The room was veiled in silence, a gathering of sons haunted by the shadows of their departed fathers. Rain painted the windows with its melancholic strokes, and Tyson found himself entranced by the watery dance outside.

His visage, a juxtaposition of beastly features and human-like eyes, turned toward the rain-soaked panorama. In this moment, the thoughts of the frontier-born Henryk flickered briefly through Tyson's mind. But now wasn't the time for contemplation; it was the time for decisive action.

"So, you wish to join House Mars?" The question lingered, echoing within the room. Tyson hesitated, and an unexpected shiver coursed through him. A peculiar occurrence, considering the season was summer, and they stood within the halls of House Mars. Or what remained of it.

No, Tyson corrected himself mentally. This wasn't truly House Mars; it was the specter of what once thrived. A graveyard now, the corpses cleaned but the scars of battle left to fester.

The Academy, a revered institution in the vast expanse of the solar system, drew myriad aspirants. Some sought bureaucratic roles within the empire, while others yearned for a transfer to different worlds, chasing dreams of a better life.

Tyson's thoughts danced through the memories of House Neptune's entrance, the grandeur of Venus's manor, and now, the desolation of his home planet's mansion, bathed in the emperor's nuclear fire. He surveyed the faces around him, the boys who might determine his fate.

For a fleeting moment, he pondered their birthrights but promptly checked himself. He, a mutant, had no grounds for scorn. The possibility of acceptance remained distant. Seated on a worn-out couch, or the remnants of one, Tyson observed the room. Its former grandeur, now ravaged by war, spoke of a desperate need for recruits.

As five pairs of eyes fixated on him, Tyson sighed, a heavy exhale laden with the weight of uncertainty.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Why'd you sigh like that?" Ed inquired.

Tyson lifted his gaze to meet Ed's, surrounded by eyes that held a spectrum of emotions—from neutrality to annoyance and distrust. Unlike his reception at Neptune, he hadn't faced harassment here, yet the air was charged with a mixture of curious glances and guarded expressions.

Ed's words danced with jest, a smile etched on his face, as Ty perched on the remnants of a decaying couch. Before him, Edward had assumed the role of spokesman for House Mars. A peculiar bunch, thought Ty, observing the varied faces that lingered behind Edward. There was an oddity in their midst—a deviation from the typical Martians. Secrets were once their allies, but now, survival demanded exposure.

"This obviously is not his first choice," remarked a voice, harsh and bearing an unfamiliar accent, as if echoing from ancient Earth.

A young man stepped into view, wild curls resisting the constraint of a brush, freckles scattering across his olive-pale skin. Emerald eyes, vibrant as moss, locked onto Ty through the fireplace's flickering flames. Clad in the signature grey of House Mars, the uniform painted with lines of gold and crimson red, they all bore the emperor's mark—the right arm, from shoulder to wrist, dyed in the red of dishonor. The unmistakable insignias on their shoulder pads hinted at lineage, revealing a truth Tyson had discerned.

These were not mere recruits; they were squires or knights who had, like Ty, crossed a line in their infancy. They carried the Gene High-Lord spikes, mankind's closest brush with divinity.

"Vinnie," another voice emerged, belonging to a tall man with brown skin, a shade mirroring the vast void of space. Towering over them, his muscle mass hinted at genetic influences beyond mere spikes. "You should be the last one talking about wanting to be here," he chided.

"Arthur," Edward interjected, cutting off the impending dispute. "I'm not a fool. I know many of you didn't choose to join House Mars. I was there, and I was the only one who declared my heritage."

Eyes shifted towards Edward, then dropped to the floor, a collective discomfort settling over them. Edward, seated in a semblance of a throne, rested his hand on the armrest, a cold smile playing on his lips—a smile without warmth, a crispness that echoed coldness.

"You lot should all be quiet," Ed declared, his words hanging in the charged atmosphere of the room.

“We have been,” a voice emerged from the crowd.

“Maybe with your voice,” Ed nodded, pausing. “But your eyes, I can see what you are all thinking about. Now, what is the deal?”

The question hung in the air, stark and honest. Silence draped over the room as Ed's eyes darted individually toward each member. They found themselves averting his gaze, except for one—Axel.

