His words struck me like a blow. There was a strange sense of relief in what he said, as though he was lifting a weight from me. Lance clearly was the best of all of us. Even after my tricks, gaining attributes in the woods while Lauren brought the fiend's head back to the hilltop, Lance had still beaten me. He was the best of us. I expected that there was some strange deal occurring between Father and Baltizar, that my success on the day had allowed Father to renegotiate terms, that I would be expected to take the fall in the next round, or some future round of the Choosing.

Baltizar stunned me. He said, "Lance should be the next Sword of Boston. All conventional wisdom would point to that. He is high-born, a natural killer. He adapted to moving in the suit faster than any of you. But therein lies the problem."

I stood, confused, unsure of what he could possibly mean.

He said, "What has conventional wisdom done for Boston? Kept us from starving? Is that what we want for our city, our nation, to not starve? Tiberius, you've done things that have never been done in the history of the Choosing. You've gained attributes faster than any I have ever seen, than any that have ever been accounted for in the histories."

I was stunned, barely able to process his words. Baltizar continued, his voice growing more intense, "Lance represents the old ways, the predictable ways. But Boston needs something new, something unexpected. Your rapid growth, your unconventional methods, they are what we need. Not just to survive, but to thrive, to become a force that others will fear and respect."

Father's eyes gleamed with pride, a stark contrast to his usual detached demeanor. Baltizar’s words had clearly resonated with him as well.

"Tiberius," Baltizar said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing into mine, "I believe you have the potential to be more than just a participant in this Choosing. You have the potential to redefine what it means to be a Griidlord, to bring Boston to new heights. But you must continue to grow, to adapt, and to outthink your opponents."

His confidence in me was overwhelming, but it also ignited a fire within. I had thought my victory was enough, but now I saw it was just the beginning. I had to prove myself worthy not just of the suit, but of the future he envisioned for Boston.

Baltizar looked at me. I was the son of the richest man in the realm; I was used to mixing with movers and shakers, but this was the Lord Supreme, in my father's house, his attention completely focused on me. He said, "Lance would be the obvious choice to root for. He's the conventional favorite. The problem is that being conventional has left us wallowing with the other states, our factories only running half the time because we don't have enough Flows to keep the order high, hospitals only able to take a fraction of the sick they should be able to accommodate because the good tech can't run day and night, and our borders always uncertain, never knowing when we'll have to pitch our men in shield and sword against the rifles and bombs of a more successful foe. So, I say convention be damned."

Baltizar stalked around the room, even my father watching, silent, dumb. He said, "Your father made a terrible wager to put you where you are, with a chance at the Suit. I gambled a lot as well, don't mistake me, not on you exactly. I spent all of my political capital, all of my financial capital, and piled on some debts into the bargain, to wrangle my way onto the seat of the Supreme. I promised the lords the world, and I intend to deliver. I need to deliver. I don't specifically need you, Tiberius. If Lance can win orbs and get the order flowing in Boston, then I can succeed with him too... but I feel..."

Baltizar stalked on, coming to stand before the arching window, his back to us. He said, "I've given everything I have to be the Supreme during this Choosing. If the Sword that emerges makes glory for Boston, then I can keep this seat and build something better. Lance might be the best of you, but his destiny as Sword would be the same mediocrity our city has suffered for generations."

He turned and looked at me, the light from the window casting a halo, an aura, making him appear almost divine. He said, "But with you as The Sword of Boston, I think it could be terrible or perfect, and I need the chance at perfection. I think you're my best chance to hold this seat, to really build something here."

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I waited, breath bated. Was he about to choose me, make me Sword? Did he have that authority?

He said, "I don't have the power to make you the Sword. The Choosing is a divine rite; the Oracle chooses the Sword through these trials, and the priesthood would see no dabbling in the outcome." I nodded my head, mind swirling. He said, "But we can put our thumbs on the scale. Somebody—the Bishop, Mario, Lance's father—influenced the rules of today’s trials, and now that boy will have an entire day to meditate in the suit, to grow, gain level and progression while the rest of you just struggle to continue to the next round."

