Klarion stood still for a moment, watching Hector move toward the far side of the Hall. Hector had given him some good advice, but there were still a few things he wanted to ask about. He noticed one of the attendants — dressed in dark, formal, full-body robes with an insignia that looked like a stylized circle on the cap she wore over her short brown hair — finishing up with another scion that had been previously in the room. The attendant was busy bent over some papers on the table within the booth and didn’t notice when Klarion approached at first.
“Excuse me,” Klarion said, trying not to startle her. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions I had.”
She hurriedly stacked the last few papers, then turned to look at him. She offered a smile that seemed almost rehearsed, but still polite. “Of course, scion,” she replied. “How may I assist you?”
“I was wondering if you could explain to me how things work here in the Hall of Bonds,” he began. “Particularly regarding the acquisition of a bodyguard.”
The attendant’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he was not sure why. “Certainly, sir. The Hall of Bonds is the central hub for scions at the Imperial Academy to secure assistance in various forms — be it through bodyguards, servants, or other specialized roles. If you would like to take a seat, I will explain how it all works.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the help,” Klarion said, stepping around to take a seat in one of the chairs that stood by the table.
“Of course, sir, that is my role here,” she said before moving opposite him and taking a seat as he did so. “The first thing you should be aware of is the general fees and costs. Rather than imperial coin, every purchase here is made using currencies awarded by the Imperial Academy itself. Most commonly costs are tallied in Service Coins, but occasionally you might be required to spend some of the various Seals as well, depending on the rarity or quality of those who have caught your eye.”
“And what determines quality?”
“Generally speaking, the potential bond’s skill set is what is most taken into account, with the resulting price ranging from a small handful of Service Coins up to the hundreds of thousands with additional Seals required as well. The only exception to this is for those brought to the Hall of Bonds to fill positions as bodyguards.”
Klarion nodded, his interest deepening. “That makes sense. So, the bodyguards, what makes their acquisition different?”
The attendant shifted in her seat. “Bodyguards are unique among the bonds offered here. Their purpose is not merely to serve but to protect, often in the most dangerous of circumstances. The Imperial Academy, and the Empire as a whole, invests significantly in every scion that enrolls. Bodyguards are one of the means to protect that investment, which is why every single one is purchasable with a single Mark of Bonds. So long as their tier lines up with the purchasing scion, that is. That is easy to determine, and based on what year the scion is in at the Academy.”
“Purchasable?” He tried to be polite, but there was an undercurrent of anger in the question. “So all were sold to the Hall of Bonds for scions to purchase?”
“Seven Princes, no,” the attendant objected, shaking her head. “The bodyguards available here, much like every other Hall of Bonds, are sourced from a variety of backgrounds,” she hurried to explain. “Quite a few are volunteers, seeking the prestige and opportunities that come with serving a scion. Others are indentured servants, fulfilling obligations or debts through the service. There are even sometimes races considered to be monsters, though those are carefully overseen by the Provost of Bonds.” She took a deep breath, having rushed to explain in response to Klarion’s tone. “Comparatively, there are only a few that were previously slaves.”
“I see. Thank you for explaining,” Klarion said, some of the heat gone from his tone. “So the bonds have a say in the matter then?”
“In most cases, yes,” she nodded. “While some few bonds are still assigned based on contracts or obligations, many are given opportunities to choose their scion. This ensures a base on which to build mutual respect and the alignment of goals, which are critical to effective service.”
“That’s… surprising,” Klarion admitted, his brow furrowing. “I assumed the process would be more one-sided.”
“Most scions that have come from House Blacksword in the past do assume so.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she froze, face going white at what she had just said. “I’m sorry scion, I did not mean to imply anything!”
Klarion’s eyes narrowed at the attendant’s sudden change in demeanor. Her initial confidence had dissolved in an instant, replaced by a pale, wide-eyed expression of panic. He could see her throat bob as she swallowed hard, clearly regretting her words.
“House Blacksword?” he repeated what she had said, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
The attendant hesitated, clearly torn between her duty to answer and her obvious fear of overstepping with a scion of an Archducal House. “I… I meant no disrespect, Scion,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “Please understand, I did not intend to—”
Klarion held up a hand to stop her. “Relax,” he said, his tone calm but insistent. “I’m not offended, only curious. What is it about House Blacksword that makes you say most scions from it would assume the process is more one-sided?”
