Crin, clad in his charcoal uniform and black trench coat, strode down the carpeted hotel hallway, Borealis in tow behind him. Elohon Drakk swished beside him in dark blue scholar robes. Armed guards led them and trailed behind, boxing the two men in for security purposes. Dozens of guards were in the building, watching the exits and perimeter.

Elohon had decided to travel to Gressi in the Goldmarsh Province. It was late. They were about to retire after spending the evening with Ruler Osteoth of House Gyles, drinking wine and talking politics. Well, most of the talking had been done by those two. Crin sat there silent unless addressed, as usual.

Elohon frequently traveled to the various provinces to visit with their Rulers. It was one way to put political pressure on the Great Houses. Being a scholar, Elohon didn't demand respect from the Rulers with pure martial might. If they stepped out of line, shirked taxes, or refused to honor their arrangements, they met no consequences. They knew he desired peace above else. Elohon was always making concessions.

It frustrated Crin. The Sovereign should have his Rulers come to his House to make offerings and to say their pleas. All this pandering was an embarrassment, and Elohon would never see it. The Sovereign had lost a considerable amount of power and respect. The nation was straining to be held together, and loyalties were being questioned. Crin heard the whispers about other Rulers wanting a new House to assume power. His plan, after all, was to assuage those voices with proper strength and leadership.

Others hoped once the Inheritor assumed the throne, a semblance of normalcy would return. Crin wondered if the Inheritor knew how to rule correctly. Elohon spent Fahon's youth trying to sculpt the boy into a scholar. While he should have trained him as a proper warrior.

The Knight Commander of the Argents Knights was a position with unique responsibilities. The first was the administration and leadership of the Argent Knights, as the name implied. The second was to lead the combined forces of the Ophani Warrior Sect into battle should Ophan be engaged in war. In the past, the Sovereign would also serve the role of Knight Commander. Upon reaching a certain age, they would hand their Caster over to the Inheritor. The Inheritor would assume the role of Knight Commander.

It had been the way for hundreds of years. It worked.

It put Crin into a strange position. He had been appointed Knight Commander by Elohon after the Sovereign turned down the role himself. They were effectively sharing power where it should be consolidated.

The escort stopped outside the door to Elohon's suite. Two of the guards opened the door, sweeping the rooms. Two others fell in line beside the entrance to stand sentinel.

"Good night, Your Excellence," Crin said and bowed his head.

Elohon faced him with a warm smile. "Knight Commander, would you care to join me for a drink?"

"Thank you for the offer. I must politely decline. It's been a long night."

"Come on now, I won't keep you long," Elohon insisted. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

The guards finished their sweep, and Crin motioned to the door. Inside, Elohon poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. Crin politely declined a glass of his own. As a proper warrior, he never drank alcohol. Also, he wanted to avoid having a reason to linger around. He intended to make the conversation brief.

Drink in hand, Elohon led him out onto the balcony. The air was humid here, in the southern lowlands of Ophan, the temperatures nearly a degree Celsius warmer than in Whitestone. A dense swirling mist obscured the metropolis of Gressi. City lights shone like phantoms orbs in the grayish haze. The stormy yellow light of Haven penetrated through the clouds, a reminder of the gas giant's majesty, even while being obscured.

Elohon leaned forward against the railing on his elbows and took a sip. Crin took a spot beside him, hands folded behind his back. Through his enhanced vision, he could pierce the mist and see the shadows of people moving about the streets and vehicles passing below. Mist and fog were common in Goldmarsh and didn't stop the locals from the nightlife.

He wondered how Varn Scarl would approach the assassination. It was supposed to happen tonight. He had given them the freedom to plan and execute it themselves. Would they attack from the balcony or from inside the hotel? How many would there be?

"Knight Commander…Why did you free Kormel from prison?"

Crin lied through his teeth. "Typically, matters of criminal justice fall under the purview of the Warrior Sect. I am the highest-ranking member of said Sect; thus, the responsibility fell on me. His attack on the Inheritor and his cousin seemed a little too close to the chest for House Drakk. If you threw him in prison and took his Caster, it would make you look vengeful in the Forum and hurt relations.

"If you free him, it will make House Drakk look weak among the Great Houses for not punishing Kormel. Now it's not on you, as I acted on my own. You may publicly reprimand me if you wish. I don't care. Know this though. I did you a favor."

