“You’ll never find a greater assortment of fools who think themselves gods than the scholars of the Order of Riiva.”

—Wadzon Wyverlan, famed Pirate Captain

In a loud voice, Ardo addressed the entire room. “These are strange times in which we find ourselves, are they not? Our oldest foe, possibly older than the galaxy itself, vanquished by the girl before us—a girl bearing its mark. The Order sincerely thanks you for the good you have done, Zaina Quin.”

Part of her wanted to glance at Elest, but a weight tugged at her heart. She frowned. Ardo’s proclamation made it sound so easy, but Zaina wouldn’t be here without Gir’s sacrifice. “I wish I could’ve acted sooner—it might have saved Gir’s life.”

Ardo grimaced, a twinge of sorrow flashing in his old eyes. “Yes—I understand. Girxorgian of Clan Ra-Folgoth will be dearly missed. A High Lancer’s High Lancer, if you will—his name will forever be enshrined in history as one of the great lancers, and within our own tomes as a true hero.”

“He was a good person,” Zaina said. Sadness bled into her voice. “He wanted to make sure I got out of there, even if it cost him his life.”

“Gir was nearing the end of his lancer lifespan,” Ardo remarked. “I have no doubt he was seeking some measure of glory. He indicated to me before leaving that he did not expect to return. I am glad he met you. It would’ve meant the world to him to know he saved one last person.”

Warmth filled Zaina’s heart at the notion. Meeting Gir had changed her life forever, and she would never forget him. Maybe he could find some peace in whatever afterlife he believed in.

“As for Drel Ofrans,” Ardo said, immediately dispelling her positive feelings and making Zaina’s stomach twist and sink, “he, too, will be greatly missed by the Order. The loss of a lancer—especially in such an avoidable and needless fashion—is always a tragedy. Drel still had four years.”

Zaina’s head hung, overcome by the weight of guilt. There was nothing she could say or do that would make that right—either with them or herself. “I accept whatever punishment for his death that you have to give.”

“Ah, but young Zaina, you are not entirely responsible,” Ardo replied. “The final blow was not struck by you—though it could not have been struck without you. Your actions in their entirety are being considered in this matter—including your more noble decisions before and afterward. Not many with your affliction would be brave enough to return a lancer’s body to the Order, never mind the circumstances of their demise. We cannot, in entirety, hold you responsible for the events which contributed to the lancer Drel’s untimely death; but neither can we exonerate you.”

She frowned, knowing the scholar was right. An image of Drel’s cracked open, burnt-out skull flashed in her mind, and a shudder crept upward from her gut. The cold grip of shame weighed on her shoulders. That was my fault.

Still, she wished they’d get to the point. She hated being strung along like this. It wasn’t easy getting a read on the emotionless, monotone Ardo Nash.

“Now.” Ardo’s voice startled Zaina, snapping her out of her thoughts. He continued, “You, Zaina Quin, have come to us as a citizen of the galaxy. If I may have another question of you, I might ask: why?”

Zaina’s head tilted. She hated riddle-speak. “Why what—why did I come here?”

Ardo nodded. “Yes, precisely. What is it that you seek? Did you come here only to share what knowledge you have—to uphold your agreement to return Drel Ofrans’s body? Or did you come with a higher purpose in mind?”

Zaina didn’t hesitate—this was her moment, and she had to take the chance. “I came to be a lancer.”

A grin stretched across Ardo’s face. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Then I shall cede the floor to the Scholar Suprema of Induction. The authority of the Honorable Scholar Suprema of Induction Berest Valdian is recognized.” Ardo bowed his head, and his hover-bed floated back and reattached to the top of the antler-tree.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Another scholar detached from the antler-tree and hovered down about ten feet above Zaina. In a much more pained, elderly voice, this person said, “Scholar Suprema Ardo—thank you for ceding the rite of courtmaster. I am honored to speak in the court.”

High Scholar Valdian’s bed-pod tilted, revealing an ancient human with gray skin and long, thin white hair; his eyes were milky and gray, and honed in on Zaina as he flew closer. He made the prehistoric Ardo Nash look young in comparison.

Zaina was off put but held her ground. The High Scholar’s eyes closed, and he gave a slight nod. Then, he floated out of her personal space and asked, “The life of a lancer is harsh—short! The taking of life, even in service of protecting other life, is not glorious. There is little to be gained from your honorable creed to the galaxy.”

