It was torture for him. And I cannot pretend for a moment that I didn’t love it.

Mario stood behind the bishop on the platform. I wore the helmet again for this moment, and I could see every line of his face like an ink drawing. My armored hand reached for the joint at my neck, remembering the times he had removed the suit as each round ended. Never again. The thought was so satisfying. Never again would the suit be taken from me. I could live in it until I died or the madness took me, and I didn’t care. Whether I had a year before some Axe suit took me apart, or two centuries of glory, all that mattered was the suit was mine from now until the day I died.

The voice spoke in my ear, "So it’s done, kiddo. You and me, together again… we’ll change this world."

It seemed to be using a sing-song tone, as if to a melody I didn’t recognize.

"And you remember our agreement," the voice added.

Feeling more in control than perhaps any other moment in my life, I thought back, We didn’t make an agreement.

The voice stammered, outrage fading to confusion. "Of course we did. We spoke in that pompous prick’s office… we agreed to… we…"

We discussed terms, I thought to it. You told me what you wanted, and that was as far as we got.

The voice hissed, "You lousy shit, the spirit of our conversation was—"

I’m not saying I won’t help, I interrupted, but you don’t own me. I’ve spent enough of my life being owned. Let’s be friends first, see how well we can treat each other. Sounds like you’ve waited long enough.

The voice was petulant. "Humans have no concept of time. The scale of the life I’ve lived dwarfs civilizations."

Then there’s no hurry, I replied.

The voice said nothing for a time.

I continued watching Mario. He glanced back furtively at me once, almost as though he was nervous, afraid. I had heard them talking with my HEARING. The priests were in awe of my sudden mastery of the POWER attribute. I had perplexed and confused them before, but what I had done with POWER honestly seemed to frighten them.

But for Mario, it was deeper. He had targeted me, treated me like dirt. Now, in the instant Lance’s back had crashed into the dust of the arena, I had become his societal better. I outranked him. I was a sacred being now, the Sword of Boston, closer to the Oracle than even the Bishop. I would be permitted to speak to it, for I was its strong right arm, and it was the well of my power.

The voice said, "You know, I like this backbone in you, kiddo. Maybe I really will enjoy getting to know you better."

I thought back, Likewise.

But my heart hesitated to commit fully to the thought.

I drifted back to the Bishop’s words: …back a thousand years, none have ever been blessed so by the Oracle. Our records show that none, in any city, has ever been blessed by POWER so young to the suit. We stand, my children, on the precipice of a new day for our city, perhaps the dawning of a new age. If a young man can achieve so much in the arena, dare we dream how the Oracle might reward him in the field… what wonder…

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I drifted away again. I knew my moment was coming. I couldn’t stand any more of the man’s blathering. He was another who had flashed with fear and disbelief when I first laid eyes on him after the full suit assembled around me. But he was slicker than Mario. Already, his tone had changed. I thought back to the day he had tried to have me ejected from the tournament, grasping at any straw he could find, a puppet dancing at the ends of the strings of the lords of the land. But now, he sang a different song. There was no more he could do. Even the blade of an assassin could hardly threaten me within my god-like shell.

Balthazar stood close behind him, almost imperceptibly nodding along to the Bishop’s words. Of course, after me, none had gained as much from this day. Balthazar had the Sword he’d wanted. He’d openly backed me, and now the fruits of his judgment were on display for all to see. It would be short years before he would be challenged again for re-election for the post of Lord Supreme, and that all rested on what I could do for him in the field.

It was the thought of the field that surprised me most. I had expected to fear the prospect, to worry about my ability to stand up to the test. That was how I had felt for most of the tournament. It was how I had expected to feel.

But something was different within me. Winning the suit had proved something to myself. Suddenly, the prospect of the field was nothing but excitement, an urgent calling, another challenge. I wanted to pit my mettle against the Griidlords of other cities.

I hoped this feeling would last. It felt good.

The voice said, Will you use your father’s name?

I thought back, What?

The voice said, In a moment, you’ll found your house. The fact that you’re so eager and ready to forego the women and accolades that will be showered on you here for the next few days, all to go after Daddy Dearest on the slim chance that he lives—doesn’t that show your devotion to dear old Papa? I’m sure he would insist on it if he were here. It hardly seems fair to see him denied just because he’s not around to pull the puppet strings.

Shut up, I thought at it.

The voice continued, Oh no, did I say something wrong? Was it the women? Are we still feeling sore that the two loves of our lives thought they’d prefer to play with each other’s bodies rather than yours? Or are we truly worried about Pop-pop?

I said nothing. Emotions swirled through me. It wasn’t wrong. It had struck more than one nerve.

The bishop droned on, the crowd cheered. Time seemed to be disconnected from me.

Then the voice spoke again, That wasn’t very fitting of me. Forgive me, Tiberius. I’m a bored old soul, and I like to tease. I only taunt you because you can take it. But I chose my moment poorly. I know you humans have emotions that rise and fall by the moment. I shouldn’t have said that.

Again, I was unsure—was this manipulation, or was it real?

The voice said, There will be other girls, better girls, I promise you. I’ve seen it a thousand times. And maybe, for your sake, there’ll be more than a few lesser girls. And your father… he lives or he doesn’t. I can’t say I care much for him; he really did a number on you. But you’re doing what you think is right. You’re sacrificing to go after him. If you find out he’s dead—which I won’t pretend I wouldn’t mind—then at least you’ll know you did what you could. He might have been a piece of shit of a father, but you’ve been a hell of a son.

I didn’t want this. The heat of tears touched my eyes. I was glad for the helmet hiding my face. But there was a rightness to what it said. Even if I couldn’t say I loved the bastard, I could have no guilt if I went forth to find him.

Suddenly, the bishop’s voice rose to a louder boom, drawing my attention once more.

“And now, my children, the blessed lifeblood of Boston, you will meet your new SWORD! He comes before you now to name a new house—a house won by virtue, by merit, by the blessing of the Oracle.”

I froze for a moment.

What name would I use?