Jacob follows Guinevere in silence to her house.
The “house” is one of the small Academy units near the outer wall. The doorframe forces him to duck. The ceiling is low and the corridor is narrow.
He notices it at once. It is a very small house. The whole place feels like student housing with a better table. There is a single bedroom on one side, a tiny kitchen corner on the other, and a shelf with a few worn books.
He wonders why it is so small if they are royalty.
But are they? Jacob thinks. She said that the title is a lie.
They enter and Guinevere moves to the kitchen corner to make some tea. Jacob steps aside so she can pass. His shoulder almost brushes the wall because the room is that tight.
He notices her hands. They are rough. The skin is thick and scarred. Her fingers have calluses.
Not very noble-like.
She fills a kettle with water and sets it on a simple mana plate and then turns toward Jacob.
“I do not understand,” Jacob says. “What do you even mean with Vyrrak not really being a king. Why would that be related to all that’s happening.”
Guinevere pours the hot water into cups and let the leaves darken the liquid before sighing.
“It was the only way for Vyrrak to escape his father’s tyranny,” Guinevere says.
She carries one cup to the small table and sets it down in front of Jacob. She takes the other for herself and sits opposite him.
Her eyes look tired.
“Let me explain,” she says. “Slowly. You need to know what is at stake.”
“Vyrrak’s father is a King of Kings,” Guinevere says. “He is so powerful it is hard for me to explain it in words. Despite being a Dragonkin, he has ruled dragons who ruled other dragons. His title sits above kings and below very few.”
Jacob frowns. “Would I have heard of him,” he asks.
Guinevere stays silent for a breath. Her gaze drifts to the small window. “There are names that do not travel in human tongues,” she says at last. “I had never heard of him myself before Vyrrak explained it to me.”
“He bound Vyrrak by a contract,” she continues. “Until the day Vyrrak made a kingdom for himself, he had to follow his father’s orders. He had to marry whoever his father named as the one who would keep his bloodline pure. He had no say in it.”
Jacob wraps his hands around the warm cup.
“Vyrrak found a workaround,” Guinevere says. “His grandfather helped him. He hated the way his son twisted oaths.”
She sets the cup down.
“They found a loophole in the contract,” she says. “The wording said that Vyrrak had to obey until he made a kingdom for himself. It did not say how big the kingdom had to be. It did not say what kind. So his grandfather helped him escape and found a small place far away. They raised a village into a kingdom on paper. That is how King Vyrrak was born.”
Guinevere leans back and folds her hands in her lap.
“Vyrrak and I met when he passed through our village,” she says. “There was a Quest posted. It was unimportant on paper. Low pay. No prestige. No one took it. We were both very young, but he was already incredibly strong. If it wasn’t for the Karmic debt of being born in a family so powerful, he’d probably have already be many Ranks higher, in fact.”
Jacob coughs.
I should be several Ranks higher, I guess.
A small smile touches her lips as she remembers. “Then this idiot shows up. A Royal Dragonkin. He came from afar. He often hunts for Quests no one takes. At least that is what he says. He claims it is an excuse to get away from his family.”
“But that it is not the whole truth. Vyrrak tells himself he takes those jobs to escape,” Guinevere says. “He says he just wants distance from his father. That is true.”
She looks at Jacob. “It is not the only reason. What he really wants is to help those no one helps. The forgotten villages. The bad contracts. The people who cannot even afford a cheap Champion. That is where no one can claim his…” She sighs. “That’s where no one can make him feel like he’s being puppeted again like his father meant to.”
Jacob lets that sink in. The “Dagger” identity makes more sense now. Vyrrak wants to be the hidden blade that appears where no one really expects much help.
Jacob frowns and takes a sip of tea. It tastes bitter and calming.
“Does his father really have the authority to marry him to Queen Syrraxia,” Jacob asks. “Even with this kingdom trick.”
Guinevere nods slowly. “Queen Syrraxia is an actual queen,” she says. “Her title does not come from paperwork. She rules a Dragonkin territory. She stands high in the Courts. I am just from a common family. My father is a blacksmith for Gold Rankers. He has good commissions. My family had good money, yet we are nothing to someone like Vyrrak’s family.”
She spreads her hands.
“In their eyes, I am a pleasant mistake at best. Syrraxia is the correct choice for Vyrrak’s bloodline.”
“I became an Adventurer,” Guinevere says. “I did not want to sit in a forge and wait for life to pass.”
She looks him in the eye. “I am at True Diamond Rank now.”
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Jacob almost chokes on his tea. He coughs once. “True Diamond,” he says. “You.”
A corner of her mouth lifts. “I am older than Vyrrak,” she says. “I had time. Do not let the pretty face fool you.”
She waves a hand. “I am not as good as an Academy graduate. I did not have access to structured courses and professors like that Vice Principal Caradoc. I took Missions to help people who needed it. That is how I met him the second time after he left my village. I was fighting a bandit nest that preyed on travellers. He was there because the Quest had a low reward and he assumed no one else would bother.”
“And then…”
“Then we fell in love and we married so that I would be under the protection of the clauses of the contract. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to have a relationship with my husband.”
“I see,” Jacob says and sets his empty tea cup down. “I need to talk to Vyrrak.”
Guinevere studies his face. “Are you going to help him,” she asks.
Jacob nods. “I would not be a Knight,” he says. He stops and corrects himself. “No. I would not be a man if I did not.”
The words feel heavy in his mouth and right.
He stands. “Where can I find him.”
Guinevere looks toward the window and the Academy towers beyond it. “He goes to the same place when he needs to think,” she says. “A terrace high on the west side. The one that is too windy for most students.”
She gives him rough directions.
* * *
Jacob sits on the railing of a terrace very high up on one of the Academy buildings.
