“Hiero?” Aileen Fahllyr asked. That couldn’t be right. She must’ve misheard it; the man’s accent was atrocious.

Only head-thumped Krysperians would take the names of Emperors as their own. It wasn’t illegal. But crown names were doubly holy, so it might as well be.

Not only were they the chosen names of the Ancestor Dragon’s descendants, but they were also derived from runic orisons—Gaolyan rune words whose original pronunciations had been recreated by scrivener adepts. If uttered correctly, those ancient words could manipulate aileh flows by speech alone and, thus, were thought divine by many.

Aileen would love to know even one runic orison. For obvious reasons, they were closely held imperial secrets. Her father taught her the written form of one—she wasn’t sure if he made up a fake to parry her pestering—but she didn’t know how to say it. She couldn’t imagine how the scriveners discovered their bygone delivery.

Keep trying different sounds until something happened? Must’ve been a funny process.

“Yes, I am Hiero,” confirmed the man with the scar.

“That’s your name? Really?” Someone walking around the city proclaiming his name was ‘Hiero’ would find the weather abruptly turn ugly and be showered with… not water.

Stones.

He nodded. “Hiero. No more, no less.”

Aileen frowned. Lucky for this man, she was neither religious nor did she particularly care for Gaolyan history, or he might find a new scar on his right eye to match his left. It was a rare moment worth celebrating when she was more reasonable than the average Krysperian. “Let me get this right, Hiero…” she evenly said. “Do you mean Hiero, like the name of the First Emperor?”

“The First, what was that? Em… empe…rooor. Emperor. Such a fun word to say. Did I get that right?”

“Yes, the First Emperor.” Aileen’s brow inched higher and higher. Was this man speaking some obscure Grammus dialect? It was difficult to understand him. Some of his words were borderline gibberish.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s that,” the man replied, “or who’s the first of them. Emperooor…”

“You don’t know what an emperor is?” she asked incredulously. “Are you serious?” Even with his wobbly Grammus, he could understand her.

This funny-sounding man must’ve been concerned with the repercussions of entering the Room of the Resting Dragon and was acting excruciatingly stupid. It wasn’t prohibited to be here, but he shouldn’t be this deep into the Fahllyr House alone. He had plenty of reasons to be worried—Aileen’s hair was distinctly Fahllyr; he may even know her as the family head’s third child and was aware of her reputation.

But of all the excuses he could come up with, this was it? Introducing himself with the name of the First Emperor? Spitting out random syllables was a better fake name. And then he pretended he couldn’t understand her. His mother must’ve birthed him straight to the floor.

Aileen reconsidered being reasonable. Since this dumb pickle-brained man dumbly chose to play dumb, she’d let him dig his grave deeper. His temple would meet her knuckle.

But she couldn’t let loose without cause, especially on someone who seemed important. Her vacation at the Fahllyr House would be extended if her father got wind of it. She needed a justification. Disrespecting a Fahllyr was good—she should ensure it was airtight, credible, and with sufficient gravity.

“You were just reading about the First Emperor’s life.” She pointed at the opened door.

“These shiny etchings are about this person you’re talking about?” said the man with the scar. “But I saw nothing about the ‘First Emperor’ there. I could read only some lines, so I might’ve missed—”

“If your spoken Grammus is this bad,” Aileen snapped, “then obviously you’re not going to understand high Grammus.” In truth, the man did well if he could genuinely read it, even if partially, and that pissed her off. Her father had to hire three scholars to tutor her on high Grammus.

“No need to get angry with me, miss,” he replied with a smile, unstirred by Aileen’s rudeness. “How is the ‘First Emperor’ written?” He walked over to the door, gazing up at it. “Can you point out the word so I can learn?”

“It’s not there,” she curtly replied, folding her arms. “No such word on both wings of the door. How can there be any?”

“What do you mean? You just said that these writings are about the life of the First Emperor.”

