Friday, July 22, 4 S.E.

  Leonidas stood with Bardulf’s support—his right arm resting on the shorter man’s shoulder and armor dismissed to mend itself—when Ceruviel and Uriel finally arrived.

  The Dawn-Lord and Dusk-Lord approached with presence, parting the still-milling crowd like minnows before orcas as they strode into the combat circle. The Dawn-Lord’s radiant gaze was placid and impassive as he entered, while the Dusk-Lord’s was its usual cold, calculating mix of assessment and simmering anger—at least, that was its usual when Leonidas’ antics were involved.

  The pair came to a halt near Leonidas and his group, their eyes glancing at Aylar—who had still managed to remain hidden, for a wonder—and then moving back to focus on Leonidas.

  “Well, you put your foot right in the fucking fire this time, didn’t you?”

  Ceruviel’s voice silenced the chatter in the area when she spoke, and even the most animated among the crowd being corralled by the Dawnguard and Royal Army fell silent at the Duchess’ acerbic words.

  “I defended my honor and that of my friends, Your Grace,” Leonidas answered her clearly, his ability to speak largely restored thanks to some quick, focused mending on Parnym’s part. “The terms of victory remain outstanding, but they can be retrieved at a later date. I would still like to go on my hunting expedition.”

  The Dusk-Lord eyed him coldly when he spoke, a mix of frustration, annoyance, reprimand, and most amusingly, pride lingering in her lavender gaze. She turned to Ilsan after he spoke, not answering immediately, and levelled her imperious stare on the Lance-Master.

  “Was the duel legal, Matrovar?”

  Ilsan straightened upon being addressed and stepped forward, saluting fist-to-heart and bowing with a respect that most of the Dawnguard seemed loath to show to Ceruviel. Not Ilsan, it seemed. That won her even more points with Leonidas.

  “It was, your grace. I investigated the matter myself with those of Dagger-Master Cade’s unit who were present when the challenge was issued. I cross-referenced it with testimony from the Royal Army’s Dagger-Master Ilyna and the various citizens who were in attendance. Valerian Cade issued a grave disrespect to Earl Latherian, and the challenge was made legally, codified by the System’s authority.”

  Ceruviel’s eyes gleamed at that, and she finally turned to eye Uriel.

  “Well, Uriel?” she prompted without ceremony. “He’s your dog.”

  The Dawn-Lord released a low, long-suffering breath at his counterpart’s flippancy, but seemed entirely unbothered by her public sniping—instead moving forward to examine Valerian with the calm, precise movements of a man who was utterly in control of his surroundings.

  Leonidas followed him with his eyes when the Duke of Morning moved, and felt his heartbeat increase when Uriel fixed his radiant gaze on Valerian.

  “His Core has been Sundered,” the Dawn-Lord said in a steadily delivered observation. “There are no critical injuries outside of that, but Valerian Cade will never Cultivate again.”

  A ripple of shock passed through the crowd, whom Leonidas realized hadn’t been aware of what the result of the fight was, and he heard more than one person exclaim as several Haelfenn and Nyrfenn vomited at the revelation. To them, who had grown up with the System, the very idea of Core Sundering was worse than seeing a corpse spread-eagled before them.

  Leonidas tried not to feel amused by that.

  “Dagger-Master Cade,” Uriel continued undeterred, his gaze searching over the destroyed Haelfar, “did Archon Leonidas violate the terms of your engagement through this action?”

  Leonidas’ eyes drifted to Valerian at the question.

  The once-proud Warrior looked up, meeting Uriel’s stare, and then let out a defeated breath and, bitterly, shook his head.

  “Would that I could stir your wrath by saying it was so, my lord Duke, but no—the Archon adhered to the terms to the letter. I threatened Core Sundering first as one of my terms of victory. It was within his rights, though I am loath to say it.”

  Uriel received the words in silence and then looked toward Ilsan, who inclined her head in confirmation.

  “The Archon’s terms were more lenient than Valerian’s, my lord. While Core Sundering is a grotesque act,” she said with an unreadable glance at Leonidas, whose [Psionic Focus] was unable to pierce her thoughts, “he was within his rights, per the traditions of an Alteran [Honor Duel].”

