Chapter 175: A Man Aurelia Threw Away
The first person Kael saw when he crossed the training yard that morning was Damien Ravenmoor.
Damien’s spear struck hard enough to split the edge of a wooden shield.
The soldier holding it staggered backward.
Damien did not chase him.
He planted the butt of his spear in the dirt and waited.
Again.
Victor Ravenshade pushed himself upright.
You could pretend we’re training and not settling an old grudge.
If I had an old grudge against you, you’d know.
Victor adjusted the shield.
Comforting.
Around them, several Black Dragon soldiers laughed.
Kael stopped beneath the covered walkway.
He had seen Damien fight before, but he had rarely watched him command.
There was a difference.
Damien wasn’t loud.
He didn’t need to be.
When he told Victor to correct his stance, Victor corrected it.
When he called Leon Ashford forward, Leon came without complaint.
When Marcus Wintermere started giving advice from the side, Damien pointed at an empty place in the formation.
If you have enough breath to instruct everyone else, you have enough breath to join them.
Marcus muttered something.
Damien raised an eyebrow.
Marcus stepped into formation.
Kael smiled.
Darius stood farther down the yard with Osric Hale.
The two older soldiers were examining a parchment covered in formation marks and supply numbers.
Osric noticed Kael first.
My lord.
The others followed.
Damien lowered his spear.
My lord.
Kael waved them back to training.
Continue.
Nobody moved.
Kael looked at Darius.
Why did everyone stop?
Because you’re the prince.
That sounds inconvenient.
You will survive.
Kael stepped into the yard.
I wasn’t here to interrupt.
Darius folded the parchment.
Then what are you here for?
Kael looked toward the soldiers.
To see who I’m actually paying.
Victor laughed.
Darius did not.
Kael sighed.
That was a joke.
I know.
Your face disagrees.
My face has survived battlefields. It no longer feels obligated to entertain princes.
A few soldiers failed to hide their smiles.
Kael pointed at him.
That right there is why people fear you.
That is not why people fear me.
No.
It wasn’t.
Everyone in the yard knew Darius Valen’s name.
The Empire’s Shield.
The victor of the Battle of Ashen Fields.
The commander who had once taken ten thousand soldiers against forces from three kingdoms and returned undefeated.
A man whose enemies had spent years waiting for him to finally lose a campaign.
They were still waiting.
Kael sometimes forgot how strange it was that such a man now stood in Blackwood’s muddy training yard correcting the footwork of fifty soldiers.
Darius turned to Damien.
Resume.
Damien did.
This time the exercise involved five men trying to hold a narrow line while three others broke it.
Kael watched carefully.
Iris Hollow had taken a position outside the formation.
She did not carry a shield.
Her bow rested across her back.
Kael pointed toward her.
Why isn’t Iris in line?
Iris answered before Darius could.
Because I’m a tracker, my lord. If Sir Darius puts me behind a shield, someone has made a terrible mistake.
Kael looked at Darius.
Sir Darius?
Darius’s expression barely changed.
I was knighted before you learned how to hold a spoon.
I know you’re a knight.
You rarely address me like one.
Kael considered it.
Would you like me to start?
No.
Good.
Iris smirked.
Kael noticed.
Careful.
My lord?
Nothing.
She looked innocent.
Far too innocent.
Darius pointed toward a line of wooden posts.
Iris.
Yes, Sir Darius.
Three scouts entered the northern tree line before dawn. Find the route they used.
Kael looked toward the forest.
There were actually scouts out there?
Iris had already started walking.
If there weren’t, this would be a very easy exercise.
She disappeared between the trees.
Kael watched her go.
That’s the sort of thing I mean.
Darius glanced at him.
About?
The Black Dragon.
Kael looked across the yard.
Fifty soldiers sounded impressive when Blackwood had barely been able to defend its villages.
Now Kael knew them better.
Some were good with blades.
Some were better with bows.
Some had command ability.
Others had survived simply because they knew when not to be brave.
They were not interchangeable.
He looked at Damien.
System.
The familiar blue window appeared only for Kael.
Damien Ravenmoor
Weapon: Spear
Aura Talent: A
Leadership: S
Political Ability: A
Loyalty Potential: Extremely High
Recommendation: General Candidate
Kael dismissed it before he spent too long staring.
Damien noticed anyway.
You were using that strange look again.
Kael blinked.
What strange look?
The one where you stare at someone like you’re reading something written over their head.
