in the sky, panting and aggressively wagging his tail. “There's a good person deep down inside you after all, I guess.” She squeezed his arm tightly and walked alongside him. There was no point in hiding now, word would spread eventually of his return to this strange place. A place that apparently knew him, while he could barely claim the same.

“Do not be foolish.” Tyr refuted. “I was asserting dominance.”

“By giving massive charity to common people?” Jura raised an eyebrow. “I guess it's good that I'll never know how that mind of yours works. Keeps things interesting.”

“I have no need for currency, or gold, it is practically worthless to me. Giving what you do not need to others does not make you good.” Tyr sighed, watching as people pointed out their windows and called out to him affectionately. All a big misunderstanding, seeing him as some traveling hero of justice or something ridiculous. A lot more troublesome of a return than he would've liked. His completion of contracts was to serve as a balm for the anger within him, saving people was not his objective at any point. It was less heroism and more the fact that he wanted to tear things apart until the hurt within him was dulled, and it had been working.

Soon, very soon, he'd leave this place and go somewhere else where people did not know him. All he'd done this time is cause an immense amount of trouble for Leygein's authorities and... Maybe not. Maybe he'd just been inspired by the girl. He didn't know. It was in these moments when he did something good that he found himself relishing the appreciation he was shown. He was just lying to himself again, wanting to spend the rest of his life basking in that warm feeling. It never mattered how he got there, whether his actions were wholly motivated by positive considerations or not. It wasn't selflessness, though, Tyr doubted he had the capacity for that at this point.

Everything had a benefit to him, a simple pursuit of pleasure.

“I love you.” Jura said. She blushed when she said it, feeling inspired by that face he'd seen him make. So soft and kind, which would normally do the opposite of attract her. In this case, she felt such a yearning to see it again, because she knew that beneath that kindness was a hard man equally capable of fighting and surviving. That was her perspective. Tyr turned to her with a scowl almost to the point of disgust, taking her aback. Not exactly the reaction one expected.

“...What?” He asked, glaring at her.

“I said I love you.” She hissed, irritated. “And if you make me say it again...”

“I love you too...?” Tyr shrugged. “I think...? I'm having trouble thinking, all this noise. Why is it so loud here?”

Jura squinted at him. They were in the side alleys of a residential neighborhood, and in the middle of the day, most people were at work. Her hearing was more than good, it was great – and to her the place was serene. Quiet enough to hear the dripping of water through the latticed gardens overhead in some places, not loud at all. “Are you going to be ill again?”

“No.” Tyr grit his teeth. “Never mind.” He said that, but she was unsure, content to follow him along as he clutched his head. Something was wrong with him, but she wasn't about to press. As for Tyr, he could hear and feel so many things. So many sensations all at once were battering his psyche. It wasn't as if he was hearing actual voices. It was like a heartbeat layered on a hundred others, all just off tempo enough with one other to become a staccato vibration in his skull.

“People have been looking for you.” Daito said, appearing from nowhere, and all the 'noise' stopped. “Is there a reason you're screaming so loud? I thought you were dying, genuinely...” He joked, but his voice was full of concern. Tyr could feel waves... Like a ripple on the surface of a still pond coming off of Daito, while Tyr's spirit was like a storm beating against a cliff. Realizing that he was hunched over and tearing the hair from his head, Jura standing over him in abject concern. Time has slipped, he was deeper in the city, and didn't remember walking this far.

“What is this?” Tyr groaned. “What's happening to me?”

“I told you that you were an empath, probably gave about a hundred mages in this city a nosebleed, too. You feel what everyone feels, if you can focus. In a place like this with so many people, after your awakening... There's no wild astral mana to disrupt your senses. You'll feel it all now, like you've been living with leaden weights on your arms for the last three years. You are inconceivably more sensitive to it.”

“How do I make it stop? It's stopped now since you've arrived, is that an aura?”

“No, I am just incredibly powerful.” Daito said. “And handsome. Don't look at me like I'm ridiculous, it's true. My domain is strong enough to passively suppress that kind of stimuli if I want it to. Gods, that's gotta suck. Does it hurt?”

“It's... Pretty bad.” Tyr replied with a subdued nod.

