On the arch of the curved stone bridge that connected the inner rings of the city to the floating castle at its center stood Empress Myrella Jurai-Targos. At her side, Yale, her youngest, gripped her hand and barely contained his glee as his father appeared. At the entrance of the bridge, where it met the city streets, the guards collided with the citizens, allowing only the awaited emperor and prince through. In the afternoon's sun, Rakur's golden armor shined and his long, red embroidered sash of the phoenix legion hung from his shoulder to his opposite hip. For a pyromancer, Rakur's size was extraordinary. Some gossipers believed that the Targos's supposed pure bloodline may have been sullied by a dalliance with terramancers. He was Ashborne, a son of Elista's coveted Ashborne Throne, now buried under the dark of the Shadowlands, but reborn here in spirit, on Arriach. Rakur slipped from his armored horse, walking towards his family. Keaton did the same, hanging back to hand the horses to the waiting stablemen. With a squeal of happiness, Yale broke free of his mother's embrace, running into his father's. The young prince was swept up by a single arm and swaddled in his father's chest, laying his head upon that golden pauldron.

"Father, you have returned! I have missed you!" Yale said.

"And I have missed you as well! I am glad to see at least you are pleased with my return." Rakur said, looking to Myrella's stare.

"Welcome home, Rakur. You are much earlier than expected." Myrella offered a bow, pulling the excited prince from his father's arms and setting him free to run about.

"Gratitude, Myrella. If it would so please you, I will leave and return when you feel suited for me to enter." Rakur answered, keeping his voice low and petting the top of Yale's head with his armored fingers whenever he got close. The emperor and empress continued on together across the bridge. Silently, Keaton followed, entering the castle and sighing with relief as he removed his helmet.

Hidden around the corner, Jonas listened. He had arrived only a few days prior. He used his return to lick his wounds over his loss of his seat on the Allegiant Council. While Myrella gave him a stern chastising, he truly feared Rakur's return and the reckoning to come. Upon hearing whispers of his arrival, Jonas slunk about the royal halls, waiting patiently just out of view. He wanted to hear Rakur's words and test his manner before standing before him fully. With his back pressed to the corner and his eyes peeking about the corner's edge, he listened closely as Rakur and the others came into view.

"Father. Please. They came to welcome us, did they not?" Keaton pleaded, taking a step between them to hand off his sword and helmet to his servants. Rakur did the same.

"And quite a welcome it is." Rakur looked to the arched doorway, finding absent of any others.

"Formal decorum would have compelled you to at least send a raven." Myrella argued.

"I have sent at least a hundred. All of which have gone unanswered." Rakur said, but suddenly, with a roar, he pointed towards a seemingly vacant corridor corner. "Don't you fucking move! Not an inch!"

"Father?" Keaton asked curiously, staring at where he stared.

"As if I couldn't smell your wafting perfume, uptight cleanliness, or arrogance, you little priss! You sneak around my corners like a cowering snake. Well, the phoenix has returned and its claws are ready to rend." Rakur warned, taking a few more steps closer to the corner.

"What is wrong with you?" Myrella accused.

"Your journeys have made you irritable, my Emperor." Jonas stepped free of his hidden corner, walking with his hands up in mocking surrender.

"You've made me irritable, Jonas. Can you possibly guess how?" Rakur stepped toward him, towering over the aeromancer royal.

"By being a true royal, perhaps. Not some lumbering, bloodthirsty battle axe." Jonas said, hiding his fear behind disdain.

"Comical, truly. No, dear brother-in-law. What I have returned for is a disruption. 'What disruption?' you may ask. Of course, let me tell you. As I ventured with my son to solidify our alliances with the other mancer kingdoms, I struggled to argue for unity and safety while these royal courts ask me why I would approve a slayer withdrawal in all their lands. I wondered that as well, seeing as the question that came up most of the time was not 'How may I serve the throne, my Emperor?' but 'Why have you endangered my people with such a foolish move?'"

"Rakur---" Jonas tried to answer, but Rakur stepped over his words.