Zaina said, “I understand.”

“I want to make sure you do,” High Scholar Berest Valdian said. “The Path of Riiva is perilous—it is not a journey to be embarked upon lightly. You will complete any mission asked of you. If the Council asks you to give your life, it must be given for the commonwealth of the galaxy. Do you understand? No longer will you be a citizen of the galaxy—you will be subject to our laws, our codes, our decisions—and, when necessary, our arbitration.”

Zaina took a moment to think about her response. “I spent most of my life thinking I wasn’t meant for anything. But now—I’ve been given a gift. So few get the chance, I mean—I have to see where that leads.”

Berest shook his head. “You’ve been given two gifts, I’m afraid. Understand, there are those who don’t trust anyone bearing the mark—those who will shun you no matter what deeds you do for them. Even within our own ranks, there will be those who seek to diminish you simply because of a condition beyond your control. It is unfortunate—but the galaxy branded those bearing the mark as heretics for a reason.”

Zaina gulped. His speech didn’t do much to let her know where he fell on the whole Mark of the Recalcitrant thing, and his opinion held a little more weight than the others right now.

He continued, “I say this because I want you to fully understand the crossroad before you. There are other options: some guilds, legitimate or otherwise, would accept your service; or you could simply live as you please, away from a galaxy which may never thank you, no matter how much of yourself you give to it.”

“Gir told me the same thing,” Zaina said. “He also said Riiva chose me for a reason. After everything it took to get here, I have to believe that. And I think being a lancer is the reason.”

Berest chuckled. “Yes—yes, I believe you are correct. As an Order bound by Riiva’s will, we must also be bound by its judgments. If you are worthy in the eyes of Riiva, what right have we to question its decision?”

Zaina’s heart skipped a beat, then sparked back to life with a furious surge. For the first time since she’d stepped foot on Kaado, a sense of optimism was winning out, driving the weight of guilt and dread off her shoulders.

The words had barely escaped Berest’s mouth when an uproarious Elest Vae detached from the antler-tree. “No! No, this is madness—I’ll not have it! Even if she weren’t a heretic, I wouldn’t have it!”

“Ah, young scholar Vae,” Berest replied. “You pups must learn when it is and isn’t your turn to speak. Do you doubt the wisdom of Riiva—think it capable of mistakes? Was this Order not founded on the principle of abiding by Riiva’s decisions? Or do you think Riiva weak—impotent in its decision making?”

Vae didn’t back down, spurred on by murmurs from the other scholars. “The enemy came here, bearing proof of involvement in the deaths of two lancers, and we not only greet her at the doorstep but welcome her within our sacred halls with open arms? One of her kind is bad enough—”

This time Ardo Nash detached from the antler-tree. “Silence, High Scholar Vae. You will not derail this meeting further or you will be censured. You will be notified if you are called on to speak.” He then turned toward Berest. “Forgive the interruption, High Scholar Valdian. Please, continue.”

The elder returned his gaze to Zaina. “A half-heretic, chosen both by Riiva and the Eldritch: the ultimate good, and the ultimate evil. Yet your heart’s wish is to be a lancer—perhaps that will tip the scales within.”

Not quite sure what he meant, Zaina nodded and went with it.

Berest pointed a shaking, wrinkly finger and said, “Yes. There are few of whom Riiva has written so much and so deeply. And yet, that potential’s height is obscured by shadow. Your future, too, is hidden.”

Zaina’s eyebrow shot up. “You can see the future?”

Berest hovered closer. “I can see many things, child—the future is among them. I pull at the infinite strands beneath all things, and Riiva guides me to what it wishes me to know. It matters little. You have stated your intent. You wish to be a lancer.”

Zaina’s heart skipped a beat. The moment of truth was here. “Yes.”

Berest raised his hand, his arm trembling under the weight of time. “Then, Zaina Quin, I hereby induct you into the Order of Riiva as a lancer. You renounce your galactic citizenship and declare your intent to serve the Order of Riiva, which always seeks to act on behalf of the commonwealth of the galaxy. You will commit as much of your life as you are willing to give to our cause. You understand that any time you are free to ask us to help you renounce your lancer gifts.”

It was a whole flurry of words, but Zaina understood the gist of it. “Yes.”

Berest patted his fist against the side of his hover-bed. “Then it is done. I do hope one day you will discover the reason why Riiva chose you. Trust yourself, and its wisdom will be revealed.”