The Imperial System: Architect of an Empire

Sir Maelin Ors arrived before breakfast and immediately insulted Blackwood’s gate.

Not intentionally.

That almost made it worse.

The retired Imperial knight stood beneath the eastern watchtower with rainwater dripping from the edge of a gray traveling cloak. He was a tall woman in her early fifties, broad through the shoulders, with dark brown skin, iron-gray hair braided tightly behind her head, and a long scar running from the corner of her left eye to her jaw.

Her armor was plain.

No noble colors.

No House crest.

Only the small silver sword-and-crown mark recognized by the Imperial Knight Registry.

She looked up at the wooden tower.

Then at Captain Roland.

Too low.

Roland’s expression tightened.

For what, Sir Maelin?

Mounted archers.

The platform gives good road visibility, but a rider with a strong bow can reach the upper rail from the eastern rise.

Roland looked toward the hill.

Sir Maelin pointed.

There.

Kael, who had arrived halfway through the exchange, followed her finger.

She was right.

He hated that.

Captain Roland did too.

The hill had always seemed far enough away.

It was not.

Sir Maelin finally noticed Kael.

She bowed.

Lord Kael Asterion.

Kael nodded.

Sir Maelin Ors.

Welcome to Blackwood.

Thank you, my lord.

She looked back at the tower.

Move the upper shield panels four feet higher or lower the approach sightline.

Kael blinked.

You have been here less than three minutes.

Two and a half.

Sir Corren Valehart’s voice came from behind them.

Kael turned.

The other Registry knight approached with Tomas Pell carrying a writing case.

Sir Maelin looked at Corren.

Still counting minutes?

Only when people annoy me.

Then you must be very good at counting.

Sir Corren smiled.

Kael looked between them.

You know each other.

Sir Maelin answered.

Unfortunately.

Corren nodded.

Deeply.

Tomas tried not to smile.

Kael saw it.

Sir Maelin saw him see it.

She looked at the squire.

Tomas Pell.

The boy straightened.

Sir Maelin.

Still carrying his papers?

Yes, Sir.

Still letting him make you carry too many?

Tomas glanced toward Corren.

Sir Corren said experience builds posture.

Maelin stared at Corren.

You told him that?

It sounded wise.

It sounds lazy.

Kael liked her immediately.

Sir Corren looked toward Kael.

Do not encourage her.

Too late.

Sir Maelin refused the manor guest room.

Kael expected Sir Corren to support her.

He did not.

You are too old to sleep in barracks to prove a point.

Maelin looked at him.

You are two years younger than me.

Three.

Two years, eight months.

Darius said it from the courtyard.

Everyone turned.

Sir Maelin’s expression changed.

Sir Darius Valen approached in training clothes.

She bowed her head.

Empire’s Shield.

Sir Maelin.

Kael noticed there was more respect in her greeting than Corren’s.

Not fear.

History.

Darius looked at the traveling bag over her shoulder.

Guest room.

Maelin opened her mouth.

Darius continued.

That was not a debate.

She stared at him.

Then smiled.

There he is.

Kael looked toward Corren.

Why does everyone say that to him?

Sir Corren answered.

Because Sir Darius has spent thirty years pretending he is less predictable than he is.

Darius looked at him.

Training yard.

Now.

Corren’s smile disappeared.

Kael laughed.

The Knight Examination was eighteen days away.

Sir Maelin did not care.

She wanted to see the candidates immediately.

Not fight.

Not perform Aura tricks.

Walk.

Kael stood beside Darius at the edge of the Black Dragon training yard while Damien Ravenmoor, Leon Ashford, Victor Ravenshade, Marcus Wintermere, and Elias Thorn crossed the yard carrying weighted packs.

Sir Maelin followed.

Slowly.

She said nothing.

Victor eventually looked over his shoulder.

Sir Maelin.

She continued walking.

Are we being examined?

Yes.

For walking?

Yes.

Victor looked toward Kael.

Kael shrugged.

Sir Maelin stopped.

Ravenshade.

Victor turned.

Sir.