"Why have I endangered my people with such a foolish move, Jonas?" Rakur stressed every word, punctuating each as he would a stab of a dagger into flesh.

"The Allegiant Council does not respect me--- so I played my card and showed them who was in charge." Jonas said, meeting his stare.

With a nod of disrespect, Rakur snatched Jonas from his feet, wrapping his jacket lapels in his armor gauntlets and lifting the preening royal from the ground. The jacket snagged about his arms and shoulders, bundling him up as Rakur's hands caught aflame, setting the material on fire.

"You do not have the right to order anything without my permission!" Rakur sneered in fury as the fire crept along Jonas's jacket.

"You put me on the council to put the techs and the slayers in line!" Jonas argued, eying the fire in panic.

"I put you on the council to be my eyes and ears! Not my mouth! I put you on the council to get you out of my sight and to stop your sniveling over your lost throne! This is my legacy now! You are nothing but a footnote in history." Rakur said, blazing further.

"You stole my rightful place!" Jonas claimed.

"I stole nothing. I saved this place from ruin and brought prosperity back to the City of Wind. And now, with a single move, you set to destroy all my good works. My actions kept the empire together. My goodwill kept the peace with the Allegiant Council, but with this act, you threaten our very lives. I do not fear the Allegiant, but I do fear angering the slumbering beast of the tech war machine! If we do not correct this, we will be fighting wars on every front. The Endless Night need not occur again, as we will wipe the world clean of our presence in the world war to come."

"Release me, bastard!" Jonas reached back for his sword, grasping the handle in threat, but Rakur laughed at the move.

"Go on! Pull the sword, aeromancer. What is the wind but a breath compared to fire as it is consumed!" Rakur mocked him.

"Jonas, stop!" Myrella pleaded.

Jonas rethought his attack, pulling his hand back in surrender. As he did, Rakur's fires soothed, leaving his gauntlets red with melting heat and releasing the arrogant royal. But before Jonas could pull back, Rakur pressed the inlay of his heated signet metal knuckle to the tender flesh of Jonas's neck, branding the ambassador as he flailed and screamed. The giant emperor smirked, only pulling back to leave the charred symbol of the Phoenix Throne upon that blistered skin. Jonas fell back, crying out in pain as he clutched his neck.

"What have you done?" Jonas cried out.

"I have set a task for you and a reminder. You will rise from my sight, turn towards the tech city of Guvayne, and start your journey back. Walk, run, skip, jump to their doorstep, then crawl, beg, grovel to be placed back at that table. You will never open your mouth again except to sing my praises and promote my will."

Jonas scrambled to his feet, holding his neck with one hand and gripping a fist at his side with the other. "I heard--- heard the task. What is the reminder you wish to impart?"

"The reminder is for you. Any time you think you can lead this kingdom better than me, pull down your collar and look upon my signet, and know this inch of flesh belongs to me. And if wronged once more, I will make sure every inch beyond it will meet the same fate upon a fiery pyre at the center of the city. Am I understood?" Rakur said.

"Yes, my Emperor." Jonas said, holding back the tears of pain before he rushed from the room.

Without missing a beat, Rakur switched from his rage to his patience, flickering his fire to nothing and moving to stand before a mirror to fix the fit of his armor. Myrella stood and seethed behind him.

"You dare attack my brother? He has allies himself, Rakur! Why make another enemy?" Myrella questioned.

"I have plenty of enemies, Myrella. What is another one? Besides, I showed him mercy."

"Branding him is mercy?" Myrella asked.

"In my younger years, I would have sent his head to the Allegiant Council as recompense for his actions. Mercy is allowing him to keep and carry it himself, delivering the apology. He is fortunate that I still see purpose in him."

Keaton knew to stand quietly in the wake of his father's rage. If he spoke or objected, Keaton would only find himself at the tip of the fire. No. He had learned over the course of three years that silence was best. His disagreements with his father's method of rule were noted but never addressed. He was only a second son. While still cruel, branding was a common thing for pyromancers. To them, this practice was considered leniency. But to Keaton, it was absolutely barbaric. If those branded sought to remove the mark through lightmancer healing, they would face unthinkable torture. Keaton had seen it by his father's own hand.

