Ethan leaned against the railing on his private balcony in the guest wing, overlooking the remarkable, mobile city. He was continually impressed by the fact that he couldn’t feel the movement, though ‘because magic’ would always follow the observation. “Going to take some time to get used to all this,” he said.

‘All this’ included the medieval city spreading out before him. Beyond the palace gardens was a wall which separated it from the city proper. Past that were elaborate mansions of white stone and red tiles, which–while paling in comparison to the castle–were still no doubt housing for the richest citizens. Farther out looked like markets, followed by smaller houses, then parks and trees which led to the outer wall.

Ethan stepped away from the balcony and returned to his lavish suite. The room was pristine, with a large bed complete with canopy curtains, a sitting area and table for meals, and a small private washroom with questionable facilities. “Please let the plumbing be magic,” he muttered, and not for the first time.

There were interesting works of art in the room as well, mostly depicting monsters and warriors locked in combat, but Ethan found himself drawn to the bust of some unnamed man sitting on a shelf at eye level. The man had the look of a philosopher, and seemed contemplative. The way the hair was carved, and the prominent monocle created a very distinctive and familiar look which amused Ethan. The stone head was proving to be a good listener.

“Well Garrus, we have our year. I can make this work, right? I wasn’t lying to the king, afterall. Well…much. I really am from a long line of warriors. Bishops have fought and died in more wars than I can count. My life really has been leading up to a moment like this…”

He sighed, flopping into one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs. “I just neglected to mention that I did everything I could to escape this kind of moment. But it wasn’t the same, back home. Nations and politics and wars…I had more than enough reasons to hate them.”

Ethan grinned, “But this? This is different. What I saw the prince do…who the hell wouldn’t want that? Maybe being one more soldier wasn’t for me, but a fireball tossin’ badass that slays monsters? Now that…” Ethan’s voice grew more serious. “That is something I can do, which won’t be a constant reminder of the worst days of my life.”

Garrus seemed to approve. “I knew you’d understand,” Ethan said before leaning back in the chair and shutting his eyes.

Pounding on the door woke him up, but he didn’t think he’d slept long. After the terrible night in the cell, and the stress of the morning, it felt like no amount of sleep would be enough. Ethan cracked his sore neck as he went to the door, quickly downing a glass of water as he did so.

He threw open the heavy wooden door, only to see a grim man he didn’t recognize. Back home, the man likely would have had Mediterranean ancestry, but what that meant here was anyone’s guess. He was a bit taller than Ethan, with a shaved head, and clean-shaven lantern jaw.

He was dressed in thick leathers, with sleeves rolled up to reveal a few runes that looked vaguely familiar. It wasn’t until Ethan noticed the man’s left arm wasn’t just resting against his chest, but subtly strapped to it, that he knew who he was looking at. It was just the first time without a helmet.

“Valanor! Welcome to my humble home. May I introduce you to Garrus?” The shield knight’s resting glare turned briefly on the stone head before coming back to Ethan.

“The king has put me in charge of your training,” he said. “Come. We don’t know how much time we have, and there's a great deal we need to accomplish.”

Ethan laughed softly, “Come on Valanor, I just found out that I’m not being immediately executed. You and I have a lot we need to talk about, why not join me for lunch or something? I admit, I’m excited to get started, but we have a year.”

“We only have a year if your Familiars don’t burn up your soul before nightfall.”

“I’ll get my coat!” Ethan said immediately, then hurried after an already departing Valanor. He caught up to the man in the hall. “Please explain that life-altering and horrifying statement,” he said.

“You’re human, like I am. We need years to prepare for a safe Familiar Bond. Even then it starts a ticking clock toward our deaths, unless we form our Soul Rune in time.” He looked at Ethan as they made their way down the steps toward the main palace doors. “You had no preparation, and Bonded one of the most powerful monsters on the planet.”

“Right…what’s a Soul Rune?” Ethan asked as the massive double doors were opened for them, unleashing the pleasant aromas of the gardens.