Axel stepped forward, casting a sidelong glance at Ty as he circled behind him. Ty observed Axel closely—an athletically strong figure, not as imposing as Arthur, leaner and shorter, with long blond hair stopping at the nape of his neck. His striking purple eyes, a genetic mutation from the spikes or a product of Mars' scouring, gave him an otherworldly aura. The boy Ty believed could hail from a different world.

“He’s a mutant, simple as that,” Axel declared, casting a hush over the room.

Ty rolled his eyes, realizing he shouldn't be surprised by the turn of events. Contempt flickered in his gaze as he eyed Axel. The boy's regal clothing, a blend of purples and whites matching his eyes, lacked heraldry. Axel continued, “We’ve already been disgraced; we do not need a mutant running around here, and the other houses seeing how weak we truly are.”

A groan erupted from the side, a boy with unruly black hair. "Always a racist prick around,” he muttered.

“What’s your problem?” Axel sneered. “You're going to defend the mutant?”

The black-haired boy rose, locking eyes with Axel. “I just think you should shut up,” he retorted.

“Really,” snapped Axel, pivoting. In the dimly lit house, illuminated only by the crackling fireplace, Ty failed to notice the short ceremonial gladius wrapped in rich fabrics and stars along Axel's thigh.

Joseph stared at Axel for a moment before lifting his gaze. “Is that a threat?”

“A threat?” Axel repeated with a cool smile. “I am just reminding you who you are trying to raise up against.”

Joseph rolled his eyes once again. “…and…who…are…you to raise up against?”

Axel felt a vein pulsate on his forehead, wrenching his gaze toward Joseph. “Really,” he spat. “Do you wish to be educated on who I am?”

“Yes,” said Joseph. “I wanna know what type of a prick you really are.”

Axel's demeanor darkened. “You common lot,” he sneered at Joseph, ignoring the pointed glares from the others. Had he forgotten he was now their equal? Rules could bend in the right places, especially for those who hadn't spent their entire lives on that feudal world.

“I am Axel Wolfsheim the III of ‘The Red Templars.’ My lineage stretches from the Xeno Wars of old, and likewise, of the first men of Mars.” Axel’s proclamation rang in their ears, his hand rising into a tight fist, closing his eyes as the echoes of his words lingered in the air.

Even Tyson, a mutant whose memories of Mars came in fractured flashes of light, warm yet soured by the taste of loss, couldn't escape the weight of those words.

“Wolfsheim,” one of the boys spoke, a reserved tone in his voice.

“House Wolfsheim still lives,” Edward said, facing Axel. Axel, anticipating annoyance or anger, was met with Ed's familiar smile. “That’s nice to know.” Ed rose from his seat, making his way toward Axel.

For a moment, Tyson thought a confrontation was imminent. Ed's hand moved toward Axel's face, but instead, Ed wrapped an arm around Axel's head and another around his back, pulling him close before turning to face the others.

Tyson stared, the contrast between Axel’s frizzy hair and Ed's composed appearance striking. Ed spoke, “It is nice to know that one of the Great Houses of Mars still draws breath. House Wolfsheim served even before the colonization of Mars; it is an honor and a relief to see you again.”

Axel paused, his purple eyes locking onto Ed’s green. In that moment, the smile felt eerily familiar. It triggered a distant memory within Axel’s mind—an oath broken, a young boy, and now, a journey through the stars. Homeless, dishonored, and lacking direction.

“I’ve heard of your house,” Arthur spoke, the flames casting a flickering light on his features. Arthur addressed the crowd, “My name is Arthur.” Pausing, he sighed and rested his hand on his chest. “My father was Franklin of The Gun of ‘The Dark Brotherhood.’”

Arthur's words carried a muted somberness. Tyson observed the reactions in the dark—the ruined pool outside House Mars beginning to fill up, the scar beneath Edward’s lip, a strange herby smell emanating from Joseph, and the silhouette of Joseph himself.

In the darkness, Tyson perceived it all—the mane of black hair, the cuts on Joseph's face, the scent of blood, with two distinct sources. One from Joseph and another...

Tyson shook his head. It was becoming overwhelming, and his thoughts shifted to Henryk. The bruised features, the ruined uniform—shockingly, everyone bore a similar mark of ordeal.

"My father died on Mars," he spat out plainly. "My mother was a healer, and we found refuge on Irona II. Everyone there is either a healer, a healer in training, and…"

Ed shook his head at that. "Oh, so you have good medical experience." Before Vinnie could respond, Edward took a step forward and extended his arms. "Does anyone here in this crowd have medical experience?"

