“The fabled king has not shown himself again. That makes three whole days. He is making a mockery of us.” A well dressed man slammed his fist on the table, his veins popping.

“We may well join House Acterine. They are most aligned with our families interests.” Another man said.

“Careful what you say.” The first man growled as he grabbed a goblet. “Who knows who is listening.”

The second, lanky man let out a boisterous laugh. “Fear not. Our security is flawless and slaves cannot enter these rooms without permission. Lest they want to lose their hands and tongues.”

“I do not believe in sorcery.” The first man grumbled.

“You should. Soloflame has lost control over the kingdom, but he is a transcendent Ui’Geran. He is beyond dangerous.”

“Prove it,” The man put down his goblet and shouted to the closed door.

A man clad in heavy plates without a helmet opened the door and dragged a slave up.

The guard yanked a petrified man through the doorway, throwing the slave to the carpet. Not even a second later, the man’s hand bled. One after another, the fingers on his left hand came off. The wounds were clean, like a sword as thin as the wind had cut them off.

The slave screamed as he struggled in the servant's grip. The lanky man raised his hand and the servant let go of the slave.

“Removed this mess,” The lanky man commanded. With permission, the rest of the slaves bowed deeply as they pulled their whimpering peer away.

“You see? The slaves are bound by their names to follow the king's command under punishment of maiming.” The lanky man turned to the window. Outside was a graceful glass building shining with all the primary colors. Despite the king’s perceived frailty, his authority remained firm. ‘For how long?’ The man wondered as he sipped his wine.

“This carpet is ruined. Remove it from my sight.” The first man ordered. A peculiar slave stepped forward and rolled up the carpet. Their hair was a field of snow and he had eyes that shined like jewels. One hand was missing several fingers, similar to the slave just dragged out. ‘A foreigner?’ The lanky man let his mind wonder. ‘I’ve only heard of the royal family having blue eyes. Blue eyes and blonde hair.’ Illford was vexed and stared at the peculiar slave. ‘A bastard son probably.’

“Watch it!” The well dressed servant admonished the white haired boy as the slave swung the heavy carpet around. The boy bowed and retreated without a word.

A bell chimed from the top of the glass palace and a flock of birds fluttered away in a hurry. ‘What of the son?,’ Illford thought. From the rumors, no one had actually seen the young prince, which was why the celebration of his coming of age was such a shock to the nation. ‘Naive. All of them.’

Ensenspareo had seen better days. Illford long remembered the days when the king was an Ascended, vibrant, and ambitious. ‘And I’m going to wash away the remains of the kingdom of whom I admire.’ Illford sipped his wine, letting the drink swirl in his mouth. ‘I’ve gotten sentimental.’

A small wisp of movement caught the man’s eye and he looked up to the doors. Nothing. He checked inside his office and puzzled over his instincts. Nothing was there. All his documents were in order and there was no sign of tampering. ‘Oddities after oddities.’ He put those thoughts out of his mind for now. He had a celebration to prepare for.

Nico threw the carpet down. The heavy material unrolled, revealing a copper sword hidden inside. The emissaries of the neighboring country were indeed connected to the silver coin scheme. He dismissed the memory and looked at the red stains.

“Slide off,” Nico mustered as much authority as he could as he spoke the name of blood. The fibers shook and the stains moved ever so slightly. Nico crumbled to the ground, exhausted. Even after years of training, he couldn’t manage to command much. He theorized that he needed essence to actually use names to alter and manipulate nature. But he had grasped the foundations of names.

Everything had names. One needed to claim authority and have power to back that claim to use The Sorcery of Names. The relation of that name to the person was also important. Naming a child is already a claim to authority, so invoking the original name will have an effect. However, if something stronger names the child and the child recognizes it, the new name will supersede the first. True names are an example of this. The spell is a powerful force that names people, thus invoking their true name will be more effective..

Things like the wind and water have their own true names given to them by something beyond Nico’s comprehension. Such names still remain out of his reach. The true name of blood is the only name he has been able to claim. Ensenspareo had a long history of sorcerer monarchs. Solregina’s reign provided him with the name of blood.

A soft purr came from down the hall and a small calico cat jogged up to Nico. The cat brushed up against his arm and Nico gave it an affectionate scratch. Jay’s echo had proven useful over the years, helping Nico lay the groundwork for his plans.

