“And so I told him to shove off, and you know what he did?” Jordan asked, gesticulating enthusiastically.

  “No, but I can tell it will be good,” Orion replied, barely hiding the sarcasm in his voice. It wasn’t that he found the older teenager annoying, no. It was just that he reminded him so much of his old roommates that he was struggling not to fall back into that dynamic.

  I’m sure he’d appreciate it if we got to know each other, but I don’t want to push it since we’ve only just met. His guards still seem a bit suspicious.

  It was probably because of the bored witch scanning their surroundings. Students of the Lunar Sanctum weren’t exactly known for being the most social, especially with other factions, and having a witch watch over him despite being male had to raise all kinds of alarms.

  “It was!” Jordan exclaimed, grinning widely. “I told him to shove off, which made him so mad! I was told merchant princes are entitled, but who even walks around strutting when they're so weak?! It barely took a little shove to send him sprawling.”

  “Yes, and that caused his guards to be very offended,” Onton, one of Jordan’s detail, muttered, causing the boy to groan.

  “Ugh, they were so annoying! Oh, young master this, precious master that. They were all quite strong, and I just don’t get why they would submit to working for someone so weak.”

  Orion hummed, nodding wisely, “It certainly is strange, but despite what personal power and freedom might bring, some people still prefer to earn money in the safest and most regular way possible. I doubt guards assigned to the son of a merchant prince ever see much combat.”

  “That’s even worse!” Jordan yelled, angrily pointing at the sky. “That sounds so boring! Who would spend all their life listening to a spoiled brat’s whining when they could do so much good with their strength?”

  “Again, I’m pretty sure the answer is money,” Orion repeated, this time rolling his eyes with a smile.

  Jordan chuckled, patting Orion on the back with enough force to leave a bruise if he hadn’t been wearing his coat. Thank you, mysterious seamstress. I wept tears of blood paying for this, but it’s so damn useful. It might not stop a real dagger, but it makes my life so much easier.

  A flash of something crossed Jordan’s eyes as he pulled back, and Orion was reminded that although he might seem like a brainless muscle head in the making, this teenager was probably one of the hopes of the Radiant Vigil, which made it almost impossible that he was dumb.

  Pauline twitched, clearly not having expected the strength he exerted, but relaxed once she saw that Orion hadn’t even flinched. She met his eyes, and he nodded reassuringly, causing her to huff a breath and lean back against the wall, where she resumed scanning her surroundings.

  The two guards looked at his lab coat with curiosity, correctly guessing it was why he didn’t react. Both men seemed experienced, and he didn’t doubt they understood the limits of the typical coven member.

  Despite being different from most of his faction-mates, Orion still lacked physical strength. Body was his dump stat, after all.

  A beat of silence followed as Jordan scratched his cheek, then he blurted out, “By the way, are you the one everyone keeps talking about?”

  Orion tilted his head. “What?”

  “The one who was attacked, you know,” Jordan said softly. “Word is, the city watch messed up, and there was an illegal lowering of the wards near the Magisterium. People say it involved two witches and a boy from the Sanctum, and that things got really messy.”

  Orion shouldn’t have been surprised, since gossip was the one thing that could outrun both light and magic.

  “That’s close enough to what happened,” he said. “Although the other girl wasn’t from the Sanctum. And the target was her, not me or my mother.”

  Jordan blinked. The pieces shifted behind his eyes, once again confirming that despite his wide smiles and simple interests, he wasn’t stupid. “So they were after her, and you got mixed in.”

  “That’s putting it mildly; I can tell you that getting the wards to smash me into the ground wasn’t pleasant,” Orion said flatly, mostly to himself.

  “I want to hear it all,” Jordan said, leaning forward in excitement.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Jordan,” Burtes warned in a long-suffering tone. “We don’t interrogate people on the street about potentially private matters.”

  Jordan winced and looked, briefly, like a puppy told to drop a shoe. “Sorry. I just— it’s not every week that something interesting actually happens here. I’ve been waiting for the mess down south to spill over for a long ass time, but nothing’s happened yet.”

  Orion snorted. “I don’t mind. The short version is that we shared a carriage by chance, were attacked on the way to Valderun, and then inside by false watchmen. We defended ourselves, reached the Magisterium, and then dealt with the ensuing bureaucracy. The Council cleared us.” He said, deliberately vague about the details, both because he wasn’t about to spill to a stranger, and because he suspected Jordan would want to meet him again if he had information he wanted.

  See, I’m not so bad at this social life thing. I just need to remember to treat people like animals.

  Jordan clearly saw there was more to the story, but to his credit, he thumped his fist to his chest and declared, “You saved a girl from evil. That’s what matters. That’s a true man’s work. We’re friends.”

  Pauline actually choked, and even Orion’s eyebrows shot up. Burtes looked as if he was hoping the heavens would strike him down right then and there.

  Still, it was exactly what Orion had been looking for, so he grinned and extended his hand. “Friends, then.”

  Jordan grabbed and squeezed hard enough to make his bones creak. Orion kept the whimper from escaping his lips and smiled confidently.

