Huw Carrington – Author

‘While the Konreig line gained their throne through blood and gold, they held it with tooth and nail.’

• An Alternative History of the Empire, Myron Paluch, (422 I.Y.)

* * *

23rd day of Indern, 406th Imperial Year

17th Year of Emperor Rufenrich Konreig’s Reign

Dry bitterness coated the inside of his lips as garnet wine lingered upon his tongue. Drawing the mouthful through his teeth one more time, Thaun swallowed, feeling its warmth descend into his belly.

It did little to settle his churning stomach. The half-empty plate before him hadn’t done much better.

Heizl’s interruption had helped for a while, but she’d gone now too. She’d return sooner or later, but that knowledge offered scant relief. It’d never been her responsibility to care for his mood, but he appreciated her efforts nonetheless. Sometimes just her presence, that of someone he knew like a sister, calmed the visceral emotions churning beneath the surface.

She claimed that, with her sorcery, she could see that chaos. Thaun didn’t really understand her magic, or that of anyone else, but he believed her.

Their uncle had called her, along with several of the Spire’s more senior members, on that one fateful night some years ago. None of them, not even their most experienced healer, had a good explanation for what had happened.

Most people understood a physical injury. A wracking cough or bruised flesh made sense to them. Visible symptoms fitted into their lives as cleanly as comforts and simple answers. Thaun could count on one hand how many people he believed could accept the thought of a pain that they couldn’t see.

He’d grown used to that blindness.

Dull melancholy and unbidden worries had accompanied him as long as he could remember. He wished he could say that they’d hounded him less before that dreadful night years before. They’d just hidden within until then, revealing themselves to those closest in sweat, panic, and confusion.

He still got a hint of that moment sometimes. Like a waking dream, or a memory beyond his grasp, it haunted him. It hung just out of reach, a figure at the corner of his vision, a name not quite upon his lips, an empty space beside him upon waking.

“Thaun?” a woman’s familiar voice, breathy and husky, cut through the murmur, drawing his thoughts outwards from their dysfunctional spiral. “You’ve gone quiet. Do you need a break before His Majesty gets here?”

Noise assaulted him from all sides. His senses strained to hear every conversation at once. Whispers of his own name made a poor reward for his efforts. Stares and furtive glances shot his way

He’d have rather remained ignorant.

His hands balled into fists beneath the table, knuckles white with tension. People had warned him that this day would come. The weight of the Imperial Court, and his duties to it, had always loomed over him. Knowing that inevitability didn’t make it any easier.

Breathing in a lungful of warm air, he found a wan smile from somewhere inside. “I’m fine, Lena, really.”

“Good answer, sir,” Sigren appeared almost from nowhere, the Shadow, bald before his time, stepping to the other side of the table. “But will you still say that after mingling with your guests for a bell?”

Thaun snorted a laugh. “Maybe if I ask nicely they’ll let me mingle in the training yard instead?”

“Most of them know better than that by now,” the Shadow admitted.

“I think what Sigren means to say,” Lena interjected with a stern look. “Is that there are better ways to work out your feelings.” When the Shadow didn’t add anything, she continued. “You can talk to us. Or you could try a priest? I knew someone who got a lot out of the Church.”

“I dunno.” Thaun turned away. “I’m busy enough as it is.”

Sigren cleared his throat with a noise that could’ve been mistaken for a growl. “Come on. Enough excuses. People will start to talk if you spend the whole evening avoiding all the Empire’s big names.” He glanced over one shoulder. “I can only keep Governor Strahl from barging in for so long. Say what you like about your cousin’s latest Shadow, but the extra pair of hands had its uses.”

Thaun took a moment, bracing himself, hands still in fists. Standing, he gave a single nod, not trusting himself to say anything more. His attendants shared a knowing look, before Sigren peeled away.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“It’s fine.” Despite his words, Thaun shook his head. If Lena noticed, she didn’t say anything.

At some silent signal, the ring of nobles constricted like a noose tightening. Painted faces filled his vision as the Empire’s rich and powerful crowded around him. As sure as any hangman’s rope, air caught in his throat. Pressure built through the back of Thaun’s jaw as he fought the urge to grind his teeth. Billowing darkness threatened the edge of his vision as all too familiar sensations rose within him.

