Victor stood in the wings of the stage, waiting for his name to be called. He shifted, strangely nervous about being the center of attention in such a stolid, formal ceremony. Victor liked attention, but he was far more at ease giving an impromptu speech or, if truth be told, fighting in front of a large crowd. He didn’t like the idea that he was expected to dress and act a certain way. In his mind, it was almost like a wedding ceremony or, more to his experience, a confirmation.
He was dressed in his new official uniform—similar to the guards’ uniforms, only fancier, made of some kind of silky, Energy-rich material with a subtle inner luster. Even the dark gray pants, boot-cut to accommodate his polished, shiny black boots, seemed to gleam in the darkness of the shadows where he stood. Tucked into the pants was a gray, form-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, over which he wore a royal blue uniform coat emblazoned with a brilliant yellow rose on the breast. The jacket was festooned with gilt embroidery along the sleeves and on the edges of the high collar. He felt he looked all right but really wasn’t a fan of the getup.
He fidgeted, Kynna’s voice echoing back to him as it was projected out to the audience—thousands of nobles and ten times as many commoners who’d won a “lottery” for tickets. Kynna was going on about the tribulations they all had suffered through together, about how the foes of Gloria had been given justice for their crimes, and how Gloria was rising as a nation of import on the western continent of Ruhn. Overall, she was whipping up the people’s pride, invoking past greatness and hinting at future growth and influence.
Only about half a day had passed since he’d spoken to the queen, so Victor didn’t view it as strange that he hadn’t heard from her one way or the other about proceeding with Dar’s plans for a succession war. He figured she had a lot of thinking to do and would probably want to speak in seclusion with a few people she trusted. The prospect of war was a big deal, and he could see why she wouldn’t want to do it, but he also understood the implied threat—Dar had sent him, and if Victor returned early, what might a powerful, deity-like ancestor do? Despite everything he knew about Dar, Victor still wasn’t sure about the man’s motivations. He didn’t think he’d punish Kynna, but what if he pressed the issue?
As Kynna’s speech rose to a crescendo and the audience’s reactions grew louder, he contemplated helping Kynna get out of the situation. All he had to do was claim that he felt victory wasn’t likely and didn’t want to risk his life to challenge further champions. Dar had given him that out; he’d said something along the lines of this “campaign” lasting only as long as Victor thought it should—that he could withdraw when he felt victory wasn’t achievable. If Victor left now, Kynna’s people would be safe for a long while—decades or centuries—and he’d have done something great. Why did he feel like that wasn’t enough?
He supposed part of it was that he knew he’d be lying and that Dar would see through it. Victor was not worried about his next fight, regardless of who it would be against. He and Kynna had a lot of work to do before they could challenge a great house, at which time Victor might feel his first genuine fear of defeat. Was he being cocky? Sure, he was, but that was his nature. He’d been that way before he’d woken up his Quinametzin bloodline, before he’d walked with the righteous fury of an awakened mountain, and before he’d embraced his affinity for glory. Now, the idea of backing down from a challenge such as the one posed by a succession war felt almost as unnatural as trying to breathe water.
“That’s your cue, milord,” the retainer holding the dark wing curtains aside said, startling Victor out of his ruminations.
“She announced me?” How had he missed that?
“Aye, milord,” the young man said, smiling and ducking his head. Victor cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and marched through the gap in the curtain. The stage was bright, illuminated by brilliant glow-lamps high above, and the audience was thrown into shadows as a result. Still, with his Quinametzin eyes, he could see them—thousands and thousands of faces staring, silent in their rapt attention. He shifted his gaze to the center of the stage where Queen Kynna stood, glorious in her jeweled gown, her crown glittering with the inner fire of whatever great magic it contained.
She beckoned him to come forward, and he did. When he stood before her, she looked to the audience and, in a voice that carried as though amplified by a hundred hidden speakers, she said, “People of Gloria, I present to you our champion, Victor of Tucson.”
The applause and cheers were thunderous, and Victor felt his heartbeat quicken under the focus of so many cheering folks. His Core surged with glory-attuned Energy, which leaked into his pathways. Unable to restrain himself, he lifted a fist high, and the crowd redoubled their cheers. It was deafening.
Queen Kynna delicately raised her right hand, and the assembly hall grew silent almost instantly. “Champion, for your victory over Obert and the kingdom of Frostmarch, I present to you one of the most valuable treasures recovered from the vaults of our foe.” She held out both hands, cupped together, and a glittering, gem-studded, gold-foil package appeared there, about the size and shape of a large orange. Victor could hear the collective intake of breath as the gems picked up the lights and sparkled, creating a dazzling display that seemed almost like illusory fireworks around Kynna and Victor.
“This beautiful package contains the egg of a creature of myth here on Ruhn, a Coldwater Sea Wyrm.” Again, the audience collectively gasped, and a single strident voice cried out, sounding more dismayed than excited. “You can hear from our citizens’ reaction, Victor, that this is a treasure dear to the people of Ruhn, for Coldwater Sea Wyrms have not been seen in our seas for nearly a thousand years. You see, their eggs are known to wake the secrets in a person’s blood, sometimes bringing forth latent attributes but always advancing a person’s racial status.”