The nightmare ends when the kingdom is destroyed. Thus, Nico will destroy it. The people, the nation, and the king, all of them must fall.

‘I have some time to waste,’ he thought. Nico picked up Chromia, stroking the echo’s head. ‘Jay is being watched and Neaudiel’s with him.’ After some consideration, Nico went to the library.

The place was still as deserted as before, however there were stacks of books strewn out on tables, dusted shelves, and a corner filled with cushions. Chromia ran over to the cushions and immediately took a spot right smack in the middle. Nico regarded the cat with a dubious gaze and chose to read in a chair.

‘The Glass palace: A transparent monument constructed at the start of Soloflame’s reign nearly a century ago.’ Nico delved into the pages taking his mind off of the future.

“Hello there,” Nico looked up to the new voice and suddenly felt a fluffy bolt hitting his face. Chromia hissed and her claws dug into Nico’s skin.

“Still doesn’t like me,” The Elliot lamented.

“Don’t sneak inside and see what happens,” Nico pried Chromia from his face and set the cat down, returning to his book.

“Couldn’t you put in a good word for me?” The man sat across from Nico and tried petting the cat, but she made an audible hiss and bolted from the table. Nico ran his hand over the new scratch marks, wincing.

“It’s late,” Nico returned to his book, letting his back rest against the uncomfortable wood.

“You are still up. Don’t you have scrubbing to do tomorrow?” Elliot asked. Turns out, a gold palace isn’t exactly adept at staying clean. The palace was mostly a ghost town, but people still popped in once in a while, meaning that Nico and other slaves were put to work on such occasions.

“Don't you have a hermit to guard, El?” Elliot smiled and rested his sword on the table. “Baylee and Zoe lost a bet. I’m free the rest of the night.”

“I’ll put in that word if you bring more pillows,” Nico stood up and took the abandoned corner. His small body sunk into the soft cushions as he read.

Elliot browsed through the books left out and put his feet on the table before reading. The scene of a fully armored man putting his feet up was comical. Nico had tried wearing armor a few years ago. While the metal offered tremendous protection, it restricted movement and Nico’s body wasn’t trained to carry around twenty kilograms.

A slave. No one knew he wasn’t affected by the King’s sorcery. The commands placed on the slave did not apply to him, Anima Rex. Such an oversight allowed Nico to roam the castle and city unimpeded.

Chromia settled on Nico’s stomach, purring away like the patter of rain. Despite the many comforts, Nico couldn’t read.

“Hey El.” The knight looked his way, a flash of shock going over his face before it was replaced with a smile. “Yes?”

“Why do you still guard the King?” The man sat stumped for a long moment, his eyes closed. ‘Loyalty? Glory?’ Nico had never seen less than two Royal Knights away from the Glass palace, such dedication was curious.

“Why do you come here to read?” Elliot countered. It was Nico’s turn to think. Lying was an option.

“To pass the time,” He finally said. Elliot nodded.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“What are you passing the time with?” Nico looked down at his book and turned it over, showing the cover to the knight.

“Ah. I remember when that book was written. Filled beginning to end with misconceptions and falsehoods, but it still became an academic read.” Elliot laughed.

‘Right. This guy is almost a century old,’ Nico corrected himself. The years had not dulled the man’s body like it did Neaudiel. Elliot’s tan skin was still smooth and muscular, and his hair stubbornly remained reddened brown.

“What’s so inaccurate about it?”

“Soloflame’s succession, the Deus Krieg, and a bunch of other things that they pound into little kid’s heads for fun.”

“The book says Soloflame led our country to victory in war,” Nico pointed at the lines and showed Elliot. The man stood up and took the book from Nico and read the pages.

“That’s mostly right, however it wasn’t with a foreign power. It was a civil war.”

“Is there a difference? People fighting people.”

“Yes.” Elliot put the book down. “There is no victory in a civil war.”

“One group rises while the other falls. How is there no victory? Soloflame became king after all.”

“When you kill your sibling over a small argument, do you call that victory?” Elliot picked up his sword and examined his reflection in the unsheathed blade. “His glory was short-lived. His killing was unnecessary.”

“And you still guard this man?”

“I pass the time waiting for Sky Eye’s blessing to return.” There was a clack as he sheathed his sword. Nico looked out the window at the night sky, his internal clock ticking. Nico got up and carried Chromia.