Why are you looking behind yourself every six steps?

Victor thought.

Because you’re behind me.

Wrong.

Victor frowned.

Maelin pointed toward the wall.

You checked me twice.

The gate three times.

Ashford once.

And the roof.

Victor blinked.

I did?

Yes.

Why?

Victor looked uncomfortable.

Habit.

From?

Patrols.

Maelin’s expression changed slightly.

Continue.

Victor began walking again.

Kael leaned toward Darius.

Was that good?

Darius looked at him.

You will learn nothing if I answer every question.

Kael frowned.

You answer everyone else’s.

Not true.

It felt true.

Sir Maelin moved to Marcus.

Wintermere.

Sir.

Your pack is lighter.

Marcus looked over.

Same weight.

No.

Marcus frowned.

She pointed.

You shifted two stones to the left side.

Yes.

Why?

Old shoulder injury.

Which?

Right.

When?

Three years ago.

Healer, clear you?

Yes.

Pain now?

No.

Maelin nodded.

Then why are you compensating?

Marcus did not answer.

Darius watched closely.

Marcus finally said.

Habit.

Sir Maelin looked toward Victor.

Another habit.

She continued walking.

Kael began to understand.

This was not about walking.

It was about what people did when they believed nothing important was happening.

Damien reached the far marker first.

Sir Maelin looked at him.

Why?

Damien frowned.

Why what?

Why did you finish first?

Because I walk faster.

Wrong.

Damien thought again.

Because Leon slowed for Marcus at the hill.

Leon looked over.

Marcus frowned.

I didn’t need help.

Leon answered.

You shortened your stride.

Sir Maelin looked at him.

Why did you notice?

Leon shrugged.

I was beside him.

Maelin’s eyes moved toward Damien.

And you?

Damien looked back at the group.

I noticed.

But?

I assumed Marcus would adjust.

He did.

Sir Maelin nodded.

Then why are you first?

Damien understood.

Because I was thinking about arriving.

Exactly.

She looked toward the others.

A knight who always arrives first eventually discovers he arrived alone.

Damien’s expression tightened.

Kael remembered the early Black Dragon training.

Darius’s simulated casualty test.

Victor is chasing the mock bandit leader and abandoning the injured.

Different lesson.

Same wound.

Damien nodded.

Understood, Sir.

Sir Maelin looked at Darius.

You chose well.

Damien’s eyes shifted slightly.

Darius answered.

He is not chosen yet.

Good.

Sir Maelin turned back.

Then he still has room to become better.

Elias Thorn received the strangest test.

Sir Maelin gave him a chicken.

An actual chicken.

Kael stared.

Where did you get that?

Bram.

From across the yard, Bram called.

Bring her back alive!

The chicken flapped violently in Elias’s arms.

He looked less comfortable than Kael had ever seen him.

Sir Maelin pointed toward a narrow obstacle lane.

Carry it to the end.

Elias looked at the chicken.

That is the test?

Yes.

Victor started laughing.

Maelin looked at him.

Would you like two?

Victor stopped.

No, Sir.

Elias began.

The first obstacle was simple.

A low beam.

He stepped over carefully.

The chicken pecked his sleeve.

The second obstacle required climbing a short wall.

Elias stopped.

One hand needed the top.

Both arms currently held the bird.

He looked at Sir Maelin.

She gave nothing away.

Elias shifted the chicken under one arm.

Bad decision.

It exploded into feathers and fury.

Victor laughed again.

Elias nearly dropped it.

Then caught both wings carefully.

He turned.

Looked at the wall.

Then at Leon.

Hold this.

Leon blinked.

Me?

Yes.

Leon accepted the chicken.

Elias climbed the wall.

Then reached down.

Leon handed the chicken up.

Sir Maelin spoke.

Failed.

Elias froze.

Kael frowned.

Why?

Maelin looked toward him.

Candidate solves an assigned task by handing responsibility to someone not taking the test.

Elias’s expression tightened.

Kael almost objected.

Then Sir Maelin continued.

Unless he explains why.

Elias looked at Leon.