Kynna paused for a moment, then turned and held the egg high, greatly expanding the size of the mystical light show it projected. “Do any of the fine people of Gloria begrudge our champion this prize? Is there any more worthy?” The response was silence, though Victor swore he heard people weeping. Kynna turned back to Victor and proffered the egg. “Will you accept this gift, Champion?”
Despite a small surge of guilt, a tiny voice in his mind that couldn’t believe he was going to receive something so treasured by these people after only being there a few days, Victor saw the egg for what it was: the whole reason he’d come to Ruhn—advancement. “I will.” He held out a broad palm, and the queen gently placed the egg in the center of it. Victor held the egg carefully but lifted it high, turning to face the enormous crowd. “Thank you, people of Ruhn!” His voice carried, just as the queen’s had, and the crowd once again erupted in cheers.
The queen allowed the cheers to go on for a moment, smiling at Victor with her hands delicately folded before herself. “Nicely done, Victor. Please store away your prize, and then, if you would, please kneel before me.” Her voice didn’t carry this time, but Victor heard it clearly. He sent the egg into his storage ring, then looked at the queen.
“Kneel?”
“Please, Champion. I will award you your second prize.”
Victor hated to kneel, especially with an audience, but he’d already done so to Kynna several times, so it seemed strange to balk. He nodded, then, smooth as a panther might crouch in the tall grass, he lowered himself to one knee. Queen Kynna held up her hand again, and the audience grew so silent that Victor could hear her quick, shallow breaths. Was she nervous?
“People of Gloria, today we stand free, our chains shattered and thrown to the side, and our future bright with the potential for true glory—a virtue for which our great nation was named! This turn of events is thanks to the valor of one man, a man who, until now, had no ties to our world. He served my ancestor, the great Ranish Dar, but he was a stranger to us, a visitor. Nevertheless, he came and fought not only the champion of Frostmarch but that of Xan. In the face of overwhelming odds, he struck down our enemies and lifted the grip of their cruel blockades. Today, Gloria breathes again, thanks to his courage.”
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“Elevation?”
“To the noble class. The Duchy of Iron Mountain is well known, even here in Gloria. There are stories about those lands—your wealth, in property alone, is now second only to the royal family.”
“A pretty trap,” Victor sighed, walking toward the bulbous, living-wood coach that had earlier delivered him.
“A trap?”
Victor ignored her until they were inside the plush leather interior of the coach, and he felt it gently lifting into the air. “Kynna wants me to have something more to lose than just my life.” He frowned, and Bryn stared into space, perhaps trying to make sense of the statement. “What’s the deal with the Haveshi family? Why am I in charge of Qi Pot’s kin?”
“Because he was a duke, and there was no clause in the terms of the duel requiring his family to be slain or banished with his death. Queen Kynna is now the de facto ruler of Xan, so she can grant the various holdings of that Kingdom to people she views as loyal. Having given you Iron Mountain, Qi Pot’s heirs will be stripped of their inheritance and most of their wealth. She’s making you the honorary patron to their clan.”
“Was his full name Qi Pot Haveshi, then?”
“I’m unsure.” Bryn shrugged, making her armor clank. “I’ve only ever heard him called Qi Pot. Perhaps it's an assumed name or a title he earned with one exploit or another.”
“Goddammit,” Victor sighed, viciously scratching the sides of his head with his nails.
“What’s—”
“That’s the second time I’ve been given responsibility for the survivors of someone I’ve killed in a duel. It’s bullshit. The first time was just a single girl—now I have a whole clan to look after? And how many will try to kill me in my sleep? I doubt they’re all children, right?”
“That would be suicide for them. Their futures are now tied to yours. With your demise, they will be at the queen's mercy, or should you die in a duel, whatever ruler seizes the queen’s power and lands.”
“And?”
“And most rulers would simply banish them to avoid trouble.” She shrugged. “Banish or kill.”
“So, are they expecting that now?”
“Possibly. Queen Kynna is known to be kind, so they likely aren’t afraid they’ll be executed. However, banishment is surely on their minds. Keep in mind that while you are irritated by this turn of events, the Haveshi are only one noble family the queen has to sort out among dozens—nay, hundreds. She will have a very busy few months consolidating her grasp of the political landscape in her new hegemony.”
Victor’s stomach rumbled, and he frowned, leaning back and thinking. He was irritated, but Bryn had made a good point; Queen Kynna had a big headache on her hands, and if Victor and Dar got their way, things would only get more complicated for her. He was complaining about being responsible for the fate of a single family and a single—albeit apparently large—duchy. At first, he thought she was just trying to tie him to something on Ruhn, and he felt like that was still true, but he also thought she might be trying to give him a glimpse into the complexity of taking on the rulership of an entire empire.
There were millions of people living on Ruhn. Millions of lives would be impacted by a succession war. Just because the nations of Ruhn didn’t fight openly with armies didn’t mean people wouldn’t die. It didn’t mean that people wouldn’t be forced from their homes. It was a lot to think about. His stomach rumbled again, and Bryn cleared her throat.
“Dinner, sir?”
Victor shook his head. “I have something I’ve been wanting to eat back in my quarters. I need to do some thinking—let’s head straight to the palace.” She nodded, and Victor smiled. He wondered what she’d say if he told her the thing he was hungry for was Qi Pot’s heart.