Aileen closed her eyes briefly, sensing the conversation wasn’t going her way. “Yes, they are. But he didn’t carry the title of emperor back then, did he? Common sense. How could he be an emperor when Krysperia wasn’t even called an empire at that time?”

“Krysperia? Emp… empire? I don’t know what that—”

“How can you not know what an empire is?” Aileen demanded. She wanted to grab the man’s collar and shake him. He was testing the limits of her very limited reasonableness. All pretense of trying to catch him in a subtle trap of words came tumbling down the ramp behind her. “You’re right here, in the capital of an empire ruled by an emperor!”

“I truly don’t know. Am I supposed to?” He gestured down at his clothes. “I’m not sure if it’s apparent, but I’m not from around here.”

“Oh… You’re not?” Aileen deflated.

“No. I came from—how do I put this? Someplace far away, I assume. The way here is hard to explain and—Ah! Why did you do that?”

Aileen slapped her forehead. The sharp smack reverberated in the cavern.

A foreigner! This man was a visiting noble from abroad. He must’ve learned Grammus through not-so-good tutors. That explained the horrible accent, awkward pronunciations, and wrong word choices. He found it hard to explain where he came from because he was unfamiliar with the Krysperian names for places.

It all made sense. She should’ve immediately thought of it, but sleepiness muddled her thoughts.

And she was just about to pick a fight with him. Reasonable Aileen only existed in dreams. Thanks be to the Ancestor Dragon for giving her presence of mind before she caused a diplomatic scandal with her knuckles.

Again.

This would be the third or fourth time she let the brains inside her fists take over.

The man’s dark hair and honey-toned complexion were far from the typical Krysperian. Even the shape of his face and eyes were different, oval and slender, more southern-looking, closer to someone from the coastal states. He came from somewhere along the Gulf of Carinal if she had to guess. She had visited Carinal several times for their famed Bounty of the Sea Festival.

Could this man be a Seiranite of Carinal? Or a Harshun?

“Oh, you’re a Klanaan!” Aileen exclaimed, hitting her forehead again.

Didn’t the attendant who fetched the Ottarlans mention that Princess Adelind met with Lord Mako of Klana? This man must be with the lord’s entourage. He was also dressed very much the part, with the exquisite sheen of his robes radiating a regal aura. Wearing black was another display of wealth, as only nobles could afford it. Though the color was more common as mourning attire in Krysperia, it probably had a different cultural significance for Klanaans.

Aileen hadn’t met anyone from Klana before. She had heard that they shared many features with the peoples of the Carinal League, though hailing further east. She wouldn’t be surprised if the princess sent this man her way to waste both their times, the same as with the Ottarlans.

Aileen was usually assigned to the groffcrap tasks of entertaining the princess’ guests because she was important enough—a direct line of the most powerful martial family of Krysperia—and was free since she didn’t have any ‘real’ duties.

“Are you okay?” The man, whose mystery was unraveled, took a hesitant step forward and peeked at her bowed head. “Why did you hit yourself?”

“Insects,” she offhandedly said, tossing her hair back. “There’s a lot of them here.”

He looked around. “I don’t see any.”

“Because I killed them. You’re welcome,” Aileen answered with a deadpan tone. “Now, none of them are going to bite you.”

She pictured a servant of the princess delivering this man to the Fahllyr House, passing the guards at the front door, and leaving him at the main hall, waiting alone to be attended to by… no one. The trainees were stuck in classrooms for their midday lessons. The older Fahllyrs were wrapped with whatever the problem was with the aileh surge.

And Aileen was… sleeping.

In the flurry of business, everyone missed this stray Klanaan. He wandered off, reaching this place.

“Now, what to do with you?” Aileen placed her hands on her hips, sizing up the man a couple of heads taller than her. The incompetence of others led to this; blame could hardly be placed on her shoulders. But as a descendant of the hero, Alluverius Fahllyr, she wouldn’t ignore this mess.