Then back at her.

The task was carry the chicken to the end.

You did not say alone.

Sir Maelin’s mouth moved slightly.

Continue.

Elias took the bird back.

Kael looked at Darius.

That was cruel.

Educational.

Same thing sometimes.

Darius almost smiled.

The point of the test became clearer at the final obstacle.

A narrow plank crossed a shallow mud trench.

Elias could cross.

The chicken could not balance safely under one arm while he extended the other.

He stopped again.

This time he did not ask Leon.

He crouched.

Removed his belt.

Wrapped it gently around the bird’s wings.

Not tight enough to hurt.

Enough to stop flapping.

Then carried it across with both hands supporting its body.

At the other end, Bram reclaimed the chicken.

She clucked angrily.

Bram looked at Elias.

She’s offended.

Elias wiped mud from his boot.

I noticed.

Sir Maelin approached.

Why the belt?

Elias answered.

The problem wasn’t the weight.

It was movement.

So I controlled movement without harming it.

Maelin nodded.

Good.

Victor looked toward Kael.

I am never asking what knight training looks like again.

Kael smiled.

You did once.

Regretfully.

Sir Maelin did not test Leon with a sword.

She gave him six soldiers.

Then removed two.

Then added three.

Then told him one had a broken ankle.

No one actually did.

Leon still had to move the group from one side of the training yard to the other while carrying a crate, protecting a simulated civilian, and responding to wooden markers Sir Corren threw into the lane to represent attacks.

The first run was ugly.

Leon reached the end.

Left the crate behind.

Forgot one simulated casualty.

Sir Maelin stared at him.

Again.

Second run.

Better.

He split the group.

Two guarded the civilian.

Three moved the crate.

One supported the injured soldier.

Then Corren threw a red marker near the civilian group.

Leon immediately shifted.

Too quickly.

The crate team lost coordination.

A soldier dropped his end.

Maelin shouted.

Dead.

Leon stopped.

Sir Maelin pointed at the man who had dropped the crate.

You.

Dead.

Then at another.

You tried to save him while exposed.

Dead.

Leon stared.

Two casualties.

Again.

Third run.

This time Leon did something different.

Before they moved, he assigned second command.

If I go down, Jaren takes over.

One of the ordinary Black Dragon soldiers straightened.

Yes.

Kael noticed the name.

Jaren.

Another soldier he had not known well.

Leon continued.

Civilian group does not leave formation for me.

Crate gets abandoned if attacked from both flanks.

Wounded take priority over supplies.

Sir Maelin said nothing.

They began.

Corren threw markers.

Red.

Blue.

Yellow.

Leon reacted.

Not perfectly.

But the group reached the far end.

All simulated people alive.

Crate lost halfway.

Maelin nodded.

Acceptable.

Leon breathed out.

Not good?

Acceptable.

Leon almost smiled.

From her, apparently, that was victory.

Marcus’s test looked simple.

He received a wooden sword.

Sir Maelin received nothing.

Kael leaned forward.

Darius noticed.

Not combat.

Kael looked at him.

She has no weapon.

Exactly.

Sir Maelin stood inside the circle.

Wintermere.

Sir.

Hit me.

Marcus frowned.

Anywhere?

Anywhere.

Marcus looked suspicious.

Good.

Kael could see him thinking.

Marcus attacked.

Not with Aura.

Wooden blade toward Maelin’s shoulder.

She stepped aside.

Marcus turned.

Second attack.

Missed.

Third.

She moved again.

Nothing extraordinary.

No impossible speed.

Just experience.

Marcus began accelerating.

Maelin continued avoiding.

Victor whispered.

He’s getting angry.

Darius nodded.

Exactly.

Marcus attacked harder.

Faster.

Wider.

Then Maelin stopped moving.

Marcus’s sword came toward her ribs.

She lifted one hand.

Caught his wrist.

Turned.

Marcus hit the dirt.

His wooden sword rolled away.

Sir Maelin stood over him.

Why did you lose?

Marcus remained flat on his back.

You are better.

Wrong.

Marcus sighed.

