“Usually when called to war, we supply a Hetairoi in a title unit, and an honor guard of twelve frontline models.” Menelaus explained while Arthur turned to listen respectfully. “In our prime, House Leos boasted thirty Hetairoi and of those, two were powerful enough to give meaning to the names of Ares Martialis and Pallas Athena.” Menelaus said with a sad smile. “Historically we have always had a male and female Hetairoi of great skill, with the former riding to war and the second defending the homefront. Now, though…”

“You only have Circe.” Arthur said with a look for the proud heiress. “And she is too valuable.”

“Yes.” the Duke agreed simply.

“And there are no Hetairoi you can find to pilot the Hoplites?”

“The Hoplites are part of why we cannot find Hetairoi.” Menelaus admitted. “While we could invest in building new models if we had the pilots to justify it, the simple reality is that nobody will fight for us. The embarrassment of only having these units on offer is enough that our enemies can dissuade them before we even try.”

“Even good Laconians decline us.” Stephanos added gravely. “I have made overtures to multiple promising young pilots in the Navy, and all have declined—politely, in most cases, but declined no less. They are offered far more agreeable terms by Houses with far better machines.”

“And you cannot build the models to bring them?”

“A legal issue.” Menelaus said with a heavy sigh. “You cannot build combat models without legally ordained Hetairoi to pilot them, but you also cannot recruit good Hetairoi without offering them models for use.”

“But the offer you made me was for a custom model, my lord.” Arthur pointed out.

“Yes, because we have yet to replace the Ares Martialis, and so we may offer you the slot for that machine. If we wished to do the same for another pilot, we would need to appeal for another title allowance and a third Elite machine—and with no Hetairoi for our current machines, that would not even pass the vetting process.”

“House Leos is seen as a rotting giant.” Atreus said with brutal honesty. “Hellas views the House as doomed, and so no young and promising pilots will take a chance. It is not a failing on their part, it is instead the artful manipulation of Menelaus’ enemies.”

“House Drakos has been whittling us down for generations.” Circe said angrily. “They are eels and snakes, and have managed to instill false perceptions of House Leos through their manipulation of the narrative and steady poisoning of impressionable minds.”

“Their star has been rising, and ours has declined.” Menelaus agreed simply.

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“That is the price of true honor.” Daphne growled. “House Leos does not debase itself and use the same despicable, vile tactics of its enemies—but that comes with a cost.”

“I am not unfamiliar with such costs.” Arthur said while his Zacaris memories surfaced, and informed him of Houses on Albion he had personally obliterated with tactics far more vicious than mere rumor and intimidation. Good sense told him not to reveal those facts, but he couldn’t help but wonder as to what it would take to lift House Leos back to prestige.

Killing people was an ambivalent experience for Arthur.

He knew that in his life as Zacaris, he had been desensitized to killing at a young age. It had been a necessity of life for an aspiring heir of Pendragon, and his past self had taken to it with great success over the years.

He had killed an untold number of people, he knew, to achieve his goals.

It was a strange thing to feel both sickened by and dismissive of killing all at once. Magellan had killed in the memories Nataliya had crafted, but only in combat and only out of utmost necessity. It was a jarring juxtaposition, false recollection or not, when put up against his true memories as Zacaris.

Finding where his new ‘combined’ self fit in would be a long process, he realized.

He doubted that he would find the answer before he had to kill again.

Not if his assessment of House Leos’ dire straits was even half accurate.

“You, too, have suffered for the needs of honor?” Menelaus asked appraisingly.

“No.” Arthur said with a look at the honorable Duke. “But I have witnessed such suffering.” He said carefully. “I have stood witness while good men and women were crushed ruthlessly under the weight of their own ideals, and seen their legacies obliterated beyond any recovery.”

“That will not be our fate.” Circe declared boldly. “I will ensure Arthur is prepared!”

“No longer looking to take the fate of our lives upon your shoulders, daughter?”

Circe turned to her father fiercely. “I will do so still, father, in my own way. I realize, and have always realized, that putting myself at the fore is our last resort. The difference is that I never saw a way around it. Until now.”

“You barely know this man, Mistress.” Daphne objected.

“I know him enough.” Circe insisted stubbornly while turning to Daphne. “I know what I have witnessed, with my own eyes, when I tested him with a blade and ambush in his quart—” her eyes went wide, and she snapped her hands over her mouth.

All eyes were fixed on the princess, and then slowly looked to Arthur.

Endymion and Perseus appeared unwilling to get involved, either.

Arthur sighed at his companions’ admittedly wise silence, and spoke up.

“Lady Circe ambushed me with a training xiphos in my apartments.”

Menelaus’ eyebrows rose.

“After I had stepped out of the shower.” he continued with a grimace.

Daphne and Stephanos stared at the heiress.

“While I was in a towel.” Arthur concluded with an apologetic look at Circe.

“I see.” Menelaus said neutrally. “And how did this ambush conclude, Ser Arthur?”

“Father, it really wasn’t—” Circe began earnestly.

Menelaus silenced her with a look, and she huffed angrily.