Greedy smiles flashed his way, but none approached immediately. The unspoken rules of such gatherings bound his guests as much as they did Thaun. Men and women made political calculations, assessing who they might risk offending to reach the Crown Prince first.

Beyond his entry to the Imperial Court, other agreements might be forged tonight. Opportunities would be seized, grudges formed, and vengeance wrought, all in the most socially acceptable of ways. The nobility remembered the more literal backstabbing of the Civil War all too well.

Their self-centred scheming passed in the blink of an eye. A stout man’s arrival shattered any further weighing up of chance or consequence. Lesser nobles shrank away, polite smiles hiding bitter resentment. He bowed low, expensive shirt, trimmed in gold, almost brushing the floor as he struggled to rise gracefully again.

“Your Highness!” At his booming voice, more heads turned their way. Others flinched back. A dark, tangled beard, flecked with bronze and silver, shook as he straightened. “I hear that I have you to thank for returning my property from those Void-damned Fjujan devils!”

Thaun braced himself, dragging the same brittle smile back into place. “Governor Strahl.”

“Please, call me Dasimir.” Nearby crockery all but rattled at his voice. “I’m sure the whole Court resonates with your heroics.”

Thaun kept his voice low in the vain hope that the Governor might follow his lead. “You should probably thank the Second. I didn’t really do anything.”

“Nonsense, Your Highness. Your presence alone must’ve driven the legion to new heights! What else could they do when accompanied by such an acclaimed duelist?”

“I don’t think I drew my sword. I definitely didn’t see any actual combat.”

“You may not have drawn steel, but such modesty cannot deny your contributions.”

“Thanks,” he managed. Thaun looked around, desperate to escape from Strahl’s attention. Nothing presented itself. Lesser nobles lingered, close enough to eavesdrop and to be seen. Lena remained a pace behind him, while Sigren stood further away, sharing curt words with another Shadow. Occasionally the mob of guests parted, and he caught a glimpse of Toland laughing, now with his own ring of sycophants that Thaun was occupied with. He saw no sign of Heizl.

Struggling for something to say, and keen to not offend, Thaun pulled at wisps of polite conversation. “Kragiv-Stal is beautiful at this time of year.”

“Your Highness is too kind.” Dasimir looked as if he’d place an arm around Thaun’s shoulders, but at a harsh glance from Lena he thought better of it. Instead, he gestured with one hand, and guided Thaun to walk alongside him. Other guests moved out of their way. “My fair province pales in comparison with my daughters’ charms. I do hope that you’ll spend some time with my Jilia while we are in your most majestic city. Have you seen her since we arrived?”

“Jilia? No, we haven’t spoken recently,” he felt an awkward knot form in his gut at the Governor’s subtext.

“A pity. I learned that she sends letters to the capital regularly, though the girl thinks she can hide it. I’d hoped that they might find their way here, to the Palace?”

Thaun held back a grimace. “I don’t know anything about that, I’m afraid. We haven’t talked since she came here for schooling.”

“A great pity,” he repeated as the enthusiasm in his tone dwindled. “It was my hope that she’d contacted you, perhaps to arrange a meeting…” The Governor trailed off, the strength leaving his voice. “Jilia does as much for Kragiv-Stal as I do. I’d left her to her own desires out of the faith that she would make good choices. In light of this, perhaps I shall investigate who she writes to.”

Realising that Strahl had forgotten about him, at least for the moment, Thaun clamped his mouth shut. He’d not seen the Governor’s daughter in years, not since she’d spent a summer at the Palace. His uncle and her father had claimed that the tutors were better here, but anyone could see through their excuses.

The Empire’s governors were a loyal enough bunch, but bonds could always be stronger. Even the closest of friends would act in self-interest under the right circumstances. Reminding their supporters of the potential rewards for their fealty could only be a good thing.

Thaun knew all this. His uncle’s disappointment had hurt, even as hope had kindled for so many noble parents with unwed daughters. Behind closed doors, the Emperor had spoken with his Governor at length. For a time, fears of quarrels with the highland region of Kragiv-Stal had circulated among the Court.

Many had expected the Emperor to force the issue on his heir. Any other ruler might have. To this day, Thaun didn’t know why his uncle hadn’t. He’d wondered, as had much of the Court. Familial respect, pragmatic politics, even crude spite. None of those potential answers satisfied him.

