That brought him to one final question, the one that had loomed larger than any other ever since Charity had kidnapped him.

“Then why me?” he asked. “If it's so important, why bet on a stranger?”

Charity glanced down at Little Blue, who had scrambled down his body to hide behind his ankle. “I have many reasons. Let it be enough for you that I think you can win.” Purple eyes returned to his. “So will you stop this charade, or will you allow others to decide what happens to your home?”

[We don't know for certain that the gold dragons wouldn't rule better than the Akura clan,] Dross pointed out. [And there's no reason it has to be you. This Pride or one of the others will still fight even if you're not here.]

Lindon stood up straighter, looking down on the Sage. “I will fight.”

He had never been willing to leave the fate of his home in someone else's hands. He wasn't about to change his mind now.

[That's good, because I was lying before. The royal gold family of dragons is notoriously vicious and cruel, especially to humans. I just didn't want to worry you.]

Charity brushed her hands clean like a woman done with a mundane task. “Now, however, you have a problem. You have given the other Akura Underlords a reason to think you are weak. They taste blood, and they will not allow you to rest.”

Lindon thought back to the fight with Pride. The other Underlords had watched him with disdain...and jealousy. They would be coming for him.

He felt more pressure from that than he had before. Only minutes ago, he would have been satisfied with disqualification.

“Pardon, but I will need help addressing my weaknesses. I do not have the formal training in combat that your relatives do.”

Charity nodded. “If you are to fight under my family’s name in the tournament, this lack of knowledge must be remedied. You will be facing sacred artists of varied and unknown abilities. You must be able to determine their capabilities quickly and respond appropriately under any circumstances. This is not a training regimen that should be attempted in only nine months, and yet you must complete it.”

She addressed Dross. “If he hopes to meet the deadline, he will rely on your help.”

The purple spirit puffed himself out, closing his eye and folding his arms across his body. [Leave it to me! I’ll drag him through, no problem!] He opened his eye a crack and added, [...on second thought, actually, it sure would be easier with a little bit of your madra to help me. Just a taste?]

Charity stared at him, impassive as always.

[No? That's, ah, that's all right then.] He forced a chuckle. [I was joking! That's a little mind-spirit humor for you.]

There was a subtle flicker of power from the Sage, and she held up a silver-and-purple scale. Its madra drew Lindon's eyes to it almost hypnotically, and the room seemed to darken in its presence.

[Oh, you…you’re doing it! See, I told you she would help instead of wiping us from existence.]

She flipped it to him, and Dross swooped in to snap it up like a bat taking an insect. As soon as the madra entered him, he shuddered at the flood of energy.

“It's gentle and stable,” she said, “but it is still an Archlord's power. Be careful.”

Without a word of acknowledgement, Dross faded back into Lindon's spirit. He could feel Dross processing the scale: it felt tiny but unbelievably powerful, like a thunderstorm the size of a fingertip.

Lindon bowed. “Gratitude. Will he be all right?”

“A spirit of that density should be fine. It should absorb the scale's essence over a week or two, during which it will not be conscious or able to serve you. After that time, you should find its efficiency greatly increased.”

[Ah, now this is the good stuff,] Dross said into Lindon's head.

Stay quiet, Lindon urged him. Don't let her know you're awake.

[I'm sure the Sage would appreciate the master's grand work more than you do.]

Please. I don't want to be killed and have my Remnant dissected.

[I’m not rushing off to be dissected myself, but we can trust Charity. I have a good feeling about her.]

Charity handed Lindon a multi-faceted ball that fit in her palm, like a dark red jewel. It sat in his hand, warm and heavier than he’d expected.

“This is a training program we use to train our Coppers in close combat. It will contain information and training programs about all five basic categories of Enforcer techniques and how to react to them. When you have achieved a perfect score, tell your house servants, and they will deliver a message to me.”

“Forgiveness,” Lindon said, “but it’s a Copper test?”

“It is a test of knowledge and skill, not of power. Superior advancement will not help you, though your experience will.” She folded her hands in front of herself. “As a Copper, Mercy earned a perfect score within three days. Just so you have a…benchmark.”

Her shadow began to crawl up her feet, but she looked up as though staring through the ceiling. “You have a visitor,” she informed him. “Another young Underlord dissatisfied with my decision. They cannot reach me, so they take out their frustrations on you, hoping I will change my mind.”

Lindon took a deep breath, bracing himself, thinking of the pain in his spirit that Little Blue had just relieved. His flesh was still tender.

She noticed. “Would you like me to stop them?”

He would, and Little Blue urged him to with a whistle in his ear. Even Dross made an appreciative noise in his mind.

“If I didn’t have your protection, would they be allowed to challenge me?”

She inclined her head. “You are a worthy guest. They would be permitted to duel you openly, so long as no one was injured too badly.”

“Then let them, if you would. I’ll consider it training.”

If his problem was a lack of battle experience, then there was no better solution than to face a gauntlet of opponents at his own level. It would help build up Dross’ knowledge too, to help him predict fights in the future.

And when Lindon grew skilled enough, he could make a powerful demonstration in front of all the other clan Underlords. One that would prove beyond a doubt that he deserved to be on the team.

But he didn’t look forward to the beatings he was about to take.

Charity gave an expression that might have been an approving smile or just a quirk of her lips. “Don’t let it become a distraction.” Then shadow swallowed her, and she vanished.

Then Lindon went upstairs to let in the Underlord who hated him.

The young Akura challenged him to a duel, fought in Lindon’s own basement, with a construct to project the fight as witness.

He controlled a fan of a half-dozen flying swords, using pulses of shadow and force madra to keep Lindon at a distance as Lindon dealt with the weapons. Lindon made the mistake of focusing on the swords, knocking them away with his hands and allowing his opponent to overwhelm him at a distance.

He should have ignored the swords, taking the hits with his Bloodforged Iron body, and broken the Akura's concentration by outmatching him in Striker techniques.

Lindon came to this conclusion while he lay on the floor of his basement, aching, waiting for his Iron body to repair the holes in his skin.

If it had been a real fight, Lindon could have won. He consoled himself with that fact.