“We had good news,” King Arandall said, standing at the head of the great hall. He hoisted his wine goblet and turned to all the noble representatives and retainers and so on who had come to attend the feast. “The festering unrest in our Giordanan territories finally burst. Thousands of malcontents poured out and attacked us, and the first we heard of it was after their conclusive destruction. We have finally brought the souther lands to heel with only mild losses too!”

The hall thrust up their drinks and cheered. Lucius did so as well, holding his tongue at every exaggeration. The lies benefited him after all. The people before him generally cared more about having a reason to drink than the truth. This was greatly instructive to the young boy.

King Arandall grinned. “We can at last safely expand our mercantile reach across the southern sea. Desert plantations and silver mines are up for grabs, to anyone with the resources to grab hold of them. This is a wonderful boon that has come to us, while at the same time on the precipice of war with the central kingdoms. We can bring our forces together and face the budding threat united. Let us celebrate!”

When he drank, everyone else did as well. The chefs wheeled in a roasted pig carcass and began distributing cuts of meat as minstrels began easy tunes. And then Acheliah said, “I need more wine,” and held out her empty goblet.

“Me too,” Aisha said, defiantly thrusting her goblet towards Lucius as well.

He grimaced, hefted the amphora, and refilled both of their drinks for them. They were beside the king, nearly on display like a performance troupe. “Does wine even get you drunk?” he asked, watching her sip it down.

“Eventually,” Acheliah said, watching him over the brim of her goblet. “She’ll be long gone before then…”

Aisha slammed her entire goblet of wine and held it out again, her cheeks flushing. “As long as no one asks me to sing again.”

“So,” the angel said, gesturing between the two of them. “Entertain me with a story. How did the two of you meet?”

Lucius refilled Aisha’s goblet once more and deliberately put the amphora back down before she could get another. The seat he had was uncushioned, a mere bench beside the angel’s sprawling couch. “Her brother was originally contracted to help quarry the ley, the transportation side of things. What caused the war was him being left for dead.”

The angel arched an eyebrow. “You brought the sister of the king’s enemy to his own feast?” A few of the guards bristled, tensing up and gripping their spears tighter.

Lucius shrugged. “She proved where her allegiance lies.”

“How?”

“She’s the one who killed Medorosa.”

The bard glowered. “Only because you couldn’t finish the duel yourself.”

“Oh, come on, I had been fighting all day. I bested Erdro Karakale, who was twice the man your brother was.”

Aisha huffed. “And yet, as I recall, you’d be dead if not for your stigmata.”

“No shame in using what gifts you have.”

Acheliah asked, “And what gifts are those?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lucius asked, hiding his grin with his own wine goblet.

She glared. “I could have you stripped right here and now.”

“And actions like that are why people are attacking the temples. If you want to know what my stigmata is, why don’t you take me to bed?”

“You wish.”

“No, I don’t. But, what are you going to do about it? Call my bluff?”

Acheliah glared harder at him, someone with the impudence to talk back to her was something she hadn’t encountered in centuries. Partly, it dredged up old memories, and partly she was too shocked to know what to do about him. He was an enigma, and she wanted to take her time with him. Good entertainment was very rare.

“Lucius!” Matteo Montisferro said, striding between serving girls and the growing rabble of the feast. “We meet again, and you have even finer company. I greet thee, Lady Acheliah.” The nobleman put his fist to his heart and bowed deeply.

“Ah… Montisferro, how nice to see a polite child,” the angel said, checking the insignia upon his chest.

“We meet again,” Lucius said, holding out his hand.

The two clasped one another by the wrist, all signs of amicability. “And you seem to have even lovelier company than the last time. Do you have some secret you could share?”

“You’re the one engaged, aren’t you? Perhaps you should be advising me. They’re just using me for my good looks.”

Acheliah laughed. “If you’re upset by that, perhaps you should be useful for something else than looking pretty?”

Lucius grimaced. “I’m sure the king will be putting me to use soon enough, and I’ll show you all what I’m capable of.”

Matteo leaned against the table and stopped grinning. “I’ve heard the rumors, you know? There’s a debate about what to do with you, Solhart.”

“Over which direction to send me in, I presume?”

“Indeed,” Matteo said. “I should tell you that the lords and ladies are more impressed by your ability to fight than your ability to govern.”

“Well, I hope they put me to good use fighting then.”

“If you’re lucky.”

“And what will I owe you for this bit of information?”

Matteo grinned. “That will depend on where they send you… what you can do for me.”

Their quiet meeting ended with a roar from the king’s other side. “Do not tell me what is impolite to say.”

The man who had rose from his chair to shout was in his twenties, clean shaven and with a face unmarred by combat, still beautiful with youth. Lucius recognized neither who he was, nor who the dark haired woman across from him was. He glanced at Matteo.

“That’s the first prince, Gabriel von Arandall, and that looks to be Felicia vi Raymi,” Matteo said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Brother! She is my friend,” a blond woman shouted, rushing over to the two of them. “How dare you make a scene like this?”

Aisha rose and squeezed in beside Lucius, almost hiding behind him as she watched it playout. “No love between siblings?”

“That’s the princess?” Lucius asked.

“Indeed,” Matteo said.

Acheliah sighed and shook her head. “That girl just leaps into trouble, doesn’t she? Of course, that’s what’s adorable about her, but one day she’s going to do something really messy and I won’t be around to help.”

