Tomas wandered the imperial gardens restlessly, thoughts far from the orderly flower beds and manicured hedges surrounding him. He missed the wild forests and rambling fields of home, where he could roam for hours without a guard tailing his every step.

Court life was slowly suffocating him. At least outside he could briefly pretend a semblance of freedom, away from the endless bowing and simpering.

Voices ahead made Tomas bristle instinctively, but it was only a gangly teen gesturing animatedly as he regaled his companions with some story. The boy's finery marked him as imperial nobility, likely the heir to some influential house.

To Tomas's surprise, the teen spotted him and sauntered over boldly. "Well met, brother to His Esteemed Radiance. I am Lord Cyriac Tigherfang, second son of the Imperial Patriarch."

Ignoring Tomas's silence, the talkative Cyriac continued on breezily. "You must find court so dull coming from some backwater village. I'd be happy to show you the real amusements around here."

Irritation flared in Tomas at the casual disdain, reminding him painfully of the cocky alpha boys he had never gotten along with back home. This Cyriac was cut from the same arrogant cloth.

"My hometown suited me perfectly well, Lord Cyriac," Tomas replied coldly. "Perhaps you should worry about your own reputation at court without concerning yourself with my entertainment."

Cyriac laughed. "Come now, don't get offended. I only meant Astorium takes some adjusting to." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Just between us, I'd trade places with a peasant in a heartbeat to escape my family."

Despite himself, Tomas felt his frostiness thawing at the admission. Cyriac's bravado hid the same dislike of gilded cages and stifling expectations.

"Apologies if I overreacted," Tomas offered gruffly. "Court politics are not my area of expertise."

"Nor mine, for that matter," Cyriac grinned. "Father and my older brother handle all that dull business. I prefer enjoying life."

He shot Tomas a hopeful look. "What say we slip off to the city sometime for real fun? To the devil with propriety."

Tomas met Cyriac's infectious enthusiasm with a wry smile. The pompous noble was growing on him despite his better judgment. Perhaps with this rebellious new friend, Tomas might find a way to endure aristocratic trappings after all. He clapped Cyriac on the shoulder.

"You're on. This place needs a bit of mischief to liven it up."

The two unlikely friends laughed together, already thick as thieves in defiance of all decorum and expectations.

***

Jasper stood silently in the shadows as Tomas, and the rash Lord Cyriac plotted their next escapade into the city. Keeping watch over the rambunctious pair had become his unofficial duty of late, one Jasper performed diligently, if not always happily.

While he understood Aeron's protectiveness of his free-spirited brother, personally, Jasper found the Thorneborn's overbearing restrictions short-sighted. All the imperial constraints only bred more rebellion in the restless Tomas, who bristled at any perceived cage.

Still, an order was an order. So Jasper discretely tracked the unlikely duo on their various escapades, ensuring they came to no real harm in their exuberance.

He even grudgingly admitted enjoying their small acts of defiance that pierced the court's stuffy decorum. Jasper never interfered with their hijinks directly but silently kept danger at bay. They reminded him that regimented duties left little room for joy.

As Tomas and Cyriac put their heads together, laughing over some planned prank, Jasper recalled bittersweetly the days when camaraderie and adventure filled his own heart before solemn oaths bound him to the Thorneborn's service.

The fanciful dreams of youth seemed distant now. But he was glad Tomas yet clung fiercely to carefree days, resisting imperial pressures that aged souls too fast. Let Aeron disapprove; Jasper would guard this spark as long as it endured.

Noticing Tomas peer around curiously, Jasper sank further into the foliage. But looking closer, he realized Tomas's gaze settled directly on him with a knowing grin. Jasper froze, caught off guard.

"You can come out, my friend," Tomas called over mockingly. "Did you really think we were unaware of our constant watcher?"

Jasper stepped from the bushes sheepishly as Tomas laughed without malice. "Your stealth is impressive, but we've known for weeks." He clapped Jasper on the shoulder. "You're one of us now, like it or not!"