Victor nodded.
You do that.
Leon added.
Frequently.
Kael looked at Darius.
Why has no one told me this before?
Darius shrugged.
I assumed you knew.
Kael made a mental note to become less obvious.
The exercise ended twenty minutes later.
Damien’s side won.
Barely.
Victor complained about the rules.
Marcus accused Leon of stepping outside the marked line.
Leon claimed Marcus had been too busy shouting to notice where anyone stood.
Darius let them argue for exactly thirty seconds.
Enough.
Silence.
Kael watched that happen and wondered whether Darius had trained his voice as a weapon.
Darius looked over the soldiers.
Several of you have asked Captain Roland about the Knight Examination.
That changed the mood.
Kael looked toward him.
They have?
Captain Roland stood near the armory entrance.
He nodded.
Seven men so far, my lord.
Kael looked around the yard.
Seven?
Damien remained still.
Victor suddenly found the dirt fascinating.
Leon crossed his arms.
Marcus pretended not to care.
Kael understood.
Which seven?
Darius answered.
You don’t need their names yet.
Why not?
Because asking to take the test is not the same as being ready for it.
Kael looked at the soldiers.
Knighthood carried weight in Aurelia.
A knight was not simply someone with a sword and Aura.
A knight had been examined, recognized, and sworn.
They carried the title Sir.
They could enter halls common soldiers could not.
Nobles recruited them.
Households displayed them.
Their oaths followed them into war.
Kael had grown up around knights and barely thought about what the title meant.
Blackwood’s soldiers did.
One of the younger men finally spoke.
My lord, may I ask something?
Kael nodded.
The man hesitated.
If one of us passes...
He glanced at the Black Dragon Banner hanging from the yard wall.
Who do we swear to?
The question quieted even Darius.
Kael looked at the black banner.
The dragon stitched across it seemed to stare back at him.
Imperial knights traditionally swore either to the Crown, an Imperial institution, an order, or a recognized noble household.
Kael was an Imperial Prince.
But Blackwood was becoming something with its own identity.
Darius answered carefully.
That would depend on what Prince Kael establishes before any of you take the oath.
Kael looked at him.
You expected me to decide this.
Eventually.
How eventually?
Darius looked toward the seven soldiers trying very hard not to look interested.
Sooner than I expected.
Grom entered the yard at exactly the wrong moment.
He carried breakfast in one hand and his spear in the other.
What are we deciding?
Whether some of them will take the Knight Examination.
Grom bit into a piece of bread.
Human titles.
He kept walking.
Victor called after him.
You were called Spear King.
Grom stopped.
That was not a title given by a man sitting behind a desk.
He turned.
That was a title earned because everyone who challenged me became smarter or dead.
He continued toward the barracks.
Victor stared after him.
I think that was encouragement.
Osric shook his head.
It wasn’t.
Kael looked back toward the banner.
Black Dragon Knight.
The words came quietly.
Darius heard them.
So did everyone else.
Kael continued.
If one of you earns Imperial knighthood while serving under this banner, I don’t want your identity swallowed by some court title.
He looked across the formation.
A knight sworn directly to my service and the Black Dragon Banner would be recognized as a Black Dragon Knight.
Nobody spoke.
Kael could see the change anyway.
Damien’s grip tightened around his spear.
Victor straightened.
Even Marcus stopped smirking.
Kael raised a hand.
Don’t start celebrating.
A few faces fell.
The title means nothing if everyone gets it.
Darius’s expression showed approval.
Kael continued.
You pass the recognized Knight Examination first.
You earn the right to be called Sir.
Then you swear your oath.
Only then do you carry the Black Dragon Knight title.
Victor grinned.
And if we fail?
Darius answered.
You train.
Victor’s grin disappeared.
And try again.
Kael added.
Failure won’t remove you from the Black Dragon.
Knighthood is another path. Not the only way to matter here.
He looked toward Iris’s empty place.
Iris doesn’t need a knight’s title to be useful.
Hugo Stone doesn’t need one to improve our weapons.
Osric doesn’t need one to make sure you don’t starve three days into a campaign.
Osric nodded once.
Damien looked toward Kael.
But those who do become knights?
Kael met his eyes.
They’ll carry my banner knowing the title has expectations attached to it.
Damien lowered his head.
Understood, my lord.
Darius looked toward Captain Roland.
Start preliminary evaluations.
Seven?
Darius looked at the others.
Make it open to all fifty.
Kael smiled.
