Theon turned around. “Have a pleasant evening, I will visit the xenosophont merchant quarter.”

  Aaron watched him leave, the word xenosophonts echoing in his head like an off-key note. The city's sounds blurred beneath his spiraling thoughts.

  Fascinating how fast an ancient city feels normal. Swap the ox-wagons for cars, hand out phones, and it’s any modern metropolis. Even the multi-level housing with stores is familiar. Maybe I can introduce supermarkets and fast food chains here? Aaron turned, ready to ask another question, but hesitated.

  Bark’s grin answered the question before Aaron could even ask. “Mostly Medusae and Greys, several Canid species as well as Hiverats,” Bark tipped his chin, reminding Aaron of Tehron. “Oh, and a few Hyphants and Vandals.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. Why is the translation doing this? Bark looked about, searching the crowd. “There,” he pointed into an alleyway. Aaron frowned as a rat the size of a large cat scurried across the road. It held its massive tail like a scorpion, wrapped around a piece of fried meat. A leather belt wrapped its body, holding on to several trinkets and saddlebags. Aaron stared. Rats. Intelligent rats.

  The Hiverat noticed his attention. It tilted its head, got onto its back feet, and observed Aaron in turn, snacking on its chicken leg. Aaron grinned. This was what a fantasy world should be—no cosmic horrors, just talking rats and boundless possibility. He waved, and the rat waved back before scurrying off. Its hand-paws looked oddly large and human.

  Bark smiled knowingly. “Just wait till you visit the foreign or trade quarter. There’s a lot more xenosophonts here. But watch out for the Vandals!” The group around Aaron laughed nervously. Walking beside Reha toward the outer edge of the plateau, he asked about the various races. Only the Medusae were alien animals made intelligent. The other species were various Earth animals, with Hyphants bipedal elephants and Vandals raccoons, as he found out after some questioning.

  Throughout all of the conversation, the people around gave furtive or curious glances, but all made way hastily for the armed unit. Bark finished his explanations. “Yeah, the Uplifting Service created a ton of them. Some of the xenovariants even breathe poisons. As far as I know, humans fill one in three of the worlds in this system.”

  “So there are no intelligent alien species?” Aaron asked, trepidation mixing with hopefulness.

  “No, all known technological intelligence is Gaian in origin. But who knows.” The woodclad giant shrugged.

  Aliens. Aaron shook his head, suppressing a grin. Magic and aliens in one package. As the unit approached a wide terrace right on top of a raised platform behind the wall, the guard secured the perimeter discreetly. Only Bark followed Reha and Aaron into the open garden, covered by sails and vines winding over wooden constructs.

  As he scanned the garden, his mind wandered. Where is Blade? I haven’t seen her for a while. As he searched the patrons partaking of lavish buffets, his eyes fell on the steely frame of Xandros’s mother. Reha took the lead, while Bark did his best to join the ambiance rather successfully, as the branches and vines around him shifted to cover his wooden armor, which in turn sprouted leaves. Living wood power armor does have its features. But wasn’t he a druid as well?

  “Magus Reikaia Hellinois Erythros. I, Initiate Reha Neonis, present to you Initiate Aaron Hellionis Ultima Melas.” His biological mother’s sharp features remained expressionless as she inclined her head, responding to Tehron’s halfway hip bow, which Aaron took over from Reha. Hearing the disapproving click of her tongue, Aaron closed his eyes. Exhaustion and weariness settled onto him. Why can’t this fucking day collapse already?

  The weight of her stare sank into his bones. He felt like a marionette held together by nerves and obligation.

  “You never, unless in the presence of a dignitary or sage, bow more than your head,” she paused, swallowing down what she was about to say. Her features grew even sharper. “Aaron.”

  “I am sorry for—” Aaron began as guilt tied his guts into a knot.

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  Reikaia’s sharp voice cut through his apology like a scalpel. “Do not apologize. A high noble, no, a champion doesn’t…" Her voice wavered. A single tear escaped, vanishing with a swift, practiced wipe. “Apologize to his lessers unless it benefits him. Your,” she stopped, tensing her eyes shut and exhaling loudly, “your apparent honor to the Hellinois clan is a vast improvement over the future Xan… my son was about to build for himself.”