A few hands rose. Ed's features soured in annoyance. "I'm not talking about patching yourself together after some stab wound from some crappy knife or maybe getting shot by some rebel grunt or imperial peacekeeper, knowing how some of you probably roll after the fall of Mars."

There were open mouths at the comment, but some laughed it off. Ed returned a smile to those who brushed it aside. Vinnie merely stared at Ed as more arms started to fall.

"Come on, raise it," spoke Ed, and Vinnie looked around, realizing he was the only one present with actual medical expertise.

"Raise it," Ed repeated, and Vinnie reluctantly raised his hand, staring at Ed through narrowed eyes.

"Good then." Ed clasped his hands together in a mighty clap. "You, Vinnie. You will be my Master of Medicine and Poisons."

"Wait, what?" Vinnie took a step backward. "Wait, are you promoting me?"

Whispers spread through the group as they observed the unfolding conversation. Tyson, understanding Vinnie's reluctance, wondered if they truly needed a standard medic. Didn't the school have doctors and a hospital within the city?

Vinnie shook his head. "No," he stated flatly.

Ed shook his head at Vinnie's response. "No," he repeated, wrapping his arms around himself. "You are going to be the chaplain of the house. I am going to need someone who knows how to carefully remove and administer the spikes."

Vinnie sneered. "Administer?" He scoffed. "Look around us, Ed. We are the best of the best of the ones that are already dead. There will be nothing more or nothing less that comes. We are all..."

Ed's audible groan cut through Vinnie's words, and he sneered. "Bullshit," Ed plainly stated.

"What?" Vinnie spoke, anger etching across his face.

"You heard me," Ed said with an added chuckle. "Bullshit," he repeated.

Stolen story; please report.

Vinnie sneered, loathing that gaze now. "My spikes descend from 'The Retributors of Mars,'" he scoffed. "We were one of the greatest knight orders. I come from a long line of warriors in both the melee and the WarCasket. Do not dishonor me like this."

Vinnie spoke those words, etched in malice and cold as a blade. Yet, Tyson could feel it—the last portion of the sentence. His mind drew toward the talk of honor from Henryk, and he pondered about it a second longer. Was Vinnie in the right?

Tyson's memories of Mars were hazy, but the Martian customs lingered in the air—honor, oaths, and the lingering presence of the Old Gods, even after their world had been obliterated. Vinnie, however, seemed more inclined to be a warrior than a chaplain. Ty understood the weight of the responsibility that came with healing, especially the recovery of their spikes. Vinnie held the crucial knowledge, and as Ty surveyed the large crowd, he realized the importance of Vinnie's role.

Within the shattered remnants of House Mars, Tyson could feel the weight of secrets veiled in the once great house and planet. Mars might not have been his first choice, but for Edward, it seemed like the only real choice, especially after the public shaming. Edward tried to defuse the situation, but Vinnie's face reddened, and the tension in the room escalated.

"Fuck you," Vinnie snarled, storming out of the room with purpose. Tyson watched him slip on his shoes, his departure drawing the attention of others in the room.

"Where are you going?" Arthur questioned.

"Away from here," snapped Vinnie. Tyson's gaze shifted to Edward, who rose and moved toward the hallway that led to the massive aged wooden doors of the red house.

"Really," Edward stated. "And where are you going to go?"

Vinnie remained silent, continuing to dress. Edward persisted, "So, you’ve got nowhere else to go, like everyone else here."

Ed sighed. "Call it what you will, but honestly, I really don’t give a damn outside of the survival of House Mars. I don’t care if you’re a mutant, an offworlder, or that you didn’t stand with me during the shaming. Honestly, my pride can be kicked through the mud if it means that we’ll be able to survive, and that our lines do not end with the destruction of Mars."

He paused, eyes fixed on Vinnie. "Do whatever you will, but if you leave this house, you will not be allowed to attend. My pride may be able to get wounded, and I’ll take it. However, I won’t be disrespected twice."

Edward's speech halted Vinnie in his tracks, emotions playing across his features. Ed knew Vinnie wasn’t stupid; he had seen the boy’s transcripts. Ed's features soured as a low groan erupted from him. "Another piece of damned Martian pride," he snarled to himself.

Vinnie's growl erupted as he threw his jacket down. "Fine," he announced, whirling toward Ed. "I am only going to do this because you need a medic."