  Uriel accepted that wordlessly as well, and then turned finally to Leonidas.

  When the Duke approached, Leonidas refused to look at Ceruviel for help, and instead removed his arm from Bardulf, forcing himself to stand upright and meet the Knight of the Luxan Spear gaze to gaze. He was taller than Uriel by half a head, but height was about the only thing he did have over the blond behemoth of a Haelfar.

  “I seem to recall stipulating my terms to you clearly, Earl Latherian,” Uriel said in the same calm tone, eyes searching Leonidas unreadably. “You were to act as a citizen of this city, regardless of your [Knight Oath] or Ambition, and conduct yourself with all appropriate restraint.”

  “I remember, my lord Duke,” Leonidas responded steadily, his body still slowly but surely regenerating what Parnym’s healing had only managed to partially correct.

  “Yet you engaged one of my Dagger-Masters in an [Honor Duel],” Uriel continued steadily, “in full view of the entire City. To what end?”

  “Valerian Cade insulted those I hold dear, my lord. As an Earl, I can forgive that. As a man, I can choose to overlook that. As a Knight, I can say it did not violate my Vow—but as an Archon, I will not stand for that injustice. The Duchess of Twilight trained me to put justice first in my heart. My justice. Not the justice ordained by distant monarchs. I understand your grievance, my lord Duke, but I will not frame this as anything but what it was: I acted for justice, as my heart saw it, and I would do so again.”

  Uriel listened to his words in silence and then finally turned to Ceruviel, who was watching Leonidas with a mix of exasperation, impatience, annoyance, and possessive pride.

  “You know this will bring trouble. We cannot have a trainee Archon, no matter his unprecedented power, Core Sundering anyone who aggrieves him. It will destabilize the rule of law, Ceruviel.”

  “While I normally find your pretentious need to wield the law like a cudgel, Uriel, I actually agree with you,” the Duchess said blithely.

  She strode forward after that, to the surprised murmurs of the crowd, and the shock of more than a few of the Dawnguard and Royal Army personnel present. “Until a Monarch sits Dawnhaven’s Throne and says otherwise—” her eyes flicked between Aylar and Leonidas before returning to Uriel “—we adhere to the precepts and traditions of Eldormer, as decreed during the Integration.”

  The Dusk-Lord came to a halt beside the Dawn-Lord, and both of them matched gazes; his a radiant, impassive gold and hers a volatile, impassioned lavender.

  “An Archon must act for the justice in their heart, Uriel. You know this as well as I do. You were with me during my training, but in this case…”

  Leonidas’ vision turned black, then white, then black, and then blurred back into focus.

  Someone cursed in disbelief. Synthra, he thought.

  Leonidas started and found himself on the ground, five meters clear of where he was standing, with a tightness in his chest and a wheeze coming from his lips, frothing with spit and blood. The crowd was deathly silent, and as his eyes adjusted, he looked up to see Ceruviel standing where he had been.

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  He hadn’t even seen the hint of the blow before it landed.

  She had moved so quickly that he’d been unable to even process it.

  “...it seems my Apprentice has taken my tolerance too lightly,” the Duchess finished coolly, and clasped her hands at the base of her spine. “I understand your reservations, Uriel, but by the codices of law, the boy did not violate your agreement. This is a matter of excessive force, yes, but legal within the parameters of the agreed terms of the duel.”

  Her eyes shifted then, and she scanned the crowd.

  “Unless anyone would like to say otherwise?”

  Complete silence met her words, as if people were afraid to breathe, and not even the Dawnguard dared do more than stare at the air when she looked at them.

  Behind her, Uriel sighed softly again, but said nothing.

  “Excellent,” Ceruviel declared, and then rounded her gaze on Leonidas.

  When she moved, the air cracked with displacement slower than she reappeared after vanishing, and suddenly she was standing directly before him—her lavender gaze burning as she stared down at him.

