I frowned.

“Done about it?” I asked.

“Yes, done about it,” she confirmed.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” I cut in, hesitating, glancing between her and Caleb, who nodded along with her. “What’s wrong with what I’ve already been doing? Making myself out to be a Brute–can’t I just keep doing that?”

“No,” Alyss denied, immediately. “No, you can’t. For, uh–” She stopped, then sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose, massaging it slightly.

“Oh, where do I even begin?” She muttered. “I–”

“Start with the Assembly,” Caleb suggested, then turning my way. “Taiven. You’re unfamiliar with the Assembly, I presume?”

I nodded, still frowning.

“So start with the Assembly, Alyss,” he suggested, again.

“Right, the Assembly,” she agreed, gnawing on the edges of her lower lip. “Right. Well, then.”

“Well, the first thing you have to understand,” she began, “is that the Cells aren’t like Old Europe. Not at all. Their Aristocracy is like ours in name only.” She looked up at me.

“Yes?”

I nodded, slowly, gesturing for her to continue.

“In the Aristocracy,” she explained, rubbing her forehead as she did so, “our Aristocracy, the Cells, our power comes from a very small group of extremely potent Blessed. You’re familiar with them, I’m sure.

“Valour, and his Kingsguard. Soultaker, and his Deathguard,” she listed, jotting off the names on extended fingertips, grimacing faintly as she spoke the second one. “Vaultkeeper, and his Horsemen. That’s it. The big three. Three Blessed, with three very specific and important capabilities.

“Valour can level cities,” she recited. “Vaultkeeper can slay Immortals. And Soultaker can make permanent slaves of other Blessed.” She spread her hands. “These three High Lords, and their abilities, are what have, for centuries, stayed other factions from our lands. They’re what maintain our sovereignty.

“But Old Europe,” she explained, holding up a pointer finger admonishingly. “is different. Europe never had a Frontlines to man, to pour resources into. They never had the Spawn.”

She paused, momentarily.

“They have the Zone, I suppose, but it’s not quite the same, i–”

“No, it’s not the same,” Caleb cut in, seriously. “Not the same, at all.”

Then, more quietly, almost under his breath, he added.

“The REZ doesn’t follow you home.”

Whatever that meant.

“Mmm,” Alyss echoed, faintly. “Well, in any case. No Spawn. What do you think they did, for centuries? They bred. Bred, and bred, grew and grew. More Blessed. More mundies, too. Until their cities were choked with people, overflowing with life. They outnumber us, one hundred to one.

“They don’t have a big three,” she explained. “Because, they don’t need to. They have a big three hundred. A big three thousand.”

She splayed her arms out wide, as if to encompass just such a grand expanse of life.

“The New European Assembly,” she declared. “Made up of Houses and Great Houses, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of centuries-old families. More high-level Blessed, and Blessed in general, for that matter, than anywhere else in the known world.”

She stopped, and chewed at her bottom lip.

“The point I’m trying to make,” Alyss spelt out, slowly and steadily, “is that you have to be careful, now, Taiven. We have to be careful. You were an unknown, before the Agoge. That’s not the case anymore. You’ll be brushing shoulders with high society, for the foreseeable future. They will test you. A good cover story for your Blessing is only part of this; you need to learn their ways.”

She locked eyes with me. I didn’t like where this was going. I could already predict what she was going to say next.

“You need to learn how the Nobility actually works,” Alyss insisted. “The names, the Houses. The power structures. You need an actual edu–”

“What about him?” I cut in, feeling a touch defensive as I pointed towards the Inquisitor who, I felt quite certain, couldn’t be much more cultured than me.

But Alyss retorted just as quickly.

“Caleb doesn’t need to prove himself,” she quashed, shaking her head. “He’s famous. He’s received an education…of sorts. And besides, he’s got the Faith backing him up. No one’s going to test him.”

Her words were true enough, but the incoming ask they were sure to precipitate disheartened me considerably. The monotony of academic study had never appealed to me, even when Mom taught it. I’d much preferred my more practical lessons in swordplay.

And now, even more so.

Now, I was playing with the tools of Gods, themselves.

