“Adamus? I apologize, lord, I didn’t see you there.”

  “No worries, sir, and please don’t call me lord in here. The Gods may take offense.” Adamus tries to laugh, but as he sits in the chapel in his black robes of mourning, he finds that humor is no cure for what he’s feeling.

  “Of course.” The priest shyly smiles. “I shall leave you to it, dear boy.”

  Adamus returns the smile with a tired one. “Thank you, Reverend.”

  Adamus resumes his prayers, bowing as he presses his palms together.

  Davon is dead. The thought echoes in his mind. Davon is dead. Adamus holds back his tears. The Wedding is two days from now. Crying is the last thing he should be doing, but this was the man who helped raise him.

  The man who taught him how to fight, who helped him learn the cold, cruel facts of the universe that his Father shielded him from. Had it not been for Davon, it’s quite possible that Adamus would have grown into a reclusive social outcast no better than that Cassandra girl.

  Adamus smiles at the thought, grateful for the memories.

  “Bless me, Gods,” His soft voice trembles as he recites the prayer, “Install your force in me. Grant me power deserving the burden of a crown.” He closes his eyes. “And strike down those undeserving of it.”

  The chapel door opens.

  “Thought I might find you here.”

  “And found me you have, Father.” Adamus sighs, looking up to the face of his Father, who lacks his typical crown. He has joined Adamus in taking up the black robes despite the demands that he continue to appear strong with the wedding fast upon them. Although Adamus knows better than anyone that Gelmidas Atheneum has always been far from strong.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Adamus shifts over to make room for his Father to sit beside him.

  Gelmidas and his son linger in silence before Adamus warily chuckles, “Why are you so tense? I don’t expect you to pray, y’know.”

  Gelmidas is taken aback, “Really? I just… I thought that it might be disrespectful and…”

  Adamus smiles at his Father’s loss of words. “It’s fine, and honestly, I’ve gotten sick of you acting so stiff lately. It’s good to finally see some emotion on you.”

  Gelmidas hangs his head, adjusting his glasses. “It really has been a terrible week, hasn’t it?”

  “Week?” Adamus scoffs, “Try month. I swear, ever since we announced the wedding, everything has slowly crumpled to shit.”

  On hearing the last word, the priest glares at Adamus from across the room. Adamus seals his lips and swiftly nods, making the empty promise to never swear again.

  Gelmidas remains blissfully unaware of the exchange. “You said it. But it will all be over soon enough. I just wish that Davon could have been here to see it.”

  Adamus grows sour at the mention of Davon. “It isn’t right, Father. He was a good man. He was…” Adamus has to admit it. Although he is indeed the champion of the Division and the glory of Rome, he simply has to hand it to Davon. “He was a better man than I’ll ever be.”

  Gelmidas’s eyes widen at his son.

  Adamus has never once said anything so humble.

  “A better man than either of us.” Gelmidas accepts the fact with little resistance. He slides his glasses up his nose once more as he gathers the strength to ask Adamus, “Why didn’t you tell me that he had left after you met with President Soryu?”

  Adamus doesn’t have enough energy to go red at the question. Still, the beast stirs within him as he calmly answers, “He told me not to. I wanted to follow him and help hunt down the Scorched Archer, but he wanted to handle the matter himself.”

  Gelmidas smirks “Heh. He always did hate her.”

  “Well, obviously.” Adamus shrugs with a curt remark, “That bitch needs to be put down like the dog she is.”

  The priest glares at Adamus again, and Adamus yet again nods out a quiet apology.

  Gelmidas twitches at Adamus’s opinion of Nadeden. He had decided long ago that Adamus could never know his true lineage. Both the Division and the universe at large would go wild if they ever uncovered the truth.

  As far as Adamus is concerned, his Mother had died in the same fire that brought him to his true home, where he has been honored as a royal prince. Still Gelmidas wonders, “Do you ever think about your Mother?”

  Adamus taps his chin, figuring that his Father is now thinking back to old passings as they grieve this new one.

  “You know, back when I was at the academy, some of the other students would joke about you and Davon being a couple. I took offense to it at first, and I still refuse to tolerate such bigotry, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Davon was like a Mother to me… Gods, that sounds horrible.”

  Adamus smiles, not bothering to hide his tears any longer. “ I mean, second Father, I guess? You both raised me. I hardly remember my Mother, but I can still recall all the times Davon brought me here to listen to sermons. I can picture him teaching me how to play cards as clear as day. I still retrace the techniques he taught me when I practice my swordsmanship. And all the times he told me to sit up straight or button up my shirt.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Adamus laughs. “I never needed a Mother. I had the two best Fathers in the whole fucking universe.”

  The priest surprisingly doesn’t glare at Adamus. He simply smiles from across the room as he says his own prayer.

  Gelmidas wipes away tears. Of course. He thinks.

  I won’t tell him, Davon. He doesn’t need to know.

  He never needed to.

  The pair steps out of the chapel to meet the bright rays of the planet’s sun.

  The heat warms their robes as they walk.

  “You certainly did give Vanessa a bold proposition, though,” Gelmidas states now, beginning the interrogation of his son.

  “A better option has yet to present itself. I’m still unsure if Cassandra will try something stupid that will ruin our plans,” Adamus says, dusting off his shoulder. The commoners in the bustling street glance at him as Gelmidas continues to speak carelessly, “I’ve discussed the matter with Vanessa. The woman has the girl under her thumb and refuses to let go. The truth is that she may be the larger threat.”

  “How so?” Before Gelmidas can answer the question. A child darts across the street chasing after a rubber ball. Adamus bends down to catch it as the girl stares up at his bracers.

