After spending the entire morning and most of the afternoon asleep, Kylen dragged me out of bed to attend Weiland’s dinner. I was glad to see him moving from the blow I'd dealt him, but not glad to be woken up. The night before had been exhausting in more ways than one. I’d slogged over to the high-end restaurant where we’d be eating in a daze.

There we met Weiland, who waited for us outside the door. I could tell something scared him, but I wasn’t sure what. He kept checking the timepiece he kept in his pocket. After a few seconds, he spotted us approaching.

“You’re here! Thank Zeus,” he said. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to make it. Let’s head in. Hopefully, he hasn’t been waiting long.”

He opened the door and motioned for us to follow. We entered a grand dining room with a single table. To prepare for our arrival, the rest had been cleared away and shoved to the perimeter. It sat in the center of the room, occupied by a single person. Our host.

The man sitting at the head of the table bore a striking resemblance to Weiland; he had the same dark black curls, the same angular chin, and most similarly of all, he held a leather-bound book in hand. That part of how I'd imagined him wasn't wrong. He was bookish. The adage ‘like father like son’ held true after all. This was the man who’d rented an entire ballroom for a meal with his son and a handful of his friends. He was Ser Baldavin Adroze, and he looked concerned.

Baldavin’s brows were knit in worry as he scanned the contents of the book he read; his lips pinched in a tight line. He was so engaged with the written words, he didn’t notice when the three of us entered the room.

He looked up when he heard the door close. The nervous expression vanished. He spotted Weiland, and his eyes narrowed. His voice boomed out like a clap of thunder.

“Weiland, my son and heir. Have you finally decided to end this dalliance with the Legion?”

Weiland snorted and waved his finger at the seated man. “Cut it out. They’ve never met you before, so all they know is that you’re an assemblyman.”

I’d had no clue he was an assemblyman. I’d lumped him into the broad category of generic bureaucrat and forgotten about him. Now, I found out at dinner with the man that he reported to Zeus. Whoops.

Weiland turned to us. “I promise, he’s not usually like this. He’s being melodramatic to give me a hard time. He does this whenever I introduce him to someone. You should’ve seen the first time I courted someone. I swear, he spoke like this for an hour before--”

Baldavin’s face broke out into a grin. “Melodramatic? You wound me! I’ll settle for dramatic or nothing at all. There’s nothing mellow about me.”

“I think you’ve already proven that, Ser,” I said. I tried hard to keep my tone casual. “You’ve already given Kylen quite a fright. I’m not sure he’ll ever recover.”

The red-headed man to my left had gone pale. He trembled like he faced something horrifying. He dropped to one knee and brought his hand across his chest in a typical Legion salute.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Ser Baldavin! Never have I been in the presence of a living representative of Zeus! I humbly submit myself for your inspection.”

Baldavin looked bewildered. Weiland blushed because of secondhand embarrassment. I took it upon myself to bail my misguided friend out.

“Kylen,” I whispered under my breath. “He’s a person. We’re here to share a meal with him. Get off the floor.”

It took him a few seconds, but Kylen noticed that the pair of us hadn’t also dropped to the floor.

“Eternal apologies,” he said as he stood up from the ground. “I’m not sure what’s the most socially appropriate way to greet someone of your station."

Baldavin hummed and inclined his head. “It’s alright, young faithful. It’s for the best if you forget I am an assemblyman for the evening. Instead, I’d much rather you view me as the father of a friend. It’s easier for all of us if we dispense with any formality. Come sit, and we’ll do introductions.”

We walked over and sat on chairs near him. Kylen and I on one side, Weiland alone on the other.

He clapped his hands together. “I’ll go first. You may already know this, but I am Baldavin Adroze. You may call be Baldavin, or Adroze Senior, but never baldy. No one may refer to me as baldy, for fear that they might speak something evil into existence.”