Now that sounds interesting.
Darius’s gaze shifted to him.
You will not interfere with the standards.
I didn’t say anything.
You were thinking loudly.
Tavian Merrow arrived that afternoon in a wagon missing one wheel cap and carrying enough books to supply a small academy.
Kael knew which traveler he was before anyone introduced him.
Most visitors to Blackwood looked around.
Tavian looked down.
At the road.
The drainage ditch.
The stone foundations.
The timber supports beneath a merchant awning.
He stepped from the wagon wearing a dark gray traveling coat that had once been expensive and had since lost an argument with mud, rain, and possibly fire.
He looked to be somewhere in his forties.
His black hair had begun turning silver at the temples.
A narrow pair of crystal lenses rested across his nose.
He carried no visible staff.
No ceremonial mage robe.
No noble insignia.
Galahad stood beside Kael near the unfinished guild hall.
That’s him.
You sound disappointed.
I expected more explosions.
Give him time.
The wagon driver climbed down.
Lord Kael?
Kael turned.
Yes.
The man bowed deeply.
My lord, I was told to deliver Master Merrow and his belongings here.
Tavian was already walking away.
The driver watched him.
And I wish you luck.
That bad?
The man looked around to make sure Tavian couldn’t hear.
He argued with me for six hours about wheel construction.
Tavian called from twenty paces away.
Because your rear axle is misaligned.
The driver’s face collapsed.
Kael tried not to laugh.
Tavian turned toward the road.
And your left rear wheel will crack before you reach Aurelia.
The driver looked at Kael.
My lord.
I understand.
Kael patted his shoulder.
Safe journey.
The driver climbed back into the wagon with the expression of a man escaping captivity.
Tavian finally approached.
He looked at Galahad first.
Galahad Charney?
Yes.
Former mercenary.
Still true.
Previous rank B.
Galahad’s eyes narrowed.
You researched me.
I research places before walking into them.
Tavian turned toward Kael.
Prince Kael Asterion.
Kael waited for the bow.
It never came.
Galahad noticed.
So did Captain Roland, who stood several yards away.
His posture changed immediately.
Tavian noticed that too.
He gave Kael a shallow bow.
My lord.
Kael almost smiled.
Acceptable.
Tavian’s eyes shifted to the unfinished guild headquarters.
Your letter said genuine work.
It is genuine.
And dangerous?
Potentially.
How potentially?
Kael thought about the crystal.
Thirty-one kilometers.
Tavian stared at him.
Excuse me?
Worst-case estimated destruction radius.
For the first time, Tavian looked genuinely interested.
Where?
Not yet.
His interest disappeared.
Then why am I here?
Because I don’t know you.
You invited me.
I invited you to an interview.
Tavian looked offended.
I traveled from Aurelia for an interview?
Kael shrugged.
You could have stayed there.
Galahad turned away to hide his smile.
Tavian stared at Kael.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Good.
Kael frowned.
Good?
Most nobles would have shown me the dangerous object just to prove they possessed something important.
I’m not most nobles.
Every noble says that.
Kael pointed toward the guild.
Come inside.
The first floor still smelled of sawdust.
Master Rowan’s workers had cleared one table for them.
Darius arrived several minutes later.
Tavian recognized him immediately.
He stood.
That was interesting.
Tavian had barely bowed to an Imperial Prince.
For Darius, he stood.
Sir Darius Valen.
Darius entered without ceremony.
Master Merrow.
The Empire’s Shield.
So I’ve been told.
Tavian studied him.
Battle of Ashen Fields.
Darius’s face remained neutral.
Yes.
Ten thousand against the combined western armies.
Those numbers have grown every time the story is retold.
Tavian smiled.
Then what are the correct numbers?
Enough.
Tavian’s smile widened.
I understand why historians hate you.
Darius sat.
The feeling is mutual.
Kael looked between them.
You two are going to get along terribly.
Tavian removed his crystal lenses and cleaned them.
That depends on whether Sir Darius believes magical research should require permission from men who cannot distinguish a mana seal from a wine stain.
Darius looked at Kael.
I understand why he was expelled.
Kael laughed.
Galahad placed Tavian’s records on the table.
Unauthorized excavation.
Tavian nodded.
Unauthorized artifact research.
Another nod.
Destruction of Imperial property.
Tavian raised a finger.
That one is misleading.
Kael leaned forward.
You didn’t destroy Imperial property?
I absolutely destroyed it.