“Come stay in the guild hall overnight and get some rest, we can talk about the future later. I already did all of your paperwork and saw to debriefs. Since I was there and all, but they kept asking for you specifically.”

“Why?”

“Because as far as the authorities are concerned, everything that happened inside that astral space excluding the conclusion, was you.” Daito laughed aloud.

“They blame me for what happened?” Tyr scowled. “That doesn't make any sense, I—”

“What? Good gods but you're thick in the skull.” Tyr groaned ever harder when he realized exactly what Daito had meant. More troublesome indeed. They didn't blame him for anything, they considered him their savior, and unlike the other primus', the officials within the republic could flex their authority in an attempt to use it to their benefit.

“By the way.” Jura frowned, now that Tyr had recovered some of his composure there was no more pressing a question than this one in her mind. “What did you mean by 'I think...'?”

“Uh...”

–

“It is a heavy heart by which I lay to rest our bravest. Those few, glorious men and women who laid down their lives in service to our republic. Brothers, sisters, fathers... We've all lost family in the last year, but we can never stop moving forward. It is with that same heavy heart that I understand what needs to be done.” Silence. Every pair of ears in the senate forum hung onto his words. Alexandros wasn't worshiped like some of his kin, but he was well respected. Even beloved, by most of the common people, the everyday folk who attributed everything they had to his very existence. He was everywhere, in all the cities, giving speeches in the forums. Their equivalent of palaces, he supposed. That was his power, freedom. With some limits, naturally. It wasn't infinite, and he tired faster when using so many copies of himself, but this wasn't a fight. All he had to do was speak.

“Not just the men of this great nation.” He nodded at all the crowds in unison, speaking and moving in perfect harmony between all his 'selves'. “But also our friends. Long has the relationship with the Harani been... Troubled. But we trade, equally and fairly, and they aid us in securing our eastern border, ensuring the prosperity of cities like this.”

“Leygein Vinland Aysgarth Helenia--” The voices split for the first time. An appropriate change for the place his other selves were in, something nice and simple.

“And yet, of all the heroes that we've fostered and lived beside, our greatest triumph came at the hands of one such individual. A Harani. Crossing the hatchet in our direst hour of need and winning a legendary victory against monsters beyond count. Standing tall before the horde of horrors prised to rip the throat out of our nation.” Soldiers stamped their feet on the marble, echoing through the spartan interior of the structure. Hundreds below and thousands of people outside swept up in the emotion, crying and weeping. Cheering even louder. “But he wasn't alone. No, his companions were not Lyran, just as he was not, and we now honor them all as our brethren. Please, step forward.”

Tyr did as he was asked, trying to steady the twitching scowl on his lip, walking up the stairs. In each city, he could be seen as a flickering hologram – only real in Leygein. He stood before the titan that was Alexandros and followed the script. He'd been forced here. Literally. Two days of relative comfort passed and he was bodily dragged out of bed and through the streets by a disguised primus, forced to sit through a lecture given by the jarl until he'd capitulated. He faced the crowd, seeing their faces, imagining what an axe would look like buried in the back of Alexandros' skull.

“My children.” Alexandros had a flare for the dramatic, but whereas Octavian and Jartor might be similar in some ways – it was all an act. He and Tyr had more in common than the latter would like to admit. All a game, something to get the right reaction. But Alexandros at least could say he did it for a greater good. To be the symbol he was supposed to be, rarely seen as he was, sometimes it was necessary. “I give you Tyr of House Faeron, son of Jartor, the White Wolf!”

“White Wolf!” They cheered. It was an ear shattering peal of noise and hot emotion that he could literally feel. If not for Daito standing so nearby, he was sure he would have collapsed beneath it. Despite all this, he liked it far more than he thought he would've. All of that support and genuine excitement, celebration of his name. Tyr was an odd man, but a man. Men yearned for glory down in their deepest parts, and he was getting it, for the first time in his life in such a scale. Alexandros silenced them immediately with a hand.

“I'd call him one eye, but as you can see – he is perfectly capable of seeing with both.” He joked, chuckling in a soft and fatherly sort of way. And they laughed as well, even the senatorial guard flanking each pillar. Alexandros had a matchless charisma, and his average features in that rugged sort of way only enhanced it. He was warrior, fighter, defender, and builder, all with the same pair of hands. “He's got more nicknames than I do, but as expected of the son of a primus... My kin are, forgive me, but rather dramatic.” They laughed again, softer this time, those assembled people.