Valanor stopped a few paces from the exit, then turned and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “This is a Soul Rune,” he said, pointing to a symbol that looked a bit like a stylized shield. It was formed at the intersection of his three Bond Runes, and seemed to be created by the other symbols weaving together into a fourth pattern.

Ethan’s attention wandered, however, when he again noticed the Bond Rune leading to Valanor’s limp arm was sickly red. The rest of the symbols were a warm orange, though Ethan’s own were both a soft yellow. The knight noticed his scrutiny and resumed walking, buttoning his shirt with practiced ease, despite only having one hand.

“So three Bonds creates a fourth, somehow?” Ethan prompted.

“It’s not a Bond, it’s your soul’s reaction to all the magic that’s been flooded into it. Each time you gain a Familiar, it’s taking up residence in your soul, which is an imperfect vessel. Their power, their very presence is destroying that vessel.”

“How does more power fix that?” Ethan asked, trying to picture his soul–which he only just found out really existed–slowly disintegrating inside him.

“It’s the gift of Nexum, the Goddess that created our world. You should spend time in the Church if you want to understand more, but this world has been gifted Bonds the same way Potentia has been gifted power.”

“Why is Earth left out of all the fun?” Ethan asked. “And are there more worlds? More um…Gods?”

“You’re from Terra, how can you not even understand your own gift?” Valanor waved him to silence as they went through even larger doors to reach the city. “Never mind, that’s not what I’m here to teach you. All you need to understand is that your final Familiar will allow your soul to Evolve–as they do–Manifesting powers to balance those you already have.”

“Ooooh,” Ethan said in excitement. “Some very nice, and only somewhat smelly prisoners talked about that. They said I should hope to get a bow, or something?”

Valanor rolled his eyes as they moved down a wide, empty street past the large mansions Ethan had seen from his balcony. “Yes, by all means listen to a group of Bondless prisoners and Manifest ‘bow’. I’m sure their expertise will serve you well.”

“Don’t blame me for listening to the first people that actually want to talk to me. You’re my only friend here, and you tried to kill me twice today.” Valanor stopped suddenly, and Ethan wondered if he might actually get an apology for what had happened in the throne room. One look at the man’s dark eyes was enough to disabuse him of that notion.

“Friend? Friend?” He poked Ethan in the chest hard enough to push him back a step. “Perhaps we were on that path before you sabotaged the Hunt. Before you risked my nation’s safety with your foolishness. Before my trust in you had me removed as First Shield to the prince! A duty I’ve worked my whole life to earn!”

Ethan wasn’t sure what to say. None of it had been planned, but that was little comfort. And the man wasn’t exactly wrong. “Valanor I’m–”

“Shut your insolent mouth!” the knight said, poking him once again. “That you had the gall to speak out of turn to the king astounds me, but I refuse to hear more of your false words. You were lying to me from the moment we met.”

“You mean the moment we met, as I was saving the lives of your knights? And your own?” Ethan shot back, having more than enough reason to be furious himself. “I was lost, and confused, and didn't know who to trust. I made mistakes. But I won’t be your punching bag, Valanor.”

Ethan poked him back, it was like poking a brick wall, but the pain only served his anger. “Flagras was dying. Minutes from dying. Your Hunt had already failed, Valanor. You only have my word on that, so all I can do is make that word mean something again, now that I have the chance.”

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Ethan expected the man to scream back at him. To call him a liar, or a thief, maybe even to strike him. Instead, the shield knight just stared. He did that same, strange evaluating glare that the king and prince had done. It was uncomfortable, and the silent pause was doubly strange in the middle of such a heated argument. Finally Valanor simply muttered, “You speak the truth.”

He then withdrew a small stone from his inventory, and pressed it against Ethan’s chest. The extra marks that somehow locked out his runes immediately dissolved, and he sensed they were functional again. The Mad system was blinking furiously, but Ethan was more curious about something else first.

“I am telling the truth, but you sound more certain of that than I’d expect. What did you just do?” he asked.

Valanor gestured with his head, and they resumed walking. “I looked at your soul within the Astral. It’s far less capable of deception than your body is. Reach Dawn Rank, and you’ll be able to do it as well.”