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Despite himself, Jasper chuckled. The withering seriousness he prided himself on had proven no match for their infectious spirit.

"Then lead on, my friends," Jasper said, shaking his head wryly. "But the trouble you two find better be worth my efforts hiding it from His Esteemed Eminence."

With a cry of delight, Tomas and Cyriac drew their disguised guardian fully into their band of mischief-makers. And for the first time in forever, Jasper felt the lightness of youthful possibilities rekindled. Aeron's displeasure seemed a small price for the joy of unburdened brotherhood, a reminder that dutiful service was not the sum of life. Jasper would protect this precious gift however he could.

***

Kind leaned on the balcony railing, gazing out impatiently at the harbor below. Reports said the troublesome pirate Kammy and her cutthroats had been spotted approaching Astorium in their infamous ship, the Nightmare.

Seeking to intercept them before they could slip off again, Kind had flooded the docks with enough soldiers to form a tight net around the elusive brigands for once. After years of futilely chasing the scourge of the seas, today would see Kammy's wild career ended.

A raucous commotion erupted down at the piers as the Nightmare eased in, obviously unaware of the trap awaiting it. Kind smiled in anticipation, savoring this long-awaited moment of victory.

But grappling hooks flew from the pirate ship without warning, latching onto buildings and scaffolding. To Kind's disbelief, the Nightmare began climbing up out of the water, using the hooks and rigging to scale the very docks, soldiers shouting in confusion.

It was an outrageous, impossible maneuver only reckless madmen would attempt. But sure enough, the notorious ship perched miraculously at the top of the piers now, leering down at Kind's dumbfounded forces.

Then with a whoop of laughter in the distance, the pirates swung aboard and took advantage of the chaos to race off into Astorium's streets. Kind could only watch fuming as Kammy slipped his grasp yet again, thanks to sheer audacious lunacy.

Yet despite his embarrassment at being outwitted by their brazen stunt, Kind felt grudging admiration. Indeed, seeing Kammy crowing victoriously amidst her crew, fierce and free, lit a fire in him that he thought long dead.

Perhaps the daring rogue had the right idea, living each day to its fullest without sparing a thought for stuffy conventions. In his heart, stodgy decorum bored Kind. As much as it did, Kammy. Though bound by contrasting duties, they were kindred spirits raging against gilded cages.

Yes, reflected Kind, watching the Nightmare disappear around a corner; a mere hanging was far too mundane a fate for that colorful scoundrel. Taming her wild flame would prove a much more gratifying conquest.

The thought of harnessed ferocity like Kammy's charging into battle beside him was intriguing indeed. And she would make a fine exotic addition to his harem as well...

"Double the bounty on the blackguard Kammy's head," Kind ordered the gaping captain beside him. "I want her and her crew in irons before they can escape back to sea. Do not fail me again."

The chase was not over; his fiery quarry had only slipped the snare temporarily. Kind's blood stirred at the thought of their next clashing encounter. He had let the stagnant court drain his spirit for too long. Whether she realized it yet or not, Kammy's chaotic presence might just rouse the man he had once been. What a delightful irony that would be!

***

Rakoth stood rigidly before Matriarch Mingus, trying not to tremble as she stared him down imperiously. His gut churned with dread at what impossible or dangerous task she would demand of him this time.

Ever since Mingus had plucked Rakoth from the prisons to serve her, she had enjoyed assigning him missions guaranteed to end in humiliation or worse. Rakoth was expendable entertainment to her, his life meaningless beside her ambitions.

"Rakoth, I have a new errand for you," Mingus began, smiling coyly. "As you know, the recent threat of those vulgar pirates working with Lady Astarrath has the other Imperial Houses on edge."

Rakoth remained silent, waiting for the axe to fall.

"Naturally, any information on renewed pirate activity would be invaluable for House Blackturtles to acquire," Mingus continued. "I expect you to infiltrate those wretches and return with whatever intelligence you can gather."