Everyone hates that word today.

Maelin waited.

Marcus sat up.

I stopped thinking.

Why?

Because I couldn’t hit you.

Why did that matter?

Marcus looked at the wooden sword.

Because that was the task.

Maelin shook her head.

The task was hit me.

Not become increasingly stupid until I helped you fall.

Victor covered his mouth.

Marcus looked toward him.

Sir Maelin continued.

What do you do against an opponent you cannot hit?

Marcus thought.

Change approach.

How?

Feint.

Terrain.

Force movement.

Stop chasing.

There.

She pointed at him.

You possess enough Aura to make weaker men afraid of you.

That is dangerous.

Marcus’s expression hardened.

For them?

For you.

Silence.

Maelin continued.

Power rewards bad habits until you meet someone strong enough to punish them.

Darius watched without moving.

Marcus looked toward him.

He had heard a variation before.

Maelin stepped out of the circle.

Again tomorrow.

Marcus nodded.

Yes, Sir.

No complaint.

Kael noticed.

Victor’s test involved a crying child.

Not real.

Tomas Pell.

Victor stared at the squire.

This is humiliating for both of us.

Tomas’s face remained serious.

Sir Corren said it builds character.

Corren looked away.

Sir Maelin placed Tomas behind a wooden barrier.

Victor received a practice sword.

The scenario was simple.

Three wooden targets represented attackers.

One exit.

One injured child.

Victor had to escape.

He immediately attacked the nearest target.

Wood shattered.

Second.

Down.

Third.

Down.

Then he grabbed Tomas.

Move.

Tomas limped.

Victor stopped.

What?

Injured leg.

Victor stared at Maelin.

You didn’t say that.

You didn’t ask.

Victor looked back at Tomas.

Can you run?

No.

Victor sighed.

Of course not.

He lifted Tomas across his shoulder.

Sir Corren threw another red marker behind him.

Victor moved faster.

Then stopped.

The exit was narrow.

Too narrow for the practice sword and Tomas across his shoulder.

He threw the sword down.

Passed through.

Reached the end.

Sir Maelin looked at the abandoned weapon.

Victor immediately said.

I know.

Do you?

Protecting him mattered more.

Yes.

Would you abandon your real sword?

Victor hesitated.

Then nodded.

If that’s what it took.

Sir Maelin looked at Darius.

Better.

Darius answered.

Much.

Victor heard both.

He tried not to look proud.

Failed.

Then Tomas climbed off his shoulder.

Victor rubbed his back.

You are heavier than you look.

Sir Corren looked at Tomas.

Good.

Tomas stared.

Sir?

Experience builds posture.

Tomas closed his eyes.

Kael laughed.

Damien’s second test happened without warning.

Sir Maelin waited until everyone was drinking water.

Then she walked toward the candidate line.

Ravenmoor.

Damien looked over.

Sir.

You are in command.

Of?

Everyone.

Sir Maelin pointed toward the training yard.

Black Dragon patrol reports armed strangers approaching the eastern road.

Numbers unknown.

Civilians still outside the gate.

One candidate injured.

Sir Darius absent.

Lord Kael unreachable.

Go.

Damien froze for perhaps half a heartbeat.

Then moved.

Leon.

Gate team.

Take six.

Leon nodded.

Marcus, reserve behind the gate.

Do not engage unless called.

Marcus looked surprised at being placed behind Leon.

Then nodded.

Elias, high position.

Count approach numbers.

Victor—

Damien stopped.

Victor waited.

Take two and clear civilians from the road.

Victor’s expression shifted.

Old Victor might have protested.

This one nodded.

Yes.

Damien looked toward ordinary Black Dragon soldiers.

Jaren, with Leon.

Sera Voss, eastern wall.

Two runners to Captain Roland.

Kael noticed.

Names again.

Damien was learning them too.

Sir Maelin watched.

Damien continued.

No one leaves the gate to pursue.

If strangers stop outside bow range, we talk.

If they rush—

Marcus answered.

We hold.

Damien looked at him.

Correct.

Maelin raised one hand.