Keaton stood quietly, watching as Rakur turned to him to speak. "And you, my son, what would you have done in my stead?"

"I am only a second son, father. The question is not mine to answer." Keaton said, keeping his gaze straight like a good soldier.

"But what if it were? What would you have done?" Rakur stressed his question again.

"I would have done what you did. Of course, with less burning." Keaton answered.

Rakur laughed, turning to his son and gripping his shoulder proudly. "Good. You have been loyal these past years at my side. I don't know if I could have gotten through this without you."

"I only wish to serve your will, father. Even if it is only from a soldier's regiment line." Keaton said with a nod.

"Perhaps." Rakur said, looking back to Myrella. "And where is my other son, wife? Such a grand welcome that even my eldest could not be bothered to greet me?"

"He is indisposed. I have already sent a word for him." Myrella made an excuse for him.

"Don't bother. Keaton will make sure he attends tonight's dinner, won't you?"

"As you wish, father." Keaton bowed his head.

"I will be in my wing if I am needed. Good day, and see everyone tonight. I have an important announcement. Our world is expanding." Rakur dismissed himself as his squire, advisors, and servants rushed to follow. Myrella watched him leave without another word, vanishing farther into his distant wing on the other side of the castle. Although years had parted them for the good of the kingdom, personal difference and strife had already parted them before he had left. Myrella and Rakur were once in love, but it had dwindled over the passing years and soon, both only found comfort on opposite sides of the castle.

"I guess after three years, things shall stay the same." Keaton sighed.

"Did you think it would be any different?" Myrella questioned, tickling Yale's side and producing tiny laughter. The youngest was seemingly invulnerable to the fear that his monstrous father could produce. Yale rushed off to play with his attendees, leaving the empress and the middle prince to speak alone. Myrella then draped her arm with Keaton's, walking with him. "And you, my son, are you any different from your journey across several continents?"

"Fairly, few battles here and there, all parts are still accounted for." Keaton joked. "However, after some time, I felt I had only traded the solitude of a castle for the anonymity of a suit of armor."

"Keaton, you know the law of royals." Myrella reminded him.

"Yes, I know… Doesn't mean I have to agree with it." Keaton said with a sigh.

As a prince, they expected Keaton to study the Royal Law in great detail, a compendium of rules that dictated the forms of etiquette and proper procedures in every aspect of noble life. He memorized each to the letter, living by their code despite his internal objections.

"Yes, yes, you know the laws, so abide by them." Myrella said and then changed the subject. "So, any beautiful princesses come to court you?"

"Several. Father seemed to enjoy showcasing me for the young ladies. Apparently, my hand in marriage remains good currency to preserve alliances." Keaton said.

"But?" Myrella stopped, arching a brow at him.

"They are so privileged, snobby, superficial, spoiled, and---" Keaton went on. "I will spare you the entire list of adjectives."

"You are a royal, Keaton. Rules are our life. You will be married to one of your prospects, and this marriage will grant your family title, wealth, land, and a continued royal bloodline. It is your responsibility to marry." Myrella said, tugging him slightly.

"And if I refuse?" Keaton asked.

"Then you would disgrace your family. And the shame would destroy us." Myrella stated cheerily yet firmly.

"As always, mother, you are an utter delight." Keaton tightened his lips.

"I try, dear. You will forgive me. I took it upon myself to assign the perfect guard for you. I believe you know her." Myrella said, motioning to the praetorian to come forward.

"I do not want a personal guard. I can take care of myself." Keaton argued, but his voice softened as he recognized the praetorian before him.

"You would turn away an old friend?" Emlyn said with a smile, playfully saluting him.

"Emlyn, I--- no, of course. I just didn't know you had joined the praetorians. Last time we spoke, you said that you were looking into officer positions in the phoenix legion. Surely, they offered you one." Keaton said. Emlyn tried to answer, but Myrella spoke up quickly.