“I’m looking for…” began Hiero, the Not-First-Emperor. His brows furrowed as he circled a hand in the air, struggling with his pitiful Grammus. “I’m not sure how to say this. The afterlife? Yes, the afterlife is what I’m trying to find.”

“The afterlife?” Aileen repeated.

“You see, I seemed to have stepped off life’s stairs. Probably. I’m not sure.”

What is he talking about? Aileen nodded as if she understood him. He must be directly translating a Klanaan expression. This wouldn’t be her first time dealing with foreigners struggling with Grammus.

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“I found myself in a coffin,” he said, shaping a box with his hands. “I wondered if it was the afterlife, and I was—”

“Ah! A coffin? I know what you’re looking for. You’re at the right place.”

“I am?” A stroke of relief brushed away the confusion on the Klanaan’s face. “I’ve been wandering for so long. I thought this was my punishment for eternity.”

Another Klanaan expression? Aileen guessed. “Yes, this is quite a large building. Very easy to get lost. The good news is that you’ve arrived at your destination.” She nodded at the yawning drop to her right. “This is the Room of the Resting Dragon, the tomb of Hiero, the First Emperor of Krysperia. His coffin is at the bottom. That’s the only coffin in the whole Fahllyr House.”

The foreign Hiero peered over the hole around. “Yes, I’ve had a look around. This doesn’t seem to look like an afterlife.”

“A tomb,” Aileen patiently said. “You were looking for a tomb with a coffin, and now you’ve found it. The word ‘afterlife’ means another thing in Grammus. Those two words are related, so I understand your confusion. They have very different spellings and pronunciations, though.”

“I see…” His expression became even more puzzled.

“And yes, I agree this isn’t much of a tomb.” She gave him a resigned shrug. It was embarrassing to admit it.

Krysperia was the most powerful empire in the history of Tabithala, their First Emperor, the legendary hero who saved the continent—one would expect his tomb would have better treatment. However, this wasn’t really his final resting place, so it was slowly becoming forgotten. In time, the Fahllyr family wouldn’t bother to send trainees here and abandon their nonsense tradition entirely.

Unfortunately for Aileen, she was born too early for that to happen.

“I expected something different,” said the Klanaan.

“This place wasn’t like this before,” said Aileen. “It should be grand, extravagant, full of treasures and all that—and it was! However, what happened was…” She explained its history and why it was bare at present. She also clarified to the Klanaan that the coffin didn’t hold the First Emperor’s corpse. “So, it’s not a big deal that it looks like this now,” she ended her explanation.

“Is this a place of worship for the First Emperor you speak of?”

“Um, sure? Yes. In the past. No worshipping currently going on here now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are emperors… gods? Is your Hiero a god?”

“No, no, no. Emperors head an empire like that of Krysperia. There’s probably no Klanaan word for it. To make it simple for you, an emperor is the ruler of Krysperia, the same as Lord Mako is the ruler of Klana.”

“And your Hiero—”

“He’s not my Hiero.”

“—is the first ruler of Krysperia,” finished the living Hiero.

“Exactly. You got it.” Aileen was about to snidely remark that he should know about such a famous person when she realized she didn’t know a single fact about Klana.

“That’s why you were skeptical when I gave my name.”

“Skeptical? Sure, something like that. But it was all a simple misunderstanding.” She chuckled as if she wasn’t about to punch him moments before. Using the brain in her head—not in her fist—Aileen deduced that this Klanaan’s name coincidentally had the same pronunciation as the First Emperor.

“But is your Hiero—” began Hiero-With-A-Scar.

“Again, he’s not my Hiero.”

“—also a god?” He nudged his head at the door. “He has incredible feats written there.”

“He is descended from a god, the Ancestor Dragon,” said Aileen, holding back a comment that she didn’t believe half of what was on the door. “But was he a god himself? That’s the subject of intense debate.” She didn’t want to participate in it. It didn’t make any difference to her if the First Emperor was an actual god or not—let the clergy with no real contribution to society fight over that nonsense. “We can say for sure that he has divine blood.”