“And as expected of a Harani, by the same token, he's a grim one.” Alexandros slapped Tyr on the back, nearly sending him reeling if not for the steadying hand clutching the tabard wrapped around his torso. Clad in his mothers armor with the helmet removed in lieu of a 'formal dress', which had been a ridiculous set of frilled robes, embroidered with the silver falcon the Lyran's called a flag. “See the look on his face? Good gods, my boy, smile for the people won't you? We've all heard the stories of your love for my people, and they love you for it! Don't you, my brothers and sisters!?” He roared joyously.

More cheering. Loud... Hot... Palpable.

Tyr did as he was told, this had all been well versed and practiced, part of the game – and when it was like that he was better at the emulation. Smiling brightly and bowing to them, drawing a ceremonial sword and holding it aloft, allowing his scarlet flames to flare up along the edge and burst from it's tip. All flair. A farce, but it did its job, the sword was most certainly ruined by the flames, though. People gasped and clapped, unused to seeing a 'true mage' like himself. Or at least, that was the point. He didn't know, didn't care, and wanted to leave and get something to eat as soon as humanly possible.

Alexandros didn't bandy words. He believed speeches and ceremonies should be short and sweet and brought to a conclusion before it could bore people, and this was good. Handing out individual awards to each and every person on the raised dais made for speaking. Jura, Lina, Samson, Tiber, Mikhail, Fennic, and Daito. All rewarded as heroes. Kirk was given ample awards as well, but he did not stand with them. It was all a joke, though a well thought out one. Yana and Girshan were not present either, but they were given medals as well, and those were handed off to Jura. Posthumous honors awarded Benny, Abe, and Xavier – allowing a sadness to wash over the crowd.

Tyr wanted to spit. They didn't even know these people, but at the same time he was pleased they were getting their due. They certainly deserved it, and it would never be enough. Alexandros wanted to keep the attendants 'humanoid', adding Lina to the list, but she deserved it as well. She had fought, and nearly died of her injuries there in the astral space. Regardless of how poor she'd done it... Well... It wasn't Tyr's place to judge, to offer ones life was enough. She had earned her place here.

“And last but certainly not least. Please, step forward one last time.” Tyr did so again, making to drop to one knee and planting the tip of his ridiculous sword onto the marble like some pentinent paladin standing before a god. He hated that, it made his teeth itch to lower himself, if not for the fact that Alexandros was a primus and indeed in debt to him for aiding to defend his territory, he'd never have done it. The thought of kneeling to any man was disgusting.

Alexandros boomed with laughter and lifted him by the shoulders before his knee touched the ground. “Please, son of my brother. You need not bow, for mine do not. Your father fought for us, coming to our aid when you called out, while I was otherwise preoccupied. Vidarr, Jartor, and Octavian. All my brothers.” Alexandros spoke sadly and passionately. “How lucky we are to have them, and you. For you – there is no honor greater that I could offer for saving my nation and being true to our cause. Tyr of House Faeron, I award you the platinum falcon.” People gasped, something about the award never having being given to a foreigner before. With others told them to 'shush, do you think he does not deserve it!?'. Ridiculous. “And... No. My people shall decide. Have I not lead you well, my people? My family? My children? Have you not prospered in better days? Your fathers, and their fathers before them?”

The cheer for him was far louder than that of Tyr's, these people loved their primus and let all the world know it. Only the senators remained silent, grumbling along, of no surprise to anyone. They were forged from a pit of vipers and could be expected to behave as such.

“Then let me ask you, and you decide. All I do is for you, but you knew that. I would like to formally announce Tyr Faeron, the White Wolf, as our representative in the eightieth bi-annual Ascendancy Trials.”

Silence reigned over the crowd, a single choking cough was all that could be heard. Tyr turned and stared at the primus, aghast. “This wasn't part of the plan!” He hissed quietly. “Fuck you, I'm not doing that shit!”