I clenched my fist. It had felt like the dice were loaded against me today. Baltizar said, "I have influence, but the reality is that nobody in power wants to see a commoner gain the Sword. It’s almost never happened, and it casts strange aspersions on the position of the nobles, on their blood. And the priests, well, they always play their games."

Harold stepped primly into the room and cleared his throat. "M'lords, if it would please you, then luncheon has been prepared." My father looked to Baltizar and said, "My lord, would it please you?" Baltizar smirked, amused for some reason, and said, "I have a little more to say, why not? I would be most pleased to share your food."

With that, we moved across the hall to the dining room. The fireplace was clean, immaculate, stacked but unlit. I thought of the last time I had been here, conspiring with Morningstar, and now it seemed I would be conspiring with the Lord Supreme himself.

As we settled ourselves, Baltizar resumed talking, but this time he spoke aware that his audience had expanded to include the servants ferrying food, drinks, and condiments to the table. Baltizar said, "So tomorrow marks the beginning of the public portion of the games."

Father said, "Yes, I'm excited to attend. Money or not, I was not permitted access to the arena until now." Baltizar barely seemed to notice Father. He looked at me and said, "How do you feel about the weight of all those eyes on you tomorrow, Tiberius?"

I swallowed hard. I hadn't even considered them. After a moment, I honestly said, "I haven't been thinking about them, really. What difference can they make? The eyes and impressions of a crowd are hardly going to be more important than the prize that's at stake—for Father, for our family, for me... for Boston even."

Baltizar nodded, satisfied with my response. "That's as well. You'll hear feasting tonight, the people will celebrate and party. There's nothing more exciting than a Choosing. You can go a lifetime without seeing one and have ten in ten years, but it has been some time, and the people are excited. I believe they're rooting for you."

I nearly choked on my bite of meat. "They are?"

Baltizar chuckled. "You're a commoner, like they are."

I looked around the room at the opulence, the electric lights, the bowls of sorbet prepared in electric freezers. There were more servants moving around here than in the castles of half the lords. Baltizar followed my gaze and laughed more heartily. "I know, it's madness really. You're further above them than many of the actual lords are, but they'll root for you just the same, because they see your blood as the same as theirs."

Baltizar tasted an onion tart and expressed surprise and delight. He waved the tart toward Father and said, "The people love that man, even though he could buy all their homes and burn them down and hardly notice, even though he could make all their lives easier, feed them through the winter with just a portion of his fortune. No, they love him, despite his huge house, his servants, his empire, because he was born like them, with no castle, with no birthright."

I thought about this, my thoughts swirling, the pressure, disbelief. "I hadn't thought of that... I'd kind of thought the opposite..."

Baltizar said, "That you'd be the outcast, unloved and opposed like you are with your classmates?"

I nodded, poking at my food with my fork.

He said, "Even among them you seem to have found a way to form some bonds. The Oakcrest girl, Lauren, she hates you much less than the others do, and you've been passing some time with the princess from Florida."

Father's eyes lit up at this. He stared at me and said, "A princess, Tiberius, you've been cavorting with a princess?" He was clearly delighted, excited.

I said, "We might train together later. It's nothing like that, it's business, Father."

As the servants trailed out of the room, Baltizar sensed we had privacy again. He leaned over his plate, as though to conspire despite the huge length of table that lay between us all. He said, "I may not be able to influence events tomorrow like some actors can, but I do have something for you, Tiberius."

I looked at him, my attention captured, my heart rate starting to accelerate. Baltizar said, "I might not be able to stack the deck in your favor the way I would like, but as Lord Supreme, I am required to make arrangements to facilitate the Choosing each day. It was I who sent the soldiers to the hilltop for that fiend hunt, and I know most of the details of tomorrow's trial."