“So, I’m in the afterlife ruled by this godlike being called Hiero.”

“It’s a tomb,” Aileen corrected him. But it was no use. The Klanaan was talking more to himself than her.

“This is no coincidence…” he muttered. “We have the same name and abilities.”

“Abilities?”

“This must be a specially-crafted afterlife for—”

“A tomb!” Aileen half-yelled.

The Klanaan noticed her again. “Well… what do I do now?” he asked. “I’m not sure where to go in this afterlife.”

He keeps calling it the afterlife, Aileen grumbled in her head. But no one was paying her to tutor this man on Grammus, so she gave up trying to correct him.

“Tell you what,” she said, twirling a finger, “I’m going to show you the rest of the Fahllyr House—the artworks, sculptures, everything. We’ll also visit the library. It boasts a collection of books not found anywhere else in the empire. Or the continent. You’ll be amazed at the rich history of Krysperia.” She couldn’t let this man return to Klana with the wrong impression of Krysperia, based only on an abandoned tomb.

I can also ditch my shift! Breaking open two clams with one rock, as the elderly would say.

“You’re going to tour me?” asked Hiero, the Klanaan.

“I will. That’s my job as a representative of the Fahllyrs.” She placed her right hand over her heart, making a sign of the owl king as she bowed.

“Are there many souls here?”

“Do you mean people?” Aileen was tempted to roll her eyes. This man should’ve gotten better teachers—he was scammed even if he had paid them rotten acorns. But what could be expected from an inconsequential place like Klana?

Hypocritical coming from me. She knew nothing about the Klanaan language or where it was on the map.

“No. Souls…” said the Klanaan. “Because this is the afterlife?”

“It’s a—ugh, never mind. If the First Emperor’s body is here, then maybe his soul is also. But both aren’t. If you’re talking about people, many Fahllyrs live in this House. We also have many maids, manservants, and imperial guards.” The Fahllyrs weren’t poor—this man should drill that into his head. “You haven’t met most of them because the House is vast. You’ll see when we go around.”

“My gratitude, uh, miss, for offering to accompany me.” He bowed. “I’m hoping to find eternal rest.”

“We’ll find a place to rest your feet upstairs. But before that—” Aileen gazed down at her dusty clothes “—I must wear my armor. I left it… down there. Stay here, understand? Don’t wander off. Also, don’t follow me.”

“Before you go, miss! I haven’t gotten your name.”

Aileen stopped mid-stride. “Oh, you’re right. I forgot to introduce myself.”

She was accustomed to being presented by someone else to guests. Even if there was no one to introduce her, it usually wasn’t needed because people knew who she was. At the least, they’d call her Lady Fahllyr, evident from her hair color.

“It’s common courtesy that you give your name after I gave mine.” The Klanaan smiled to show he meant it in a light-hearted manner, not a rebuke.

Aileen’s left cheek twitched. She didn’t want to be lectured on courtesy; she had enough of that from her mother. Even if this man turned out to be Lord Mako’s brother, it wasn’t his station to act like her equal.

“If you don’t introduce yourself,” he said, “I’ll call you Lady Sleepy.”

“Sleepy?” Her fingers flew to her hair, trying to untangle her wild red locks. She must’ve looked like she had woken up. I did just wake up! Were her eyes red from getting disturbed? Did she have marks on her face from the cot?

Her neck and cheeks smoldered. It was easy to spot if she blushed because of her pale complexion. Embarrassment fanned her temper.

What if she pushed this annoying Klanaan off the ledge? No one knew he was here. She could hide his corpse inside the empty coffin of the First Emperor. That way, it’d have something inside instead of being useless. Could the stench of decay pierce through the coffin?

“Let’s start again,” the Klanaan interrupted Aileen’s murderous plans. “I’m Hiero, at your service.” He bowed low.