The attendant hesitated again, glancing nervously around the booth as though expecting someone to appear and reprimand her for her slip. But when no savior came, the handful of other attendants nearby being busy with other scions, she finally let out a soft sigh and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
“You would know better than me, but House Blacksword is one of the oldest and most formidable high noble houses in this sector of the Empire,” she began. “Its scions are renowned for their strength, their cunning, and at the Halls of Bonds their reputation for dominance.”
“Dominance?” Klarion echoed, his brow furrowing deeper.
The attendant nodded, apparently relieved Klarion was not getting upset at what she was telling him. “They are known for viewing the world largely through the lens of conquest. Bonds, alliance, even relationships — it is said that they see them all as things to be commanded, not shared.”
Klarion sat back, processing what the attendant had shared. When Klarion leaned away from her, some color began to return to her face. “And you assumed I would be the same?”
“No, scion… that is to say…” She stumbled over her words, still somewhat mortified.
Klarion held up his hand again, stopping her apology. He’d have to think about what she had said later, but right now he was here at the Hall of Bonds for a specific purpose. “It’s fine. I’m not angry. Could you tell me a bit more about why the process is the way it is?”
“Of course!” The attendant said loudly, seizing upon the change in topic like a woman grabbing a floating spar to avoid drowning at sea. “The Academy values balance. A bond that is forced into service without consent is unlikely to perform to their full potential. By allowing bonds say in whether they become bodyguards or not, the Academy hopes to foster stronger, more effective partnerships which will mean more scions alive to serve the Empire.”
“And the Hall itself — how does it manage all of this?” The main entrance of the Hall had been busy, but given the size of the areas connected to that area, he expected there to be hundreds of scions here at any one time. Backing up that impression was the fact that, even though the area he was in now was a bit quiet, there still seemed to be a few dozen attendants scattered throughout going about their duties with brisk efficiency, especially when scions approached them for assistance. Everywhere he looked, they guided scions to private meeting booths whenever a simple answer was not enough to address questions. The entire place buzzed with an energy that was both chaotic and meticulously orchestrated. Only especially careful management could make all that possible.
“The Hall of Bonds operates under the oversight of the Provost of Bonds,” the attendant explained. “They, and the team they work with, are responsible for ensuring that all transactions are conducted fairly and that both scions and bonds adhere to the Academy’s standards. The Provost also oversees the acquisition and care of new bonds, ensuring that they are made ready for their inevitable scions.”
“It sounds like a monumental task.”
“It is,” the attendant agreed, leaning back in pride. “But the Provost and their team are highly skilled, and the Hall of Bonds is designed to operate efficiently. Every detail, from the initial assessment to the final transaction, is meticulously managed.”
“Thank you for the insight…?” Klarion said, rising from his seat.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Clarissa,” she responded after a moment’s hesitation.
He met her gaze, his tone sincere. “It’s clear you’ve put a lot of effort into helping students like me navigate everything.”
Clarissa inclined her head, “You’re kind to say so, especially after what I said. Please, if you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Actually, I do,” he said as he stood. “Assuming that the doors along the perimeter of this hall take me to where I could meet potential bodyguards, does it matter which one I go through?”
“Possibly, scion, it depends on what kind of bodyguard you are looking for.”
Klarion hesitated for a second but ultimately went with the truth. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’m looking for,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m not really sure where to begin either. I don’t suppose you have a recommendation?”
The attendant’s eyes roamed over Klarion, pausing briefly on his stance and the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his back. With a small, professional smile like the one she had greeted him with, Clarissa nodded, as if coming to a decision.
“I believe the best door for you would be this way. If you follow me to Assembly Hall Thirteen, you will be able to see some potential bodyguards waiting to be selected,” Clarissa said, her tone polite but certain. Standing, she gestured for Klarion to follow her to a door near the opposite corner. Her movements were confident as she led him.
With the initial decision taken out of his hands, Klarion was looking forward to seeing the options the attendant seemed to be referring to. Perhaps seeing some potential bodyguards in the flesh would give him greater clarity.