“Where are you going?” Elliot called after him.

“To work. The roofs are lonely at night.”

Faltering at the door, Nico looked back into the library. “If you could only save someone from a murderer by killing the murderer, would you?” Silence hung in the air as Nico faced Elliot’s back. The man was stiff and cold like a barren tree.

Finally he raised his head. “I’d save them both.” Leaving the library, Nico let Chromia go and summoned Whispering Reed. ‘Three, four, five…’ Nico counted the stones and pulled out one, revealing a hollowing in the wall. He pulled out the cloak and glass knife tucked away and replaced the stone.

The air of winter was close, leaving the night brisk and illuminated with thousands of stars. Unlike the sky of the Waking world, this sky was adorned with a band of ethereal light stretching from horizon to horizon. The band was the remains of this world’s moon.

Nico climbed to the roof under the blue light. ‘There shouldn’t be anyone out at this time…’ His flaw picked up on confidence. ‘Suspicious.’ Nico weighed whether or not to leave the person alone. Nico would delay his meeting. ‘Being fashionably late sounds good.’

The roofs were smooth and sharp, making traversing them a pain. The feeling slowed down and Nico immediately recognized where he was. ‘Above Jay’s room.’

The halls were not empty anymore. A single soul moved swiftly through them like a ghost. Nico swallowed and he felt the perspiration on his back.

The person’s emotions were dampened signalling that they weren’t mundane. Sparks flew in the wind, and twin silver feathers formed on Nico’s ear.

“Up here wretch!” Nico called out. He felt the person stop and soon the sound of glass breaking reached him. A hooded figure landed on the roof in front of him.

“This is unexpected,” The figure said.

“I’m curious. How did you plan to get past the sorcery of the prince’s room?” Nico held his hood in the wind and kept the assassin in his view.

“I don’t like to talk about my methods,” The assassin moved within a ball of fluttering fabric. Nico swung Whispering Reed in the empty air and grasped his sword with both hands, blocking the dagger aimed at his neck.

The assassin flung the knife through the air and produced another blade from within their cloak. Nico ignored the diversion and caught the assassin’s blade with his guard. Pushing forward, Nico threw the assassin’s arms up and delivered a powerful kick to their stomach. ‘Tough,’ Nico ignored the pain in his foot and dodged a volley of knives.

“You are skilled,” The assassin praised, and revealed several sets of knives. “Perhaps the king has spared another royal Knight for his son. I’ll make sure to charge extra.”

Nico kept a composed demeanor while he was panicking inside. That clash had almost been the end of him. If not for Whispering Reed warning him of the hidden weapons, he’d be dead. This person was definitely an Ui’geran. ‘Their weapons are mundane, but they keep appearing out of nowhere.’

The nuisance of activating Whispering reed was simple. Swing the blade and it tells the wielder the secret of the one they’re swinging at. Nico held his blade at the ready, drawing circles in the air.

The voice of his sword went round and round in Nico’s head as he focused. ‘If only Whispering Reed told me about aspects.’ Nico hissed to himself.

The spiral of cloth sped up and Nico sidestepped a long sword and aimed to cut off the assassin’s arm. Their shoes caught on the smooth gold and the trajectory of their sword changed, becoming a vicious thrust. Nico barely leaned out of the way and felt blood drip from his forehead. His vision blurred and went red.

Nico rolled to the ground, avoiding a follow up attack and slid to his feet. He cut at the assassin’s leg and tore through cloth. A heavy foot pushed Whispering Reed to the ground, crushing Nico’s knuckles.

Before the assassin could swing, Nico lunged forward, closing the distance and stabbed the assassin in the gut with the glass knife. The assassin’s cloak parted and Nico felt a terrible pain in his shoulder.

The assassin stepped back like an artist admiring their work. Nico looked down to see his hands disappearing into a circle in the air, coming out an identical circle in front of his shoulder. ‘A portal?’

There wasn’t time for him to wonder. Nico pulled the blade out with a groan and raised the stained glass to block the assassin’s next strike. The knife shattered upon impact, but Nico moved out of the way in time. As soon as his hands cleared the circles, they vanished.