  Her stare didn’t falter. He lowered his eyes. A bitter knot twisted in his stomach. I stole a woman's son. Not by choice, but that doesn’t change the reality of it. A god had thought he might be useful, and so Xandros was erased. Was that murder? Theft? The memory of the ruined landscapes flashed through his mind—the consequences of divine meddling burned into the world itself. And now I am supposed to sit through a damn etiquette lesson? Why did her mother order this?

  “Apologizing does benefit me, because I do not want a hostile relationship with you. I know it changes little. I do not know why the matriarch ordered us to work together. But if there is anything I can do…” Aaron trailed off, looking Reikaia in the eyes.

  She smiled. Tight. Measured. It landed like a slap disguised as sympathy.

  Reikaia set down her utensils. A long silence stretched between them. “Not… entirely disgraceful,” she said at last.

  Aaron exhaled slowly. It felt like scraping through a test he hadn’t even known was coming.

  “You seem to be intelligent and caring. Do not lose those traits as you grow in power,” she murmured as her face remodelled into a mask of cold iron.

  “I am to instruct the two of you on etiquette,” her gaze fell on Aaron, neutral as brushed steel, “and to explain the complications my son… might have caused you.” She gestured to the benches. “We shall begin with the proper manner of sitting…”

  And so it began. The slow, precision torture of etiquette—each bite a performance, each glance a landmine.

  By the end, Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d survived a meal or an inquisition in silverware.

  After an excruciatingly long dinner, Aaron could feel the headaches pounding behind his eyes like a war drum. If one more person pulls me into another “teachable moment,” I swear I’ll—

  ‘KillNoGood,’ Quetzy murmured, sliding through his thoughts like balm on a burn.

  Aaron let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Quetzy’s voice trickled through his thoughts like cool water, and the headache dulled by a notch. Thanks, buddy, Aaron thought, rubbing his temples.

  ‘AlsoNoStealthy. YouBadAtQuietMurder.’ That actually earned a faint snort. Even Reikaia glanced at him, the faintest edge of curiosity on her face. Her expression smoothed the moment their eyes met.

  Aaron shook his head slowly, more tired than anything. The formal dining garden’s torchlight flickered across the vines above. Exotic scents mingled with distant city noises—clattering hooves, laughter, the occasional cry of a vendor. The alien beauty of the moment almost made him forget how much he hated every second of the last two hours.

  He turned toward Reha. She stood quietly, hair catching in the breeze. Her smile was soft. Not what I expected. But maybe… real. This world isn’t all snakes and knives, he reminded himself. Some of it is strange grace and awkward kindness.

  Behind them, Bark moved with slow steps, absorbing his camouflage. Leaves and twigs spiraled inward as if rewinding time. Living armor collapsing back into polished wood and bone. A tree growing in reverse. The sight was mesmerizing.

  They left the garden with quiet ceremony. The presidential guards fell into formation like clockwork—spears, shotguns, and steel armor reflecting the amber streetlamps of the academy’s upper quarter.

  Aaron sighed. Are they guarding me… or guarding everyone else from what I might do next? I don't even know anymore.

  ‘Yes.’ Quetzy chirped up.

  …What do you mean?

  The Dragonsquirrel snickered. ‘Both.’

  He shook his head, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. That headache still lurked behind his eyes, but it no longer felt like it would split him open.

  The path ahead was illuminated by LED glass globes, suspended in vine-latticed wrought iron. Students and servants moved through the bright night, the robes of the Epoptai fluttering like autumn leaves.

  He felt Reha draw closer beside him. “You held yourself well,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. Aaron didn’t respond. He didn’t have the energy to care about compliments right now. Ahead, the massive spires of the Academy loomed like gods in stone.

  Behind him: a grieving mother.

  Beside him: warriors, killers, a mage wearing a living tree.

  Inside? A storm in a locked room. Grief, rage, awe, exhaustion—stacked like tinder, waiting for a spark.

  He walked on. And hoped it wouldn’t come tonight.

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