The gondola glided through the canals of Venice as Nico peered out the small window, his leg bouncing with impatience. He was already late.

His Father was going to kill him.

Nico sighed, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. The prestigious Doge's Ball was a chance for the noble families of Venice to gather, socialize and form alliances. As the son of the great General Pillar Cassian Cornaro, Nico was expected to attend, dressed in his finest silks and velvets, and schmooze with the other noble heirs.

Normally Nico wouldn't mind the ball too much. The food was extravagant, the music was excellent if you needed help going to sleep, and there was always at least a few friends he could chat with. But this year was different. This year, his father wanted to discuss Nico's future in the Knights' Order, and Nico had a feeling he wouldn't like what was said.

The gondola glided to a stop at the canal entrance of the Doge Palace. Nico tossed a coin to the gondolier and leapt out of the boat, his boots splashing in the water. He raced up the marble steps to the palace, nodding to the guards at the entrance.

The ballroom was a dazzle of color and sound. The walls displayed large and expensive paintings of royals and epic battles. Large white columns separated the main floor from the dining tables and appetizers. The marble floor was massive, large enough for dancing and was so reflective that Nico could see his own face. Nobles in jewel-toned silks and velvets spun across the dance floor, keeping time to the lilting music of lute and violin.

Nico ran along the edge of the perimeter between the columns, scanning the crowd. There—a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing by one of the tall windows, his face stern as he talked with a councilman.

General Cassian Cornaro cut an imposing figure in his deep red doublet, his hands crossed as if he didn’t like how the conversation was going. His once dark hair was streaked with silver, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. Standing next to him was Councilman Antonio. He was slimmer than Cassian but matched his height of around six feet. Antonio wore a dark blue doublet and hid his hair under a matching color bonnet.

Nico took a deep breath and plunged into the fray, ignoring the curious glances of masked ladies and disapproving frowns of their escorts. He had faced far worse than their judgment.

He came to a stop before his father, chest heaving. Cassian turned, one eyebrow raised.

"Father, Councilman Antonio." He said with a bow. "My apologies for being late."

Councilman Antonio turned and bowed back “ Sir Nico! Thank you for joining us at the very least. I know the many heroic duties of a knight must keep you busy. Oh, do make sure you try the food, I hired an Ottoman chef to make their famous triple meat kebabs.”

“Sounds delicious councilman thank you”

“Of course only the best for our knights! The council is in full support of all our common and crest knights. Please make sure you stay for my speech later! I’m sure you will get a kick out of it.” Antonio then turned to Cassian. “We can talk more later”

“Sure.”

Antonio walked away to another group of nobles, leaving Nico alone with his father. Cassian glanced at his son, his expression unchanging. "We have an important matter to discuss. But first, as the councilman said, enjoy the ball. There will be time for talk later."

Nico bit back a sigh of relief. At least he had a reprieve, for now. Maybe the ball might not be so bad after all.Nico wandered into the crowd looking around at the other guests. Most were older nobles, but a few young knights about his age stood in small groups, eyeing the crowd hoping to see any cute noble’s daughters.

Entering from the balcony was an older gentleman whose posture rivaled an Ox, his hair jet black and had a choppy beard. His emerald green eyes scanned the room and locked on to Nico. The man started heading towards Nico, only stopping to grab some appetizers along the way. Nico quickly turned to the closest wall, pretending to study the paintings. He was really hoping to avoid the scene he knew was about to happen.

"WOW! Who knew we would get to be in the presence of THE GREAT KNIGHT OFFICER NICO CORNARO on this very night?"

"Deo pleas—"

Deo interrupts. "That's Grand Knight Deo Costa to you"

"I'm sorry you're right, I should have said The Grand LADIES MISTAKE HIM FOR A TROLL Knight Deo Costa" Nico jabs back.

"Woah! Keep it down, I actually think I have a shot tonight okay?" Deo laughs and hugs Nico.

As they pulled away, Deo stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and instantly swallowed it. Nico always underestimated how fast Deo could eat.

Deo looked back at Nico. "Can you believe how much food there is tonight? You would think I would be used to it by now, but this is so much better than anything I had growing up.” He started to get lost in thought. Nico nodded his head in agreement.