Kael waited.
Tavian continued.
It simply deserved to be destroyed.
Darius closed his eyes.
Kael was beginning to understand the Imperial College.
What was it?
A containment box built around a damaged mana furnace.
And you destroyed the box.
Yes.
Why?
Because the furnace was heating faster than the containment runes could disperse the pressure.
Kael’s humor disappeared.
What happened?
Tavian put his lenses back on.
I broke the containment wall, redirected the release upward, destroyed three laboratories, shattered forty-two windows, and prevented the eastern wing from becoming a crater.
Galahad checked the report.
It doesn’t say that.
Of course it doesn’t.
Why?
Because the professor responsible for the furnace later became Deputy Chancellor.
Kael looked at Darius.
Darius’s expression had become less dismissive.
Tavian noticed.
I don’t claim innocence, Sir Darius. I ignored orders. I entered a restricted excavation without permission. I removed artifacts the College wanted sealed.
Why?
Because sealing something you don’t understand isn’t scholarship.
Sometimes it is survival.
Tavian nodded.
Sometimes.
That answer surprised Kael.
He expected Tavian to argue.
Instead, the mage looked toward him.
Your turn.
Kael leaned back.
My turn?
Why do you need me?
Kael didn’t answer immediately.
This was the part that mattered.
Not Tavian’s arrogance.
Not his Imperial record.
Whether he could recognize his own limits.
Kael placed a small black stone on the table.
He had taken it from near the cave entrance, far from the central crystal.
Purple lines ran faintly through its surface.
Tavian stopped moving.
He did not touch it.
That pleased Kael.
Tavian leaned closer.
Where did you get this?
Analyze it.
You brought me here to perform parlor tricks?
Kael said nothing.
Tavian sighed.
Fine.
Mana gathered around two fingers.
Not much.
A thin thread.
He guided it toward the stone.
The moment the mana touched the purple vein, Tavian severed the connection.
Immediately.
His expression hardened.
Nobody spoke.
Tavian took a small metal instrument from inside his coat.
He placed it beside the stone rather than against it.
The instrument’s central needle trembled.
Then spun backward.
Tavian looked up.
How many people have touched this?
Few.
Bare hands?
No.
Good.
What is it?
Tavian ignored the question.
Is there more?
Yes.
How much?
Kael looked toward Darius.
Darius gave no reaction.
Kael answered.
Enough that the System estimates a thirty-one-kilometer catastrophe if the central structure fails.
Tavian’s face changed.
Not fear.
Anger.
You found an unstable structure carrying this contamination and waited three days to call someone?
I called you the same night.
Tavian considered that.
Good answer.
Kael almost objected.
Tavian pointed toward the stone.
This isn’t just unstable mana.
You know what it is?
No.
Kael frowned.
That was not the answer he expected.
Tavian continued.
Anyone who claims certainty from this sample is lying.
But I can tell you what it isn’t.
He pointed toward the purple vein.
Natural.
Galahad leaned closer.
Artificial?
Tavian shook his head.
Possibly altered.
Possibly introduced.
Possibly the result of two incompatible energies interacting over a very long period.
He looked toward Kael.
And I need to see the source before I say more.
Darius spoke.
Before that, you answer one question.
Tavian turned.
If the structure becomes unstable while you’re examining it, will you obey an order to retreat?
Tavian’s eyes narrowed.
From whom?
Me.
Tavian looked at Darius for several seconds.
Then at Kael.
Kael said nothing.
Tavian finally answered.
If you give me enough time to preserve my notes.
No.
Five seconds.
No.
Three.
Darius stood.
Interview over.
Two.
Kael covered his mouth.
Galahad looked toward the ceiling.
Tavian sighed.
Fine.
If Sir Darius Valen orders retreat, I retreat.
Immediately.
Immediately.
Darius sat again.
Kael smiled.
Welcome to Blackwood.
Tavian stared at him.
That was the interview?
No.
Kael pointed toward the stone.
That was the part where I decided you were not completely insane.
Tavian looked offended.
Completely?
Galahad laughed.
Tavian was given a room at the manor until Kael decided whether he would remain permanently.
He protested.
Lily ignored him.
He demanded access to a workshop.
Garrick Ironhand heard about it and refused to allow a mage near his forge without supervision.
Tavian called that primitive.
Garrick called Tavian thin.
Neither insult made much sense.
Both men appeared satisfied.