Gabriel flicked his hand at Kassandra when she got too close. “Shut up, sister. This woman doesn’t know her place. She has no business speaking of military matters. It is time that we march east and put down these budding rebellions.” His voice rose with every sentence, drawing in the attention of the crowd. He paced, almost crossing in front of his silent father. “Tax men have been robbed. Prisons have been emptied. Just last month, there was an attempt on Duke Feugard’s life! All over supposed religious persecution. But what do we persecute? We only enforce our currency, our measures on them. These things are gifts from the goddess Saphira, not mere imitations made by men. Anyone who has ever been to one of their grain mills understands how wicked they are. They rob the lower classes and call it fair compensation! Putting a stop to that is what they call persecution. Outrageous. All over a dead god.”

Lucius’ head snapped around to see Acheliah’s reaction to the blasphemy, but it wasn’t blasphemy against her goddess, so it didn’t even provoke a glimmer of an expression.

“Gabriel!” Felicia shouted, her own voice rising elegantly. “You are the first born son of the king, prince of this land. Your words carry weight you have no respect for. There is no proof that the assassin came from the central kingdoms. That rogue could have been from Skaldheim, or Dragonbreak. It could have even been a spurned lover for all we know–” That made the duke grit his teeth nearly so hard they cracked, but the king’s attention had fallen on him, and he remained seated. “--Acting this way will force us into war, and worse than that, will grow resentment within Vassermark itself. We do not forbid the worship of Lumius! How do you expect to lead people you show such disdain for?”

Gabriel scoffed and planted his hand son his hips. He loomed over her. “What would a woman know of war? It’s high time we expand to the east and everyone knows it. Cowards like you cry about evidence and respect, but what prosperity has ever come from that? Kingdoms conquer, just like my forefathers did. Even my own father led armies to war, he conquered half of Giordana! He subjugated the Ash Fall mountains and built the northern fortresses. It’s now time to absorb the broken kingdoms.”

As these things tend to go, both of them were right in a sense. Felicia was correct in saying there was no true evidence, and that such a war would be costly. Gabriel understood that the engines of statehood had already begun mobilization. Conscriptions had already started, weapons requisitioned, and he knew the maxim well that you cannot sit on a spear.

At a glance, one might think this a great opportunity for Lucius, to align himself with the next king and prove his worth. However, the seasons were wrong. Harvest was soon, in the fertile lands of Vassermark, and then winter would come. While the winter would be good for training the fresh troops in safety, no war campaign of suppression could begin until spring thawed the land. He needed to be assigned elsewhere.

What’s more, the decision was nearly made for him, when Gabriel backhanded Felicia for speaking up again.

The hall held silent. No servant stepped, no silverware scraped, no one coughed. But, Lucius marched over, his footsteps light.

Felicia’s mouth gaped, and Kassandra threw herself around the young woman protectively, but she shoved the princess off. “I am Felicia vi Raymi, eldest daughter of Lord Felix von Raymi, one of your father’s most loyal retainers. How dare you!”

Gabriel sneered and shook his hand out. “Your father’s loyalty doesn’t give you the right to wag your tongue. I am your prince.” He turned his gaze away, looked for his father, and instead laid eyes on my pupil.

Lucius stepped up, stuck out his chin and said, “Your father believes otherwise. I tend to agree. Her father’s loyalty is precisely what gives her the right to tell you when you’re wrong.”

Gabriel sneered. “And who are– of course, Acheliah’s toy, how could I forget my manners. How terribly impolite of me, Solhart.”

Lucius met his sneer with a smirk. “Perhaps I should show you a thing or two I learned in Giordana? How to hold your liquor if nothing else. Men don’t slap women in the south.”

Felicia turned her head sharply from him. “This is no concern of yours, Solhart.”

“On the contrary,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “I owe your father a great deal, and as his subordinate, how can you tell me to stand aside when you’ve been so insulted?”

Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “Because, I am your prince.”

“Son!” King Arandall said, setting his goblet down like a judges gavel. “This is a celebration. You should be dancing, not shouting. In the future, I suggest that you drink only what you can tolerate.”

Gabriel’s face flushed dark as he nodded to his father and stepped back. “Yes, father,” he said, and only let his breath out when Duke Feugard rose to speak with King Arandall privately.

Before Lucius could make his next verbal attack, the princess stepped in front of him and bowed. “Thank you. First a hero of the south, then of my dear friend.”

“Think nothing of it, princess. I merely obeyed my duty,” he said, bowing even deeper to her.”

Felicia huffed and turned back to him. “Thank you, Lucius. I don’t think anyone would have expected a man with only one eye to see clearest.”

“Ah,” he said, scratching at the bandage covering his wound. “I learned a valuable lesson that day.”

While they had spoken, Gabriel moved before his father, and addressed the king. “The matter with the lady Raymi is one matter, father, but you are defending an insult to our honor.”

The king sighed and drained his wine. Evidently, it was not enough to make the night easier. “Is this what you want?”

“Let me defend our honor the old way,” Gabriel declared, and men up and down the hall threw up their tankards and goblets to cheer for him. He spun and turned back to Lucius. “You lost Puerto Faro and showed up like a vagabond, then you insult me at the feast in your honor, Solhart. Choose your weapon and I will teach you your place, by my name Gabriel von Arandall.”

The hall roared at the prospect of a duel.

Lucius couldn’t hide his grin, for the prince of the kingdom had just staked his name on a mere martial duel; an event which would get echoed through every tavern in the kingdom. Everyone would hear that Lucius von Solhart had dueled the prince, a feat greater than anything the real Lucius had ever achieved, a feat to build a legend, one to eclipse the memory of reality. I couldn’t have engineered it better myself, but sometimes it takes one youth to provoke another.

“Certainly, your highness.”