Elohon cleaned his glasses on his robes, absorbing the words. "Our relationship with power can be complicated. I agree with the move. Don't get me wrong. I just feel betrayed by you not discussing it with me first."

You betrayed our nation first with your incessant groveling.

"I apologize. We warriors act. We take a clear solution to a problem when we see it."

Elohon chuckled and finished his drink with a single long gulp.

"My son." There seemed to be a pain in Elohon's wrinkled gray eyes, perhaps regret. "Is he doing well? Adjusting to the life of an Argent Knight?"

"Your son commanded Knight Vivana to train him as a Bonded. He's been training with her, of course, and from what she said, learning quickly."

Crin lied again. "He will make a fine Knight despite his inexperience. He has the wisdom of his father with the might of his grandfather. He will take your mantle one day, and I'd gladly relinquish my title as Knight Commander for him."

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Over my dead body.

A parabolic vibration sent a tingle down his spine. The sudden emergence of a nearby Bond-link. Right after, Crin spotted the mist parting in slow motion. A jade green bolt of Phasematter ripped through the air faster than a bullet fired by a high-powered rifle. The Bonded who shot it must've heavily condensed the Phasematter to propel the projectile at such high speeds. Such a move took skill. Crin was seldom caught off guard, and they had almost got him. He had a fraction of a second to react and save Elohon.

The bolt whistled as it punched through Elohon's head. It continued through the glass window, the room behind them, and embedded in the far wall.

Elohon's body slumped forward, collapsing onto the balcony. Blood had sprayed Crin in the face, and he stood, shocked, for a moment, at what he had let happen. The Sovereign was dead. He had to hide his smile. No turning back from his plans now.

Time to play the game.

The attacked stirred the guards, who rushed out onto the balcony.

"Assassin! Protect the Sovereign. He's been hit," Crin commanded to the guards.

He hurled himself off the balcony and into the misty air. Borealis zipped behind him as a black streak. Finding the assassin wasn't hard. Both his yellow eyes followed the shot's trajectory, calculating it instantly as he tapped into his Caster. He saw the shadow figure on an adjacent rooftop.

The assassin shot a volley of green Phasematter bolts at him as he closed the gap. Crin Phase-crafted himself a bracer of orange Phase-light and deflected the bolts aside with a flowing motion of his arm. He dropped onto a plate of Phasematter, dashing across the open air, leaving behind a glowing path of orange.

He transitioned from Phase-stepping to the flat roof seamlessly, splashing through puddles. In a green flicker, the assassin Phase-jumped, backflipping and landing on the lip opposite of Crin.

A dozen orange bolts streaked away from Crin after the assassin. The bolts were sent careening aside when the assassin summoned his own bracer to defect, except one clipped the assassin's arm, spraying scarlet into the misty air. The assassin dropped off the roof, bracer dissipating into a flare of green sparks.

Crin reached the lip of the roof and hopped onto it, scanning the alleyway and street below. The assassin was gone, like a ghost in the night. Crin couldn't even detect the vibrations of his Bond-link anymore.

Clever.

The assassin had taken his initial shooting position with a disabled Bond and re-Bonded a moment before attacking. He disabled the Bond again after dropping off the roof to blend into the backdrop of the city. Crin remembered using the same tactic to ambush the Crimson Guard during the Scarl Rebellion. This Guard had been in a real war.

I must remind myself not to underestimate Varn's men.

A Bond-link tingled from behind, and Crin whipped around.

The assassin landed behind him with a splash of gravel. Green bolts flew across the roof straight for Crin, who interjected his bracer too late, a glancing bolt embedding itself into his shoulder. He grunted and ripped it out with his free hand, the wound gushing blood and the bolt clattering to the ground.

"Big mistake not running while you had the chance." Crin couldn't help the smug smirk painted on his lips.

The assassin chuckled. "You're still a fine shot, Haloran."

"Your voice…I recognize it." Crin was not at all expecting this man to be the one to kill the Sovereign. "Rorik Scarl, is that you?"

"It's been a long time. Last time we met, you killed my brother."

Rorik wore a moss green parka with the hood drawn up. Strands of yellow hair poked out of his hood. His pale face was dusted with stubble. He glared at Crin with silver piercing eyes, lips peeled back into a wicked grin. His shell-less Caster floated beside him, a dull gray orb.

