Ehran had returned to Issho-Ni to find the building in a state of frenzied activity. Masters, students of all ranks, and even unofficial partners moved around the property in a storm, bringing information to and fro, relaying orders. The only person that Eric couldn’t see in here was Calemviir. And of course Ehran. Eric’s master himself showed up mere minutes after him, having been alerted to his apprentice’s injuries, and coming to ensure that his wounds were not grave.

After Eric had assured him that he would recover, Ehran had moved off to communicate with the other Masters in a quick huddle. Within minutes, most of them had run out of the building. Ehran went with them, pausing to explain to Eric that they were all taking up positions within the city, to reinforce the Queen’s Guard and provide comfort to the citizens of Milagre.

Within the hour, news of the duel between Attos’ followers and Eric had spread throughout the city. Thankfully, as he was unknown, his name was not spread. But many of Issho-Ni stopped to congratulate him on his victory as they passed, and even a few high-ranking members of the Queen’s Guard saluted him as they passed the open gate of the property. Eric had shifted to the verandah outside the main building as soon as his wounds were fixed, to stay out of the way of traffic in and out.

It was easily the most active he’d ever seen the entire organization. The knowledge of Attosian priests and warriors, so close after their leaders’ ascension, was not a comforting thought. While Eric had indisputably won the duel against Bren and forced them to leave, there was still proof that Attos’ divine power was real. The duel had been witnessed by nearly fifty citizens, and the Queen’s Guard couldn’t keep a lid on that many people.

So it was no surprise to Eric that, later that evening, once he’d been given permission by Ehran to return home, that he heard mutters of Attos’ new rank as a Divine. It was all the people of Milagre could talk about. From the playful children to the serious, recently-retired soldiers, the topic of discussion was the threat that this could pose to their peace and safety. Attos had already conquered one nation in his past and had nearly done the same with Zaban in the war. Milagreans, it seemed, were not comfortable with the idea of the man possessing a god’s power.

“Was this what it was like when he invaded Zaban?” He muttered idly to himself. He could clearly see the worried expressions on the faces around him. “This doesn’t bode well, does it?”

And of course, the answer to that was no. A man who’d already proven a brilliant strategist and phenomenal fighter, strong enough to defeat one of the Divine, was now immortal. For his allies, it was surely an encouraging thought. Their king was now a god in his own right. But for his enemies, and even those who were neutral on the subject, it could only create a sense of fear and foreboding. Even Eric, the outsider that he was, felt a shiver run down his spine at the mere thought.

Just as he crossed over into the Palace District and turned down the wide side street towards Raven’s Hall, he encountered a distraction in the form of Emma. She was running down the pavers towards him, a worried expression on her face. Without asking, Eric could tell that she was one of the few who knew he’d taken part in the duel. She let out a loud gasp, almost a scream, as she saw him and nearly knocked him over in her haste to hug him in relief.

“Oh thank the gods!” She said when they’d both recovered their balance. She broke away and held him at arms-length, looking him up and down. “I was so worried when Samuel told me what you’d done. You don’t look injured, though. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said hurriedly, making a quieting gesture at her. There were still plenty of people nearby to overhear her. “My wounds weren’t that bad, and one of Issho-Ni’s healers restored me fully.”

“That’s good,” she said, glancing around at the others. Everyone within eyesight was peering at them with undisguised curiosity. “Let’s go back to your estate.”

Eric gave a nod of agreement, and they hurried off in a fast walk. More curious glances were sent after them, though Eric hoped they weren’t about their discussion and more about the fact that a lady was keeping him company. That kind of rumor, though embarrassing to think about, was at least better. It didn’t take them long to reach the gate to the small estate.

Eric’s steward was waiting for them at the door. Judging by the expression on his face, he was clearly in the dark on what Eric had been up to. He offered a polite but stiff bow to Eric and Emma as they came up the steps, and waved them across the threshold without uttering a word. Eric headed straight for his suite, a set of three rooms. He stopped in the outer room, a combined study and meeting room, and sank into one of the chairs by the fire. He hadn’t realized just how tired he was until then.

Emma gave him a few minutes to rest, busying herself with making a cup of strong tea and handing it to him. Crouched on the soft wooden floor beside him, she watched his face intently, as if still unconvinced of his claims of recovery. He offered her a tired but patient smile and took a sip of the tea. It must have had some herbal component to it, for he felt a little energy return to him after drinking about half of it.

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“Thanks,” he muttered faintly. “Man, this was one hell of a day.”

A strange flicker of confusion spread across her face but immediately faded, so he wasn’t sure he’d seen it. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I can’t believe Enri asked you to take on that duel. You have no official position within Milagre or Tyrman! What was going through his mind, I can’t tell.”