Kylen’s mouth dropped open. The level of informality shocked him. If he was going to do that whenever he encountered someone tangentially associated with Zeus, then he could kiss a career in politics goodbye. It showed how dedicated he was to his faith. Often to a fault.

Baldavin nodded at me. “Now Ghul, your turn. Introduce yourself.”

“I’m Ghul. I’ve got the annoying habit of breaking weapons in half. I’m friends with Weiland,” I motioned over to his son with a thumb. “But I think you already know all that.”

“It’s always good to have a refresher,” Baldavin said. “Is everyone ready to eat?”

Kylen hadn’t yet introduced himself, but he nodded. I followed his lead and nodded, too. Weiland shrugged.

“Very well then,” Baldavin cleared his throat and tapped a fork against a wine glass. “I’d like to raise a toast to the fine young legionnaires of Fletcher Hall, my son among them. Know the Empire thanks you for standing against the despots to the north. There is no more worthy a task, just as there is no finer soldiery than those eating before me.”

We weren’t eating yet, I thought. It probably just didn’t sound as good in a toast. Where’s the food, anyway?

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Baldavin made a flurry of hand motions, and then two servants appeared with wheeled carts of food. They served us in silence, and I didn’t waste any time digging in.

Whilst I stuffed my face, Weiland interrogated his father.

“Do you know why we’re going to war?” he asked. “Everyone’s been cagey about the source of the conflict. Other than a handful of bloody skirmishes in the Lakelands, I can’t figure out what sparked all of this.”

If that was an unusual topic for their family dinners, Baldavin didn’t say anything.

He frowned in disapproval. “I can tell you, but you aren’t going to like it. It’s foolish. You’re all going to war because a desperate man couldn’t handle being rejected by a teenager. He dragged the entire continent into his quest to secure a wife because it hurt his feelings.”

“Wait a second,” I said, my mouth full of half-chewed food. “We’re going to war because of a spat between lovers?”

Baldavin shook his head. “I wish it were that simple. It’s not a lovers’ quarrel, it’s a rejected marriage contract.”

“Isn’t that how conflicts between nations usually start?” Kylen asked. “If I recall correctly, there’s precedent for this in the scriptures. The two marriages of the she-witch Helen.”

Baldavin shook his head again. “That debacle was because of a group oath, not a hurt ego. Modern conflict usually starts because of a limited resource. It’s then resolved by a marriage and a trade agreement. It’s been centuries since as blatant a warmonger as The Troll King was active.”

“He’s been around for a long time, right? So why hasn’t something like this happened before now? And how’d this rope in the entire Empire?” I asked.

As far as I knew, the Troll King’s feud with Zeus had been ongoing for centuries. I’d read something about that a few days ago. I didn’t understand how it connected to what Baldavin was telling me.

“The girl who declined the marriage contract was Zeus’ own daughter,” he explained. “Despite her anonymous status, she’s the most eligible bachelorette on the continent. It’d be the ultimate blow against Zeus for the Troll King to take her as a bride. If he can’t protect his own household, then how can he be expected to protect New Rome?”

I didn't realize Zeus had sired anyone in my generation. If he'd truly had a child, then I could see how a war would be fought over her. He was supreme among the gods, and that made her the ultimate pawn.

I frowned. “So he’s trying to prove that Zeus is incompetent?”

“I’m not sure I’d ever use the words ‘incompetent’ and ‘Zeus’ in the same sentence, but yes. If the marriage happens, then it shows the Principality will be supreme on the continent. New Rome cannot allow it. The assembly will not stand for it.”

His tone was furious, and again I felt grateful I was outside of politics. Issues that a punch couldn’t solve left me feeling overwhelmed.

“And what does Zeus’ daughter want?”

“She wants nothing more than—” Baldavin began, but Weiland cut him off.

“Father, I think it’s best if we move on from this area of conversation. I believe you have something for one of my friends?”

Baldavin looked confused for a moment, but then understanding dawned on his face. He motioned to a servant, who then brought out a small rectangular chest.