Ed snickered. "Alright then," he spoke, and Vinnie, still fuming, ascended the stairs with trembling fists and a vein pulsing along his forehead.

Axel's voice slithered through the air, disdain dripping from his words. "Not sure how I feel about that low life nutcase treating my wounds," he muttered. Arthur shot him a disapproving look, rolling his eyes as Ed returned to the group. The towering figure paused in front of Ty, then loomed over the rest. "Do you all bear the spikes?"

A heavy silence lingered, broken only by nods and sporadic comments. Joseph sighed, his admission carrying the weight of uncertainty. "Some of us do. There are others that do not know where their genetic heraldry comes from."

Ed sighed, waving off the tension, and settled into a seat among them. "Okay, fine," he conceded. "So, we’ve got a pretty nice roster." His gaze moved across the assembly—Tyson, Vinnie, Arthur, Axel, Joseph, Isaac, Gabe, and a handful of others who found their way into House Mars. The groundwork was laid; now, it was time for action.

"I am Edward," he declared. "Let's address the elephant in the room. We need money." A palpable silence enveloped the group. "Huh?" questioned Joseph.

"Look around you," Ed stated, and they observed the cracks in the walls, felt the biting cold, and heard the scurrying of small creatures. "There is no water, there is no electricity, there is no wifi," he chuckled, his hand covering his face. "I’ve been trying to play games on the school wifi." Ed stretched his hands, smirking. "Do you guys know how crappy the wifi is in the school?"

Chuckles bubbled up from the group, but Joseph cut through the levity. "So, what are we going to do?" he asked.

"I've got an idea," Ed replied, catching everyone's attention. He revealed a box hidden behind the chair, laying it down for all to see. "It won't be much, but it will teach you a lot about responsibility. To stay in House Mars, you've got to contribute. Whether it's a job on-world or a gig from the academy's guild, we need bread."

Axel's protest filled the room. "You expect me, the blood of noble knights, to degrade myself with peasant work?" he snapped, fixing a piercing gaze on Edward.

"If you wish to stay," Ed retorted, "you will need to contribute in some way. Whether it's combat or financial. We do not have the room to spare for people who merely wish to wade through their four years."

Axel huffed in response, this time withholding his words. Ed continued, "The year is going to start soon, and House Mars, for the first time in over two hundred years, is weak. We do not have the power we used to have."

A melancholy undertone hung in the air, a shadow cast by the weight of their shared destinies. The boys, sons of once-great fathers, now faced an unexpected turn of fate. Promised a place in humanity's grandest crusade, they found their dreams shattered, their futures unraveling. Funny how life played its tricks, weaving paths that led them all back to this moment, to each other. But, as Ed knew, one cannot escape their past.

Ed sighed, his gaze drifting across the room. "I'm going to focus on forming allies, however, you all must help me."

"Help you?" Axel interjected with a sneer. "Our big president doesn't have it all together," he added, feigning shock.

Ed met Axel's gaze with narrowed eyes. "Who even made you the leader anyway?" Axel challenged.

"I was made leader when I was shamed in front of the school," Ed snapped, pointing accusingly at Axel. "Even you, who boasts and throws his lot around with talks of Martian nobility, didn't even stand with me. No, the whole lot of you merely watched, and I bet many of you only came back here because there was no other option."

A heavy silence fell upon them, the truth of Ed's words hanging in the air. Ed thrust a thumb toward his chest. "It was me that did it. None of you, not a single one, had the pride to bear your colors. But it's okay. I do."

Tyson couldn't shake the unease settling within him. Ed's tone shifted, from leader to something more, something that made them feel guilty. Ed had a knack for forcing them to confront memories they'd rather forget. Tyson wondered if Ed was unlocking something buried within them.

Silence lingered, and Ed sighed, realizing he had quelled Axel's attempt at rebellion. Small sparks needed swift extinguishing; otherwise, the flame of defiance would spread. It was a lesson passed down from Ed's father, a lesson of strength and leadership.

"I'll talk to each of you individually later. We have much to discuss, and I want to get to know you all. We have a long four years," Ed concluded.

As the others began to disperse, Ed rose from his chair. "Arthur, can you show Ty to one of the spare rooms?" he requested.

Arthur nodded. "Come on, Tyson," he called out.