“You know Enri?” Eric spluttered, slopping a little tea down his tunic. “How?”

“We’re cousins,” she said, an exasperated smile coming across her face. “Surely you’ve noticed that we share a family name.”

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly. “But there are hundreds of Ciayols in this city. You can’t all be that closely related.”

“Thousands, actually,” she corrected. “But Enri and I are from the same branch of the family. We’re part of the human bloodline.”

Bora Bora, Eric knew, had had two wives in his many lives. While he met with and fornicated with a great number of other people, these two wives were the most influential, and it was from them that the most important members of the family came. The family was split into three main branches. First was the draconic, born from his first wife Kanmara, a dragon disguised as a human traveling through the countryside. The second was the fey-born line, born of the second, fey wife, Kuviira. Then there was the human line, descended through Bora Bora’s many one-night stands and conquests.

Women who followed Bora Bora and desired no marked father to their children would pray to the god for children, and he would, in his own way, gift them. The child would be born with a tiny part of his essence inside them, and be gifted the Ciayol name. On Earth, this kind of setup would be viewed as sleazy, but as Bora Bora was the god of Family Bonds, it was more or less regular. Still, Eric thought with a shudder. To think that you could pray for pleasure or a child was repugnant to him.

“I didn’t know that,” he said finally, pushing the thought of Bora Bora making night visits firmly from his mind. “Were you close growing up?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I only got to properly know him during the war. Besides, he’s a, err, unique type among Bora Bora’s children. He is the only member of our family, or the entire world, for that matter, that cannot perform magic.”

“What?” Eric asked, incredulous. “I’m sure there are thousands and thousands of people that can’t do magic.”

Emma shook her head again, and that flash of confusion showed itself. “No, Eric. Everyone has the potential for magic. Whether physical, arcane, or spiritual, they all have the gift. Many just choose not to harness it, is all.”

Eric was thinking of the time that Enri had shown up to the meeting with Shigeru, Samuel, Bora Bora, and himself. He’d clearly arrived using magic, literally appearing out of and sinking into the ground. How was he able to do that if he wasn’t using magic? Maybe it was something about his weapon, he thought. Samuel had called it an Ancient weapon, like his own sword. Maybe it covered for his lack of magical talent.

“Eric,” Emma said. He instantly focused back on her. For some reason, there was a tight, unpleasant knot forming in his stomach, as if he was afraid of something. “Why did you come to Tyrman?”

“Uhh, well,” he said slowly, shocked by the question. “As I said, I leaned more towards the life of a soldier or guard. I’m not too good with blacksmithing like my family in Welsik.”

“Hmm,” she said. “You did say that.”

“Of course. Do you not believe me?”

She hurriedly put her hands up and waved them in dismissal of his question. “No, I do! I really do! You’re a good fighter and an honest man. I know you’re in this job because of that. I just wonder why you wouldn’t use your gift to make money, even if you’re not a good blacksmith.”

“My gift,” Eric replied slowly. He didn’t phrase it as a question. “Sure, I could. But I like the simple life myself.”

“Sure you do,” she said, rolling her eyes and giving her mischievous smile for the first time as she gestured sarcastically at the lavish studio around them. “Simple man, you are.”

He grinned in reply, feeling a sense of relief that she had abandoned this line of questioning. She was digging in her satchel, looking for something. “That reminds me. I broke this bracelet months ago, but I can’t afford to replace it. Could you fix it for me?”

Eric felt a wash of cold come over him. Immediately he shot to his feet and took a step or two back from her. He’d only felt that sensation once before, and that was in the office of the Quartermaster of the Military. It had been the effect of a spell designed to reveal lies. All of a sudden, he knew why he felt so uneasy with their conversation. He started to turn away. He had to run, to escape.

“Eric,” Emma’s voice was soft and quiet. “Were you born in Welsik?”

He was five feet away from her and facing the exit, but his lips moved without his intent. “No.”

He stopped in his tracks, one hand clamped over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to reply, neither honestly nor otherwise. Wasn’t that spell supposed to reveal a lie? He didn’t know there was magic that forced him to speak the truth. He turned slowly, hand still over his mouth, to see her. She was standing beside the fire, suspicion written clearly across her face.

“Are you an Ancient in disguise?” She asked, her voice firm now.

“No.” He cursed internally. This was not good.

He could see the next question forming in her mind as if her beautiful face were transparent. He knew what it would be, and at the same time, did not want her to ask it. His secret had to be kept. No matter how he felt about her, he couldn’t let her discover it, to learn that he’d been lying since they first met. He closed his eyes tight and screwed his face up, wishing he could block out the next question.

“Were you born in Ahya?”

“No.”