The idea of countless hours whiled away poring over meaningless history, politics, and literature when I could have been training, sparring, receiving ever-more of those oh-so-wonderful endorphins I received from collating Shards made me downright nauseous.

“The Faith’s backing him,” Alyss continued, ignorant to my dismay. “Nycta’s backing me–which, to be honest, might give me just as much trouble, too, but…” She looked at me, seriously.

“Who’s backing you, Taiven?”

My frown deepened. I shifted, uncomfortably. Once more, I was taken aback by Alyss’s growing confidence. Mere months ago, she’d never have dared confront me in such a direct manner as this.

“You’re no one. A Forsaken. A trigger. No pedigree, no family. No education–”

For a moment I was tempted to interrupt the sorceress, to cut in and point out that I had, in fact, received quite a robust education from my mother. But then, I realized belatedly, that had been in the sciences. I knew nothing at all of the Aristocracy.

“–and no accolades to speak of,” she went on, laying into me with an impressive abandon. “A mercenary–for all intents and purposes–comes in out of nowhere, with no money or legacy to speak of, and survives the deadliest Agoge in a hundred years? Damn right, they’re going to have questions for you. You don’t know what these people are like, Taiven. They’re going to poke. They’re going to prod. They’re going to search for weaknesses. For every little thing they can possibly find.

“And, when they do–how are you going to deal with that?” She pressed, staring at me with an intense urgency that belied both anxiety and concern. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say? Who is going to support you?”

As I opened my mouth to reply, and found myself at something of a loss for words, I was all of a sudden overcome by a startling wave of unruly emotion.

It was…anger.

No.

It was rage.

And even as it swept across my body, drenching me in adrenaline, making my breaths come fast and shallow, hastening the beating of my heart, it confounded me. Intellectually, I knew Alyss meant no disrespect. No, far from it. Her questions were rhetorical, and moreover, well-intentioned. She wasn’t actually looking for an answer from me, she was attempting to impress a certain point.

Alyss cared about me. She only wanted to help.

And yet–who was she to question me?

Who was she to take from me those precious moments I so dearly cherished, that time I spent with my Shards, my friends, my only friends, my only real friends, the closest companions I’d ever have, the only ones I’d ever really be able to trust?

Who was she to tell me what I must learn, what I must do? How dare she? Why should I care for what others thought of me? They did not control me. They could not compel me.

No one could.

What did they know of power? Of truth? Of beauty? Their short, pitiful, weak lives. Nothing. I played with powers of a depth and magnitude they could never have grasped, I’d seen truth, and knowledge, and beauty of a nature so fundamental it would make them tremble with fear.

And madness.

They could take their questions and accusations to the grave, the lot of them. I’d escort them there. I’d do it happily. I’d do it easily.

They were mortals.

And I was a G o d.

And then, as suddenly and seamlessly as it arrived, the spell was over.

It came, and went, in less even than an instant, stealing the breath from my lungs and leaving behind only a cool sweat upon my brow. Panicked, I probed my soul without a moment’s hesitation, but found nothing amiss. ADMINISTRATION was just as silent as it had ever. There was no outside influence here. There never had been.

There was only…me.

My brows furrowed themselves into deep chasms of worry. Perhaps I’d been spending too much time amongst my Shards.

Alyss, quickly noticing and just as quickly misattributing my abrupt discomfort to her own words and inquiries, rushed to reassure me.

“I mean, we are!” She damage-controlled, smiling guiltily at me, cold confidence dissipating considerably as she wincingly examined my sweating scalp. “We are! We’re here for you, we’re going to support you, always, um, ob–obviously, uh–” she stuttered a bit, biting at her lower lip, then quickly glancing at Glare.

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“R–right, Caleb?”

“Absolutely,” the ever-honorable Inquisitor confirmed, displaying an equal measure of compassion, treating me to that trademark faith-inspiring look as he clasped a firm palm upon my shoulder. “Absolutely, we are,” he said, just as genuinely as was his norm. “Never fear, my friend.”

“Um, thanks…” I muttered, uncomfortably. “But, I wasn’t rea–”

“Don’t worry!” Alyss blurted, looking me over with a bit of panic, now. “Seriously, Taiven. I didn’t mean–I only meant that they won’t know that we’re supporting you…y–you know? You don–”

“I get it,” I forestalled her, letting out an exasperated sigh, rubbing my eyes with a single palm. “Really, I do. I’m not upset.”