When the attendant pushed the large door open to the assembly hall, Klarion’s breath caught in his throat. The room was both grand and unnervingly clinical, a striking juxtaposition of opulence and efficiency. The space itself was enormous, easily several times larger than the classroom he had been in earlier today. Intricate carvings of what he guessed to be bodyguards were across the ceiling, each forming part of a line being inspected by figures in the garb of attendants of the Hall of Bonds. It was beautiful to look at, for all that the walls around the expansive room had no such decorations. Not that the designer had chosen not to decorate them. There simply had not been enough room if that had wanted to do so.
Every square inch of wall was covered with glass partitions, each framing a separate, comfortably furnished cell.
From where he stood, Klarion saw that the cells held individuals of varying races and appearances — potential bodyguards available for selection by first-year scions. Some stood tall and imposing, clearly seasoned warriors, while others sat quietly, their sharp eyes darting between the scions in the room. A few appeared entirely nonchalant, reclining with an air of indifference, while others paced, their restlessness betraying barely restrained energy.
Unthinking, Klarion walked deeper into the room, Clarissa hovering close to his side, but keeping silent to let him take in the view. As he stepped closer to the nearest cell, he saw that it was illuminated with soft, ambient light that highlighted the occupant of this room, in this case, a young dwarf with arms as thick as Klarion’s waist. While the light allowed him a good look at the dwarf, who was glaring back out at him, Klarion couldn’t help but think the whole setup had a museum-like quality. The furniture in the cells — deep armchairs, small bookshelves, and tables set with refreshments made it clear the occupants were not being treated like simple commodities but it still set Klarion’s teeth on edge.
As he grew close to the center of the glass partition, a freestanding rose from the floor to float in mid-air. As it came to a hover, the screen hovered in place; it lit up to display a detailed profile of the potential bodyguard. Curious, Klarion leaned in and waved his hand over the display, which caused the image to scroll through the dwarf’s history to show things like his fighting style, skills, and even recordings of combat demonstrations. It even presented a partial image similar to Klarion’s own character sheet.
Name: Cregan
Race: Hill Dwarf (Drugan III)
Class: TBD - Level 5
Profession(s): TBD
Faction: Imperial Academy - Hall of Bonds
Rank: Bodyguard (Prospective)
Strength: 19
Dexterity: 11
Vitality: 17
Endurance: 21
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 5
Charisma: 4
Luck: 2
Apparently, the dwarf, who was named Cregan, was quite skilled with the warhammer for all that he still lacked a class. At the very bottom of the screen was a button, which he assumed would allow an interested scion to speak with the occupant.
Seeing Klarion extending a finger to press the button, Cregan began moving his mouth and shaking his head angrily. As soon as the button depressed, a voice came through the screen.
“—damned if I’ve tae protect a fekkin’ Blacksword. Keep movin’, scarface, or I’ll gie ye a few more beauty marks afore I’m bound tae ye.”
Klarion’s red-gold eyes narrowed, his expression turning cold. His massive frame leaned closer to the glass, and as he did so the angry dwarf took a nervous step back. “You’d do well to watch your tongue,” he said, his voice low, “I have no idea what you have against my House, but I have no interest in forcing loyalty on someone not willing to give it.”
Turning sharply, Klarion removed his finger and dismissed the now nervous dwarf with a final glare. Putting the dwarf from his mind, his gaze landed on the desk in the middle of the room that he had missed in the wake of seeing all the cells. Circular in shape, it was made of a polished marble streaked with veins of shimmering gold. Behind it sat a middle-aged human woman with sharp features and an air of quiet authority. Unlike the attendant who escorted him, her uniform bore intricate embroidery indicating a higher rank.
Klarion stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the polished stone floor. When he was roughly parallel with the desk, the woman behind it spoke.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” She said, her expression still stern. “Each candidate here has been carefully curated for first-year scions such as yourself. May I assist you in narrowing your search?”
Klarion shook his head. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to look by myself for now.”
“As you wish,” she said with a nod, her gaze lingering on the crest of Blacksword on his shoulder before returning to her work.