The wind is strong up here. It tugs at his hair and his clothes.
He dangles one leg over the drop and listens to the wind.
Vyrrak appears from the shadows. He materializes out of nowhere as he drops his stealth Skill. His scales catch the faint light. His eyes glow a little in the dark.
“Did my wife send you,” Vyrrak asks. He does not sound surprised that Jacob found him. He just sounds resigned.
“Go tell her I need some time alone,” Vyrrak says. “I have to figure this out. When the old man Caradoc fails me, I will need my best form when I stand in front of Father’s tribunal.”
He looks up at the cloudy sky.
“No,” Jacob says. “I came here to help.”
Vyrrak turns his head and looks at him. The wind pushes a strand of hair across Jacob’s face. He does not bother to move it.
Vyrrak sighs. The sound is deep and tired. “There is no way you can help,” he says. “This is Dragonkin law. What do you think you can do, Jacob? No offense. This is… just above you.”
“Vyrrak,” Jacob says, “you are wrong.”
“Jacob,” Vyrrak says. “I’m not caving to old man Caradoc’s request. I do not want to pervert who I am. I always dreamed of being a Dagger. Not a Breaker. If I have to die for what I stand for, I will.”
“I am not saying you should not stand for it,” Jacob says. “I am saying that I can help.”
Vyrrak snorts. “How,” he asks. “You heard the terms. I have to master a Diamond level version of the Dance in three days. That is impossible. Even for me. Especially for me if I refuse to be a Breaker.”
He spreads his arms.
Jacob takes a long, deep breath. The cold air fills his lungs and clears his head.
“Do you know what the Grimoire Extraordinaire is,” Jacob asks.
Vyrrak snorts again. “Of course I do,” he says. “I have been studying Rainbow Skills under tutors since I was—”
He stops.
His eyes go wide. The wind seems to drop away for a second. His gaze runs over Jacob again.
“You,” Vyrrak says. His voice drops. “One of the greatest Skills. Why tell me? Why now?”
Jacob turns his head. He stops staring at the cloudy sky and he looks straight at Vyrrak.
“When I was in the tower with Nimirea,” Jacob says, “I understood why the Dark Champions think they can take us so easily.”
Vyrrak says nothing. He waits. The wind whistles around them and the Academy lights glow far below.
“They have a shared purpose,” Jacob says. “They do not hide anything from each other. At least that is what I understood from Nimirea.”
He looks back out over the Academy grounds.
“Nimirea has a Rainbow Skill that is vaguely similar to mine,” he says. “The Eye of the Prophet. She can use it to improve her own Skills. It is not comparable to the Grimoire. It is still terrifying. I suspect she did everything she could to help her companions. She fed them every advantage.”
He clenches his jaw.
“And me,” Jacob says. “What have I been doing?”
“Jacob,” Vyrrak says. He clears his throat. “I understand where you are going. You must consider something.”
He gestures at the dark campus.
“We were all strangers to each other,” he says. “We Champions. Up until a moment ago we were not even aware of each other’s existence. Furthermore, how many of us, including your own brother, are already tangled in politics or in their own agendas.” He raises his eyebrows. “Did you expect us to be as close as those who stand in the same cult and sign their will and mind away to a twisted Evil God? They live together. They probably pray together for the destruction of the world. They killed together. We met in a classroom.”
“Vyrrak,” Jacob says. “Do you want to help people. Do you want to be a Knight.”
He turns away from the Dragonkin and looks at the sky again. He lets the question sit there.
“Jacob, of course I do,” Vyrrak says. “But first—”
“There you go,” Jacob says. “I know you do. That’s all the shared purpose I need to do better than Nimirea—the Dark Champions won’t know what hit them once I’m done. I know, though, that you have issues with your father that come first. Until you resolve this, we cannot get anything done. As long as your mind is preoccupied with him and his contracts, being a Knight will always come second.”
“So?” Vyrrak frowns.
“If you understand what the Grimoire does,” Jacob says, “you must also understand that me seeing Vice Principal Caradoc performing the Dance of Dragons so wrongly means I have a perfect record of how to perform it well.”
He looks back at Vyrrak.
“That does not change the fact that I will not make a Breaker out of myself,” Vyrrak says. “Not for him. Not for Caradoc. Not for anyone.”
“I did not ask that of you,” Jacob says. “I am asking you to trust me.”
He runs a hand through his own hair.
“Vice Principal Caradoc is… complicated,” Jacob says. “I do not know if he did this on purpose. What matters is this. You can reverse the Dance of Dragons twice. It works like the runic notation trick he showed me in class.”
Vyrrak frowns. “What,” he says.
“I believe that Vice Principal Caradoc has found a way,” Jacob says. “To be precise, I know there is a way. I do not know if he invented it. Maybe Dragons did it long before him.”
He steps down from the railing and stands on solid stone.
“What are you saying?” Vyrrak is confused.
“The problem with the Dance of Dragons is simple,” Jacob says. “All those flames are completely incompatible with being a Dagger. You paint a target on yourself, right? You become this stupid living bonfire. That’s why you don’t want to use it.”
“Yeah,” Vyrrak says. He frowns harder. “Exactly.”
“Then what if I told you this,” Jacob says. “You reverse the pathways like in the runic notation. You fold the fire inward. You channel the Skill fully inside you instead of outside.”
He steps closer. The wind snaps his cloak around his ankles.
“If your heritage is that powerful, and if the Grimoire guides us, you could carry the Dance in your veins. There would be no external flames at all.”
Vyrrak stares at him.
“What happens when you channel it all inside,” he asks. His voice is wary now. “What happens to your veins and your muscles when you turn your whole body into a Dragon furnace? What kind of insane technique are you trying to create?”
Jacob just smiles back.