He knew one thing though. Jilia was beautiful, smart, and funny. More than a few people thought him a fool for not doing anything. Sometimes he agreed with them – but that didn’t change anything. As soon as Heizl had expressed an interest in the other woman, Thaun had backed off. Even with the disapproval of Spire, Court, and Church, he wouldn’t do that to his cousin. A pariah in more ways than one, she had enough to deal with without him getting in the way.

He could understand his thoughts of potential betrayal towards Heizl. People navigated such interactions – weighing up personal gain against that of those they cared for – all the time. If it came to it, he could explain it to someone else, though he didn’t relish the idea. More than that though, he could neither shake the feeling of betrayal, nor justify it, when his mind wandered to that missing shape of a memory.

How else could you describe it but as ridiculous? Loyalty to someone he couldn’t describe. Staying faithful to someone he couldn’t name. Faithful to someone who might not even exist.

A subtle tap upon his shoulder shook Thaun from his thoughts. Recoiling away, he composed himself as he saw Lena standing beside him. Following her gesture, he looked across the hall, past Dasimir. The governor had kept speaking, but even he’d noticed the room’s tone change.

Guardsmen, resplendent in their blue uniforms, straightened to attention. Men and women ran hands through their hair or adjusted their clothes. A space formed around the hall’s main entrance as members of the Royal Guard took up position to either side. Music quieted as an impatient hush fell upon the room.

His hand, never having quite uncurled, clenched tight into a fist. A second later, and Thaun hissed with pain.

He looked down, seeing blood welling in four short cuts in the palm of his hand, a perfect match to his nails. Fingers refused to straighten fully, his tendons drawn as tight as bowstrings.

“What’s–” Lena whispered, cutting herself off as she saw the trickle of red running to fill the lines of his hand. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Thaun mumbled back, snapping his fist closed again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thaun, you’re bleeding.”

“It was just my nails. It’s fine. I should’ve just cut them better.”

“What’s wrong?” Sigren appeared alongside them as if he’d always stood there.

As she took Thaun’s hand in hers, Lena cast an eye between them. “He’s hurt himself.”

“Great,” said the Shadow, voice flat.

“It’s only minor. I can heal it.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” He grabbed her by the wrist, for a second joining the three of them in close. 

Thaun cleared his throat, holding himself back from trying to break Lena’s grip. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying, sir, about you or otherwise,” Sigren growled. “Respectfully, I’m not here for you. I’m here for Lena. If she heals you, no matter how small, she might not have the essence to heal someone when she really needs to.”

“Sigren, respectfully,” Lena said back, voice level and calm, but with a firmness behind it. “It’s not your decision.”

“You know the risks.”

“I do,” she replied, pulling free a small notebook and flicking through its pages. “And I can do the numbers too.”

“What if you overdo it?

“Unlikely. It’s not like I’m without a focus,” releasing Thaun’s hand with her other, she patted the silver-inlaid axe hanging from her belt. “Chances of collateral damage are pretty slim.”

Sigren didn’t say anything, though he visibly clenched his jaw, temples bunching. Lena too stayed quiet, sliding the pad back into a pocket and pulling her axe out.

As she took hold of Thaun’s hand in hers, she closed her eyes, and he could feel her magic work.

She’d healed him a handful of times before. The Empire had a few healers, but none of them could compete with Lena’s family, or so he’d heard. Her grandmother had sat on the Spire’s council as a Highmage for years. Most mages struggled to do more than seal a bruise, their talents lying in more overt schools. In spite of all that, the sensation still amazed him.

A gentle warmth flowed from her into him, enveloping his arm up to his elbow. Strength burgeoned from somewhere within, vitality flooding his flesh. Like a tear in reverse, skin stretched as it knitted itself back together.

“Thanks, Lena,” Thaun murmured, inspecting his hand. Drying blood flaked away from fresh, soft skin. He straightened his fingers, the tightness now a distant memory.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, sliding her axe back into its loop, her face losing a hint of colour, though she didn’t waver. “I’m a Spire legacy. There’re enough similarities between my circling vultures and yours. I know what it’s like showing weakness.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one they salivate over.”

“At least yours aren’t likely to try and get you tried as a radical if you don’t smile at them the right way.”

