Chương 3: 2. [Noble Lady]

"So, where are you planning to put this?" Calli asked, shifting her grip on the crate.

"I was thinking we bring it into the countryside," Tavian said.

"Father was nearly convinced, just looking at it. If we go outside the city, we could activate it and show him what's possible. We can't wait for three weeks."

"I meant tonight," Calli said.

"There are too many people here for the party. We'd never get out unnoticed." Tavian groaned. He'd forgotten about the party. His father had declared a feast in celebration of Tavian and Calli's safe return and in honor of the impending union of Tavian and Ilara. All he really wanted to do after a long day of travel was sleep in his own bed.

"We'll take it to my room," Calli said.

"I'll keep it safe. I can smuggle some of my coresmith tools out of the workshop and do a few tests, make sure we're ready to activate it."

"That puts you in danger," Tavian said.

"I don't want to risk—""What we're doing is risky," Calli said.

"I'm not letting you take on all the risk."

"Fine," he said.

"But we're getting it out of here first thing tomorrow."

"Deal," Calli said as they pushed their way out the doors.

"We just have to get it up to your chambers before anyone notices…" Tavian said. Braun stood there, arms crossed over his ceremonial uniform, a sly look on his face.

"What's in the box?" Braun asked.

"Braun!" Calli exclaimed, setting down her end of the crate and running to embrace their younger brother.

"You've gotten so big! Have you started shaving?" Braun blushed, and Calli released him, making room for Tavian to embrace his brother. Braun stepped back, looking Tavian over appraisingly.

"Ready for your wedding?" Tavian's face fell.

"I suppose," he said.

"At least she's attractive?" Braun offered.

"Stop, you're making it worse." Braun grinned.

"Is this it?" Braun asked, placing his hand on the crate.

"You really found it?" Calli's eyes darted from Braun to the crate. She clasped her hands behind her back.

"Yes. We got it," Tavian said.

"Father wants it in the vault, but we're bringing it to Calli's chambers."

"Come on," Braun said, picking up Calli's end of the crate.

"We'd better go through the Core Courtyard. There are fewer people that way." Tavian picked up his end and they walked down the hall together.

"Father didn't want to use it?" Braun asked.

"Not yet," Tavian said.

"He's worried about the balance of power." Then, feeling the unusual strain in his muscles, he said, "This tier reduction is miserable." Braun grunted his agreement, and they shuffled along in nervous silence until they reached the Core Courtyard. Standing in the center of the hexagonal yard, Tar Corinath's Kingdom Core rose from the ground. A worn obelisk covered with rough etched engravings and runes, it projected power throughout the claimed hextiles of Tar Corinath. It pulsed with a weak internal light.

Too weak. No wonder the Houses were abandoning House Veros. Spell Modules clustered around the Core, enhancing its abilities. Intricately crafted by talented coresmiths, these gently pulsed with their own light in response to the rhythm of the Core. Tavian and Braun carried the crate over the gravel. A few [Mages] stood around, attending to their duties. A gardener tended bushes at one end of the courtyard. As the crate approached the Kingdom Core, a faint hum began to fill the air.

The pulsating light in the Core flickered more rapidly, growing stronger. A [Mage] looked toward them and cocked an eyebrow as the intensity of the hum increased. The air vibrated, growing louder and richer, until Tavian could feel it in his chest.

"They're watching," Calli muttered out of the side of her mouth.

"Just keep going," Tavian hissed.

"We have to hurry." Then they were past the Core, and the hum faded away as they exited the courtyard.

"Someone's going to tell Father," Calli groaned.

"Not a lot we can do about that now," Tavian said, gritting his teeth. Without his Tier V Class, the crate felt much heavier, and his muscles were starting to ache.

"Tomorrow problem?" Braun asked, elbowing his sister in the ribs. She glared at him. Anarvian men-at-arms lounged in the hall, uninterested in their passing. Dull eyes glanced toward Tavian, but they didn't offer so much as a salute.

"Where are all our own men?" Tavian wondered aloud. He checked the system interface map and noted the walls were sparsely manned.

"A lot of them are posted in the city," Braun said with a grimace.

"Father was worried about people rioting when he reduced the kingdom Tier."

"So he hired Anarvian louts instead?"

"Lord Anarvia volunteered his personal guard as security for the welcome home party tonight." They turned a corner and Braun stumbled, dropping his end of the crate with a loud clank as he fell to the stone floor. Tavian winced. Calli rushed to help Braun up, while Tavian probed the loose flagstone that had just tripped him. He stepped on the edge of the flagstone, and it sank down several inches, lifting up out of the floor on the other side.

"This kind of thing doesn't happen in a high-Influence kingdom," Tavian snapped.

"Or to people with higher [Perception]," Braun agreed, rubbing his knee. At that moment two men rounded the corner, speaking in hushed tones. When they saw Tavian standing in front of a crate, they cut off abruptly. Vault Master Jarden wore a long robe, hemmed with green. The other man wore the purple livery of an Anarvian house servant. His hair, though, was cut in the Karath Amon style: head shaved save for a patch at the top, which was woven into a long braid that ran down the man's back.