"I'm off. I left you in excellent hands, Keaton. Emlyn will take care of any needs you may have." Myrella said, touching the back of her arm as she walked away.

As she vanished, Keaton sighed, standing before Emlyn. He didn't know what to say, finding himself awkward in her presence. She was always more confident than him in both social settings and soldiery. He felt strange having command over her. Emlyn coughed softly, hiding her smile at his silence. Levi, his squire, patiently stood at his back, waiting for his command.

"Do you still need me, sire?" Levi asked, daring to step forward. "I could help you remove your armor before my dismissal."

"Oh, Levi, I could use some help." Keaton said.

"Unfortunately, the new rules state that the phoenix legion are prohibited within the royal wings. The castle and the royal family are within the protection of the praetorians. You are dismissed. I will handle the prince's needs from now on. Thank you." Emlyn said with assertiveness.

"Your highness?" Levi looked at Keaton with uncertainty.

"Levi, return to your family. You have been away as long as I have. Surely, your family's reunion won't be as distressing as mine. Stop by the barrack's quartermaster for your pay. I added a bonus for you and your children." Keaton said, squeezing his shoulder.

"Thank you, my Prince! You are too generous! Stop by and see the girls when you have a moment. They love your stories." Levi said, stopping himself from embracing his master. Instead, he lowered his head respectfully and turned back towards the foyer to leave.

"Still beloved by all I see. You can't help it, can you?" Emlyn said with a giggle.

"I believe in treating people with the utmost respect. Levi's family has been working with my family's bloodline for 11 generations. His ancestors walked these halls in service of this family and now, by some rule, they are prohibited. Why is that, Emlyn?" Keaton asked.

"Blame your brother. His praetorian guards, who are as depraved as him, started a brawl in the castle when the prince tried to force himself on members of the phoenix legion. The soldiers almost mutinied if not for your mother's intervention. Your brother then declared the removal of all phoenix legion personnel from castle grounds." Emlyn explained, walking with Keaton towards his wing.

"How are you handling the Jurai-Targos royalty? Has my brother--- has he been respectful of you?" Keaton asked with concern, drawing a small laugh from Emlyn.

"I am with your mother's personal guard. Most female praetorians are for good reason. Your brother commands his praetorians like a gang of thugs. I pity the servants that fall under their grasp. When the castle attendants heard of your return, believe me when I say a joyful cheer filled these halls." Emlyn said, smiling at him.

"And you? Did you cheer?" Keaton asked.

"I am here, am I not? Willing and able to attend to all your needs, my Prince." Emlyn said, adding a playful tone to her words.

"Emlyn, please don't." Keaton begged.

"Your mother was very insistent that you remain happy on your return. Besides, it's not entirely unheard of that your praetorian takes multiple positions: guardian, servant, and miscellaneous." Emlyn laughed, holding the door open for him.

"You hear yourself, right? That's not funny." Keaton said, unable to hold back his smile at her gentle play. He crossed the opening into the empty halls of his personal wing.

"Then why are you smiling?" Emlyn closed the entry doors behind him, following closely.

As they entered Keaton's private room, he noticed that not a single thing was out of place. It was exactly how he left it three years ago. On the bed, his dark navy suit was already picked for him. His boots were shined to mirrors, as well as the accessories of his royal standing, medals, broaches, and cufflinks. Every choice was already made for him.

"I always loved that color on you. It brings out your eyes." Emlyn said, placing aside her halberd.

"I'm sure my mother would agree with you." Keaton said, slipping his hand between the plates of his chest piece and pauldron to wrestle with the hidden leather strap beneath. Before he could protest, Emlyn slid her hands in place of his and undid the strap to release the armor from his shoulder. With little effort, she repeated this with each piece, latching them onto the wooden armor bust in the corner.

"She is a lovely woman." Emlyn said, placing the last silver armor piece on the bust. "After you graduated early, she came to the academy to visit me. Somehow, she knew about our short-lived romance: stolen kisses and embraces in the private dorm for a few semesters. Because of my lowborne status, all my officer promotions were denied. So, she came to me with an offer to become a praetorian for her and when you return, yours. How could I say no?"

