Baltizar looked at me. He was young to be on the council, let alone to be the Supreme. He wasn't much past forty years of age. His face was deep, the eyes set away under a deep brow, his skin weathered and a little jowly. The people hummed about him, a nobody by the standards of the nobility, who had appeared from nowhere to become our leader. He had spent time in New York, serving with one of the factions—I still can't remember if it was the North or the South—engaging as a mercenary general in their endless war, learning, they said, honing himself.

There was hope among the people that he would be new blood, bringing new experiences and new ideas to help Boston rise from the mud and become a force in the world, to win more Orbs, to have more Order. None could explain how he had convinced the council to elect him. Many hoped that they had put their posturing and bickering aside to elect someone who could simply help the city win and succeed. Baltizar spoke, his voice oddly grim and emotionless.

"Tiberius," he said, "I must say, you surprised me today—not as much as you might expect."

I stood there, speechless, trying to process the presence of this man in our home. My father, who had been beaming with pride, now looked at me expectantly, his eyes urging me to respond appropriately. I finally found my voice.

"Thank you, my lord," I said, bowing slightly. "I hope I can continue to surprise you."

Baltizar's eyes seemed to bore into me, assessing me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. "Your performance today was commendable. You showed resilience and adaptability. Traits that are essential for a Griidlord."

I felt a surge of pride but tempered it with caution. "I am honored by your words, my lord. I will strive to improve further."

Baltizar nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "See that you do. The Choosing is far from over, and there are many challenges ahead. But you have potential, Tiberius. Do not squander it."

Father cut in, saying, "Oh, he won't, Lord Baltizar, fear not. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. What I have done with trading, Tiberius will do with the Sword." I watched my father's eyes, the hunger with which he addressed Baltizar, and realized what he really wanted. He did want the respect of founding a noble house; that was no charade. But as he looked on Baltizar, a man that even Father had to be supplicant to, I understood. He wanted to become a noble and then use his guile to become the Supreme. I shuddered and thrilled to imagine what Father could do with such power. He had done so much with so little already.

Father turned his eyes to me, growing sober and serious. "There is a reason the Supreme Lord is here today, stopping on his way back to the Tower." I gulped, audibly, to my embarrassment. Baltizar said, "I understand that your father had impressed on you the gamble he took in finding you a place in the Choosing."

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I said, "Yes, I understand." I imagined that Baltizar might be the man Father had wagered so much to, that he was here to renegotiate the gamble after my tremendous success.

Baltizar said, "I have much to gain or lose by your success as well, Tiberius." I didn't understand, and I said as much, "My lord, I don't see what you mean."

Baltizar walked past me, around me, as though assessing a stallion at market. He said, "How do you think I gained the seat of Supreme, Tiberius?"

I said, "I can only imagine, my lord."

Baltizar said, "You're clearly a smart lad, Tiberius. Tell me what you really think. This is a safe place, there's no one watching except Harold, and I understand his loyalty is unimpeachable."

I glanced, following Baltizar's gaze, and saw a shadow hurriedly retreat from the doorway. Harold had been spying, unable to help himself. There was a moment of silence, and I realized that Baltizar was waiting for my response. I didn't have much time to measure my answer, so my response was quite honest.

I said, "You fought in the wars in New York. You generaled armies, stood on the front lines, experienced war on the scale between cities, not the petty combats that our lords have experienced, clashing with fiends and wild folk. You learned things that you could impress on the others and offered them a chance at greatness."

Baltizar stepped back, his eyes widening, impressed. "Yes, in a nutshell, that's exactly what I did. Boston has wallowed too long, not in the pits of the world, but not reaching the peaks. We get by, and for me and the nobles of the land, that's not enough. I came back here after my campaigns in the East, and I promised them an Empire."

I barely concealed my gasp.

He said, "I saw Griidlords die in those wars. I saw Swords come and go, and I promised the nobles that I could guide a new Sword. A Sword that could win us more than Orbs, but Empire and the Griid-Crown, and they believed me. Or at least they believed it was worth the gamble to give me the chance."

He waited, I could see this was a strategy of his, creating silence and forcing others to reveal things by filling it. Despite recognizing this, I couldn't help myself, I blurted, "This is why you're taking such interest in the Choosing!"

He smiled, thinly and barely, "Yes, Tiberius, that is exactly why I've taken such interest in the Choosing. I'm sure you're aware that proceedings have been private thus far, only select nobles like myself and a few others have been permitted access. But from tomorrow, the Choosing becomes a public spectacle. The final rounds will be open for all the citizenry to attend, and I will be expected to be present. It wouldn't do for the Supreme not to be present as the crowds gather."

I watched him carefully pace back to my father. Father watched him, more tense than I was used to seeing him in the presence of others. Baltizar said, "Lance is the favorite."

I nodded, "He's very good."

Baltizar said, "Gideon, Lauren, and Katya are better than you."

I spluttered, wanted to argue, but he kept talking.

"You have more attributes than they do, your powers have grown, but they move better than you. They know how to kill better than you, but you've closed the gap."

I stood back, glanced at Father. He was watching the show, not taking part, sipping his drink, excited. Baltizar said, "Lance should be the Sword of Boston."