The torchlight made pale scars stand out on his tanned face. Tavian's ship had a tense encounter with a Karath Amon ship a few days before, and they'd ended up having to pay a hefty toll before being allowed to continue home. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Master Jarden," Calli said, giving a polite bow to the man in the robe. Braun moved to pick up the crate, keeping a watchful eye on the Karath Amon man.

"What have we here?" Jarden asked, peering at the crate through his spectacles.

"Bringing something to my Vault?"

"It's the King's vault," Tavian reminded him.

"You'd do well to remember that." Jarden sneered at him.

"You are bringing this crate to the Vault, are you not?" He glanced around, as if measuring the space.

"Let me see what you have in that crate." He stepped forward, reaching for the latch. Tavian stepped in front of him, placing a hand on Jarden's chest.

"No," he said.

"This may end up in the vault eventually, but we're under orders of the king to have all relics evaluated by the Priests of Ishtoran first." Jarden glanced to the Karath Amon man with him. The man spoke in a lightly accented voice.

"I don't see a port inspector's seal," he declared, eyeing the crate.

"And who are you?" Tavian demanded.

"I am Mandros," the man declared.

"Loyal vassal of House Anarvia. Open this crate for a proper inspection."

"You have no authority in Tavirost Fortress," Tavian said, refusing to step aside.

"House Anarvia has authority to inspect all goods entering the harbor, to ensure proper payment of the king's taxes," Mandros declared.

"If this was smuggled out of the harbor without inspection, then a crime has been committed." Tavian folded his arms.

"Official code only gives House Anarvia power to regulate trade by merchant ships. We arrived on a royal vessel, and we did not engage in trade." Mandros did not waver.

"Be that as it may, I must insist on an inspection." Mandros' eyes flicked to Calli.

"Or," he said, a half smile sliding into something more predatory.

"Give me the girl. I'll inspect her instead." Even knowing he was being baited, Tavian's blood boiled. Braun lunged forward with a roar, blade sliding from his scabbard. Tavian caught his brother's arm, preventing him from drawing the blade.

"Stand down, Braun," Tavian snarled. His brother quivered, his blade still half drawn.

"Wise choice, Princeling," Mandros purred, unfazed.

"Now open that crate before things get messy." The man strode forward, chin lifted. Bait or not, Mandros had crossed the line. Tavian would not be disrespected in his own house. Tavian balled his fist and struck Mandros in the face. The hit felt weak, but it was clean and unanticipated. Blood sprayed from Mandros' nose, spattering across Jarden's immaculate robes. Mandros let out a choked curse and staggered backwards.

As Mandros' boots scraped the floor, Tavian slammed his foot down on the raised edge of the loose flagstone. The far end popped up six inches, catching the heel of Mandros' boot mid-stride. With a frantic windmill of his arms, Mandros plunged backwards, smashing into Jarden. They fell to the ground in a tangle of robes and a crash of limbs on stone.

"Hurry," Tavian snapped, and the three of them hoisted the crate. They sprinted down the corridor and disappeared around a corner before Jarden and Mandros could recover. Behind them, Jarden's shrieks echoed off the walls.

"Someone should get that flagstone fixed," Braun observed.

"It's dangerous," Tavian agreed.

"Shame he tripped on it." Tavian cleaned up, the adrenaline of the fight fading to dread about the party. He took his time, then met Calli and Braun well after the other guests had arrived at the party. A herald greeted them at the entrance to the hall, where representatives of all six Houses mingled, drinking, and dining. The soldiers at the door were all Anarvia's men.

"It feels like a trap," Tavian said, trying to glimpse into the hall. He was looking for signs that their scuffle earlier with Jarden and Mandros had caused a stir. So far, nothing seemed wrong.

"Relax," Calli urged.

"You look like someone filled your trousers with midges. If you're worried about what you'll say, just try dancing with her. See how well she follows your lead."

"My Class doesn't have a Dancer's Grace Perk like yours," Tavian said.

"Well then challenge her to a duel or something," Calli said.

"Very romantic."

"I'm just going to make an appearance," Tavian said, "then I'm going to bed." He was uncomfortable in his dress uniform. The reduction of his Class Tier had changed his musculature, and it now hung loose in odd places. Tavian rested his hand on his sword, peering into the room. His father was forced into so much political pandering because of their weak Kingdom Core. What might Tar Corinath become, when they erected the Conqueror's Core in its stead?

The herald announced them, and the Houses assembled to greet the returning Prince and Princess. Tavian smiled and bowed, faces and greetings blending together in a blur of colors. No matter where he looked in the room, he could sense Ilara's presence at the end of the line. He moved slowly and inevitably closer to her. At least neither Mandros nor Jarden seemed to be present. Ilara's black locks fell in lazy ringlets over her shoulder.

Her pale cheekbones stood out in the warm light of the hearth, and a sly smile touched her lips. Tavian had no trouble believing that elven blood ran through the veins of the Anarvians. Ilara caught Tavian looking at her, and their eyes met across the room. Tavian pulled at his collar, trying to relax. He opened his system interface and tried to check the kingdom database for Ilara's Class.