Cold fear washed over Rakoth. She was sending him to spy on the very dregs of society, likely a death sentence!

"My lady, I am unworthy of such a vital mission," Rakoth stammered, frantic for some excuse. "Surely one of your seasoned agents—"

"Did I ask your opinion?" Mingus snapped. "You will do as commanded and be grateful for the opportunity to prove your loyalty."

Trapped, Rakoth bowed his head in acquiescence. This was suicide, and Mingus knew it. She was intentionally exiling him now that his amusement value had dried up. He had outlived his usefulness.

As Mingus dismissed him to prepare for departure, Rakoth's simmering anger and resentment almost eclipsed his dread. How many years now had he endured her petty torments silently? No more. The time had come to escape or die trying. He would never be her abused pawn again.

Glancing around furtively, Rakoth slipped away unseen, heading for the seedy tavern where Kammy's crew caroused between raids. If he must infiltrate them, better to seek them out in secret on his terms than arrive openly as Mingus's spy.

Approaching the weathered door, Rakoth steeled himself. Here went nothing. Throwing himself on the pirates' dubious mercy was the sole chance left to reclaim his stolen freedom. And if they simply killed him instead, so be it. That fate seemed infinitely better than continuing as Mingus's plaything. Sometimes only desperate odds offered any hope of victory against oppression. Rakoth stepped inside.

***

Aeron sat rigidly on the opulent throne, trying to look imposing as the squabbling nobles shouted and gestured angrily before him. He had called this council hoping to negotiate a settlement to their petty territory disputes. Instead, it had only devolved into further vitriol and accusations.

"Lies! Your people have clearly trespassed over the river boundary and are stealing from our lands!" Lord Cyron roared, pointing accusingly at his rival, Lady Esme.

"How dare you!" Esme shouted back. "My people do no such thing! You rogues have been raiding our towns for weeks!"

Aeron suppressed a weary sigh, raising a hand. "Please, let us speak reasonably and find a solution." But his plea went unheeded beneath the tumult.

The doors suddenly crashed open, startling everyone to silence. Deron strode in, looking furious. "Enough foolishness!" He slammed the base of his staff loudly. "You dishonor the emperor with this rabble. Begone!"

The chastened nobles hurried from the hall as Aeron watched numbly. He should feel grateful for Deron's intervention, but bitterness curdled his stomach. Once again, the mage had needed to step in and command respect that Aeron apparently could not.

"Do not look so gloomy, Your Eminence," Deron said in a gentler tone, approaching Aeron. "Maintaining authority over squabbling factions takes years to master."

When Aeron only glowered silently, Deron leaned down. "My actions may rankle, but know they come from care, not spite. Your burdens are still new and heavy. Guidance weighs less than scorn from those you would lead."

Aeron sighed. "I just want them to show me the same regard they give you." He met Deron's eyes unhappily. "Instead I feel like a child playing pretend among elders."

Deron smiled wryly. "Not surprising. Most here first met you as a peasant boy from some backwater hamlet. They do not adjust perspectives swiftly."

Placing a bracing hand on Aeron's shoulder, he said, "Grant them time, and demonstrate wisdom beyond your years. Their minds will follow eventually."

Though still discouraged, Aeron managed a nod. "Very well. I shall be more patient and heed your counsel."

He rose with renewed resolve. "Please keep guiding me, even and especially when I resent it. The emperor I would become still needs you for that unvarnished truth."

Deron knelt solemnly before Aeron. "You humble me with such trust." He met Aeron's gaze. "I swear to honor it and you, to whatever end, my liege."

Blinking sudden tears away, Aeron touched the mage's shoulder in acknowledgment and thanks before leaving to prepare for the next council. Fortunately, He had this stalwart sentinel beside him, ready with wise reproof and comfort. With Deron's aid, Aeron would grow into the emperor destiny required, unbowed by the heavy crown. Patience and faith would light the way.