Scenario changes.

Damien turned.

One civilian refuses to leave the road because his cart contains everything he owns.

Victor spoke.

Drag him.

Sir Maelin looked at Damien.

Your call.

Damien thought.

Victor takes the man.

Two soldiers take whatever can be moved quickly.

Cart stays.

Victor nodded.

Maelin continued.

Approaching strangers display Imperial colors.

Damien stopped.

Kael saw the problem.

Attack?

No.

Trust?

No.

Damien answered.

Hold formation.

Require identification before opening gate.

Sir Maelin’s eyes sharpened.

Imperial soldiers.

Could be.

Could also be stolen colors.

Good.

She changed it again.

They identify themselves as soldiers of Prince Cassian.

The yard went quiet.

Kael felt every candidate become more attentive.

Damien looked toward Kael for one second.

Then away.

His lord was unreachable in the scenario.

He had to decide.

No entry beyond outer gate until Captain Roland arrives.

Maelin asked.

House Cassian outranks you.

Not inside Blackwood’s gate.

Silence.

Kael felt something settle.

Sir Maelin looked toward Darius.

Darius’s face gave nothing away.

Maelin asked.

And if they order you aside in the name of the First Prince?

Damien answered.

I ask under whose authority they enter Blackwood.

If they have Imperial warrant, I verify it.

If they have House Cassian orders only, they wait.

Maelin nodded.

Scenario ends.

Damien exhaled.

Kael looked at Darius.

That one mattered.

Yes.

For the Knight Examination?

For the future.

Darius’s answer was quiet.

Kael understood.

House Kael was growing.

Sooner or later, other Imperial Houses would test its boundaries.

Not necessarily with swords.

Sometimes with orders.

Sir Maelin inspected the oath after lunch.

She read every line.

Twice.

Then placed it on Kael’s desk.

Too long.

Kael stared.

Everyone else liked it.

I did not say it was bad.

You said it was too long.

Both can be true.

Sir Corren sat nearby.

I told him nothing.

Kael looked at Darius.

He stood near the window.

No help.

Of course.

Kael looked back at Maelin.

What would you remove?

Nothing.

Kael frowned.

Then how—

Divide it.

She tapped the parchment.

The oath spoken by the knight.

The promise spoken by the lord.

Separate them.

That made Kael quiet.

Sir Corren leaned forward.

Interesting.

Maelin looked at him.

Do not sound surprised.

I am allowed intellectual emotion.

Rarely.

Kael ignored them.

Separate.

Maelin nodded.

A knight should not speak House Kael’s obligation as if promising it on your behalf.

You speak your part.

He speaks his.

That feels more balanced.

Kael looked at the final line.

And House Kael, through the lord who receives this oath, shall owe protection, fair judgment, worthy command, and remembrance to the knight who gives it.

Maelin pointed.

Yours.

Kael nodded slowly.

Then what does the knight finish with?

She pointed toward another line.

My sword belongs to my oath before it belongs to my pride.

Keep that last.

Strong ending.

Kael looked toward Darius.

Opinion?

Darius nodded.

She is right.

Kael sighed.

I dislike how often visitors improve my ideas.

Sir Corren answered.

That is one reason rulers invite people into rooms.

I thought it was for food.

Sometimes both.

By evening, Kael rewrote the ceremony.

The knight would kneel beneath the Black Dragon Banner.

An Imperial Registry witness would confirm that the candidate had passed the recognized examination.

Then Kael would ask whether the knight freely chose service to House Kael.

Only after the knight answered yes would the household oath begin.

The knight would swear:

I swear to defend House Kael, the lands entrusted to it, and the people placed beneath its protection.

I will protect the helpless, honor surrender, and bring judgment where vengeance would make me dishonorable.

I will not sell my loyalty, command, or trust for coin, title, or land.

I will not deny the protection of House Kael because of blood, race, birth, or poverty.

I will obey the lawful commands of House Kael unless obedience would require deliberate dishonor, cruelty against the innocent, or betrayal of those I am sworn to protect.