Yet, Tyson hesitated. "Thank you, Edward," he said with a smile. "Even though I'm a mutant, I really appreciate it."

Ed smiled in return. "No need," he replied. "If you want to thank me, bring honor to this house."

Tyson beamed. "I will," he declared as he and Arthur left the room. As they ascended the stairs, another figure lingered behind.

Ed found himself locking eyes with Joseph. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Joseph paused, and Ed's gaze shifted downward to find Joseph standing there. Ed studied him for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Ed's eyes narrowed; they were alone now, and Joseph just stood there, gazing at him. Did Joseph lie about his identity? Did he come for something else, something more malevolent?

Ed was well-versed in the histories of the universe, knowledgeable about the conflicts that Mars had within the galaxy. Whether within the emperor's court, conflicts with the CoreWorlds and MidWorlds, or perhaps a boy from Pluto daring something nefarious.

Ed's hand slowly moved toward his pocket, feeling the tension of his fingers unlocking the switchblade. A quick flick of his wrist, and he'd have him. Yet, Joseph spoke. "The boy..."

Ed tilted his head like an owl, but Joseph continued, "The boy must die."

Ed still stared at him. "What?" he announced, ready to holler because the situation was getting weirder. Joseph continued speaking, "And in his death, the knight is born. For the flesh may die, but the soul lives on..."

"...Within the spikes of the sons," Ed finished the sentence. His eyes grew wide and alert as he took a step forward. "Are you?"

Joseph quickly shushed him, taking rapid steps toward Ed's right ear. "You're the contact?" Joseph questioned.

Ed looked at him, then vigorously nodded. "Yes," Ed stated, and a relieved sigh erupted from Edward. "Come on," Ed said again, "let's find a more private place to discuss matters."

Ed and Joseph both grabbed their jackets as they ventured outside. The door creaked open within the harsh torrent.

"Are you sure you don't want to just find a room?" Joseph asked. "There are dozens of empty rooms within the manor. We could probably..."

Ed shook his head. "The walls are thin from the damn rats and mice sulking, eating, and... engaging in other activities ever since the fall of Mars. Joseph, I get that it's cold and raining, but I'd rather us discuss our plans in the most private place imaginable."

Joseph paused at that and sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

Ed narrowed his eyes. "What is he even thinking? Is this guy foolish enough to discuss political matters in the open? What a joke of a roster!" Ed's thoughts echoed as he opened the door, greeted by the harsh torrent of the storm.

Ed's hair flew wildly, brown, nearly reddish clumps decorating his features as the rain prickled his face. They left from the backdoor, and now he faced the backyard of the House, once a grand relic of a powerful era.

The House of The Red Moon stood at its weakest, a shadow of its former self. It was Ed's responsibility, and that of the others, to rebuild it, their birthright more palpable for some than others.

The backyard sprawled large and almost unfenced. A once-grand pool lay ahead, next to the ruins of an open gym, and a storage shed to the right, each structure in a different state of decay.

The pool, filled a mere third with brackish water, revealed unsettling movements beneath its surface. The wooden fence, beaten and battered, now appeared rotting and exposed, flies swarming around it like a decomposing corpse.

Descending the worn wooden steps, they navigated slippery rocks and mud, seeking shelter against the rain and cold by leaning on the faded red-orange shed. In the corner where the roof extended, the boys gathered to discuss their politics.

Ed's breath visible in the cold air, his mind briefly wandered to the woods and the hidden hangar. Would they find any Martian Pattern WarCaskets? He dismissed the thought; if his suspicions were correct, the devastation was due to Martian pride. They'd rather see their world destroyed than let its secrets fall into weaker hands.

The clicking of a lighter interrupted Ed's thoughts, followed by the scent of herb wafting into his nostrils. "You smoke?" Joseph inquired, taking another drag.

Ed looked at him and sighed with a smile. "No, I'm all good," he said.

"Sorry if it bothers you," Joseph stated, eyes on his hand as he toyed with the smoke. "After we left Mars, I settled down on a world deep in the frontier, and this was one of the many exports of that place."

Ed chuckled. "I can handle you being chill and cool," he remarked. "I'd prefer that to what was going on inside."

"You mean Vinnie and Axel?" Joseph questioned.

Ed nodded. "That damned Martian pride. Our house is practically in tatters, and Axel questions my authority. Vinnie, with proper medical experience, drags his feet to become a chaplain."