“Anyway, what reason do you have this time for being late? Was it Crete Pirates off the coast like last week? Or perhaps you were running home and one of the World Gates broke leaving you to take the long way home?” Deo teases.

"Hey! Those sailors actually turned out to be pirates. But yes, I have a good reason this time, I was going—"

CLINK!!!

Nico looked over Deo’s shoulder to see three older knights laughing at a servant that fell to the ground, a mess of metal trays and cups rolling around beside him. As the servant tried to stand up, one of the knights came up and pushed the servant down again and laughed. The surrounding people kept talking, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Stay down there where you belong, you need to lick up the mess you made" said the knight.

This knight in particular was familiar to Nico—Sir Marco, a Florentine Crest Knight with a reputation as a fierce but cocky swordsman. Marco had never missed an opportunity at any Italia Melee Tourneys to taunt Nico, claiming he was only a knight because of his father's status. Five years later and it seems he has not changed a bit.

Deo mutters “Ignore them, I hear Florence knights are not the kindest to their servants.”

Nico took a breath and nodded.

Deo changed the subject. “So are you excited for your promotion tomorrow?”

“I can not sleep! My mind races at the thought of finally going on A class missions and commanding my own men on the battlefield, these heroic feats will definitely gain me recognition and fame. Soon you will be talking to a Living Legend among the people.”

Deo shook his head. “It takes a lot more than defeating our enemies on a battlefield to become this “living legend” you are always talking about.”

“How else can I—”

As Nico started his sentence, he looked over Deo’s shoulder and saw the servant had collected all the cups on his tray and started to stand back up. Marco stood over him geared up ready to push the servant again.The surrounding crowd started looking around confused by the sudden gust of wind for as soon as Marco’s hand started flying, Nico was standing in front of the servant and caught Marco's hand. Marco jerked his arm back but Nico didn't let go. The crowd went silent as they stared at the two Knights.

“I would have thought knights from Florence were taught to be kind towards the servants. I guess Florence is even more of a backwater city than I originally thought.”

Marco snarled back as he ripped his hand away" Funny. I would have thought Venice would have real knights at this ball, not a grown man playing pretend with his father’s sword.”

“Any farm boy that can pick up a sword is more of a knight than you.”

“May I remind you that it was my sword that left that pretty scar on your cheek Cornaro” Marco pointed to Nico’s right cheek as he began chugging a glass.

“My sword is much sharper than last time”

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The blonde knight stopped drinking, his eyes gleaming. "Is that a challenge, Cornaro?"

Nico smiled. "If you dare accept it."

Guards from the surrounding area walked up to Nico and Marco. “You can not have a duel in the ballroom Sir Nico. We demand that any arguments be settled outside the ballroom.” One guard said as he pointed to the front door. Deo emerged from the crowd, holding a platter up in the air to insure no one knocked it out of his hand.

“Do we really need to make the party leave? Perhaps we can take this disagreement to the courtyard? I will even referee the duel to make sure nothing bad happens.” The guard stuttered for a sec, then agreed. The crowd followed Nico and Marco through the back doors of the ballroom into the courtyard.

The courtyard was in the middle of the palace, surrounded by its many halls. Small gardens and fountains filled the corners with beautiful colors that were complimented by the moonlight. The middle space had a large circle in the floor made of blue lapis. Deo stood outside the circle as both knights stepped inside toward the opposite ends and turned to face each other.

Deo turned to the crowd “It has been an honored tradition that any disagreements in the Palace that can not be settled by conversation be settled in combat right here in this circle. Our Founding Families often used this circle when deciding how to build Venice’s great kingdom. Now, two knights have approached the circle. Will Venice or Florence prove their point tonight?”

Deo then turned back to Nico and Marco. “Knights, first to hold a killing strike or fully disarm your opponent, wins. No crest powers allowed. This duel is about skill alone. Now please claim your swords.”

Marco looked at Nico as they walked up to Deo and grabbed their swords. “ Pray your father is not watching, it must be hard enough for him knowing his money is wasted on you.”

Those words stung but not as much as they used to. Nico grabbed his sword. “ I’m only praying your father’s servant packed another doublet since your’s will soon have acquired several new holes.”