“The Astral?” Ethan asked.

Valanor let out a long breath, seeming to calm himself. “You’re on your first step of a long journey, and I have no interest in speaking of the hundredth. Come, we’re nearly to the Church.”

“Wait, why are we going to the Church? I thought we were in a hurry,” Ethan said.

“Only the healing priests can tell us exactly how much of a hurry we’re in. They’ll measure the damage to your soul, which will tell us how much time we have to find your final Familiar.”

Maybe I can finally get some insights as to why healing is so taboo here, he thought. “That makes sense. Will it be hard to find my last Bond?”

“Not precisely, the princess has already determined its ideal nature. We just need to ensure we have the time for the Hunt. Otherwise we’ll need to use some of the tame stock we keep for the knights.”

That was an unexpected twist. “Why does the princess want to choose my Familiar? Is she an expert on Soul Runes or something?” he asked.

Valanor looked at him, considering. “If I were to tell you she has selected a lightning Bond, would that answer your question?”

Ethan considered. The king had seemed ready to execute him in spite of every revelation, until Princess Ellevaro whispered something in his ear. Now he was getting a lightning Bond, just like… “She’s making me into a decoy, or maybe an expendable copy. She wants me to fight like the prince.”

“Well done,” Valanor said, sounding surprised. “The power of a Chosen belonging to the kingdom, without risking Prince Calevaro is a tempting prospect. One worth your very life it seems.” He stopped then, as they’d reached a more busy part of town. “I warn you now, you mustn’t speak of any of this outside the palace.”

“I understand,” Ethan replied, eyeing the crowds of busy people ahead. “None of this works without secrecy. Prince Calevaro is the Chosen of Flagras, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Valanor nodded, and they continued walking. The cobblestone street was well-worn, and Ethan wondered how old the city truly was as he took in the sights he’d missed upon arriving. Merchants were everywhere, proving that goods were most certainly reaching the city in a steady flow.

They stepped around entertainers, jugglers, and musicians playing unfamiliar tunes. Ethan even saw a couple of smaller monsters as part of the fun. They were a pair of orange monkeys, dancing with an elf for coins. “If Bonds are so dangerous, how come I keep seeing them used for smithing and…dancing apparently?”

“Those are almost always elves, and the bonds are often handed down through family lines. I told you that Bonds are dangerous to humans–less so for elves. Each race has their boons.” Valanor responded, then gestured down another street toward a tall building, marked with the familiar swirls.

“What about the red people with the horns? Is their boon being absolutely jacked or something?” Ethan asked, thinking of the surprisingly muscular Runemistress.

“Nator? They form their Soul Rune first. It’s both a boon and curse. They’re dangerous even without Bonds, but it makes it far more difficult to find the right combination of Familiars to match their unique abilities. It’s why Nator Bonded are so rare.”

Ethan nodded, wondering what his own Soul Rune might end up being. With his luck it would be a stethoscope. He refocused as they entered the Church, its ominous appearance not making him feel any better about the talk of Gods. He noted it had a belltower, like many churches back on Earth, which gave him a strange touch of comfort.

As they walked in, Ethan saw there were quite a few other similarities as well. There were benches lined up toward a stage where some kind of priest likely gave sermons, and the architecture, art, and endless candles all lent themselves to an arcane atmosphere. He resolved to take one of the services Valanor mentioned, when he had time.

Ethan’s gaze fell onto a statue of a robed woman who appeared to be holding a globe over her head, and he wondered if he was looking at the goddess Nexum. Valanor kept walking, however, and brought them to a backroom that clearly served as an office based on the books, desk, and tired looking woman fiddling with papers.

She was older, with mostly gray hair, and wore the same white robes with three spirals that Ethan had seen before. When she turned around, he realized it was actually one of the two Church representatives who’d been in the throne room. That makes sense, better not to let any more people in on the secret.

“High Priestess Abigail,” Valanor said, bowing.

“Paladin Valanor,” she responded, though she was glaring at Ethan. “I take it you’re here for the ritual?”