My sword belongs to my oath before it belongs to my pride.

Then Kael would answer:

And House Kael shall owe you protection, fair judgment, worthy command, and remembrance for the service you freely give.

It was shorter.

Cleaner.

More reciprocal.

Kael read it again.

Sir Maelin stood opposite the desk.

Better.

Kael looked up.

You really don’t praise people often.

Praise becomes cheap if handed out for breathing.

Sir Corren looked personally offended.

That explains my childhood.

Maelin looked at him.

Your childhood explains much.

Kael smiled.

Darius did not.

But his shoulders shifted slightly.

That was enough.

The next morning brought Registrar Elric Dane.

He looked nothing like a knight.

Kael appreciated that immediately.

Elric was fifty-six, short, narrow-shouldered, with thinning black hair and round spectacles. He arrived in a brown traveling coat carrying three locked document cases and complaining that the eastern road had nearly shaken his teeth loose.

Kael met him outside the Guild construction site because that was where the registrar’s carriage wheel had finally surrendered.

Elric climbed out.

Lord Kael?

Yes.

Registrar Elric Dane.

Welcome to Blackwood.

Your roads are hostile.

We’re working on them.

Please work faster.

Kael smiled.

No armor.

No sword.

No Aura Kael could sense.

Yet Sir Corren and Sir Maelin both treated the man seriously when they arrived.

Registrar.

Sir Corren.

Sir Maelin.

Elric looked toward Darius.

Then froze.

Sir Darius Valen.

Darius nodded.

Registrar Dane.

Elric adjusted his coat.

I was not informed you would personally supervise.

Sir Corren answered.

You read the assignment.

I assumed the phrase under the supervision of Sir Darius Valen was administrative exaggeration.

Darius’s expression hardened.

Elric immediately corrected.

Apparently not.

Kael liked him too.

Elric’s authority became clear once they entered the manor.

He opened the first locked case.

Inside were Imperial records.

Candidate forms.

Oath registrations.

Witness requirements.

Family-name declarations.

Allegiance records.

Recognition seals.

Kael stared.

Knighthood has this much parchment?

Elric looked offended.

This is the reduced field set.

Kael looked at Darius.

You never mentioned this.

You never asked.

Elric began arranging documents.

An Imperial knight is not merely a person who passes combat tests.

Recognition affects inheritance claims in some provinces, military rights, legal testimony, weapon permissions, service obligations, household affiliation, tax status in specific jurisdictions—

Kael raised one hand.

Enough.

Elric adjusted his spectacles.

You asked.

I regret it.

Sir Maelin smiled.

Elric looked toward Kael.

Your Black Dragon Knight title is not yet an Imperial rank.

Kael nodded.

I know.

It can be registered as a household designation attached to recognized Imperial knighthood.

Good.

Provided the oath does not contradict Imperial law.

Kael’s eyes narrowed.

And does it?

Elric extended his hand.

Kael gave him the revised copy.

The registrar read.

Slowly.

Painfully slowly.

Kael resisted asking.

Barely.

Finally Elric looked up.

No immediate contradiction.

Immediate?

I will compare wording against household knight precedents.

How long?

Two days.

Kael stared.

Two days?

That is fast.

Kael looked at the mountain of parchment.

He believed him.

Then Elric asked the question nobody else had.

Who owns the Black Dragon title?

Kael frowned.

What?

Legally.

Is Black Dragon a unit designation?

Household military order?

Informal banner?

Knightly company?

Kael looked toward Darius.

Darius answered.

Currently, Black Dragon is Kael’s fifty-soldier military unit.

Elric nodded.

Then Black Dragon Knight would be a household title nested within an existing military designation.

Potentially confusing.

Kael’s expression tightened.

Why?

Because not every Black Dragon soldier is a knight.

Correct.

Yet every Black Dragon Knight would presumably belong to the Black Dragon.

Yes.

Elric wrote something.

Then records must distinguish:

Black Dragon Soldier

and

Black Dragon Knight

Kael nodded.

Good.

Elric continued.

Will Black Dragon Knights command ordinary Black Dragon soldiers automatically?

