> There is an inexplicable and enrapturing euphoria that comes with true resonance. I imagine it must be what a bird feels when it first takes flight, with true freedom finally within reach. Learning to harmonize with resonance is an experience that defies all sense of reason, and must instead be perceived as an anomaly of psions and all that we have learned about them. I cannot tell you how it felt, only that the moment I truly experienced it, the world felt dull and my movements stiff and uncertain by comparison.

The days after Arthur and Circe’s trip to Pallikári passed with surprising swiftness, given the fact that when combined with the nights, each ‘day’ totaled an entire 96 hour cycle. The vast amount of that time was spent with the heiress, who—after their candid discourse at the Lion’s Pride—had thrown herself into her role as his teacher with remarkable gusto.

He learned much in the nights and days that followed their discussion, ranging from the history of House Leos and its choice to remain based on the island, to the various different and convoluted noble factions against which Arthur would eventually have to do battle.

His bond with Circe grew in ways he had not anticipated, thanks in large part to the disproportionate amount of time that ‘one week’ passed in the Hellenic timescale. The first change was that Circe had seemingly become determined to understand every facet of Arthur’s motivations and views, and would spend hours of each cycle grilling him about his beliefs, his views, and his underscoring desires for the future.

Every time he would attempt to dissuade her or plead simplicity, she would attack him again with probing queries and her bright, beautiful jade eyes would delve into his own like spotlights intent on finding any secrets lurking in the dark.

They spent the nights with her lecturing him on foods, artisans, local lore and religious beliefs. She instilled knowledge in him of poets, of philosophers, of great artists and the expressions of classical beauty that Graecia had employed.

She explained to him the ideals that had led to the first colonists creating a society so heavily inspired by Bronze Aged antiquity, and elucidated upon Laconia, and Attica, and Macedonia, and the different natures of each supercontinent.

She taught him about Ares, and Aphrodite, and Demeter, and Hades, and Poseidon, and Zeus, and Persephone, and Hephaestus, and the military doctrines of the Ascendancy.

She educated him in the Hyperion Sector, in the Kings, in the Royal Houses of Laconia and Attica, and in why Macedonia had neither a King nor true political force upon Hellas or within the greater Ascendancy.

Most importantly, she taught him about the political counterbalances between Hellas and the rest of the planets controlled by the Ascendancy, and taught him about the regular tours the Kings made across the controlled worlds, and how the Hellenic Parliament consisted of representatives from every city and town in the Ascendancy at large, not merely those on Hellas.

She explained the function of the aristocracy, the feudal nature of Ascendancy politics, and the roles Hetairoi played both in wartime and peacetime.

That, of course, was only what she covered at night.

“I’ve never thought so much about the petty politics of such short-lived people. I have read so much, and still barely understand them.” he’d said to her wearily during the second night cycle, after enduring hours of study on the municipal politics of the Ascendancy.

Her reply had been both quick and poignant.

“If you do not understand them, Arthur, how can you expect to protect them?”

The entirely justified shame her response created had motivated him to resume his studies with gusto. It had been one of the first times his Zacaris personality traits had emerged without him catching them, and the experience had worried him.

He did not like the idea of regressing into what he had been.

Their days, converse to their nights, were filled with more active pursuits. They trained their bodies, meditated, visited Pallikári to learn about the notable peoples, and made introductions where suitable in order to soothe worries over House Leos’ future where they could.

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More than a few people eyed their evident bond and closeness as a potential sign of engagement, but always Circe dismissed these enquiries—be they subtle or overt—with polite amusement, firm denial, and little more.

She had taken to forcing him to teach her what he knew of the sword and unarmed combat, and had even joined him for rest in his quarters on occasion with no more concern than if she had been sharing a room with a maid or a statue.

When he had expressed his concerns for how it looked, despite him sleeping on a comfortable bedroll on the floor and her taking the bed; Circe had simply explained with perfect rationale that it made little sense for them to sleep in separate rooms after an intensive training session, since they would be resuming upon awakening from their short rest regardless.

