Alan wishes me luck as I step out of the carriage. Why, I cannot say. It’s not like I’m expected to do anything in the ceremony other than be part of the crowd, and he doesn’t know about my meeting with the Talhal youth.

  I make my way through the crowd. Some of the youths are already sporting the dark green armbands of the new students, having bought their own rather than receiving the free version to show affluence. I probably would have gotten a custom one too, but Alan offered to buy me one, so I declined.

  I spot the sought youth leaning against the third marble column lining the entrance to the arena as arranged. He smiles on approach.

  “Monhal, yes?” I nod. “I’m Lucas Talhal. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Malichi. Likewise.”

  “Hmmm. Not what I was expecting, but no matter. We’d best be going, you need to get your armband, yes?”

  I nod, noting that he’s already sporting a custom one: Embroidered edges with his family symbol subtly in the middle.

  “Yes,” he says, noting my noting, “a ridiculous expense, but Father says a house on the rise must show affluence. Still, it was a shock for such a small strip of fabric that I’ll only wear once to cost a medium gold. Father says it’s a sort of open conspiracy. Since the academy gives them out for free, those making the custom ones all agree to overcharge. Everyone lets them get away with it because it makes it easier to show wealth.”

  “I see,” I say, noting the two references to his father in short succession.

  “No doubt.” He gives me a side eye, obviously expecting more, but I have no more insight to give. I more or less came to the same conclusion when considering whether to get my own custom armband. “…Tell me, how did you get old fat Greg to become your client anyways?”

  “…That’s between me and him, no?”

  He gives a chastised grin. “Ah, yes, of course. It was improper for me to ask. Although, the social etiquette for dual patronage isn’t as well developed. Don’t you think it’s reasonable for the original patron to have an exception to the rule?”

  “Not really,” I say, being very obvious that I would no doubt reverse my opinion should our positions be.

  He gives a short laugh. “Father says you likely blackmailed him. That is why we keep him, to do things blackmailable.”

  “…Blackmail was involved, yes. Though that’s not why he suggested I become his patron.”

  “He suggested it? That is interesting. We assumed you did.”

  I wince, instinctively chastising myself for giving the information away, even though I obviously didn’t care when I assumed they knew.

  “Yes,” I say, “he’s a bit stranger than just the ‘old fat’ merchant I originally took him for.”

  “Yes, isn’t he?” I can’t tell if Lucas is agreeing or not.

  We reach the check in gate where we give our names to a woman behind a table who gives me a much cheaper armband after marking us as present. We walk through the halls as instructed and into the wide open field where several hundred fellow youths stand milling about. A second crowd, mostly adults sit in the seating area above, granting view of us and the stage at the end of the field.

  “Oh hey, it’s Malch!” A familiar voice calls from the side. I turn to see Ser Terry in co with Addrain and, more surprisingly, Preston.

  “Ser Terry.” I nod in chilly acknowledgement.

  A brief moment of hesitation before pressing ahead. “How lucky to have spotted you.”

  “You could have made arrangements to meet. I tried, but you suddenly disappeared. Left town in fact, with Clara Talwin if I’m not mistaken.”

  He blushes slightly at the rebuke, stammering a reply. “Yes, well… you know. I probably should have… I had family business you see.”

  “Ah yes, your phantom family,” Adrian says from the side. “If you keep on invoking them for excuses then someone will actually insist you explain what family situation a knight errant could possibly have.

  “Yes, perhaps one day I will.” He nervously scratches his head then looks to me. “Sorry that you’ve missed me, but things were urgent.”

  Family matters he says. Urgent he says. I suppose I can’t hold it against him, despite the disappointment. “It’s fine.” I say dismissive of the issue.

  “But, you said you tried to contact me? How did you even know that I was with Clara? Did you…”

  “It’s fine, I said. You have your own business.” I interrupt before he can press me. Not about divining his location, that’s socially acceptable enough, but because I don’t want to talk about why I was looking for him. It’d be embarrassing. So I turn to Preston. “Preston. Good to see you friend.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You too, friend.”

  “We didn’t get to talk after you beat us in the team fights. Did the two of you get acquainted?” I glance to Ser Terry.

  “Yes, we chatted after he killed me. It was rather helpful, so I thought I’d stay in touch.”

  “Of course.” I smile and turn to Lucas. “This is Lucas Talhal. We’ve met just now through… a mutual acquaintance. Lucas, these are Ser Terrance Presley, Preston Calhal and Adrian Blakerhal. I met them during the exam. Preston on the way to a test, and the others were on my team for the group fights.”

  ‘Pleasure’s all around. A rustle from the crowd draws our attention to the stage as four youths walk out and sit in the four chairs placed at the back.

  “Who are they?” Ser Terry asks.

  “Royalty,” Adrian explains, “the empress’s children who are being admitted with us.”

  “Admitted? Bah. They didn’t take the exam. They’re just getting in because of their parent.” Lucas scoffs. “I thought the point of this academy was its egalitarian admittance.”

  “Are you suggesting that the princeps would not have been admitted had they taken the exam with the rest of us?” Adrian asks.

  “Maybe,” Lucas says, not backing down, “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  “Actually, while they weren’t tested with us, they were tested. At the very least the academy needs to know what classes to give them.” Adrian counters.