By evening, Tavian had already requested glass vessels, silver wire, chalk, treated parchment, distilled alcohol, three different crystal types, and a room with stone walls.
Edwin brought the list to Kael.
My lord.
Kael looked at the parchment.
This is expensive.
Very.
Can we afford it?
Edwin paused.
That depends on whether you require doors on the new houses.
Kael lowered the list.
We’re keeping the doors.
A wise decision.
Kael studied Tavian’s requests again.
Remove anything he can acquire himself in Aurelia.
Edwin nodded.
And tell him Blackwood pays for research related to Blackwood.
Not his personal experiments.
Edwin’s expression softened slightly.
You are learning.
Everyone keeps saying that.
Because it remains surprising.
Kael stared at him.
Edwin bowed.
My lord.
The old butler left before Kael could answer.
Night settled over Blackwood.
Most of the manor had gone quiet when Darius found Kael on the balcony overlooking the training yard.
The Black Dragon Banner moved gently in the wind.
Below, several soldiers were still practicing.
Damien Ravenmoor was one of them.
So was Victor.
Neither knew Kael was watching.
Darius stopped beside him.
They want it badly.
Knighthood?
Yes.
Kael watched Damien repeat the same spear sequence.
How many do you think can pass?
Today?
Two.
Kael turned.
Only two?
Darius looked at him.
Did you expect me to say twenty?
No.
Maybe five.
Two.
Which two?
Darius did not answer.
Kael smiled.
Still keeping that from me?
Until the preliminary examination.
Kael looked back down.
Black Dragon Knights.
The title sounded different now.
He could imagine it.
Not fifty of them.
Not immediately.
A smaller core.
Knights who had earned Imperial recognition but sworn themselves to Kael’s banner.
Men and women whose names common soldiers would know.
Sir Damien Ravenmoor.
Perhaps.
Sir Victor Ravenshade.
If he survived Darius’s standards.
Others would follow later.
Some would never choose that road.
That was fine.
An army needed more than knights.
Darius spoke quietly.
Do you understand what happens when your soldiers swear personal knightly oaths to you?
Kael looked at him.
They become my knights.
More than that.
Darius faced him.
You stop looking like a prince with fifty soldiers.
You begin looking like a prince building a household military order.
Kael’s expression became serious.
The Imperial Court will care.
Some will.
My siblings?
Definitely.
Kael looked toward the dark horizon.
Then perhaps they should get used to caring.
Darius almost smiled.
There he is.
Who?
The reckless boy I’ve spent years preventing from dying.
I thought I was learning caution.
You are.
Darius looked toward the soldiers below.
Unfortunately, ambition appears to be surviving the treatment.
Kael laughed.
Then his attention shifted toward a flicker of light in one of the manor’s side rooms.
Tavian’s temporary laboratory.
The mage was apparently still awake.
Kael thought of the crystal beneath the western forest.
The Knight Examination.
The unfinished guild.
The refugees.
The Black Dragon.
Too many things were moving at once.
But for the first time in days, they did not feel like unrelated problems.
They felt like pieces of Blackwood becoming something larger.
Not an empire.
Not yet.
Perhaps not ever.
But certainly no longer eleven forgotten villages waiting for Aurelia to notice them.
And hundreds of miles away, in the Imperial Capital, someone already had.
Aurelia — Central District, Imperial Palace
The Hall of Dragons was nearly empty.
Golden fire burned in the wall braziers.
Carved dragons watched from towering pillars while General Hector Valen stood before a long window overlooking the capital.
Below him, Aurelia glowed.
Its white walls stretched toward the darkness.
Airships moved slowly above the distant districts, their wind crystals shining like blue stars.
Footsteps approached.
General Hector did not turn.
A palace officer stopped several paces behind him.
General.
Speak.
A report from Blackwood.
That made Hector turn.
What kind?
The officer held out a sealed document.
Several of Prince Kael’s soldiers have requested preparation for the Imperial Knight Examination.
Hector took the report.
And?
There is more.
Hector read.
His eyes stopped on one line.
A proposed title.
Black Dragon Knight.
For several seconds, General Hector Valen said nothing.
Then he looked toward the enormous Imperial Dragon banner hanging across the far wall.
Darius.
The officer hesitated.
General?
Hector folded the report.
My relative has never lost a campaign.
He looked back toward Blackwood’s direction beyond the city walls.
And now he is teaching an Imperial Prince how to build an army.
That concerned Hector far more than fifty soldiers ever could.