  “So you do have it.” She states in a voice unbefitting of a child.

  “Yes, girl, I caught it for you.” Adamus trades an odd look with the girl’s pale blue eyes before tossing her the ball.

  She catches it and runs off into the crowd. Adamus keeps his eyes on her. The girl’s parents seem to be nowhere in sight.

  “Strange.” He mutters as the beast twists within him. He clutches his bracers.

  “Is something wrong?” Gelmidas places a hand on his son.

  “It’s just acting up again,” Adamus grunts as he tightens the leather strap.

  “I’ll deal with it after the wedding. We’ll hold another gladiator match then.” He huffs, resuming his walk to the plaza with his Father.

  “You were right.” The girl hands the ball to Cassandra. “Although that was extremely humiliating.”

  “He hadn’t seen you yet.” Cassandra bounces the ball on the ground, catching it in her hands as she watches Gelmidas and Adamus enter the Plaza.

  “But you’re sure now?” The child steps beside the large pale man, huffing, “I am. And you can get me and my Smith into the basement?”

  Cassandra nods. “Yes.”

  The child grins, “Good. You should hurry back now, your Mother may get suspicious.”

  Cassandra runs off to the Plaza, using the hidden entrance she had found to make her way into the guest room without drawing the attention of the watchguards.

  “So was it really an Elf that killed Davon, or was it-”

  “The Elf has pleaded guilty, although I’m sure the Scorched Archer had at least something to do with it,” Vanessa remarks, taking a sip of piping hot tea. “Should he be talking with us?” She points at Adamus, standing at the side of his Father’s desk, arms folded.

  Gelmidas straightens his crown as he leans forward in his throne. “With Davon dead, Adamus is the only one fit to take his place as Messenger of the Division. Do you object to this?”

  Vanessa rests a hand on her cheek. “No,” She lies.

  “When will the Elf be here for trial?” Adamus inquires, staring down at Vanessa, who sinks into the large, cushioned chair.

  “Soon, the day after the wedding at the latest.” She states scornfully.

  The Atheneums are attempting to embarrass her.

  To wound her pride.

  Yet they remain blissfully unaware of the fact that she’s kept hidden from them.

  The Elf that killed Davon is Triminiv, the Elf of Death herself, and if all goes according to plan, her arrival in Rome will be one fitting of her bloody reputation.

  Vanessa continues to discuss the upcoming union with Gelmida. She is sure to keep a watchful eye on Adamus’s bracers throughout the conversation, the beast shifts beneath them.

  Vanessa smiles.

  In the depths of space, Nadeden replaces a stone arrowhead with a metal one.

  Smith sits under one of Granix’s trees, chomping on an apple as they stare into the distance.

  “Will it work?”

  Nadeden rises and fires the arrow into the bark of the tree above Smith’s head.

  “Hey!” Granix cries out. “I told you that hurts!”

  “Sorry, Granix.” Nadeden yanks the metal out of the bark, gazing at Smith. “Your hands are still…”

  “I’m fine.” Smith sighs, chucking the apple core aside.

  Nadeden kneels down, placing the bow and arrow in her satchel before removing her bandana.

  Smith meets her scorched eye as she wraps the cloth around their scarred palm.

  She drapes a portion of her gray hair over her uncovered burn with a smile. “You need it more than me.”

  Smith makes a fist around the fabric as Nadeden leans over, wiping her hand on their mouth.

  “What are you-”

  “You make a mess when you eat.” She rubs the chunks of chewed apple from Smith’s cheek before standing.

  “Alright, genius. Since you know what’s best for me, what should I do about my other hand?” Smith raises their left hand, waving the scar in the air. Nadeden slaps it. “It’s healed. Other one hasn’t, and by the way, I’m not appreciating this snarky attitude of yours.”

  Smith slumps against the tree. Steam rises from the waterfall behind them. “Well, how do you want me to act?”

  It’s a good question.

  Everyone copes with grief in their own way. Nadeden should know.

  “I don’t know.” She huffs.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you?”

  “Very.” Smith rises from the tree and the stone.

  “You want to kill Gelmidas?”

  “You’ll take care of that.” Smith stretches, flexing their fingers across the bandana.

  “You know that it won’t change anything, right?” Smith meets Nadeden’s eyes again as she speaks. She looks like an entirely different person with her burn now exposed. The wrinkles of her skin contort around the wound, almost swirling out of it.

  Smith tends to forget just how old Nadeden is, but now that eye serves as a gruesome reminder of the woman’s age.

  “When you say that it won’t change anything, you mean that it won’t bring them back, right?”

  Nadeden gives a rather simple response. “Yes.”

  Smith places their hands on their hips. “I know that, Nadeden. I’m not stupid. I’m doing this for myself. For justice. The Rusting has affected everyone in the universe. This is retribution.”

  Nadeden shakes her head, “I can understand that, but-”

  “No one else has to die, Nadeden. Just him. Just Gelmidas. It’ll be easy. You already hate him enough, don’t you?”

  “I certainly do,” Granix speaks up, manifesting a rock formation with their face protruding from it in a menacing scowl.

  Nadeden takes Smith’s hands once more.

  Smith only now sees that the palm Nadeden had cut open to fuel the consciousness transfer machine has fully healed.

  “I do hate him.” She spits. “I hate him enough to kill him, but you shouldn’t, Smith.”

  Smith bats her hands away. “Maybe, you’re right, but I do hate the Rusting.”

  Smith places their hands at their side as they walk away. “And someone needs to pay for it.”