As he stumbled back, his foot fell through the golden roof and he felt it smash into his injured side, pushing him completely to the floor. Nico’s vision blacked for a moment and his head throbbed. When his sight returned he was staring at the golden bell hanging from the glass palace. Inside the transparent building, sitting at the base was a light shining as a tiny moon.

“You’re the white haired slave. How are you out here!?” Nico struggled up and wiped the blood from his eyes. His vision was getting worse. Nico pulled his hood fully off and used it to rub the blood from his face. ‘Why not peirce my heart? Or make me fall to my death.’ Nico’s mind worked fast. The aspect probably had size limitations. ‘they wouldn’t need such flowing clothes if he could produce weapons from anywhere. They’d just make one stab through my neck. Sight?’

“You’re cunning. Figure it out.” Nico attacked wildly, letting his copper blade fly in a wide arc. The assassin easily evaded the aimless attack and sent another dagger towards Nico.

Nico reeled back and smacked the dagger away, sparks dancing in his eyes. He pulled off his cloak and flamboyantly threw it at the assassin.

The bell tolled early. Birds awoke and fluttered as they believed dawn was upon them. The assassin threw several knives through the cloak, creating holes to nothing.

“Running away?” The assassin chuckled, irritated. The slave was of no importance.

“Behind you,” The assassin whirled around, sending half a dozen knives blindly behind them. Only one was able to graze Nico’s head and another passed by the twin feathers hanging upside down from his white ear in a forest of dangling silver vines. The assassin misjudged where Nico’s body was because of his position. Backstabber finished manifesting.

[A soul was sacrificed]

Cyne knew nothing of the man he was waiting for in the back alley. A man who chooses such a place to meet must have no self respect. Calming his flaring irritation, Cyne settled to wait a little longer. Seven nights ago he found a half burned letter stamped with the Lambloda fox crest on his desk. Written on the back of the latter, in different ink, was an offering to reveal the content of the letter. Cyne has examined every legible word left on the paper finding ‘Quinxine’ mentioned several times.

A loud crash shocked Cyne out of his stupor and the man checked his mask. A pale hand appeared around the corner and a figure shrouded in a flowing black cloak walked into view. Cyne couldn’t make out the face under the hood, but he did see silver feathers hanging from the person’s ear.

“You are the one who left this note?” Cyne produced the burnt paper, commanding his most authoritative voice, befitting of his status. The stranger remained unfazed and rubbed their neck a little. Cyne stiffened at the sight of blood staining their hands, and the noble gripped his cane tighter.

“I did.” They answered in a monotone voice that made it hard to tell if they were male or female. Each word was backed by a torrent of air, like the person spent two breaths just to answer.

“Why?”

“It concerns the Quinxine House,” The figure wandered a bit and sat down on a ledge in the wall. “A plot is in motion to supplant you and the other two high houses.”

“What plot?” Cyne leered at the darkness hiding the person’s face.

“Silver.” The one word was enough for Cyne to understand the threat. Lambloda planned to alter the concentration of silver in the kingdom’s coins. In doing so they would change the value and damage the trust in the currency. ‘Will they raise or lower the silver content.’ Should the Quinxine house lower the content, they could consolidate the higher concentration coins and control the market. Should they raise the content, they’d be sponsoring a new currency. That would harm the trust of the current coins and upend the economy.

“Will they be raising or lowering the silver content?” Cyne snapped. Every second in this filth was unbearable.

“Who knows,” The person got up and put their finger to their lips. “How you respond is up to you.”

“You worm. I see no proof.” Cyne spat venom. "Come back with all the information, then I will believe you."The person stayed still for many moments before throwing something to the ground. Cyne watched the heavy object roll and locked gazes with lifeless eyes. The person had thrown a severed head.

Cyne swallowed and took an involuntary step back. ‘It’s…former royal guard, Gilven!’ Cyne’s mouth went dry. For this person to have killed a veteran path finder like the deranged Gilven, he’d need to be exceptionable. The protection Cyne's mask offered felt insignificant in the face of the stranger. The hidden weapon in his cane was useless.

“Consider this my credibility,” The person flung their cloak as they turned. "Find out the rest on your own. You are one of the High Houses."

Cyne summoned his remaining courage and spoke hoarsely. “What is your name, Ui’geran?” The person turned their head, showing the feather earring.

“Call me ‘Hand of Hermes.’”