I should have acted then. I should have done something the moment I sensed the surge of psionic power. I knew something had changed in him. A profound difference had come over him, even if it was only represented in subtle ways. His movement, his confidence, his uncanny awareness of everything and everyone around him. I had convinced myself it meant nothing. I was secure in the naive belief that without Callandium, he would only ever be a nuisance at best. Would that I could speak to myself as I was then, if only to iterate the depths of my own stupidity. I witnessed the awakening of Armageddon, and like a fool, I celebrated it.

  Arthur dismounted from the VTOL transport with a calm certainty to his movements, and turned around to offer his hand to Circe after he did.

  The heiress seemed to hesitate a moment before taking it, but accepted it readily after the first second of thought. They had barely exchanged more than a few sentences to each other after the duel, and had waited for the arrival of the aerial transport with a mix of quiet tension and remembered comfort.

  Whether it was Circe feeling embarrassed over her outburst, or the fact that she had felt like he’d betrayed her trust with his ‘weakness’—falsely or not—so soon after earning it, Arthur wasn’t sure. They had spoken amicably enough after the duel, or at least, politely enough. She had still been tense, and her mind had been a mess of chaotic feelings. He had let her be when the conversation had died.

  Sometimes, he knew, people just needed time.

  The moment Circe stepped out of the transport and joined him on the grass of the Leos Palace’s inner courtyard, their eyes met for a brief moment and his reawakened senses surged with awareness of the emotions churning within her mind once more.

  He had not realized how much he missed the passive empathic abilities he gained from his true psion density. Without Nataliya Verchenko’s obfuscation and neutering of his abilities, Arthur could once again feel the true depths of his powers—and acknowledge exactly how right the Inquisitor had been to hide them in the first place.

  Even among Corebloods he had been feared and respected equally.

  In the heart of Rim, he expected something more akin to abject terror.

  Circe released his hand a few seconds later and Arthur let her go, his gaze following her while she stepped away and wrapped her arms around herself quietly. Once again he felt the urge to comfort her, but the way she turned her head away and seemed to pull into her own thoughts once again made him think better of it.

  Her shame, anger, fear, embarrassment, bitterness, and most of all her longing were like warning signs to his mind—and he opted not to press the matter with her until her mind was less suffused with such volatile emotion.

  Circe Leos was not a child. She would come to him when she was ready.

  The irony of it all of course was that it was the fact she was so gifted that allowed him to read her emotions so clearly. The lower a person’s psion density was, the harder it was for Arthur to gauge their mood and thoughts. He’d come to believe it had something to do with resonance, or the common bond all psionics shared through their connection to the Veil—even if they did not possess the Callandium to actively catalyze the link.

  Resonance might have just enhanced the connection.

  Arthur suppressed a sigh and looked up at the sky while he mulled over the changes that had been wrought as a result of another trigger activating during his duel. Unlike with his last memory trigger, this one had been both more brief and less debilitating. Perhaps because the foundation for its integration had already been laid by his first unlocking of the initial discussion with Nataliya.

  The only way he could describe it was that he felt like he could breathe again.

  It was as if someone had been pressing a boot to his neck, obscuring his thoughts and shrouding his mind behind a veil of suffocation that he didn’t have the wherewithal to identify. With the revelation of what Nataliya had done, and the subsequent ‘unlocking’ of her latest ‘seal’, he felt more like himself than he had in weeks—and for the first time, he could more properly understand the different Arthurs in his mind.

  On one side there was the charming Freelancer, all ripe for adventure and glory—prepared with just enough wit and charisma to muddle through, but fundamentally unarmed for the true contests that lay in his path. Perhaps Nataliya had sought to engineer an awakening sooner than in the middle of a battle, but somehow Arthur doubted it. She had wanted him to feel the pressure of the contest, he was sure.

  It was why Arthur Magellan had been designed with such weakness.

  By comparison, he looked over the mental representation of Arthur Zacaris and strangely found himself almost as annoyed by it as he was by Magellan’s weaknesses. Arthur Zacaris was, as he’d previously suspected, an utter asshole.

  He was entitled, brash, proud, haughty, and convinced of his own superiority. He believed in duty, certainly, but it was tainted by a sense of supremacy that was at best unrealistic—and at worst downright bigoted.

  There was a flavor of intentional design to the way in which his old and true self was slowly exposed that Arthur was not ignorant of, of course. Nataliya had been cunning in the way with which she modified him, removing his nastier and more self-fellating tendencies and leaving the more positive and respectful elements of his origins intact.