  “Now that we are friends,” Jordan said, releasing him with a nod of approval. “I need to introduce you to the others. You’ll like them. Mostly. I’ll have the embassy staff send the official invitation, but I’m telling you now, so don’t make other plans!"

  “I’ll make sure of that,” Orion smiled in response.

  The invitation letter arrived on a silver tray during breakfast, which was more of a spectacle than he would have liked, but it also worked in his favor, so he didn’t mind. The seal was the Radiant Vigil’s sunburst crossed with a blade, made of pure gold, so there was no doubt about who had sent it.

  Asteria read it silently, her lips pressed together. “A formal visit to another faction’s embassy is not just a social call, no matter how exuberant the request,” she said. “It is a big deal, moonbeam.”

  “I know,” Orion said.

  “Do you?”

  He thought about the Ames manse and how the Minister had smiled when the truth came out clearly. “I want to make friends who will outlast the current troubles. I promise not to start new ones.”

  Asteria hesitated before sighing. “I will ask someone more experienced to go with you,” she said. “Pauline’s not equipped for this, and I have a brew that requires my attention planned.”

  Kissea poured herself more mou and cleared her throat. When both mother and son looked up at her, she smiled, “I will go,” she said. “I have had my fair share of encounters with the meatheads.”

  And that was that. No one could deny that a Magistra as experienced as she was would be enough, especially because any more would mean sending a Veil Priestess.

  The carriage they took through the noble district wasn’t the embassy’s finest, which was reserved for Yue’s movements, but it was still much more overt in its displays of wealth than even those used within the Sanctum, which said a lot about the politics of everything in Valderun.

  Kissea wore a traveling cloak and styled her hair into a more severe look, almost as if she was about to go on an expedition. She looked at his clothes with a raised eyebrow but said nothing when he asked. It’s not like anything will happen. I’m going there to meet Jordan’s friends and hopefully make more contacts.

  The Radiant Vigil’s embassy looked like a mix of a monastery and a fort, with no compromises. It was a jumble of stark lines, polished marble, and fluttering banners, all wrapped in a stern atmosphere that clashed with Jordan’s cheerful charisma.

  Two guards stood at the gate, wearing armor intricately carved with subtle sunbursts. Their levels were on the edge of the second tier, almost spilling into the third, as it was becoming increasingly common for him to find.

  It seems that most factions send people of that level to the capital. I'm curious whether this is intentional or if they aim to keep the true powerhouses in reserve, but still don’t want to appear weak, and this is the compromise.

  “Orion Voidwalker, guest of Squire Jordan Flanel,” the footman announced after he handed over the invitation.

  They were guided down several hallways where servants hurried past with curious looks, then out into a large training yard. The first thing Orion noticed was the noise—the shouts, the clash of steel, and the pounding of boots.

  Then, he saw a group of teenagers gathered in a circle, shouting encouragement at someone in the center, where two armored squires clashed.

  Even as a novice in martial arts, Orion could tell they were quite skilled. Each strike landed with a thud that he was sure would have broken a bone if it had hit him, yet they both absorbed it without slowing down, using it as fuel to push forward.

  “Muscleheads,” Kissea sighed. “At least these ones recognize the importance of having a healer at hand, so I guess that’s better than most.”

  Jordan soon spotted Orion and waved over the sea of heads surrounding him. He pushed through with little grace, grinning, and clapped Orion on the arm as he reached him. “You came!”

  “You sent a proper invitation,” Orion said. “I wasn’t going to refuse that when it must have taken so much effort.”

  That last move was a gamble, and he hoped he’d read the other’s character right. Luckily, Jordan burst into laughter at the teasing, “I told them all about your bravery,” he said, then smirked as if he knew something Orion didn’t.

  He tugged Orion around the ring, introducing people. “That’s Daya, she has a sword arm like a blacksmith’s, so don’t let her smile fool you. That’s Belk, and he only looks innocent at first, but you’ll learn to be wary once you get hit by his sneaky kicks. That’s Hilde. You don’t want to argue religion with her; she’s the kind to take everything way too seriously.”

  A cheer erupted as one of the squires pushed the other back three steps and delivered a shoulder check that could have toppled an ox. The healer at hand called for them to break apart, and the fight resumed with more intensity. After a minute, a precise hook-and-twist sent a sword flying, and the healer raised his hand to call it, while the circle erupted with noise.

  Helmets came off, revealing a girl a few years older than Orion, who was the loser, with hair stuck to her forehead and a bright grin despite everything. The winner stood tall, sweat glistening on his youthful face. Despite his age, though, he was both taller and broader than Orion by quite a bit.

  The winner’s eyes locked on Orion and widened with recognition. A grin spread again, now tinged with curiosity. He handed his helmet to a servant, shrugged his shoulders, and approached.

  “You’re the witch,” he said, and although it wasn’t meant as an insult, Orion felt his irritation grow. “Heard you’re good. I want to see it.”

  Jordan let out a sheepish chuckle. “I might have mentioned your adventure after we split yesterday.”

  Orion exhaled quietly, closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and looked up. “Alright, let’s see what you are made of.”

  A cheer erupted as the teenagers got ready for another duel.

  enjoy the story and would like to read more, are available on my .