Some of the surrounding crowd gasped, eager for drama. Back into position Marco drew his sword, the metal hissing against the sheath. Jackson drew his own sword. The hilt felt solid and sure in his grip. The green water-like lines in the dark elementium blade shined in the moonlight.

"Go!" Deo shouted.

Marco lunged first, his blade a silver flash. But Nico was ready. He parried the blow back and swung his right leg into Marco’s chest, forcing Marco back to his starting position. Marco took a second to read Nico’s sword stance before striking again. Each block and attack flowed into the next as they dueled across the floor, the clash of swords ringing out.

Marco's reputation as a skill fighter was proving true but what Nico forgot was Marco’s super enhanced strength, as it took everything Nico had just to block. Marco left no room for countering and when Nico could ripost back, Marco was ready for the counter. Nico knew he couldn't keep up the defense forever and would need to get on the offense.

Slash.

Nico’s left arm began staining his shirt sleeve red..

Swing.

A piece of Nico’s hair fell slowly to the ground.

Nico pulled back and took a breath. Marco’s speed was fast but predictable. It was the power behind each strike that was throwing Nico off. He then finally realized what Marco was doing. By keeping the offensive with repeated powerful strikes, he was trying to keep Nico at a distance. Constantly striking at intense power should surely make Marco tired soon.

Marco followed up with a Plow style stance with his sword sitting waist high pointed at Nico. All signs showed he would lunge forward attempting to hit Nico’s chest. If deflected, Marco would make sure he nicked the shoulder to at least to cause some damage before being deflected back. Perhaps Nico could use this to his advantage. Nico took his own stance called the middle iron door. His sword between his legs pointed to the ground.

As Marco lunged forward, Nico deflected Marco’s sword up a tad too late, slashing Nico’s right ear. Marco started to crack a small smile, only to see Nico take this opportunity to pull him close and lock swords together. With a twist of his wrist, he sent Marco's sword spinning across the floor. Marco stared at him, stunned at the sword at his throat, as the crowd erupted into cheers.

Nico smiled and offered Marco his sword. "Well fought," he said. "You should stay focused next time."

Marco's face flushed an angry red, not wanting to accept his defeat. Nico had proven his point—and proven himself. This duel proved months of intense training with Deo finally paid off.

From across the yard, Deo watched with a proud gleam in his eye. As they locked eyes, he gave Nico an approving nod.

But the victory was short-lived. As Marco reached over to retrieve his sword, he pulled something from his belt—a shard of Elementium, glowing with power. Nico tensed. He reached for his sword hoping to counter whatever power Marco unleashed. A blade of wind shot out from the shard, separating the air as fast as a sword to cloth. The wind bladed darted past Nico's right ear followed by a small sonic boom of noise and intense air pressure. Nico turned to see if the wind blast hit the crowd. As his vision started to fade, he saw who he thought was Deo holding out his sword. Did he block the blast?

The world around Nico seemed to twist and bend. His vision swam, his balance deserting him. Through the haze, he saw Marco charge at him, sword raised for the killing blow. Panic and determination warred within Nico. He couldn't see, but he had to stop Marco. He focused with all his might as he took a guard stance with his sword. Nico took a breath, and his senses snapped back into place. He would have to use his enhanced speed to dodge this. The world righted itself just in time for him to see Marco lunge. Nico sidestepped Marco's attack with intense speed .

With that same burst of speed, Nico lifted his sword in the air. Suddenly a surge of fire erupted from his Elementium sword, Nico struck Marco's sword and split it into two. Marco cried out in shock from the sudden wave of heat and took a step back, his hands shaking so hard he dropped the piece of Elementium he had. Nico took his free hand and punched Marco in the face, dropping him to the ground. Marco laid on the ground dazed, now useless without the Elementium to channel his powers and his sword broken.

"Do you yield?" Nico asked, his sword back at Marco's throat.

Marco's face was chalky with rage and humiliation. But he had no choice. "I yield," he grunted as he spat blood onto the floor.The crowd erupted into cheers once more. Nico had triumphed, and decisively so.

Deo approached from behind and spun Nico around “Really!? A sword lock and twist? You never got it right during training!”

“Well I did not have much of a choice, he must have been using enhanced strength, those swings were powerful.”