I saw the same grin on his face after slaughtering hundreds of my soldiers. Slime.

"I should have killed you too back then. I figured you lost your edge fighting in all those Promise League tourneys. Looks like I was wrong."

"Varn tells me you think you're worthy of being the Sovereign."

"Worthiness has nothing to do with it." Crin unfolded his arms. He had wanted to dance with this man for a long time. He was just a youth the last time they fought. "It's about who is willing to seize what they deserve."

Rorik hurled four green bolts Crin's way. Gritting his teeth, Crin swiped them aside and Phase-jumped, with a flash of orange, towards Rorik. In mid-air, he summoned an orange two-handed greatsword. He swung the mighty blade with all his might. Liquid fire shot through Crin's wounded shoulder from the effort. He gritted his teeth and followed through despite the pain.

Rorik nimbly sidestepped the blow. The greatsword's edge sheared straight through the roofing tiles, burying the weapon to the cross-guard. Crin simply dismissed it in a puff of orange flames. No use struggling to retrieve it. In an instant, a new greatsword materialized in his hands to replace it, and he jerked around.

He swept the colossal weapon in a wide horizontal slash. Rorik deftly parried it aside with his own newly Phase-crafted green longsword. The weapons clanged off each through the misty dark.

Somewhere nearby, a car alarm blared. A couple discussed their evening dinner quietly as they strolled below. Above, an airship roared with the fury of four rotary engines. With Bond-sense Crin could take it all in.

Rorik circled Crin like a wild cat on the prowl. "Varn sent me because I could get the job done. But he also didn't give me orders not to kill you."

Rorik launched himself into a frenzy of quick thrusts from behind. An intelligent move against a greatsword, as they tended to be unwieldy in closer quarters. Crin blocked the first few stabs and dipped in and out of the rest, relying on practiced speed. His Caster read Varn's moves and adapted against his fighting style, providing insight that Crin would never have seen. Only he possessed this innate ability, as far as he knew. The longer they fought, the better he would become at countering Rorik. It was just a matter of time until he won.

Crin Phase-jumped backward a few feet to purchase distance for a counterattack. Roaring, the Knight Commander slashed forward in sweeping arcs, using the reach of the longer weapon to his advantage. Rorik was forced to back away from the whipping edge lest it cleave him in two.

Rorik was now on the back foot, right where Crin needed him to be. He charged, shoving Rorik down onto the rooftop with a front kick. Rorik rolled hard, sloshing through a puddle, and rose into a low crouch, ghostly jade longsword held in both hands.

"And what would killing me accomplish? Revenge for your brother? It was war Rorik," Crin lifted his greatsword over his head and asusmed a power stance. "I am the best hope for House Scarl's future. Varn knows it. You know it."

"Arrogant as always!"

Rorik rushed Crin, who swung reflexively. The slash met nothing but open air, the crafty Scarl ducking beneath it at the last moment. He thrust his green longsword at Crin's abdomen. He was too slow as he sidestepped the attack. The cutting edge sheared through his black leather trench coat and uniform, opening a new wound on his side.

Crin snatched Rorik's outstretched wrist with his free hand, yanking him forward. With his sword arm, he simultaneously bashed Rorik in the face with his pommel. Rorik's head snapped back with a crunch, and he crashed to the rooftop once again.

Crin leveled his greatsword, pressing the hyper-sharp point to Rorik's chest. It went through his clothes and hidden armor vest underneath, a well of blood rising to the surface.

Rorik spat out a molar in a wad of blood. "Kill me."

Police sirens screamed in the distance.

"No." Crin withdrew the point of his weapon. "Taking your life wouldn't do any good for negotiations with Scarleon, sadly. Flee now."

Rorik scrambled to his feet, dismissing his green longsword in a puff of green. He dashed away and Phase-jumped high, landing two roofs away and vanishing into the churning mists.

Crin dismissed his own weapon and slumped on the lip of the roof, wincing from his wounds. He exhaled a long breath and grinned from the exhilaration of the night's events. Rorik was always a good fight. If there was ever a next time, he would kill the man. It had been too close.

All right, Kormel, it's up to you. Don't fail me.