  He had been Arthur Magellan. An echo of Zacaris absent all of his worst traits.

  He could see his paths ahead clearly as a result of the Inquisitor’s workings, too.

  In one avenue he returned to being Arthur Zacaris in full, discarding the entire idea of Nataliya’s mad schemes—which he still didn’t understand—and returning to Pendragon to seek help in reversing her remnant wytchery, reclaiming both his memories and birthright in the same act. That was, in Arthur’s eyes, the easiest path forward.

  It was also, surprisingly, the most cowardly and unappealing by his estimation.

  The next path was that he utterly discard his past as Arthur Zacaris and embrace Arthur Magellan for truth, leaving behind his family and his birthright, and fully immersing himself as a citizen of the mid-Rim and a champion of House Leos. Perhaps, even, he could pursue a future in truth as a member of the Eupatridae and become a pillar of the Ascendancy’s aristocracy.

  Perhaps he could even…

  His eyes flickered to Circe, and he killed the thought before it came.

  Arthur had already decided against that course of action.

  Instead, he considered again simply being entirely Arthur Magellan.

  Somehow that option seemed only slightly less cowardly than the first. Abandoning the past was distasteful for him, and felt as much like an act of fear of his origins as the initial path was fear of the future. That only left the third option, which was likely the most difficult—and by extension, the one he was naturally most drawn to.

  He would move forward simply as Arthur, perhaps Arthur Mordred, and be defined not by his past or present, but instead look toward his future. He would be critical of who he was, and of whom Nataliya turned him into, and he would find the healthy middle ground between both Arthurs through the third identity developing from parts of each. He would take the power and knowledge of Zacaris and blend it with the earnest sincerity of Magellan, and in the act he would become a better sum total of both halves.

  It was arrogant in its own way, of course. It almost felt narcissistic.

  He also knew, however, that it was what felt right to him on every level.

  And he had learned long ago to trust his gut instincts in such matters.

  Arthur’s thoughts, however, were disturbed a moment later by the arrival of Menelaus, Atreus, the Seneschal, First Captain, and both Kidemónes—followed immediately by a wave of black-armored guards spilling into the garden. They surrounded them all, taking up positions without drawing weapons, and stepping forward to interpose themselves between Arthur and Circe.

  Before anyone could speak though, Atreus reached him first. The tall and black-armored Spartan stepped right into his personal space and examined him, gripping his chin and lifting it while his golden eyes fixed themselves to Arthur’s azure.

  “Who are you?” he demanded softly.

  “I’m still figuring that out,” Arthur answered honestly.

  Two days prior, the Myrmidón’s attentions might have truly worried or even scared him.

  At that moment, Arthur found that Atreus’ hyperfocus engendered little more than a vague concern. Something told him that if he and Atreus truly fought, even with much of his true self still possibly veiled behind Nataliya’s power; the Myrmidón would not come out of the contest unscathed.

  Even with psionics, Arthur now knew Atreus to be his inferior in direct combat.

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  It gave a lot of things a very calming amount of perspective.

  Another moment of tense silence passed while Atreus stared at him, and then finally the Myrmidón stepped away—seemingly oblivious to Arthur’s considerations. “Let me know when you decide, then.”

  “I will,” Arthur promised calmly.

  The Myrmidón grunted his acknowledgement and nodded to Menelaus while stepping back. “You can proceed.”

  Arthur felt as much as saw the worry and fear melt away from the House Leos patriarch at Atreus’ words, and his empathic senses picked up on the mix of relief, hope, and subtle trepidation layered through the patrician’s mind. The Lion Guard also seemed to relax, albeit only insofar as their air of imminent violence faded to more of a dull readiness. Arthur’s initial suspicion had been correct, then.

  His skills had terrified them.

  “That was quite the bout, Ser Magellan,” Menelaus said with no indication of the questions burning within his mind. “I have never seen someone push a Hoplite with such force. From what our cursory reports say, you managed to burn out several of the engines from the strain of the movement—to say nothing of the fact your neuralink strained the on-board processors.”

  “The mental lag was regrettable,” Arthur said with polite and exact deference. “Though I thank you for lending me the unit in the first place, my lord. I hope my performance was to your satisfaction.”