Klarion’s eyes went back to the cells, taking in the diverse array of potential bodyguards as he began making his way slowly around the room. He passed a lithe human woman with dark, piercing eyes who leaned casually against the wall in her cell. The screen outside her cell lit up to highlight her expertise in espionage and stealth. Again, no class. But that made sense to a degree, as none of the first-year scions had classes of their own yet, either. When he reached down to press the button, she calmly drew her thumb across her throat. Guess she was another one who had problems with House Blacksword.
By the time the sixth occupant had rejected him outright, Klarion was starting to think he might have a problem. Each echoed with the same sentiment: disgust, fear, or outright hatred for House Blacksword. Klarion’s frustration grew with every rejection, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral.
Klarion stared at the display screen in front of the latest candidate’s cell, detailing his impressive combat skills and proficiency in wind magic. Based on their profile, the young Sky Elf would be an excellent choice for him — a perfect balance of skill and intelligence. But his face twisted into a sneer when Klarion introduced himself, and the elf wasted no time in voicing his refusal.
“Blacksword? No thanks,” they scoffed. “I’d rather rot in here than serve your lot.”
Klarion turned away without another word, looking for the next cell that would catch his attention. Even if he received dozens of rejections, the number of cells around the room still offered plenty of options. He would just need to keep looking. Clarissa, still walking by his side, echoed his thoughts as he considered his options on which cell to approach next.
“Don’t let it trouble you too much, Scion Blacksword,” she said her tone back to being calm and professional. “We’ve barely scratched the surface of the options available to you. The Hall of Bonds is vast, and there are plenty of candidates yet to review. While some may let their biases cloud their judgment, there are many here who will value opportunity over reputation. Take your time — someone suitable is bound to be found.”
Klarion nodded, but before he could respond, his attention moved to the far corner of the hall, where a small commotion had broken out between two scions in front of a cell. He could not see the occupant from where he was standing, only a lot of movement within the cell. “What’s happening over there?”
The attendant followed his gaze, a small frown crossing her face as she turned back to Klarion. “Ah, that would be Hatsune’s cell. She is a young Leporine, or bunnykin, as they are more commonly called by many. They’re known for their agility and speed. She seems to be performing a series of extreme dodging exercises. The scions standing in front of her cell are… somewhat less than impressed.”
Moving closer to get a better view past the pair of arguing scions, Klarion couldn’t help but watch as the Leporine bounded with incredible grace around her cell only to come to a halt back before the glass, glaring out at the two scions observing her. Even through the translucent barrier, her presence is commanding. Standing tall and poised, her long silver-tipped ears twitch slightly, capturing every sound around her. A thin layer of fur graces the backs of her arms, a soft shade of gray with subtle silver highlights that seem to shimmer in the ambient light. Her long, lean legs are flexed with taut muscles, quivering slightly from the exercise she had just finished.
Her eyes shifted over to Klarion as the two scions before her cell continued to bicker. A vibrant shade of green, he almost stopped in place under the intensity of her gaze. There was a predatory sharpness to them, as if she was always evaluating the world around her, weighing people, situations, and the smallest details. Her face was just as striking, with sharp, delicate features. Her high cheekbones were subtly pronounced, giving her a regal appearance, while her jawbone was defined and strong under a small nose that was slightly upturned at the tip. It added a touch of softness to an otherwise commanding visage. Framing her face was a cascade of silver-gray locks that fell to her mid-back, sleek and well-kept. The silver strands caught the light in such a way that it seemed to shimmer with her movements. Her thin lips pursed at his continued stare.
Which, of course, was when he realized he was not only staring at her but had come to a complete halt while he did so. Klarion jerked his eyes to the floor. He felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. And then the blush deepened as he felt embarrassed about being embarrassed.
When he finally felt like he had the blush under control, he looked back up at her to see her brow arched. It gave off the impression that she knew exactly why he was there, and that the idea of being observed by yet another scion did not faze her in the least.
Tearing his eyes away from her face, Klarion took in the rest of her. Hatsune wore clothing that was simple yet functional, dark and unadorned, clearly made for combat rather than ceremony. It was a practical design, with no embellishments, just the occasional glint of silver and black straps that secured it. Though he had already been rejected a number of times by other prospective bodyguards, something about Hatsune pulled him to see if she might consider it.
Then, at last, Klarion’s ears caught the words of the two scions, and a burning fury ignited within him.