“A strategy is made to be altered to benefit ones circumstances.” Alexandros said, a happy smile plastered on his face, not matching his tone at all. “It's your choice, you are free to do and choose. Lying to my people like this causes me agonizing pain every time I do it. Please do not test me, boy.”

“I second the request of participation to the ascendancy.” A knight marched forward from the line of senatorial guard, dropping to one knee as was his right when making a pledge. The sound of his knee hammering into the ground was enough to rouse the startled audience.

Alexandros stepped forward. For all his size and the plated boots on his feet, his steps were silent, seeming to glide across the ground with unparalleled grace, towering over the knight. “Would you stand and declare yourself?” Alexandros asked. He never commanded, unless he absolutely had to – and that is why he did not lead armies. To dominate and lead by insistence would claw at his soul, the curse he bore.

“Great primus!” The knight stomped his foot. “I am Ameus Keller, knight captain of the unified senate. A proud Lyran, and I declare this man worthy of position.”

“Worthy...?” Alexandros frowned. This was not part of his plan. At first, he'd been miffed by the interruption, but now he was interested. He did not know this knight, his heraldry indicated that he served Leygein, and his suit of armor was of fine enough make. Otherwise, he was unremarkable, no stronger than a steel rank adventurer. It was a testament to his faith that he was able to stand in the presence of a primus at all. All of the others had lowered themselves, feeling that gravity. Eyeing the knight, some nervously, and others with awe. A champion of mankind standing calmly before the champion, of all mankind. “Ah! Yes! Young Ameus. Your father was a good man, and an even better friend to us. You can always speak freely in my presence, and we honor your great service to us. And that of your family, of course!”

Not technically a lie. Alexandros had no recollection of a 'Keller', just enough to skate the line between what caused him pain and what didn't. Carefully selecting the right words, his way of speaking seemingly thoughtful, but truly he spoke slowly to test a phrase before it left his mouth. Always. A bluff, and one that seemed to have worked in any case.

Ameus' mouth split in awe. To think that the old man knew the primus himself! It was incredible! And it made sense, too. His father had served in the rangers for nigh on two decades before retiring. He was long gone now, but what a world they lived in. The others around him felt their hearts fit to burst. They could not be jealous of this man, coming from such an impressive lineage as to claim themselves personal friends of the primus! All of this was assumed and projected upon the situation by the people. That always happened, but it made Alexandros' unfortunate duty to preside over these things that much easier, assumptions and misunderstandings were not his problem.

“Tell me, friend of my friend.” Alexandros said. “Tell me what has brought such conviction to light. My people choose, and that's always been our way. You all know that, I am not your master – but your friend and protector.” He smiled at the crowd, no pain – if one had asked. He truly loved his people and would do anything for them to see his fathers work done, as long as he drew breath. A free and equal society that accepted all races. Humanoid races, that is. “Tell me why you feel this way?”

“The prince, er... Apologies.”

Alexandros laughed. “Worry not... Let us call him my nephew, since the legendary Jartor and I might as well be brothers, eh?” He looked back at Tyr, who shrugged in disinterest. This was weird and unnecessary to him, in his eyes Alexandros was a freak. “My nephew here is well aware of his title. In fact, don't tell anyone I told you this.” He winked, making it sound like he wanted the conversation to be private, and yet letting his voice carry into earshot of the crowd. “But perhaps he shed his title on purpose, eh? Perhaps all of this was part of Jartor's famed foresight and he saw what even I did not. As you know, I'm just like you, only... A lot taller? Certainly not so handsome, I'll say that. Let's see...” He frowned in deep contemplation and the people laughed again, taken away by his easy and relaxed demeanor. He and Jartor could not have been more different. “In any case, he surrendered what was his and came here of all places. Marching straight toward the location of our greatest calamity. I don't believe in coincidence, I really don't. While I might not be aware, we love all the primus' for their duty. Even myself, regardless of whether I am worthy of such love or not. They did save us, and that is the truth.”

No pain. Alexandros believed that as well, but it also made him nervous. He didn't know what to make out of the series of events. He'd been aware of Tyr's arrival and followed it as closely as he could, always having a man or woman on the boy. And then, he'd marched into an astral gate, activated an anchor, and participated in an impossibly coincidental series of events that stopped what must've been the plan of some celestial entity or another. Nothing made sense except the logical conclusion that either the son or the father knew and had said nothing. Despite claims that neither had any inkling, he didn't believe them. Fortune like that was impossible, as was the 'accidental' awakening of a very real ancient god that neither Alexandros nor his forebears had any influence on, and couldn't destroy despite their scores of attempts.