  “I pulled my punch, Achilles, because you acted with the correct motivations—but did so while forgetting the most imperative rule of all: Archons serve the good of the Realm. There is no point in our path if we sabotage the very institution we seek to defend. You Sundered the Core of a bilious fool, yes, but one loyal to Dawnhaven. You have deprived this City of a potential Contender-ranked Cultivator simply to make a point, and weakened its combat strength in the act.”

  Leonidas croaked out a wheeze, but found himself unable to say anything else.

  “Only a King may make those judgments on behalf of this city, Achilles, not an Archon. Are you a King, Apprentice?”

  He saw Aylar shift at the words among his friends, but she said nothing.

  Leonidas met Ceruviel’s blazing gaze readily and deliberately shook his head.

  “Correct. It’s good you have some measure of common fucking sense in that thick skull of yours. As for the matter of your hunt…”

  Her eyes narrowed in consideration, as if she were truly weighing it, and she waved a hand after a moment.

  “...you may do as you wish, but you will return to Dawnhaven in precisely one month or sooner. If you fail to return and do not have an extraordinary reason, I will mark you as a renegade and issue the kill order for you myself, Keystone Adventurer horseshit be damned. Do I make myself clear?”

  Achilles rasped, and after a moment of slapping his chest, nodded.

  “Yes, Mentor,” he said in a croak.

  “Very good,” Ceruviel said in satisfaction, then turned to Uriel. “I trust this lesson will suffice?”

  Uriel met her gaze calmly, looked at Leonidas thoughtfully, and then nodded.

  “I believe it will, Ceruviel.”

  The Dusk-Lord grunted in acceptance and turned to Valerian.

  “As for you…” she said, and then turned to Ilsan. “See him to my estate. Until he fulfills the victory conditions of the duel, he will be my guest. I have a feeling there are more than a few scurrying little rats that will try to take a chunk out of his misbegotten existence before he is able to deliver on the terms.”

  “I… I understand, Dusk-Lord. I will see it done, if the Dawn-Lord does not object.”

  Ceruviel narrowed her eyes at that but just looked at Uriel.

  “The Dusk-Lord is within her rights, Lance-Master,” Uriel said steadily. “We are already apprised of the terms of the [Honor Duel] thanks to the Duchess’ unique talents. As of this moment, Valerian Cade is stripped of rank and title within the Dawnguard and relegated to an ordinary citizen once more. This is now a matter of Archons.”

  Ilsan bowed her head to Uriel and then turned to summon some of her Dawnguard.

  “Not a hair on his head is to be harmed,” Ceruviel warned, “or I will lay the guilt at your feet, and I will scour your minds until you are blithering idiots.”

  The Dawnguard froze and instinctively looked toward Uriel.

  “Do not look at your Dawn-Lord, he cannot save you from this,” Ceruviel said derisively and imperiously both. “This is Archon business now, and if I have to storm the Sunrise Quarter to rip you from your miserable hiding holes, I will. Am I understood?”

  Uriel simply clasped his hands at the base of his spine in silent disconnection from the threat, and the Dawnguard paled, nodding emphatically with utterances of “Yes, Dusk-Lord!” in the most respectful intonation Leonidas had ever heard.

  “As for the rest of you—” Ceruviel barked, turning to look at the stunlocked crowd, “—in this field, the show is over! Return to the City. The Dawnguard and Royal Army will see you there. Ilsan, you see that Cade is borne away, but you yourself will remain.”

  A murmur of disgruntlement rose immediately, and without waiting, Ceruviel rolled out her aura in a shockwave of pure psychic might, causing more than one person to cry out in fear.

  “Now,” she snarled.

  No more objections came after that, and the milling crowd immediately began to make for the city, with the Royal Army and the remainder of the Dawnguard hurrying to usher them there in an orderly fashion.

  Ceruviel waited in cold silence until even the Dawnguard bearing a broken, hollow-looking Valerian were well toward the gate before rounding on Leonidas.

  “You blithering idiot,” she said with a sigh, reaching out to offer him her hand. “You are going to be the death of me, Achilles.”

