In her room, Lara was lying on her bed, her arms crossed under her head. Her anger gradually faded. She had really panicked, she realized. What a poor image she gave. The more she thought about it, the more shameful she felt. She hadn’t thought of the Consul's proposal as an honor. She had been afraid.

Fear of the overwhelming responsibility that would come with the position. Fear of having to reveal her secret in broad daylight. Fear of leaving her quiet life, where her only worries were to go unnoticed and not make waves. She was terrified by the prospect of this new future which forced her to go beyond the framework of her little habits.

Her father was right, even if she would rather die rather than admit it in front of him. Perhaps it was time to stop running and assume her true identity. What did the Consul and the Kaisers really know about her? She needed explanations.

Lara got up, wrapped herself in her stuffed cape, and opened the French window that overlooked a small balcony. A long thrill took hold of her. The night was clear and cold. The stars sparkled into a myriad of bright spots. Her breath condensed into small white clouds.

“Aydan?”

She hadn't dared to raise her voice. Was he really out there watching over her? The streets were deserted at this hour.

“Aydan?” She called louder.

A gust rose, and she took a step back. A Phemacian was there, on the railing of the balcony, his wings rising behind his back.

“I'm Abbas, a Herald of the Second Circle. Aydan isn't here tonight. Is there a problem?”

“Oh. No. I just wanted…”

She didn't know what to say.

“It's his turn to rest, but I can ask him to come if that's what you want. Though I doubt he would be grateful to deprive him of his few hours of sleep,” he added with a touch of sarcasm.

Lara clenched her fists.

“You…”

“You’re quick to anger, huh? He added. “Far too young, that’s what I thought so...”

“I won't allow you to… If Aydan…”

“Aydan controls his emotions much better than you, young lady. Much better than many Mecens, by the way,” he added half for himself.

“Why are you here?” She replied, still angry, arms crossed over her chest.

“Because your precious Aydan asked me to. Which surprised me, I admit, because I don't like him, and the feeling is mutual.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

He bowed his head, and the light reflected in his eyes.

“I really wonder what the Consul sees in you. What is so special about you?”

“How do you know about the Consul’s decision?”

Abbas raised an eyebrow, a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“I was there.”

She looked away to swallow the anger that was rising again in her. How exasperating he was! She hated the sufficiency he displayed with each of his words. They said the Phemacians were arrogant. She suddenly wondered why she wanted to refute these accusations in the past. Their wings really gave them an air of superiority, and the Herald who stood next to her was a perfect example.

The Mecen straightened up and couldn't help but look up to the sky while playing the balancing act on twenty centimeters of steel. What a showoff, really!

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“You guys are still far too young,” Abbas said without seeming to notice her expression. “Do you not realize that many other people would like to be in your place? Let's not talk about the power you acquire at the same time.”

“I don't care about power,” she retorted.

“So what do you care about?”

“Being free to live my life as I want,” she replied immediately.

“Well, it seems to me you will have more opportunities to change the course of your life by being the Scion. Not to mention transforming that of others according to your ideal. You can despise power as much as you want, but it’s still the key that unlocks many doors.”

“It isn’t the only way. Efforts and perseverance also work.”

“And everything can be in vain before someone who holds power,” he retorted.

She narrowed her eyes.

“How can a Mecen reason like this?”

Abbas took a few steps and came to sit on the edge of the railing, legs dangling in the air, wings behind his back naturally creating a counterweight.

“Becoming a Mecen is technically within the reach of any Phemacian. You just have to pass the entrance exam.”

Lara crossed her arms.

“I doubt that belonging to this elite corp is so easy.”

“I didn't say it was. The Mecens School only opens its doors to young people between the ages of twelve and fifteen. You can only take the exam once.”

“Any idiot is able to understand he has to wait until he is fifteen to increase his chances of success,” she said in a sour mood.

“Aydan will be delighted to learn it. He became a Herald at an age when most of us are still Gofer…”

“It doesn't seem to be that difficult since you also succeeded,” Lara replied.

She didn't know where this conversation was going, but she was starting to enjoy it.

Contrary to her expectations, Herald Abbas didn’t react to her sarcasm. He reached out, and a hawk flew over to land on the thick leather glove in hand. The bird uttered a sharp, harsh cry before turning its head towards the girl. She felt the bird was much smarter than it seemed. The hawk gently chewed the Herald's finger, which delicately smoothed the feathers of its neck. It was as if a strange affection linked the bird to Abbas.

“You who seem to despise power, do you know how justice works in Phemacia?”

“As with any territory of the Republic, I imagine. The injured party may request a judgment from the Republic of Twelve Domains.

“Such a procedure can be long and expensive.”

“But fair,” Lara retorted.

“Or complaints can stick to the Phemacian code, and be settled by a duel. Do you find it fair, young lady?”

She gnashed her teeth. The citizens of the Ninth Domain were practically born with a weapon in their hands. Everyone, men and women alike, knew how to wield a sword. With their complex philosophy based on honor, duels were common occurrences, settling a number of quarrels, from the most futile disputes to the conflicts of interest that regularly engulfed the various clans of the Domain. It was enough to be more gifted than the other party to be right; it wasn’t justice as the Republic intended.

Abbas continued.

“I’m a Herald, and I can assure you that few Phemacians challenge Mecens, whatever their actions may be. Holding power means having the opportunity to impose your vision. Do you not see what opportunity is offered to you?”

The girl remained silent.

“Too stubborn to hear the voice of reason, huh?” Abbas added, sketching a smile in front of his stubborn air.

With a large movement of the wrist, he helped the hawk take off and followed it with his gaze until it disappeared.

“Everything is calm around here. May I leave now?”

He got up to leave, his wings opened to prepare for his ascend.

“Wait! I have one last question.”

“Which one?”

“I never understood why the ranks of the Mecens were Gofer, Herald, and Harbinger... you aren’t messengers, right?

Abbas smiled with a touch of condescendence.

“Aydan didn't explain it to you? Indeed, we are messengers. It’s death that we deliver to our enemies. Good evening to you, young lady.” He concluded before joining the clouds in a powerful leap.

Lara stayed there for a long time, silent, struck by the implications of his last revelation. She had always known that the Mecens were field soldiers, unlike the Phoenix Guard who protected the Palace. But discovering their reality in such crude terms left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had trouble imagining her friend Aydan as a relentless killer. At his age, he should rather be confined to safer missions. At least, she hoped so.

Lara yawned. A good night of sleep would do her the greatest good.