Joseph shrugged. "Remember how it was growing up on Mars. After its destruction, many of us scattered across the galaxy to different worlds. However, some did not forget what happened and their original creeds."

Ed shook his head, but Joseph persisted. "If you'd told Vinnie you wanted him as a warrior, there wouldn't have been any problems."

Ed shot him a look, but Joseph pressed on. "However, you can't blame him for this. A lot of people here are clawing to get in, and Vinnie was told he can't do what he wants to do."

Ed sneered. "Tough luck," he snapped. "After the fall of Mars, many of us had to adapt and adjust to our situation. Vinnie is the only one with medical training. You'll all be thanking me when one of us is bleeding to death, and Vin saves his life."

Joseph nodded. "You aren't wrong, Ed," he stated. "I'm just offering how Vin probably sees it. He was destined to be a warrior, but now he's a doctor?"

"Chaplain," Ed corrected. "He's not just some doctor left on the ship. He's going to be a warrior, tasked with healing us and recovering spikes from our fallen comrades. What greater honor is there than rebuilding the red house of the moon?"

Joseph's eyes widened. "You... you wish to rebuild House Mars?" he asked.

Ed paused, then nodded. "Isn't that why you joined the rebellion?" Ed questioned, and Joseph tilted his head. "Isn't that why you are here?"

Joseph hesitated, taking a long hit from his smoke before dropping it to the floor and stomping out the flame and ash. His eyes were fixed on the act, and when they rose, they were a cherry red.

"Of course," Joseph spoke.

Edward noticed the delay. He sighed, fingers to his features. It didn't matter; he was here and knew the code. Perhaps Joseph had other goals, fine. Ed could work with that as long as it didn't jeopardize the safety of his house and the grand plans they were destined to orchestrate. Everyone had to pull their weight. House Mars didn't have the luxury of free servants or regular donations. There was no time to argue; now was the time to focus and do what had to be done. Ed refused to let his house crumble. There was always hope, no matter how dim – hope in the ability to rebuild.

"How are you feeling about Tyson?" Ed asked.

Joseph paused, then shrugged. "He seems like a good guy. When I let him into the house, he had good manners."

Ed shrugged. "Axel had something to say about his mutation."

Joseph sneered and shook his head. "Rotten business that was," he snapped. Anger flared on his features, yet he kept it hidden. Ed knew Joseph was being cautious. They were still relatively strangers, and the majority were untested. But the spikes spoke of power, and that power was almost divine. It could forge weapons to restore the honor of his home.

"Tyson," Joseph repeated. "Ember Knights. They were a proud knight order. Skilled in battle. My father spoke of them."

"My father as well," Ed replied.

"I've heard rumors that their spikes had this passive mutation, like a wizard feeling the emotions of others. They could take away pain, even rid those of..." Joseph paused, his hand moving to his face, fingers tracing the corners as his eyes slowly opened, revealing a shade of red. Joseph removed his hand and looked at Ed. "You know that Tyson got saved."

"Huh?" Ed questioned. "Not many people would help a mutant."

Joseph shrugged. "This guy did," he said. "He saved Ty twice, once from a pair of bullies, and another from a group of three. Beat the crap out of all of them."

Ed whistled. "Must've been a guy. Would've killed to have someone like that on the team."

"Really?" said Joseph. "There's a difference between street fights and actually being in the thick of it all."

Ed shrugged. "Look at Axel. He's got the spikes, descends from one of the greatest warriors, yet he's dressed in the richest of silks."

Joseph's eyes widened. "You think that..."

Ed shrugged. "As president, it's my duty to make sure the House stays safe. Right now, I'm keeping everyone at arm's length to know who I can trust and who I can't."

Joseph looked at him. "Am I on that list?"

Ed nodded, and Joseph smirked. "Then, you'll make a good leader. I could already imagine what you know of my purpose."

Ed nodded along, and Joseph smirked with a smile.

"What was that guy's name, by the way?" Ed asked, and Joseph turned to look at him. "I know, I know. People are only coming to the house as a last resort. Heck, I've even heard of people who already went back home due to not getting accepted into any of the houses, but they never even checked ours."

Joseph chuckled. "Sucks to be them," he stated. "I'll take the emperor's right hand rather than be sent back."

"Still, what was the name?" Ed asked.

And Joseph turned to him, uttering a word that caused Ed's eyes to widen. "Henryk."