  Leonidas smiled with a brittle expression and accepted her armored hand, allowing Ceruviel to pull him to his feet like he weighed nothing.

  “That punch hurt,” he rasped. “I think you fractured my ribs, Ceruviel.”

  “Good. I meant what I said, Achilles. You cannot go around Core Sundering people that irk you, no matter what manner of verminous rodent they are. You have to hold the greater considerations of the Realm in mind. You aren’t just a Warlord anymore.”

  Confusion dominated every face, except Uriel’s, but Leonidas ignored it.

  Ceruviel hadn’t said anything without intent—she was playing at something, he simply couldn’t grasp it yet, but he’d learned to trust her; she kept his confidences well. If she was saying what she was, then she had a reason for it.

  “You put us in a difficult situation with this, Leonidas,” Uriel intoned a moment later, his voice drawing the eyes of Leonidas’ companions and Ilsan as well. “I know that Valerian certainly earned a thorough correction, based on my knowledge of what he attempted with those Terran children, but this was a step too far.”

  “I apologize, my lord,” he replied hoarsely to the Dawn-Lord. “I hadn’t intended to do it, truthfully, but when he declared his terms… well, I suppose I was angry.”

  “Understandably so,” Uriel said in his usual, fair-and-lawful manner, “but I will reinforce what your Mentor has said: this must not become a habit. We have far greater foes than the political antics of a few ambitious Courtiers.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Leonidas replied, while stepping past Ceruviel to rejoin his friends.

  Bardulf eyed him sympathetically and turned to Parnym, who hurried forward nervously and set his hands to his chest, narrowing his eyes in focus as soft white light shone beneath his palms, and Leonidas felt the pressure in his chest lessen immediately.

  “Are you alright?” Aylar asked quietly.

  “That hit looked… bad,” Synthra said right afterward.

  “I’m fine,” he murmured in reassurance. “She pulled the hit. I’d be dead if she hadn’t.”

  Bardulf grunted and shook his head.

  “Never seen someone move that fast. It was faster than I could blink.”

  “The Dusk-Lord is the Last Archon,” Parnym said quietly, while focusing on his healing efforts. “There is a reason Alurien Starsword chose her.”

  To that, Leonidas could only agree and turned to see his mentor advancing on Ilsan with a critical eye.

  “How far into Contender are you?” Ceruviel asked sharply, her gaze fixed on the shorter woman, who looked remarkably calm despite the attention.

  “I am halfway toward Elite rank, your grace,” the Lance-Master answered with a faint look of wariness.

  “Hm. Talented. Good. You’re a Storm Templar, as I recall?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ilsan said again.

  “Excellent,” Ceruviel said in satisfaction, and turned to Uriel. “I want to transfer her to the Royal Guard. Do you object?”

  The Dawn-Lord arched an eyebrow at the brusque statement, but after a moment, he shook his head.

  Ilsan’s eyes widened at the declaration, and Ceruviel turned back to her.

  “Now, are you married, Matrovar? Children?”

  Ilsan looked mildly taken aback, but shook her head.

  “No, your grace. Why do you—”

  Ceruviel glanced surreptitiously at Leonidas, and he felt his cheeks redden.

  “No reason, dear. No reason at all.”

  Leonidas ground his teeth together, glanced at his companions—who were all looking at him with different expressions—and grumbled.

  “Let’s go,” he said to them simply, ignoring the glare Synthra was giving him and the look of cool assessment Aylar was still levelling. He glanced back to Uriel, Ceruviel, and Ilsan one more time, then spoke.

  “We’re heading off,” he called.

  “One month,” Ceruviel called back. “I meant what I said, Achilles. One month.”

  Leonidas smiled and inclined his head.

  “One month,” he agreed, and turned to start walking toward the wilds and the destiny that lay within.

  One month to Crown Aylar. One month to raise my level. One month until I need to choose my future.

  His gaze shifted back to his companions, specifically the two women who were now in soft conversation, heads together a short distance away, whispering as they glanced at him on and off.

  One month to decide what my heart actually wants.

  It was both all the time in the world, and very much none at all.

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