Kael opened his mouth.

Stopped.

That had not been decided.

Sir Maelin noticed.

Good question.

Kael looked toward Darius.

No automatic command solely from knighthood.

Darius answered.

Military command remains separate.

Damien may someday be an officer and knight.

Another man may be knight without command billet.

Elric nodded.

Excellent.

Kael looked toward Sir Corren.

This is why he’s here?

Corren smiled.

This is exactly why he’s here.

Kael had expected the Knight Examination to be about swordsmanship.

Instead it had become law, allegiance, titles, institutional design, and chickens.

Somehow that felt more real.

By late afternoon, the three outside candidates arrived.

Brennar Holt came first.

Thirty-eight.

Thick black beard.

Provincial guard cloak.

A broad sword across his back.

He bowed to Kael correctly.

Lord Kael.

Brennar Holt.

Welcome.

I appreciate your territory hosting the examination.

Kael liked him immediately because he did not pretend Blackwood belonged to him.

Mira Solenne arrived next.

Twenty-six.

Tall.

Lean.

Dark red hair cut to her shoulders.

No House colors.

No entourage.

She carried two narrow swords.

Her traveling cloak had been repaired so many times its original color was difficult to determine.

She looked at Kael.

Lord Kael.

Mira Solenne.

Independent?

Currently.

Kael raised an eyebrow.

Currently?

I like keeping options open.

Sir Maelin almost smiled.

The final candidate arrived with servants.

Four.

Too many for one retainer.

Edric Vale wore polished blue armor with the silver fox insignia of House Varrow over his chest.

Thirty-one.

Blond hair.

Expensive sword.

Expensive boots.

Expensive expression.

He bowed.

Lord Kael.

Edric Vale, sword retainer to Lord Varrow.

Kael nodded.

Welcome to Blackwood.

Edric’s eyes moved toward the training yard.

Then toward the Black Dragon Banner.

These are the candidates trained by Sir Darius?

Some of them.

Kael answered.

Edric smiled faintly.

I have heard they are unusually... provincial.

Kael’s expression did not change.

Sir Corren’s did.

Mira looked amused.

Brennar looked embarrassed on Edric’s behalf.

Kael asked.

Provincial compared with what?

Edric gestured toward Blackwood.

This is far from Aurelia.

Kael looked around.

I had noticed.

Mira laughed.

Edric ignored her.

I simply mean House Varrow maintains formal knight training.

Dedicated yards.

Certified instructors.

Proper lineage records.

Kael nodded.

And?

Edric seemed surprised.

And I am interested to see how informal candidates compare.

Behind Kael, Victor Ravenshade had apparently arrived.

Kael did not need to turn.

He could feel the problem approaching.

Victor spoke.

Informal.

Kael closed his eyes briefly.

Darius said.

Ravenshade.

Victor stopped.

Sir.

Darius walked into the courtyard.

Edric Vale’s entire posture changed when he recognized him.

Sir Darius Valen.

Darius looked him over.

Vale.

You know me?

House Varrow sent your examination sponsorship seven years ago.

Edric smiled.

Yes, Sir.

You failed.

The smile disappeared.

Mira covered her mouth.

Brennar looked toward the ground.

Victor turned away because his face could no longer be trusted.

Kael stared at Darius.

You remembered?

Darius looked at Edric.

You abandoned a simulated wounded retainer to pursue the opponent.

Victor slowly turned back.

His eyes widened.

Edric’s jaw tightened.

I was twenty-four.

Darius nodded.

Good.

Then you have had seven years to improve.

Silence.

Sir Maelin looked toward Victor.

Do not say it.

Victor immediately answered.

I wasn’t.

You were.

Probably.

Edric looked between him and Darius.

Kael suddenly understood.

Victor’s first failed preliminary test had been almost identical.

Chasing the target.

Leaving the injured.

He looked toward Victor.

Victor saw it too.

His amusement faded.

Darius addressed all eight candidates now gathered in or near the courtyard.

Damien.

Leon.

Victor.

Marcus.

Elias.