Somehow, that assuaged Aileen’s feelings.

“Okay, Hiero of Klana. I’m Aileen Fahllyr of Krysperia.” She curtsied, holding her hands out to the side as if holding a skirt of air.

She expected some recognition, any reaction at all from hearing her name, but got none.

This man was a sheltered noble, knowing nothing outside the cushy confines of his manor, ignorant of the world's affairs—the type Aileen hated the most. Useless, leeching off the resources his ancestors unrightfully gained in the past. The world would still move forward even if he were erased from it.

Fortunately for him, Aileen was too lazy to hide a dead body.

And why waste this perfect opportunity to escape her shift? Premier Eamon or anyone else couldn’t complain. This stain on the famous Fahllyr hospitality would’ve gone unaddressed without her. Imagine if an accident befell this man while he traversed the Fahllyr House unaccompanied, like falling off the ledge?

“I’ll return in fifteen minutes, Hiero of Klana.” Aileen walked down the ramp as briskly as possible while maintaining a dignified air.

After a couple of circles down the spiral, she peered up. The Klanaan was at the top, looking down. He waved at her. She pretended she didn’t see him and continued her descent.

“Lady Sleepy…” Aileen mumbled as she wore her breastplate. With traces of aileh, she formed binding lines to hold the pieces in their correct position while contorting her arms to reach every buckle and fasten them.

He was only guessing… right? He couldn’t have seen her sleeping. That’d mean passing the tripwire without activating it. He wasn’t a sealcrafter. No coaxing lines etched the skin of his hands. If he could neutralize the tripwire, why would he reactivate it afterward and alert her?

Aileen shook her head as she attached the vambraces to her arms. The Klanaan merely poked fun at her appearance. That was all. She imagined exciting scenarios like he was some assassin to punctuate her dull days. “Pathetic…”

Returning to the surface, she found the Klanaan reading the writings on the door again. This time, he pronounced the words aloud. More than half were wrong. He sounded like a child learning to speak.

But he was bettering himself, which slightly dusted off Aileen’s low opinion of him.

He turned around. His eyes opened wider in mild surprise. “Impressive armor you have, Aileen.”

She paused, wondering if she should raise a fuzz at the lack of an honorific, but decided to accept the compliment and move on. “Before we go up, there’s something important you should know. Hiero is also the name of the First Emperor. People might not take it too kindly, thinking you took on his name. Do you understand the problem?”

The man blinked, then nodded. “I perfectly do. What fake name should I use?”

Aileen raised her chin, impressed that he was willing to forego his name with no hint of arrogance. “Hiero of Klana. Hiero. Klana. Hiero… na? Let us say Hierona.” She kept a straight face. It sounded like a girl’s name.

Hiero didn’t show an inkling that she was making fun of him. “Then Hierona, I shall be.”

“Come, Hierona. I’ll show you the wonders held in the Fahllyr House.”

----------------------------------------

Aileen led Hierona, the former Hiero, to the Hall of Divine Rulers two levels above. It held statues and paintings of the ruling line of Krysperia. She didn’t reach this hall when touring the Ottarlans because this was underground. It wasn’t located in a more prominent part of the building. It was the Fahllyr House, after all, not that of the imperial family—a slight powerplay.

“To start our journey through the history of Krysperia,” said Aileen, “it is only proper we begin from where the power of the emperors came.” She raised her arms as she presented an exquisite sculpture more than twice her height. “This magnificent work was made over two hundred and fifty years ago.”

The glossy surface of the granite statue was covered in scales—each painstakingly carved from red moals. The dark of the granite peeked in places, outlining the scales and making them pop. Though not of precious stones and made by a lesser-known artist, Aileen always thought the statue impressive.

Perfect to awe her guest.

“Tiskas!” Hierona gasped, his eyes widening.

Aileen had a smug smile on her face. It was right to bring him here. She proudly introduced the statue, “This is the Ancestor Dragon.”