Caught up with his friends, Thaun had pushed the room’s swelling anticipation to the back of his mind. The blast of several horns brought him back to the present. He turned back towards the tall doors furthest from the Throne’s dais.

More guardsmen appeared from the corridor beyond to form a line to either side. In unison, the azure soldiers faced inwards, their gauntlets rising to shields in salute.

Thaun shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wiping sweaty palms clean on his blue doublet. Only one man warranted such an escort, and they all knew it.

Two men and a woman entered, and the surrounding voices fell silent. Half a dozen Shadows, dressed in dark hues and bearing their clenched-star sigil, preceded them, fanning out to move deeper into the room. Another trio of Royal Guardsmen brought up the rear. The Emperor took no risks with his family’s safety.

Most expected a charismatic or calculating figure when picturing their ruler. Thaun’s uncle couldn’t be described as either of these things. Even with every eye on him, he seemed to blend in with the crowd – his clothes a subdued set of greens and blues, and his gait nondescript. Outside of the Court, few would link this average looking man to the regal profile on their coins, even with the simple crown upon his brow.

Behind the Emperor, Thaun recognised the Imperial Shadowmaster, Frida, in her black dress. A younger man trailed his uncle, wearing plain white clothes that didn’t quite disguise his weight, and elbow-length silk gloves. The faint smell of herbs, like overdone cooking or a cutter’s ointment, filled his nostrils. Shadows, already deep within the room, cut through the crowd on either side, matching pace with the man like predators stalking prey.

The Emperor, Rufenrich – the first of his name – walked in a straight line towards his golden throne. He acknowledged a handful of those he passed, a subtle nod or a quiet word, but otherwise ignored the attention upon him. As he reached the bottom of the stone steps, his eyes – the same brown as Thaun’s – turned to his nephew, and a weary smile formed beneath his thin beard.

He stepped onto the dais, circled the table, and clasped Thaun’s hands before pulling him into a close embrace. Their guests resumed their murmuring again as he leant in to whisper in his ear.

“You’re supposed to meet me halfway when I enter,” said the Emperor.

“Sorry,” Thaun mumbled, breaking free of the hug.

“Well, at least you’re talking to me now,” he looked him up and down. “You looked like you might hit me last time.”

Shuffling his feet, he looked away. “Sorry, uncle.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Rufenrich sighed as he lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Thaun averted his gaze. At the edge of his vision, Lena and Sigren stood at rigid attention.

His uncle continued. “In fact, there’s a lot we should talk about… But none of that matters right now. How’d it go without me?”

“I survived.”

“How many of them tried to corner you?” Noticing Dasimir nearby, Rufenrich smiled, then turned away – no invitation offered.

“A couple,” he finally looked his uncle in the eye. “Honestly, I might’ve spent most of the night hiding in a corner. Not that it helped much.”

“You can’t hide forever, my boy,” the Emperor smiled, lines forming around his eyes. “Your father was the same.” A tinge of sadness crossed his features. “You remind me of him more and more.”

“Thanks…”

“Looking like that doesn’t help.” He reached out to run a hand through his nephew’s cropped hair, but Thaun flinched out of reach. “Someone suggested it to him too, to help craft the ‘warrior-prince’ image.”

“It helps keep you cool when you wear a helmet…”

“I wouldn’t know – I haven’t worn one in years – but I’ll take your word for it. You’ll have to work out how you’ll cut it when you wear a crown someday.”

“Do you have to remind me?”

“Yes, I do, but that’ll wait until later too. For now, this is your party, you should be having fun.”

“Uncle, you know I don’t want to be here.”

The Emperor spoke under his breath. “If I’m honest, there are places I’d rather be too… but I’m not going to be in charge forever, and you’ve put off getting involved for long enough.”

“I know. You’ve told me before.”

“At least pretend you’re enjoying yourself?” He cocked his head. “It’ll all go much more quickly if you do. You’ll have fewer awkward questions to answer, too.”

“Fine,” said Thaun, defeated. “What do I do?”

“Smile,” said the older man. “Mingle with your guests.” He raised his voice, until others could hear him too. “I wanted you to meet one in particular, someone I invited especially.”

“Is this another political marriage? Do we have to do this now, in front of everyone?”

Head tilted back, Rufenrich burst out laughing. “My boy, I’m fairly sure that he’s not your type.”