Brennar.

Mira.

Edric.

Eight.

More than Blackwood had started with.

Darius’s voice carried.

The Imperial Knight Examination is eighteen days away.

Some of you believe you are here to prove strength.

You are not.

Some believe you are here because another attempt should reward persistence.

It will not.

Some believe talent deserves recognition.

It does not.

Some believe Sir before a name will change the way the world sees them.

It will.

Victor’s expression tightened.

Darius continued.

Which is why the title will not be given cheaply.

He looked from candidate to candidate.

You have eighteen days.

Do not use them trying to impress me.

Use them discovering what would make me refuse you.

No one spoke.

Even Edric.

Darius turned.

Training begins before sunrise.

Mira raised one hand slightly.

Sir.

Darius looked at her.

I was told the formal examination is eighteen days away.

Correct.

Then what is this?

Darius’s expression remained completely serious.

Hospitality.

Kael laughed before he could stop himself.

Mira smiled.

Brennar looked worried.

Edric looked insulted.

Victor looked delighted that someone else would finally suffer with him.

The candidate group dispersed toward assigned lodging.

Kael watched them go.

The Knight Examination no longer felt distant.

The witnesses were here.

The Registry was here.

Outside candidates were here.

Blackwood’s own candidates were being compared against people trained beyond its borders.

And for the first time, the household title Kael had invented was becoming something Imperial law could actually recognize.

Sir Maelin stepped beside him.

Nervous?

Kael looked at her.

I’m not taking the examination.

No.

She looked toward Damien and Leon.

But part of your House is.

That answer stayed with him.

Far beneath Solmara, another piece moved.

Keeper Ysara Bellune stood before the High Keeper’s private chamber.

She had been waiting twenty minutes.

That was unusual.

The High Keeper did not make senior Keepers wait without purpose.

The door finally opened.

He stood inside wearing white and gold.

Perfectly calm.

Perfectly holy.

Ysara bowed.

High Keeper.

You met Kael Asterion.

Yes.

Your judgment?

Cautious.

Suspicious.

More disciplined than the early reports suggested.

His Light?

Responsive to Dawnwarden artifacts.

Potentially compatible with Radiance-linked structures.

The High Keeper smiled gently.

And his loyalty?

Ysara hesitated.

To the Empire?

To people.

That answer interested him.

Explain.

He does not appear blindly loyal to Aurelia.

But he is not eager to betray it either.

His loyalty is personal.

Blackwood.

His soldiers.

Sir Darius.

His responsibilities.

The High Keeper walked toward the window.

Useful.

Ysara looked up.

High Keeper?

He turned.

If a man serves an institution, you must move the institution.

If a man serves people, you need only endanger the people.

Ysara’s expression changed.

The High Keeper smiled warmly.

Do not misunderstand.

I am speaking of persuasion.

Of course.

Ysara lowered her head.

Something unsettled her anyway.

The High Keeper continued.

Prepare the first Dawnwarden record.

The real one?

A controlled copy.

Leave enough intact that Kael believes cooperation is rewarded.

Ysara nodded.

And the missing sections?

The High Keeper looked toward the sealed lower chambers beneath Solmara.

Anything mentioning the Last Seal.

The Demon King’s prison.

Or the purpose of the sun-only order.

Remove it.

Ysara became still.

Sun-only order?

The High Keeper looked back.

A dead branch of old history.

Nothing more.

Ysara bowed.

Yes, High Keeper.

She turned to leave.

His voice stopped her.

Keeper Ysara.

She looked back.

You believe in the First Light.

The question sounded strange.

Of course.

And you believe the Demon King must never return.

Yes.

The High Keeper smiled.

Good.

Then one day, if I ask you to do something terrible to prevent his return...

He let the sentence hang.

Ysara answered slowly.

I would need to know why it was necessary.

For one heartbeat, something cold appeared behind his eyes.

Then holiness returned.

A wise answer.

Go.

Ysara left.

The door closed.

The High Keeper stood alone.

His smile vanished.

Wise people were useful.

Until they started asking the correct questions.