His blue eyes were cold. “If you cannot trust me, then leave me to my own devices.”

Cassias actually did draw a few inches of his sword, releasing the power of his spirit. It was only then that Lindon noticed that he’d advanced; he was a Truegold now.

Though, Truegold or Highgold, it was still suicide to throw himself at Eithan.

Cassias shoved his sword back harshly, but his words carried his fury. “Trust you? Why?”

His spirit was still unveiled, and he walked straight up to Eithan, unafraid, until they stood only a hand’s breadth apart. Eithan was three or four inches taller, but Cassias stared him down. “You tell us that what you’re doing is in the best interests of the family, but how are we supposed to know that? Do you know what it’s like to have to take something like that on faith? Truly, I mean it, do you even know? Do you know how frustrating it is to not know everything?”

Their blue eyes clashed for a long, frozen moment. Lindon knew they weren’t closely related, but at the moment, they looked like brothers.

To Lindon’s surprise, Eithan was the first to soften.

The intangible sense of authority faded. His shoulders slumped, and he raised an armored finger to rub his nose.

“That…is…a…painfully valid point,” Eithan finally admitted.

Cassias did not relent. “Come to the family elders. Most of them are on their way here. You can meet them before the Emperor’s deadline.”

Lindon and the team had spent much of their time over the last few weeks supervising the caravans of people traveling to Blackflame City to make the Emperor’s two-month timeline. He had called upon all major factions to send their best, especially their strongest and most talented disciples.

Lindon was vague on the details because the decree itself was. The Emperor did not see fit to explain his motivations to his Empire…or, at least, not in a publicly distributed command. Lindon gathered that the Blackflame Empire had gathered for a selection process, probably one associated with the international tournament coming up, but he had little to go on other than that.

Eithan probably knew the details, but that was to be expected.

“I will not meet with them,” Eithan said, holding up a hand to stave off Cassias’ anger. “But I will resume my duties as an Underlord. Not as the Patriarch, but I can produce scales and supervise the distribution of our personnel here in the capital. I know that we’re stretched to our limits with so many people in such a small area.”

Cassias took in a slow breath, then stepped back. “That will help. Thank you. But I have one further request.” He looked briefly at Lindon and Yerin. “It would help our standing greatly if our family could take one of the positions in the Uncrowned King tournament. We would be practically guaranteed to replace the Jai clan.”

“Uncrowned King tournament?” Lindon immediately repeated.

Yerin’s eyes widened. “Bleed and bury me, that’s the competition everyone’s all riled up about? I don’t even believe the Blackflame Empire can afford a seat to watch that tournament.”

Mercy looked to Yerin in surprise. “You’re familiar with it?”

Eithan smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me. Her master famously made it to the top eight three tournaments ago.”

“If the sun fell from the sky and landed on your head, would that surprise you?” Yerin asked.

Eithan pondered for a moment before answering, “Yes.”

Cassias took over the explanation. “The Heart Sage is choosing three Underlords from the young generation to represent the Akura vassal states in the tournament. I suspect Eithan—”

“—already has his candidates picked out,” Eithan said, throwing out his arms. “If it all works out, I’ll be able to provide all three candidates. And two of them officially have the name ‘Arelius,’ so it still looks good for us.”

Lindon and Yerin traded glances. He was clearly pointing to them, and they had been adopted into the Arelius family.

Cassias’ eyebrows raised. “Three?”

“Three?” Mercy repeated.

Eithan met her eyes and smiled. “Three,” he said. “…if everything works out, as I said.”

Cassias was quiet for a long moment, staring at Eithan and drumming his fingers on the hilt of his sword.

At last, he said, “I suppose I’ve taken everything else from you on faith. One more time won’t kill me.”

~~~

Two months since the Emperor had called for all the young Truegolds in the Empire to travel to the capital, Blackflame City was packed.

In his emerald armor, standing on a broad raft of cloud, Eithan led their pack. Orthos huddled behind him, head withdrawn, and Lindon could feel his nerves.

Mercy and Yerin followed afterwards, Mercy straddling her bow, and Yerin standing on a Thousand-Mile Cloud of her own. They all wore the green armor of the Skysworn, though Yerin looked no more comfortable in hers than she had two months ago.

Little Blue sat on Lindon’s collar, snuggling against his chin, though she was almost too big to do that anymore. She chirruped to him like a spirited bird.

Somehow, Lindon thought she was talking about the view.

[What? That's insane. Could you really? I don’t think you could,] Dross responded. Then he lowered his mental voice. [She's a little too enthusiastic about flying, don't you think? You should watch her so she doesn't jump.]

As nervous as Lindon had initially been about doing tasks for the Skysworn, he had ended up resting plenty over the last eight weeks. They often spent a few hours in travel to a simple job, and returned in time to eat, train, and sleep.

Now that the Skysworn weren't treating them like prisoners anymore—at least, not usually—he was enjoying the life. Even Yerin wasn't pushing for them to do anything more adventurous; she seemed to enjoy this period of relaxation as much as he did.

Today, Lindon let the chill of the early spring wind wash over him, warming himself from the inside with Blackflame madra. He still hadn't added anything to his Skysworn armor yet; he and Fisher Gesha were still studying it. Maybe they could arrange a heater with fire madra.

Their squad drifted away from the floating city of Stormrock, which had arrived over Blackflame City almost a week before. Lindon looked far below him at the capital of the Blackflame Empire.

It was surrounded by sharp, jagged walls of fractured obsidian so large that he wondered if they classified as mountains. Smaller gates had been carved through the walls all around, but the main gates rose as high as the walls themselves. Each gate was flanked by a towering statue in the same black stone: one, an Emperor with a crown and a long tail. He balanced a carved flame on one extended palm. This long-past Emperor stood facing his counterpart, an Empress with a similar crown and long tail, an identical flame on her palm as well.

Together, this Emperor and Empress stood watch over a city that dwarfed anything Lindon had ever seen. It was hard to determine distances from high up on Stormrock, but the imperial capital might have been the size of the entire Sacred Valley.

And every inch of it was crammed with people.

The crowds spilled out from every gate, backed up in lines miles long. An ocean of people battered against the walls like waves, waiting to filter into the already-teeming city.

There were plenty of Skysworn missions to go around, now that they had arrived at the packed city. So much population packed into a small space was a recipe for disaster, and the Skysworn were in high demand. Normally, Eithan allowed them to select their own assignments and lead the way when completing them.