He had almost pointed out the impropriety, but had thought better of it. For some reason, he had not been able to bring himself to make mention of it.

When the time had come for the third short nap during the second day cycle following his arrival at House Leos, he had found himself not only used to, but comforted by her soft breathing and the quiet movements she made during her slumber.

Her growing comfort with him, of course, only led to further changes.

Another development was her faith he would successfully become the Leos Hetairoi.

She had made it clear, two days after their night at the city, that she believed in him.

Arthur remembered with perfect clarity how she’d come marching into his quarters to rouse him on the third day cycle, and how he’d only just finished a shower and clothed himself in an off-the-shoulder chiton and sandals, albeit imperfectly, while seated on the edge of his bed.

Circe had stepped forward and bent down smoothly, knocking away his hands before he could protest and easily undoing and redoing his right sandal. “You can’t go around looking improperly dressed.” she had chided him. “You’ll make me look like a failure.”

“You don’t need to—” Arthur had begun, only for Circe to silence him with a hard look.

Something about her manner in that moment had warned him not to interrupt again.

“When you first arrived, I thought you were a weak, posturing peacock from the Fringe coming to lord your birth over us. Not even Lord Atreus’ words in your defense were enough to assuage my doubts after you fainted coming down the transport shuttle’s steps.”

Arthur had raised his eyebrows at the candor and hard tone of her words, but he hadn’t objected.

“Then you defeated me in this very room, and after these past few days…”

Circe shook her head and returned her gaze to his sandals, deftly finishing the redoing of his right and setting to work on his left. “I was wrong about you. If your skills as a pilot are anywhere near as gifted as your psion density, you are the only thing that can help me ease my father’s sense of guilt and personal failure.” She finished the left sandal and took the crimson material of the cloak from his hands, and bid him to stand.

He did so while still listening to her with rapt attention.

“I am not a fool, Arthur. I know what pain my father’s accident has caused him. I knew, if you did not succeed in proving yourself as a worthy Hetairoi, what risking myself in a cockpit would mean for our family—especially given the lengths some of our enemies will go to in order to ensure I suffer a similar, perhaps even more fatal accident.” Her powerful arms lifted and she draped the cloak across his body from his right shoulder to his left hip before setting to work at tying it properly.

“I have been on the beneficiary end of my own psions actively affecting those around me, Arthur. You’ve seen it, I know.” her eyes had narrowed while she stared at the himation, as if she had been looking for an answer.

To what mystery, he hadn’t known.

“I have, by the gift of my own psion density, been mostly inoculated to others’ psionic effects almost entirely,” she had continued, “and so to be taken by surprise in the way you have surprised me…”

Circe smiled as if she had found a bittersweet realization.

“In some ways, I suppose it could be called my just desserts for such a hasty presumption.”

Her fingers had then shifted along the length of the crimson fabric to adjust its edges and folds while she chose her next words, and a sense of quiescent calm had settled onto her features.

“I'm glad you came to us, Arthur. More glad than I will ever be able to express to you.” She finished setting his cloak and looked up at him, and something in her green eyes—like polished gemstones lit with inner fire—had turned his mouth dry.

“So let me ask what I should have from the start.” her eyes had once more searched within his own while she spoke, and the mix of her effortlessly caressing voice’s confidence, sincerity, and the echo of remembered vulnerability had made Arthur’s heart spike all over again.

“Will you help me protect my family, Arthur Magellan?” she had asked him softly. “Will you become the sword I cannot?”

When she’d spoken, he’d seen past her beauty.

He’d seen past her strength, pride, passion, and her ferocity.

In that moment Arthur had seen a woman his own age struggling with a challenge that for all her strength, all her power, all her will, and effort, and determination; she truly could not overcome alone.

And in that instant, he’d known his answer as if he’d waited to speak it his entire life.

“Yes, Circe Leos.” he’d said without even an iota of lingering doubt. “It would be the greatest honor of my life.”

Not even his memories as Zacaris had been able to offer disagreement.