Deo sighs “You’re lucky Marco did not know how to counter an opponent that close. I can not believe he used a crest power that could have hit civilians.”

Nico then remembered “Deo, did you protect the crowd from that air blast?”

“Of course I did! You did nothing to stop it so I had to do something. Got to say that was pretty heroic, maybe they will make me a statue for my deeds”

“I sure hope this does not affect my promotion tomorrow.”

“Oh definitely, possibly they will even demote you instead! ” Deo laughs. “Just make sure you do not get into any trouble tonight and tomorrow morning you will be promoted to Knight Command— Oh excuse me for a second ” Deo says as he turns away happily chasing down a servant holding a tray of different sliced meats.

Nico scanned the crowd for his father, heart pounding. Did he see the duel? Would he be proud? There. His father stood near one of the large marble columns, watching with an unreadable expression. Nico hurried over to him, throwing his sword back to the guards.

"Did you see?" he asked eagerly. "I defeated Sir Marco. Even when he used Elementium against me!."

Cassian nodded. "I saw. You fought well." His tone was neutral, but Nico thought he detected a hint of warmth. “ Are you going to see that a servant bandages those wounds?

Nico’s adrenaline had kept the pain away so long he forgot he was even injured.“These are just surface wounds, I will get them taken care of shortly. Did you find out what my first mission will be after I get promoted?" Nico asked. "I know the title is new and comes with a new set of responsibilities but I'd have my own missions, my own men to lead—"

"It is a heavy responsibility," Cassian interrupted. His gaze turned inward, lines creasing his weathered face. "The life of a knight is difficult. It's not only about fighting with your sword. There are hard decisions, sleepless nights, a constant struggle against forces that want to harm our way of life." He put a hand on Nico's shoulder, his touch hesitant but firm. "But I believe you have the strength and skill to rise to any challenge. You will make a fine Knight Commander, and one day..." He paused, then continued softly. "One day, even rise up to become the next General Pillar."

Joy and determination flooded Nico in equal measure. His father had never spoken to him this way, had never shown such faith in his abilities. Years of his father wanting nothing but to keep Nico away from any dangerous mission. Now he wanted nothing more than to prove Cassian's words true.

"I won't let you down," Nico vowed. "I'll do whatever it takes to become the kind of leader you would be proud of."

Cassian's mouth rose into a small half-smile. "I have no doubt about that. Just...try not to be too reckless along the way. Swallow that pride of yours and play well with others okay?"

Nico laughed, the sound ringing out over the murmurs of the crowd. "I'll do my best."

"I sure hope so!" Deo laughs as he approaches Nico, wrapping his arm around him. Deo Squeezes so hard that Nico thought he might break a bone. He noticed a red mark shaped similar to a hand on Deo’s face and a group of ladies behind him pointing with angry expressions.

Nico smiled as he mumbled to himself “Struck out again huh?” As the group talked, Nico finally saw his father relax a little. For the first time that night, his father's smile reached his eyes.

Later that night, as councilmen started arguing who performed the greatest feats of valor, Nico stood outside on the balcony overlooking the Grand Canal. He tightened the bandage on his arm as his mind raced with thoughts of the future. He envisioned leading his own elite unit into battle, mounting daring raids against enemy forces, pushing back the Holy Roman empire inch by inch until all of Italia was free once more.

But with these thrilling images came darker ones. Flashes of fire and anguished screams echoed in his memory—the aftermath of a house robbery gone wrong. He saw again his sister Lucia's cold body lying on the floor, her lifeless eyes gazing at nothing. Guilt rose in his throat like the raising tides. Lucia had only been a child, innocent and caring. She'd heard a weird noise late in the night and left her room to investigate. She fell right into the thief's hands and a knife to her throat. Even though their mother slowly approached the thief and tried to talk him into letting her go, no one expected the lightning strike outside would cause the thief to jump and slice Lucia's throat.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memories away. But they persisted, reminding him of how powerless he was. Frozen in fear at the time, these memories were a constant reminder of his failure—and his motivation to do better. To become a knight his sister would have been proud of. Nico was preoccupied by his battling thoughts, when a knock on the balcony window broke him from his mental dilemma.