> The day he walked into my office, I believed we had merely inherited a problem. How foolishly optimistic that was. His presence had the feel of a neutron star, condensed and silenced, and even without any talent with the Veil; I could feel his pressure. His presence. At the time, I had assumed it to be the Myrmidón, yet in hindsight perhaps that was little more than wishful thinking. We had embraced a supernova, and none of us had any idea of what lay in store for us as a result.

“For the sake of what we must do, you cannot remember this conversation. Not until the time is right.”

Arthur frowned at the words of the blonde woman opposite him and watched her critically from across the table between them.

“I am not sure how comfortable I feel with the necessity of this cloak and dagger, Inquisitor. Even for an agent of the Throne, this is a level of paranoia I am unaccustomed to.”

“I assure you, my lord, that this request comes from the highest levels. While I understand this may be confusing, I must impress upon you the need for such drastic measures as I am suggesting.”

“You are suggesting wrapping my very psyche, memories, and sense of self into layers, Inquisitor. Layers that I have neither the recollection to identify nor the power to unravel!” Arthur narrowed his on her, blue eyes meeting brown, and scowled. “More than that, you are asking me to flee to the middle of a backwater mid-Rim nation with no more than what I can carry, and some fabricated backstory with more holes in it than my lecherous cousin’s good sense!”

“I am but the messenger, my lord Zacaris. Pendragon has ever been a loyal part of the Imperium, and your noble bloodline a treasured branch of—”

“Spare me the flattery, Inquisitor. Please. It does neither of us honor to indulge in such theatrics. Instead, tell me why. Why me? Why now?”

“Because you alone are capable of doing what must be done.”

“That is not an answer.” Arthur said with a scowl.

“It is as much an answer as I can give, my lord. I must ensure that we compartmentalize things as much as possible.”

“You want to bury these secrets in sequence?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“That is the easiest way to ensure you only discover what you must, when you must.”

“This is sounding more insane by the word, Inquisitor.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Necessity is often married to insanity, my lord. It makes it no less important for those affected.”

“And whom is it, precisely, we are doing this for? Terra? Pendragon?”

“The Humanosphere, my lord. The entire Humanosphere.”

“I find that difficult to accept.” Arthur said with narrowed eyes. “Especially since you are proposing a psionic castration of the very strength that I could use to help it!”

“Only temporarily.” Nataliya said calmly. “Only until it’s necessary to unleash it.”

“You need to give me more than that.”

“I cannot.” She said firmly.

“Inquisitor, if you expect me to—” Arthur began heatedly.

“I cannot, my lord. I cannot take the risk of revealing too much before you are ready.”

“Throne of Terra, it cannot be that cataclysmic. You are acting as if we are all under imminent threat of destruction.”

“Not all threats are so easily quantified, my lord. Not all threats are so easily understood.”

Arthur growled under his breath and leaned back in his chair while folding his arms over his chest, and staring out of a nearby window in thought while his gaze roamed over the levitated spires of Camelot. The Inquisitor seemed content to let him do so, and after some five minutes of rumination he finally spoke again. “How long would I have?”

“You must depart before you are inaugurated as your father’s heir.” the Inquisitor said with her hands—each one shimmering platinum with inlaid Callandium sigils—extended to him in entreaty. “Before the necessity of your pursuit transcends the recapture of a wayward scion and instead becomes the rescue of a stolen inheritor.”

“That’s in five days!” Arthur exclaimed while looking back at her.

“So you must leave within four, then.”

“That’s madness. I couldn’t possibly—”

“I will see to the arrangements, my lord.” Nataliya said with utter confidence.

“You wish me to be seen as a coward.” he seethed. “You wish to dissuade my father from any pursuit out of shame.”

“That would aid greatly in our purpose, yes.”

“Do you not realize how antithetical the very idea of flight is?! I am a Knight of the Round!”

“And the child of a concubine.” Nataliya pointed out without concern for the insult it paid him. “One that has had to prove their worth in the eyes of everyone. This world has never been kind to you, my lord. It will happily believe you a coward, if you but give it the excuse.”

“I fought, bled, and killed to disabuse them of that notion!”

“And still they are ever-so-ready to believe you weak and incapable. You owe them nothing, my lord. You are being called to a higher purpose.”

“You are asking me to give up everything I have worked my entire life for.” Arthur snarled. “You are asking me to lie to myself, and enable you to make me believe it!”

“I am.” She said resolutely.

“I am the rightful heir to House Zacaris! I am the progeny of an inviolate bloodline!”

“And before that,” the Inquisitor reminded him, “You are a son of Terra.”