Thaun felt his face heat as he blushed.

“I’ve invited the Thala’s Patriarch. Renyar’s running late, but he’ll be here soon.”

“That’s a long way to come for some wine. What’ve you called him for?”

“It’s not so far, with Hastigr’s improvements to the Nexus.” He shook his head. “Besides, Renyar is capable in his own right. He’s told me about his efforts at building his own Nexus. The mages there make the Spire look like they struggle with parlour tricks.”

“He’s here for you to steal some mages from him? Are we really that desperate?”

“The Spire isn’t in such dire condition just yet, even compared to Seorsa. No he’s…” for a second, his eyes grew distant and his brow furrowed as he struggled for words. “Well, dangerous, frankly, but fascinating, and, depending on how things go, he might be a valuable ally.”

“Depending on how what goes?”

“I have a proposition for him, but we can talk after. Heizl too. Have you seen her?”

“Earlier, yes. She said she was only here as security.”

At his nephew’s expression the Emperor raised a hand to cut him off. “No, don’t start this again. Her ambitions make the Court nervous. When you’re strong enough to deal with their bickering and her drive like I’ve done, then we can have this conversation. Until then, this lets her attend without complicating matters.”

Frida appeared at the Emperor’s side, a light hand resting on his arm to draw his attention. Unlike her subordinates, the Shadowmaster wore a modest black dress, eschewing a formal uniform. “Rufenrich?” Her sharp, hard voice cut through Thaun like nails on a chalkboard as she addressed him. “Sorry to interrupt, Your Highness.” Without waiting for a response, she turned back. “Governor Strahl is anxious for an audience. He’s heard rumours of Seorsa’s recent movements. It might be prudent to speak with him.” She glanced towards Thaun. “Perhaps you should discuss arrangements.”

“You’re probably right.” His uncle smiled at the woman, his eyes lingering before looking back to Thaun. “Try to enjoy yourself?”

A wry smile seeped into his features. “I’m not making any promises.”

“Well, that sounds more like you.” Rufenrich shrugged. “I’m serious though. Joining the Court doesn’t have to be a chore. Have some fun, even if that means spending time with just your friends,” he glanced over the Thaun’s attendants – Shadow and Spire mage both – before turning away. “And, if you see Heizl again, tell her I want to talk with her later, too.”

He sighed. “I will.”

“Good. It shouldn’t have been that hard to make you enjoy yourself.” He clapped him on the shoulder and began to walk away.

“I meant I’d tell Heizl…”

“I know.” He smirked over one shoulder. “I’m just having a little fun, like you should.”

Thaun snorted in frustration as he watched his uncle walk away, Shadowmaster at his side. The last person with the Emperor, man in white, paused. Dawning recognition – the bald scalp, the burn scars, the expensive gloves with multiple jewelled rings on the outside – rushed through Thaun’s mind as he saw the glowing smile. Out of sight behind him, both Sigren and Lena straightened at the man’s approach.

“Your Highness,” like smoke twisting in the summer air, his thin lips curled into a dry smile. “Please give my warmest regards to your cousin.”

“It’s… Korten, right? Highmage? Shouldn’t you have some Shadows with you?”

“They’re around.” He nodded distractedly as his eyes wandered to the half-full table. “Could you send Heizl my condolences? Fitz didn’t keep it a secret how much she burned for–”

“Don’t call her that.” Stone dropped into his voice. The heads of several of those closest whipped around at the tone.

Korten blinked several times before responding. “Sorry, no offence meant. I was just saying that everyone knows she’s got aspirations. She’s a decent mage, if an unorthodox one. I guess she just wasn’t ready for a promotion.”

Thaun clenched his teeth and forced his fists open. A quiet, seething voice mocked his restraint – that he wouldn’t strike a mage just for what he might do in return. Another voice, no less his own, asked if it was the mage’s power he feared, or the expectations laid on him.

He swallowed those thoughts. “It’s fine. I’ll let her know you asked after her.” He broke eye contact. “Aren’t you meant to be guarding Uncle Rufenrich?”

“There are enough other mages and Shadows here. It’s not like I’ve had to actually worry about security while on duty. I’m just here for the free meal. This food is so much better than at the Spire.”

“I think you might be a little late for dinner.”