The container had clearly seen better days. The frayed edges of the leather had created an ugly, white web of scars that marred its surface. A layer of dust coated the thing, interrupted occasionally by dark metal accents. The accents had a strange design stamped on them: a single half-lidded eye.

The box meant nothing to me, and the symbol meant even less. That wasn’t true for everyone at the table. To my right, Kylen choked on his drink.

“Is that what I think it is?” He sputtered. “A piece from the Kyklopes forge? That must be worth a king’s ransom!”

Baldavin considered Kylen’s statement, and then nodded. “It’s only a prototype of a greater weapon, but it’s one that’s meant for war. I had a feeling it’d find use before this conflict was through. So, I ordered it retrieved from my family vault. It does the Empire of New Rome no good underneath the ground.”

He inserted a key into a lock on the front of the chest and turned. The lid popped open. The interior of the box was lined with bright red velvet, creating a stark contrast to the weapon at its center. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. A deadly work of art.

It was a large gauntlet made from a golden, interlocking plate with fluted lines running up the forearm. Each joint had a sharp edge jutting out of the armor, taking it from protective to offensive in function. Engraved on each finger was a scene from the history of New Rome, all of which ended in Zeus’ triumph. A large socket sat empty on the back of the hand.

The flames of a nearby torch reflected off the polished metal, making a dance of light spill onto the dinner table.

I don’t know what it’s made of, I thought. Nor do I know what it’s capable of, but I know I want it. There’s no reason a weapon so magnificent should sit unused.

“Does it have a name?” I asked. I tried not to let the reverence I felt creep into my tone. This was a masterwork.

“The finished product does,” he said. “But it’s not one you’ll ever encounter. I doubt the divine who commissioned this even knows that a twin exists. So, its official designation is ‘Prototype Nine,’ and it’ll be up to you to earn a name for it on the battlefield.”

Disbelief tore through my thoughts. He’d said that it’d be up to me.

“What do you mean, it’ll be up to me?”

He gave me a frank look. “Does it look like anyone else here could wear a gauntlet of this size, let alone wield it effectively? It’s mammoth!”

The gauntlet was much larger than anything of its like I’d seen before. I looked at my fist; I knew it was made for the gauntlet and longed to test it on the battlefield. I wanted it. Still, it felt strange for something so valuable to be given away.

“You’re giving it to me? Couldn’t you sell it?”

Internally, the thought of him selling it made me cringe. If it wasn’t melted down for material, it’d sit in a chest in a vault somewhere for the rest of time. I didn’t know which was worse.

“We’ve got no need for money, Ghul,” Weiland interjected. “We’ve been looking for someone to wield it since my grandfather stole the thing. It’s why I mentioned you in a letter home.”

“How can you be sure I’m not going to run away with it?”

I wasn’t sure why I kept trying to talk my way out of such an outstanding weapon. It neatly solved the durability problem I’d been having with [The Fist that Parts the Sea].

“I believe in my son’s judgement of character. Plus, I investigated you on my own. I trust anyone employed by Jacobi Radeos.”

I blinked. His statement had caught off-guard.

“I wasn’t aware the details of my employment were available to the public.”

“They aren’t,” Baldavin said. “But I am not the public, nor am I one to hand a celestium weapon to a stranger.”

He rolled something spherical out of his sleeve and then palmed it in his hand. It reminded me of a trick that I’d seen card cheats use. He held up for us to inspect, pinched between his middle-finger and his thumb.

It was the size of a marble and filled with more colors than I could name. At its center was a vortex of color, a chaotic swirl where my reflection appeared distorted and muddled, like a rippling puddle. The longer I looked, the more it confused me.

“This is a seeing orb that’s been in my family for generations. It functions as both a minor oracle and a thorough background check,” Baldavin said. “No one, not even a young legionnaire, has the authority to escape its sight.”

Weiland and Kylen exchanged confused glances.

I snapped my fork in half.