  “My boy, it was marvelous!” Menelaus said with a genuine surge of excitement, though Arthur noticed it was still tempered by that underlying sense of reserved caution. “My daughter I knew was a talented operator, but what you did with a Hoplite against an Elite unit was—”

  “Unprecedented,” Circe interjected as she approached. “It was unprecedented, father. I have never seen someone move a Hoplite that way, nor any Eidolon. He did not just alter the thrust vectoring and perfectly calculate the force dispersal of detonating limbs and weight-to-thrust ratio, he altered the powerflow of his engines on the fly.”

  “Forgive me for the ignorance, my lady, but is that truly so impressive?” the Seneschal asked skeptically.

  “Stephanos,” Menelaus said with a glance back at the portly man. “You are not an operator, so you lack context. Imagine, if you would, that you woke up tomorrow and your body’s entire dimensions had changed. Your stride, your weight, your very understanding of your interaction with the physical world was different. How long do you think it would take you to adjust?”

  “I… hm. I suppose it would take me some time, my lord, of course,” Stephanos admitted thoughtfully.

  “Now imagine that instead of one change in dimension, it was multiple changes of every limb—within seconds of each other, while you were moving at a full sprint and dodging swords and plasma rifles.”

  Stephanos’ bushy eyebrows rose, and he turned toward Arthur incredulously. “Surely not.”

  “That is but a taste of what he did, Stephanos,” Circe said bluntly. “I have never in my life seen someone operate an Eidolon with such exacting skill. If Arthur had wanted to, he could have killed me. Not just killed me, but dismantled the Pallas Athena with ease.”

  “And that is with the handicap we gave him,” Menelaus noted quietly.

  “Until this day, I have never thought of an Eidolon pilot as deadly, Arthur Magellan,” Daphne said to the visible surprise of everyone. “I have known their machines to be dangerous, but the pilots themselves—with no offense to my lord and his lady daughter—have always been found lacking to me. They work at their martial capabilities, but at their core, they do not fully appreciate the combat arts and believe them inferior to the power of their machines.”

  Menelaus and Circe didn’t appear offended by the statement, though Arthur picked up the distinct sense of embarrassment from both father and daughter while Daphne continued.

  “Today my mind was changed. Others may have seen a pilot, but I saw more than that. The way you moved at the end? That was no mere skill of mechanical manipulation. It was artwork. It was lethal perfection. I expressed my doubts over your worthiness. I questioned your claims to power. I declared you a charlatan and fraud, and for all these things and more, I am sorry.”

  “First Captain, there is no need to—” Arthur began quietly, only for her to cut him off.

  Even Menelaus looked at her askance, though he seemed curious in equal measure.

  “I have protected House Leos with my life, my body, and my faith for over a hundred years,” Daphne continued fervently. “I have given everything to this House, but today I have seen you bring to life the myth, Arthur Magellan. Today I have perceived in your actions a revelation from my god.”

  Silence met her pronouncement, and Arthur felt shock from not just Circe and Menelaus, but even Atreus.

  “I recognize you, Arthur Magellan. I acknowledge you. Pilot. Warrior…”

  Daphne lowered herself calmly to the grass, and when she looked at him, Arthur felt his mouth turn dry at the zeal in her eyes.

  “...Demi-God. I hail you, Arthur Magellan. Hail to you, Son of Ares! Hail to you, Lord of War!”

  As one the Lion Guard dropped to one knee and slammed their fists against their chests, and this time Arthur did let his surprise show.

  When their voices came forth, it was like a peal of thunder.

  “HAIL, SON OF ARES! HAIL, LORD OF WAR!”

  The silence that followed was broken only when both Kidemónes slammed their fists to their chests, followed—perhaps most shockingly—by Atreus a moment later.

  When Arthur turned to look at them in surprise, it was the Myrmidón that spoke.

  “While I disagree with the fervor of her demonstration, I do not disparage the First Captain’s assessment… Arthur. What you did in that arena today will be spoken about for generations. It has never been done, and certainly not against a pilot of Circe’s caliber.”

  “I don’t know if you’re a Demi-God, Arthur,” Perseus said after Atreus finished. “I don’t even know what to think of you, after today. I already told you that your skill and proficiency were suspicious beyond comparison, but now… Gods of Olympus, Arthur. Kidemónes are the greatest of the Ascendancy’s warriors, but watching you fight…”

  He shook his head, and it was Endymion that finished.

  “You made our greatest champions look like rank amateurs, Arthur,” the older Kidemónas said gravely. “It was… beyond impressive.”

  “It was terrifying,” Perseus said bluntly. “You, Arthur, are terrifying. I feel as though I’m playing witness to history, and honestly, I’m excited. I’m excited because I’m here to see it for myself.”