  “Separate tests are hardly fair,” Lucas continues his complaints.

  “On the contrary, they’re very fair to everyone who might have been paired against them. After all, many people might not have the nerve to best royalty.”

  “Who’s the fourth person?” Preston asks, interrupting the debate. “I thought the empress only had three children our age.”

  “On that note, how does she have four children of the same age?” asks Ser Terry.

  Adrian laughs, giving him a ‘you don’t know?’ look. “The empress is a hermaphrodite. About every five to ten years she has bouts of… what some might call lustfulness.”

  “Others debauchery,” Lucas chimes.

  “Your point?” Adrian asks harshly, causing Lucas to withdraw slightly. “Anyways. She bore the child of another hermaphrodite, who bore hers at the same time. The third was born by a second woman. The fourth doesn’t have much publicly known about them, but was recently adopted.”

  “Adopted? As she doesn’t have enough children that she has to snatch others' too?” Lucas asks.

  Adrian shrugs. “It is unusual for her to do so. Although as I said, not much is known about the princep. Nobody knows where they came from or who their parents by blood are. Most assume they’re dead.”

  “An act of kindness then?” Preston asks, hopeful.

  “Far more likely to be a political expedient.” Lucas counters.

  “Likely both,” Adrian admits. “She’s known to be that way. Doing what she wants for its own sake, but also keeping in mind how she can use it elsewhere. A balanced ruler most would say.” Adrian gives a pointed, challenging look to Lucas who declines to take it.

  “Do you think she’ll attend today’s ceremony with so many of her children being admitted?” Preston asks, eagerly.

  “It’s impossible for me to speak her mind.” Adrian looks high behind us to an empty semi enclosed seating area, no doubt reserved for her exclusive use. “She might be busy, or she might not want to distract us from her children’s presence.”

  “Bah!” Lucas near shouts. “The lot of you speak like fawning absolutists. We’re nobles, not snivelling commoners hanging off her every appearance and gesture. We, the nobles, put her in charge in exchange for privileges. We may be her subjects, but we can at least have some pride.”

  Adrian shakes their head. “You make it sound like she’s in charge because of an agreement between her and the nobility.”

  “Isn’t that the case?” Lucas asks?

  “No,” says Addrain firmly, “the agreement isn’t between her and us, but between ourselves and each other to put her in charge to avoid a war of all against all. She isn’t party to the agreement at all. The privileges the nobles have are given to us freely in order so we may facilitate her wishes.”

  Lucas sneers. “What a convoluted… Malichi, you’ve been silent during this. What do you think?” His words have weight, obviously hinting that my answer might affect the future relation between me and his house.

  I shrug, not affected by the pressure. “This seems like a nuanced issue and I’m from an isolated territory. We don’t have much cause to contemplate the finer points of imperial rule, abiding by it is enough.”

  He scowls, obviously unsure how to take my answer, but another rustle and murmur of the crowd stops his response and draws our looks back to the imperial box. I see a flash of red slip out of view.

  “Was that her?” Preston asks.

  “Maybe,” Addrian answers. “If so, she doesn’t seem to want to announce herself. Probably just wanted to let her children know she’s here without adding to the ceremony.”

  I look to the princeps to assess their reactions to the possible presence of their parent. Two of them seem completely unmoved, with one of them having an expressionless face while the other having the same passive smile she had before. Of the other two, both of which had neutral expressions prior, one is now smiling while the other is scowling. Interesting, perhaps the last one isn’t on good terms with her.

  A few moments later trumpets sound and Clarissa, the woman who headed my interview walks out on stage. As she does the crowd of several hundred youths spontaneously organizes out of the messy groupings and into neat rows. How Arkothan. No one told us we are supposed to do this, the locals just instinctively do it and drag me and everyone else caught by surprise along.

  She makes a short, yet welcoming speech, introducing herself as the head instructor of the academy. Her words aren’t very inspired, but they’re functional. Making us feel welcomed, congratulating us on the earned accomplishment, reminding us that our studies have just begun and warning us to abide by the rules of the academy. Nothing memorable, but eliciting a general good feeling.

  Then the part I was looking forward to – the procession of deities. Priests of various deities take the stage in turn accompanied by colourfully costumed attendants who then perform elaborate rituals asking their deity to bless the new students. Some perform ritual dances, others pass out bites of food in large ornate brass bowls for us to partake while others perform stranger acts. One performs a guttural, wordless song that fills us with dread, while another seems to be trying to solve a math problem with light and prisms. I suspect the food to be some form of mild drug since the crowd, myself included, take on a strange energy after consuming it. We all begin to sway during the next dance ritual.

  The rituals are very interesting, being a symbolic representation of the god’s essence. It’s also a great benefit, since they even come with a very slight boon without threat of curse. Hardly noticeable on their own, but together they create a general boosted energy. It’ll fade in about a month, just long enough to help us transition to our new lives.

  Eventually after about an hour and a dozen rituals the final one – a priest of the sun garbed in white and bronze – commands us with an outstretched hand, palm facing us, to go forth and grow in holy radiance. We immediately disperse with a joyous cheer, feeling ready to boldly be – for or against the empire.