“He saw the starving people before the gate... Everyone knows that food stores have been low and we're constantly getting aid. From where? From Haran. But food prices are high because the wealthy are free to set them as they'd like. This man...” Ameus pointed toward Tyr. “Gave a kings ransom to the people so that they might eat. And, I'm sure you'll all notice what other changes have happened in the city?”

Alexandros almost laughed, it was too perfect, manipulation wasn't a lie. “Ah, yes. This Ameus is a sharp one, I hope you guardsmen catch on and use him as an example. Could use a bit of weight training though, a bit scrawny for my tastes.” All of the guardsmen laughed, but they'd been doing so, growing so casual in the presence of their primus. That was his strength, learning to play around his curse in a way that no other primus ever had. And it made him strong. Wise, too. Wise enough to see Tyr struggling to do the same with a far worse infirmity of his own. One that defined him, and might even make him the strongest primus to ever live, but it was an impossible obstacle, harnessing that kind of power was something man was not capable of – not even their awakened betters. The weight would crush him, should he ever properly try. “Apologies, just a jest. These things are so stuffy. In any case, he is correct. Food prices across the states have dropped drastically, unemployment is at an all time low, and as I'm aware – our Tyr has begun to purchase derelict businesses in the city and hired so many people!”

“I have...?” Tyr nearly spit blood, since when had he been doing that? It was a good idea, but... They were up to something, and it wasn't just Alexandros, manipulating him again, pushing him down a path of their choose. And he couldn't figure out why. “...Uncle?” Tyr added for good measure.

“Ha!” Alexandros boomed with laughter. “Did you hear that? Finally some respect from my young nephew. It is good to be among family again, so rare are the meetings between our kind.”

Tyr truly had nothing to do with any of that. He had most certainly purchased a variety of buildings, but in the process of doing so he was basically stealing from the people. Investing his money as recommended by others so long ago, taking advantage of the incredibly cheap prices on land. People were literally starving these days, selling their businesses off for 'pennies on the dollar', as the Milanese said. Tyr bought them, flipped them, and hired the previous owners as his staff, and in the process was being hailed as some kind of hero for doing so. Alexandros saw the greed, but he didn't care. Greed was not always a sin, greed was ambition and ambition had brought humanity to incredible heights. Food prices had gotten lower because Alexandros was subsidizing trade out of his own pocket, and Jartor had seen to the rest. Ensuring that the wholesalers were threatened with death if they didn't obey imperial standardized pricing law, made to believe that Tyr himself was the sword that would fall on them if they didn't capitulate. Laws that were extremely difficult to enforce in a 'free nation', but a threat was a threat.

The rich were already baying about this in the senate, claiming tyranny, but to blame it all on Tyr was simply too perfect. Allowing a foreigner and a member of the guilds to claim responsibility, and shed Alexandros' association with the troublesome matter. After all, Tyr was – in their minds – not a true primus. He might not be a bastard, as recent information indicated, but he was only middling in terms of strength, nobody in power believed him a transcendent. Hence the interest Alexandros had in submitting him to the games.

“It's true!” Someone from the crowd cried. “He saved my family and spilled blood to escort us safely out of harms way!”

“The White Wolf saved my village!” Someone else shouted.

“Put a baby in my wife, please!”

...What?

For money, and because he wanted to, not out of duty. But that didn't matter. It never mattered, people only ever saw the conclusion of things. Scholars dissected events, but the people did not. A man could be the epitome of evil, but if he appeared a hero – he was one. Their perception was the reality, and these people voted. Propaganda ruled Leygein, that was the weakness of a free society.

“That's right! Who cares if he's not one of us!?” Someone else cried, looking to his peers all around him. “I say we let him fight! Tyr!”

“Tyr!”

“Tyr!”

“Tyr!”

And just like that, it was decided, and far less troublesome than Alexandros had anticipated. The people convinced, he needn't labor any further.

This Ameus Keller, whoever he was, deserved a raise.