  “And for what it means to the Ascendancy,” Endymion finished. “To us all.”

  Arthur felt at a loss for words after the Kidemónes finished, and reached up to awkwardly run a hand through his blond hair while he searched for what to say. Compared to this, his internal monologue about his self-identity seemed almost normal. Did he thank them? Reassure them? Run away?

  He was saved from a decision, thankfully, by Menelaus himself.

  “I cannot say I expected this,” the patrician admitted with a shake of his head. “Nor can I say my wife expected it either. We knew you were special, Arthur, but we never expected you to achieve victory the way you did.”

  His eyes swept the kneeling Lion Guard, and then returned to Arthur. “Outmaneuvering or using the terrain to your advantage, certainly. But to completely reconfigure the fundamental movement of an Eidolon while piloting it for the very first time, in the heat of battle, and with a neural lag that you yourself said was an impediment…”

  “Your praise is unnecessary, my lord.”

  “But it isn’t,” Menelaus continued with a shake of the head. “We are not saying these things to flatter or inflate you, Arthur. At least, I certainly am not. I am trying to make you understand that what you did here today is not simply an act of rarity or an outstanding feat, as you may believe. To them—no—to us, it was an act of divine intervention. There is a saying that any inexplicable act that defies the norm, when no other explanation can be found, must be magic by definition.”

  Arthur blinked at that. He’d certainly heard the phrase before, in different words.

  “To us, what you did was magic. You have redefined everything we understood not simply as plausible, but as possible—and with no more visible effort than if you had simply gone for a morning stroll. I will not go on and on, but I simply wish you to understand what it is you have achieved… and what it means for your future.”

  “My lord?” Arthur asked with a rising wariness.

  “My offer to become my Hetairoi stands, Arthur, though I will confess that seeing you in battle has made me doubt the offer. Not because you are unworthy, but because I question whether or not we are worthy of you. The reason Atreus asked who you were is because the idea of a man of your caliber simply falling into our lap is…”

  “Absolutely outside the scope of reality,” Atreus supplied bluntly.

  “And as such, we had doubts about who you were. Whatever is in your mind, it seemed to satisfy Atreus, but I also cannot in good conscience play to the facade of superiority. You are beyond us, Arthur Magellan. Perhaps you are a Demi-God. Perhaps. The Veil holds infinite mysteries. Who is to say that the gods we worshipped and who many still worship are not among them?”

  Arthur frowned slightly at Menelaus’ words and after a moment of thought turned to Daphne and approached her.

  The scarred woman looked up, and Arthur reached out to offer her his hand.

  “Please stand up,” he said firmly.

  She hesitated for a moment, and then acceded and took his hand to rise.

  The Lion Guard did as well.

  Arthur nodded to Daphne and turned back to Menelaus.

  “I understand your points, my lord. I do. I see them for their merits, but please allow me to be candid.”

  Menelaus gestured for him to continue with a nod.

  “I am skilled, yes. Even among my true peers,” he thought of Pendragon though he would not say it, “I am considered a prodigy—but I did not come to this House to be worshipped. I certainly did not come here to lord my talent over anyone. I came here, my lord, because I was told yours was an honorable bloodline. I stayed because I was convinced of that by your daughter, by your staff, by you, and by my Kidemónes companions.”

  Arthur met Menelaus' eyes and walked forward, stopping before the smaller man and smoothly lowering himself to one knee.

  “I am here to serve, my lord. If you deem me worthy, then I ask you to accept my service. I ask you to sanction my Knighthood,” he declared while looking up at the platinum-haired patrician, and spoke the words he knew to be right. “I give myself to you as the Hetairoi of House Leos, my lord. I ask you to accept my fealty, humble and unworthy as it is, and grant me the honor of service.”

  Menelaus’ gaze settled on him quietly, and Arthur felt as much as saw the fierce war of thought raging behind the man’s calm eyes.

  It was then that Circe stepped forward.

  Her hand found her father’s shoulder, and her expression was earnest.

  “Please,” she asked softly.

  Menelaus looked at his daughter, and Arthur felt the moment he made his decision.

  “Very well, Arthur Magellan,” he said solemnly. “I, Menelaus of House Leos, do hereby accept your Oath of Fealty and all of…” the words continued into formal ceremony.

  Arthur’s eyes met Circe’s while Menelaus spoke.

  As Azure met Jade, Nataliya’s words came back to him once more.

  A sense of true purpose.

  Perhaps she’d been right after all.