My words didn’t seem particularly to convince either of them.

“Please, continue,” I waved Alyss on, regardless.

“Well, alright,” she began, more hesitantly this time, wringing anxiously at her fingers. “The problem with your story, Taiven, it’s…it’s that…look, you have to be careful, when you lie to these people. Really, really careful. These Blessed, some of them are centuries old. As old as Soultaker, or Vaultkeeper, or–or older. They’ll sniff that out in an instant. You’re a strong Brute, true, and an excellent regenerator, but not strong enough to survive an exotic Maw. And besides, you can’t limit yourself like that.”

She paused. “It’s good that this is your first public appearance. That’s good. That helps us. You’ve stayed out of the spotlight, until now. Unlike me, and Caleb, no one’s seen what you can do. No one knows what happened in the Dungeon, obviously. That means you control the narrative.”

“So…,” I asked, “So, what? What do I tell them? That I’m a Trump?”

“No!”

“No.”

The both of them replied, immediately.

“No, you do not. You do not tell them that,” Caleb warned, seriously. “Never tell them that.”

“We’ve been over this,” Alyss added, unnecessarily. “Nothing’s changed. An unaffiliated Trump is risky enough, on its own, but with your Blessing?” She stopped, and shivered.

I threw up my hands in annoyance. “Well, what do you want me to do, then?”

Alyss and Caleb shared a look with one another.

“At times, in war, there are no good options,” Caleb proposed, reluctantly. “Only the bad. None can do, what…what it is, that you do. None. Not all of it. In this case, I fear, we are forced to choose the story what lets you do the most–but not too much–without begetting overmany questions, either.”

He shared another look with the Master at his side.

“We have decided upon Breaker,” he declared, and Alyss nodded along with him.

“I mean, you don’t tell them that,” she cut in, quickly. “Not, not directly.”

“Of course,” Caleb agreed. “But, this is the narrative in which we believe. Breaker primaries are rare,” he went on, “and Breaker states express themselves…unpredictably. They may bestow all manner of ancillary effects. And, too boot–this story permits you use of your most potent Blessing; Acceleration.”

He explained further, gesturing as he did so.

“A Breaker state what turns you into an overwhelmingly potent Mover, grants lightning manipulation, enhanced strength, agility, perception, regeneration…”

The Immolator’s voice warbled, growing somewhat less and less self-assured as he continued to enumerate the laundry-list of powers I might bring to bear alongside the primary rating they’d both planned for me.

When he at last trailed off completely, I treated him to a single raised eyebrow.

“Yeah?” I derided.

“It’s theoretically possible,” Alyss defended, a trifle petulantly. “And it’s the best story we’ve got.”

“I agree,” Caleb said, even though it was obvious he did.

“Hmm,” I vacillated, unconvinced. Frankly, this story of theirs didn’t seem any especially more bulletproof than the one I’d chosen prior. But then, I was no Aristocrat. Perhaps the nuances of such things were simply lost on me.

“What about Fang?” I wondered. He was quite central to my current combat style, and quite possessive, too. I sincerely doubted he’d be content with my using more mundane steel in his stead.

“We thought of that, actually,” Alyss piped up, eagerly, snapping her fingers together. “Since no one should be able to tell for sure that he’s a Blessing, just…say you got him from the Dungeon. A reward. Quick. Easy. Unverifiable. It’s not too uncommon for Delvers to find Entropic weapons down below, after all. Even the rare Relic, every now and again.”

“And Draconic Blo–shit, sorry–” I cursed, inadvertently singing the Shard’s name in that manner the two of them had described to me as ‘awful, simply awful, like a choir of snakes and cockroaches shrieking at you.’

I winced as I watched the both of them flinch back reflexively, grasping protectively at their ears. Grimacing, I worked to contort my vocal chords in a manner thoroughly unnatural, that I might this time produce a sound much more palatable to them but that came not even near to fully describing what my Brute Blessing truly was.

“–and, Draconic Blood?”