His access was denied, and Tavian remembered that the king had revoked his access last year after a particularly successful prank Tavian had pulled.

"Calli," Tavian hissed.

"What's Ilara's Class?" Calli shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, then moved on down the line. Tavian and Calli approached House Anarvia. Tavian wiped sweat from his palm. Lord Anarvia gave Tavian the barest of bows. His wife stood beside him, his children—Ilara and Anax—just behind. Tavian had rehearsed this meeting with Ilara a hundred times on the voyage home, but the moment she looked at him all the words fled. He couldn't even find a smile. Ilara watched Tavian with glittering eyes.

He searched her face for a sign of warmth, anything that suggested that their marriage might become more than a political arrangement. She inclined her head toward him, ever so slightly. An acknowledgement. Not an invitation. Before Lord Anarvia could speak, Anax stepped forward. He bobbed his head to Tavian, then reached for Calli's hand. Tall and slender, with his mother's pale coloring, he wore a permanent sneer on his face.

"Coresmith," he said, bringing her fingers to his lips.

"The guild—the men—missed you. Some more than others." He said it with a roguish suggestion of impropriety. Calli stiffened.

"How kind," she said, gaze withering. She pulled her hand away and subtly wiped it on her dress. Anax smirked. Tavian ground his teeth. Ilara was watching him intently, so he let his jaw relax. Lord Anarvia took Tavian's hand firmly. Tavian's bruised knuckles ached, but he met the Lord's gaze, searching for an indication of the man's motives in his eyes. He found only ambition.

"I'm so glad you're here," Lord Anarvia said.

"I'd worried you'd be too tired from your trip to show up."

"I'm never too tired to celebrate my kingdom," he said, giving the man's hand an unnecessary squeeze. Anarvia let go, wincing slightly. Tavian turned to Ilara, who watched him appraisingly. Tavian extended his hand to her.

"My family will be greatly honored the day you join House Veros." Ilara reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold as ice.

"Shall we dance?" Tavian asked. Ilara gave a small nod.

"Music, please!" Musicians began playing, and Tavian tried leading Ilara around the room. She moved gracefully, but her arms were stiff, and she seemed unable—or unwilling—to follow Tavian's lead. He deliberately moved them to the middle of the room, where everyone could see them together. The floor around them cleared, and nobles looked on. He was claiming this woman for himself—not receiving a gift from a hostile House. Tavian searched for his siblings. If something went wrong, he wanted to know where they were.

Calli was dancing, and Braun was… Braun was talking to Anella Tiren in the corner. The girl blushed, brushing her golden curls flirtatiously over one shoulder. Tavian grinned.

"Looking for someone?" Ilara asked. She looked up at him, and their eyes met for the first time as they danced. She smiled at him, shyly. She was stronger than Tavian expected. Dancing with her felt more like sword combat than a waltz, and Tavian found himself unconsciously slipping into the elemental forms. He wondered again what Class she held and cursed himself for not checking with Calli sooner. Surely the daughter of a noble would have some kind of dancing Perk.

Despite her grace and coordination, they moved clumsily together, and the way Ilara's feet moved seemed more like sword forms than dance steps. There was no reason for a daughter of House Anarvia to have enhanced strength or a combat prowess Perk… For an instant Tavian wondered if Ilara was even still a subject of the kingdom. But if she hadn't been a subject, his kingdom's Influence would have made her light in his hands, susceptible to his guidance.

"What is your Class?" Tavian asked her. Ilara stared at the ground, breathing clipped. Her arms were trembling. Tavian felt more confident when he realized that she was scared of him. For the first time that evening, Tavian felt less alone.

"Noble Lady," she whispered.

"I thought that Class gave you a Dancer's Grace Perk," Tavian observed. Ilara tensed slightly.

"It does," she said. Then she looked up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Am I doing a bad job?" He'd inadvertently insulted her.

"That's not what I meant," he said.

"I just… It's…" He should say something. Pay her a compliment.

"Never mind," he said, looking away.

"I'm still adjusting from my sea legs, that's all." The song was ending. Tavian spared a glance for the stranger in his arms. She looked up at him, and they stared at one another for a split second. Ilara broke away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I'm just nervous." Then she turned and pushed through the crowd. A moment later, Tavian watched her slip out of the exit. His legs were shaking, fists clenched as he watched her go. Lord Anarvia frowned.

"What did you say to her?" Calli asked, approaching him.

"She looked pale as a ghost."

"She's hiding something," Tavian said.

"Do you think she's afraid of the wedding?" Tavian looked back toward the exit where Ilara had disappeared. Something strange was going on with her.

"Check your system interface," he whispered.

"What is her Class?"

"Why can't you… Oh yeah," Calli snickered at him.

"Why do you want to know?"

"She said she had the [Noble Lady] Class, but hardly seemed able to dance."

"I assumed that was just you," Calli snarked.

"Just check." Calli frowned, eyes going distant as she filtered through the system interface.

"That's strange," she said.

"Wait, this is really weird."

"What is it?"

"It says… no Class. Why wouldn't she have a Class?"

"I don't know," Tavian said.

"But she just lied to me about it."