“Shouldn’t worry; there are plenty of servants around. I’ll light a fire under one of them, get them to cook something up.” Korten looked around, his gaze following a tray of steaming sweetmeats as it crossed the room before he whipped back around to face Thaun. “Your Grace, may I be excused?”

“May you… That’s fine,” Thaun shrugged, struggling for something to say. “Enjoy yourself?”

“The servers and I will get on like a house on fire.” The mage smiled, gave the most cursory of bows, and disappeared in the direction of the nearest servant. Thaun watched as the younger man cornered one, talking through mouthfuls as he described his needs to the staff.

As Thaun stepped away from the crowd, a blunt jolt of pain lanced through his foot. He barely stumbled – years of blade drills made sure of that – but the shock still left him blinking.

Taking half a step away from the centre of the room, an unyielding pain struck his foot, lancing up his shin. Years of repetitive footwork, blade in hand, served Thaun well as he steadied himself.

He glanced down, uncaring for the scuff upon his soft shoe’s toe. Inside their supple leather, he curled his stubbed toes, feeling the pain reside to a background ache. Instead, jaw bunching, his gaze settled upon the hall’s stone floor.

One of its square stones protruded a fraction of an inch. Since its construction generations before, the Palace had experienced countless repairs, extensions, and additions. Scars remained upon the masonry, stark reminders of the Civil War. Lying so close to the river, subsidence wasn’t unheard of either.

Still, someone should’ve noticed sooner. The slightest sign of imperfection could plant seeds of doubt in the minds of ambitious nobles and opportunistic guests.

Looking around, no one seemed to have noticed his stumble, not even Lena and Sigren, standing close but facing the crowd. He started to crouch down, to look more closely.

“Can you believe it? Korten gets invited and I’m the bastard.” Heizl’s voice whispered in his ear – smug, amused, and full of food. He whipped a glance around, flagstone forgotten, expecting to see his cousin mere inches from his side, but found no one there. “Relax, you’re going to make a scene. I’m over with the rest of your oh-so-important guests.”

“Can you hear me?” Thaun muttered under his breath as he sought the disembodied voice.

“Well enough.” Her smug grin came through loud and clear, even without her in front of him. “Having fun over there?”

“I’d rather be training,” he drawled. “This is about as much fun as being hit with a practice sword.”

“How would you know? It’s not like anyone would lay a finger on you,” she said, apparently around a mouthful of something.

“You know what I mean,” Thaun sighed, drawing a quizzical look from Sigren. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been enjoying the company of a charming Seorsan. Such an interesting language to wrap your tongue around…”

“Should you be flirting right now? You’ll get in trouble if anyone notices.

“Oh, you’re no fun when you get like this. Don’t be such a prude.” Over the crowd, Thaun thought he heard a feminine giggle. “So, ready to get out of here?”

“With all these eyes on me? I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Shows what you know.”

Lena’s hand resting on his shoulder made Thaun look up. “Are you okay? You’re mumbling to yourself. People might talk.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” The healer’s eyes narrowed as she inspected him.

“Certain.” Thaun’s own eyes grew wide as he tried to reassure his friend. He gestured to the nearby guests as they began gathering to approach him once more. “I just need a little space. Can you stall them?”

“If it’ll help,” replied Lena. “Sigren?” With the Shadow only objecting for a moment, the pair exchanged quiet words. A second later, and they both moved a short distance away, each heading to intercept a different petitioner.

Thaun watched for a moment, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach at the lie he’d just told his friends.

“Pretty slick,” Heizl’s voice whispered to him again. “Are you sure you’re not up to Court life?”

“Everybody lies, okay?” He growled. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, now that you’ve so effortlessly removed your watchers, I’m guessing you probably want to get away from all this attention?”

“If only…”

“Easy enough, so long as you don’t mind me borrowing some of it for a while?”

Thaun paused, his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“With all the time you spend playing with your sword, I’d’ve thought you’d work it out. Most people can only focus one way at a time. Doesn’t matter if it’s in a training yard or this nest of vipers.”

“Is that such a good idea?”

“It’ll be for a few minutes, tops. I’ve eaten already, so what else is there to hang around for? It’s not like I need to hold back for anything else tonight. My natural charm seems to be more useful than my magic right now.”

“…Fine, what do I do?”