“You can’t reveal that,” Alyss snapped back instantly, more than a little cross with me. I didn’t blame her. Her tolerance for the song was less than Caleb’s, much less, and she now no doubt enjoyed a splitting headache pulsing its way between her temples. “You can’t reveal that one, ever. Do you understand me, Taiven? Not ever.”

Needless to say, I’d kept both my companions quite updated on the proceeding evolutions of my various Shards. After all, we were in this together, now. Through thick and thin. If either one of them were to betray me, at this point, I’d be fucked regardless of what I’d told them.

Typically, they took most updates in stride, by now relatively inoculated to my obscene instances of progression. But Draconic Blood had set them particularly on-edge. Honestly, anything to do with the direct manipulation of Blessings did.

“Agreed,” Caleb echoed, just as quickly, scowling deeply as he did so. “That Blessing is, quite frankly, ludicrous. Ridiculous. Even for you. Give others no insight into it, unless you have absolutely no other choice.”

“Practice it on your own,” Alyss continued, taking over from him without missing a single beat. “Behind closed doors. Or, in your soul. You can travel there, now, right? So, train there.”

I nodded, slowly. It was what I’d done thus far, anyway.

“I mean,” I hedged, tentatively. “I was rather hoping to train it against other actual Blessed, though–”

“I’ll train with you,” Alyss interrupted me, taking me off-guard.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“You?” I stated dubiously. “Uh, no offense, milady, but–”

“I’m going to reach the Core stage.”

My eyes widened.

This time, Caleb joined me. We both looked at her in shock. Apparently, he’d been just as clueless to this as I had. Undaunted, Alyss continued.

“I don’t need to gain Attunement conventionally, remember? I can force a Trial,” she reminded us. “All I need is shades. Just shades. And, as long as they’re high enough Grade–” she flicked her wrist, and a faceted jewel of brilliant cerulean hue popped into existence, “–I can use Entropy crystals to create them.”

Her expression soured for a moment.

“Father never liked it,” she spat, venomously. “Why buy crystals, when human souls are free? And the ratio is pretty abysmal, too. But I’ll have plenty, I should think, so long as…”

She paused, and glanced between the two of us, a touch anxiously.

“So long as the both of you are willing to sell me yours.

“I’ve got the money for it!” She added, quickly, before either Caleb or I could say a word. “I visited a local branch of Nycta before leaving. I’ve got plenty. Plenty. I’ll pay you market rate, two and a quarter million chits per crystal. Or higher, even…so?”

I blinked at her for a moment, rather at a loss for words.

I didn’t understand why exactly she thought I might be loath to sell. I had no use for the things, myself, really. Grade fifteen or no, I doubted two crystals, alone, would do much for my own Attunement. And I could certainly use the money–the last of my current stash had been more or less eliminated by my rather exorbitant most recent re-supply.

I felt a bit uncomfortable taking such large amounts from her, though. Before I could speak up, Caleb was already echoing my sentiment.

“The Faith pays most of my expenses,” he claimed, mildly. “I care little for material luxuries, and can’t use the crystals myself. My Attunement is too high. Honestly, my lady, you can just have them.”

“I agree, Alyss,” I added. “I’m not sure I feel comfortab–”

“No,” she cut me off, insistently. “No, I’d rather you take it. It’s Father’s money, anyway, not mine. If–”

She paused, and a ghost of a vindictive smile played across her face. It was the first time I’d seen her, if privately, express joy at the prospect of rebelling against her family, in lieu of fear.

“If you use it for nothing,” she spoke slowly and with a strange grin, “that’s all the better.”

Then her smile vanished.

“And I need this,” she said, seriously, glancing my way. “It’s not just for training, Taiven. I’ll need this to survive. I can’t be reliant on the two of you, not anymore. You’ve both got strength in spades, but in Bern, that won’t be enough. It never is. We can’t just be strong…”

Alyss stopped, and wrung her hands together, staring down at the two of them, intertwined. When she looked back up, her face appeared considerably more somber, and her lime-green eyes flickered darkly with the memory of something I wasn’t eager to know.

“My father is a monster,” she intoned, softly. “A monster, in every way. But he’s not wrong about everything. Sometimes…”

Her voice wavered, and she briefly shut her eyes, but continued to speak.