“Indeed, High Priestess. We need to know how much time we have left.”

“Of course. I’ve been made to understand that the thief actually has a second Bond as well? I hope it was a common monster, or your task may be even more difficult.” They both turned to Ethan.

“Um, I don’t really understand the rarity thing. Where does ‘Ultra Rare’ fit in?” The woman’s eyebrows rose as Valanor ran a hand over his face in disbelief.

“I’ll start immediately,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Putting down the papers, she began gathering objects from her inventory, and placing them on the desk.

“It take it that Ultra Rare is an issue?” Ethan asked the knight. “Is this part of the ranks?”

Valanor sighed, then stood back as the High Priestess began drawing runes on the floor. “The ranks are as follows: Dawn, Dusk, Twilight, Master, Legend. The names reflect the Goddess’s journey, though I’m sure you can learn more from a sermon. For Bonded, they represent thresholds of power. Forming your Soul Rune will bring you to Dawn rank.”

Ethan nodded, then held still while the Priestess opened his shirt and began drawing runes on his chest. “Okay, so how does that fit with Bonding new monsters?”

“Common monsters only have low rank potential, they need a Bond to go higher. The rarer the monster, the higher the Potential.”

Ethan considered that. “Is that why Flagras is so powerful? He can reach the highest rank on his own?”

“In part. As you saw, even at Twilight Rank he’s extraordinarily dangerous. Normally he’s Bonded at Dawn or Dusk at the latest, but these were unusual circumstances.”

“Wait, that was only three Ranks in? How big does this guy get?”

“Big,” Valanor said. “Regardless, the point is that monsters with higher potential put a greater strain on a soul. With two high rarity Bonds on a human, we may need to turn around and go straight to the pens.”

“I don’t think it’s that extreme,” the High Priestess said. “He may be a thief and a False Chosen, but his soul is…strong. The ritual is incomplete, but–” she paused, looking into Ethan’s eyes, “it looks like he’s been fighting his entire life.”

Don’t fight unless you can win, Dean’s voice whispered. Never stopped me before, Ethan answered bitterly. Didn’t stop you.

The ritual was taking longer than he’d have liked, especially when he was essentially waiting to find out how long he had left to live. I’ve had to make patients wait for moments just like this, he thought, not appreciating the symmetry. Finally he decided to pass the time by asking questions that would likely get him in trouble.

“So, Abigail,” he began, “you’re probably the only one I can ask this without giving away my situation. What’s the deal with healing here? I was given the impression it’s a little complicated.” Valanor's hand was over his face for some reason.

“My title is High Priest,” she said icily. “And you’ve been misinformed. Healing is a very simple matter. It is the realm of the Gods, a gift given to the Church, and the Church alone. All other supposed practitioners are nothing more than charlatans and Heretics.”

Ah. Okay the Doctor thing is starting to make sense. “You must have your hands full then, having to take care of every ache and pain for a whole population.”

She snorted. “Hardly, only the gravest of wounds are worthy of our Great Lady’s attention,” she said absently, focused on the ritual. “Do you think we ask the creator of our world to help with splinters?”

Ethan struggled to control his reaction. “Then, regardless of how the Church feels, you must have all sorts of people trying to treat the…less important maladies?”

She grunted in response. “They show up from time to time, trying to take advantage of those with fragile faith. The martial order of the Church makes quick work of them. Hold still, you’re making this difficult.”

Ethan had been shaking slightly, despite his efforts. He’d expected something along these lines, but her casual dismissal of not only healers, but what she saw as unworthy suffering was too much. He noticed Valanor watching him closely and worked to school his own expression.

When the High Priestess spoke again, it took a moment for Ethan to understand what he was hearing.

“Two months, at the outside,” she said, moving away from runes that were burning up on the floor. I only have two months to live? It felt like moments ago he’d negotiated for a year, now that time was chipping away. He needed to move, he needed to take action, he needed to–

“Plenty of time,” Valanor said with a nod. “Now we can catch a show at the arena.”