“Infiltration. Interrogation. Espionage. Even…even Mastery,” she spoke the words with such a seething hatred and disgust that it startled me. “Our enemies won’t hesitate to use them against us. Not for an instant. We need to be able to fight back. And neither of you can.”

She opened her eyes, and locked them upon mine.

“Right?” She asked. “You haven’t focused on that.”

“You’re right,” I admitted, reluctantly. “I haven’t.”

I hadn’t even experimented with Thinker primary Blessings yet, let alone Master or Stranger ones. I’d been mostly focusing my efforts on power in more or less direct combat.

“That’s good,” Alyss said, surprisingly, though her lips remained contorted in that revolted snarl. “Nor should you. That’s…that’s why I’m here.”

Her hands clenched tight.

“It’s my job,” she hissed. “What I was made for. What I’ve trained for, all my life. I am a Master, and it’s beyond time I started acting like one.” She paused then, and slowly, shakingly, released white-knuckled palms, sighing wearily as she did so.

“I wanted to wait until we’d left the Cells behind,” she explained. “Maybe even ‘till the Institute. Put as much space between myself and my father as possible, because…”

She glanced at the both of us.

“As soon as he finds out about this,” she swore. “he’s going to come after me.”

I swallowed, and watched the Inquisitor sat at my side do much the same. “Fine,” I accepted, nevertheless, Caleb nodding along with me.

“Good,” Alyss stated, firmly, then paused. “Oh, and one more thing.” She looked my way.

“Don’t call me, ‘milady’,” she deadpanned.

I blinked.

“E–excuse me?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Don’t call me ‘milady’,” she repeated, just as seriously. I raised my eyebrows, taken aback.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry, Alyss. Uh. I didn’t mea–”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” she waved off my apologies with a hand. “Don’t say ‘milord,’ or ‘milady,’” she instructed. “Say ‘my lady.’ Get it?” She pointed towards her mouth, and exaggeratedly pronounced the phrase.

“My, pause, lady,” she mouthed. “Yes? Not, ‘milady.’ No Aristocrat says ‘milady.’ Only mundies do that.”

Despite myself, I let out a snort of incredulity, glancing at Caleb, who shrugged.

“It is true, I suppose. But, I still say ‘milady,’ now and then,” he muttered. “I don’t think it matters especially mu–”

“You’re not helping, Inquisitor,” Alyss glared at him, then returned to me. “Look, Taiven, this is a battle of a thousand cuts, ok?”

“Ok,” I accepted, dubiously.

“Every little bit counts,” she added.

“Ok,” I accepted, evenly.

“So say, ‘my lady,’” she finished.

“As you wish, my lady,” I complied, obediently.

“Excellent,” Alyss said, beaming at me. “Ok. Ok, excellent. So, just to be abundantly clear,” Alyss dictated, unnecessarily, as she pointed my way. “This is you; You are a Forsaken, an old trigger from the slums of Talos, not the Wilds. You took mercenary work, for a while, then thought to try your luck at the Agoge.

“And another thing. It’s high time you learned who exactly it is you’re about to face,” she added, nodding to herself. “Starting today, class is officially in session. Lesson one; The Great Houses of the New European Assembly.”

“All clear?” She asked, equally unnecessarily.

“Yes, mother,” I replied, rolling my eyes. Caleb smirked, then straightened, clearing his throat and schooling his expression as Alyss whipped his way, clearing his throat somewhat embarrassedly.

“I don’t know what you’re grinning about, Inquisitor,” Alyss scowled, directing her extended pointer finger his way. “You’re enrolling, too.”

Caleb startled.

“B–wh–nuh,” he stammered, “y–you said yourself, Alyss, I have already–”

“Unless, of course, you’d feel confident responding to a verbal exam on the subject, right now? Thirty minutes?” she cut him off, smiling sweetly at him. “I’d be happy to administer it.”

Caleb’s head snapped my way, panic writ plain upon his face.

But he found no mercy in me. I grinned vindictively back at him.

“I have to say, I’m rather looking forward to this,” Alyss admitted, treating the both of us to a smile that, for the first time since I’d met the sorceress, served to remind me she hailed from a Cell of sadistic Masters.

“Why, who knows?” She wondered, innocently.

“Perhaps that miserable education of mine might turn out to be good for something, after all.”