"Easily, Emlyn." Keaton pulled the white undershirt from his body, throwing aside. "My mother, as much as I love her, offers nothing out of pure generosity. There is no charity in her acts, only ambition."

"I am no charity, Keaton. You know the praetorian positions are only offered to highborne nobles. I could not turn down such an opportunity. My salary is three times that of a phoenix legionnaire with no requirements to travel. All I need to do is satisfy any need you may have. Something I would do without the pay, if you only asked. Your mother only wishes for your happiness. Our ambitions align." Emlyn said, embracing him from behind to place her lips on his bare shoulder. Her hands traveled the firm musculature of his back, tracing the small scars along his pale skin. He pulled back from her, turning to meet her stare.

"Three years of ambassadorship, Emlyn. It will only be a matter of time before I am married to whoever offers the most to my father. My happiness is already forfeited, but yours is still salvageable. You would be happy being a shadow comfort to me? A mistress to be used and taken at my will in secret? I would see you in a better life. Don't chain yourself to me. I am already drowning. There is no need for both of us to slip beneath the waters of my family's ambitions."

Looking into her eyes, Keaton knew her answer. He had a power over her, but none more than her desires to be with him, even in this most disgraceful capacity. They had their moments together at the academy. Their hard training sessions sometimes went all night, ending with a few more cuts and bruises at their eagerness to best each other. Their friendly competition grew more aggressive, only budding into a heated romance between the two. He could not deny that he was still attracted to her as his hand cupped her cheek and grazed it lightly with his thumb. As she closed her eyes, Emlyn turned her head, kissing the roughness of his palm. He was tempted by her offer, but he could not do that to her. Keaton leaned down, wanting to kiss her, but then pressed his lips to her forehead. He released her with a sorrowful smile.

"Thank you for helping me with my armor. I can dress on my own, but I will call for you later. I promise." Keaton said, pulling away. Emlyn floated for a moment at his tenderness, only to feel his absence. Even in the smallest of kindnesses, Keaton's touch felt like a treasure. She could live off such things for the rest of her life if he wished it. She would not leave his side, even at the besmirchment of her being. With a small nod, she pulled back and reclaimed her halberd.

"As you wish, my Prince. I will never be far from you. I am yours to command." Emlyn lowered her head and placed her fist on her chest in salute. She turned sharply, leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

Keaton slowly dressed himself, standing before a tall mirror to adjust his jacket. Every moment of his life, public or private, he was expected to dress to his station and his manner of attire was under scrutiny by any who would wander the halls of Sartez Castle. His navy suit was custom tailored to fit every line of his body, although the fit was less than perfect since his absence, considering he had put on a bit of muscle during his years in the field. He sucked in his chest, fiddling the buttons until his added bulk stressed the material. He smoothed down the suit, heading to invite Marcus to dinner at his father's insistence.

Walking down the immaculate marble hallway, he moved towards the private luxurious room of his brother. As he stood before the large doors, Keaton could hear the soft giggling within. He knocked gently, but it went unheeded. Keaton knocked harder, with still no answer. Although he didn't wish to disturb his brother, he wanted to see him after so many years. Setting aside his manners, he pushed his way into the room.

"Marcus?" Keaton called out.

"Get out! Can't you see I am in the middle of princely business?" Marcus laughed, rolling about in a rumble of forms beneath the tossing sheets. The giggles became louder at Marcus's dismissal, but Keaton pressed.

"Should I come back in a minute?" Keaton asked.

"Probably less if I'm honest. Who--- Keaton? Is that you?" Marcus pulled down the blanket to reveal his sweat covered face, arching a brow.

"Brother." Keaton nodded. Marcus sprung up in bed nude, tossing aside the blankets. The maid gasped, scrambling for her clothing at the sight of the other prince.

"Keaton! You've returned home!" Marcus shouted, hugging him tightly. Keaton cringed at the total nakedness of his brother, but returned his embrace.

 "Brother, this is Juliet, my bathing attendant. The bath went long today, I'm afraid."

Already half way dressed, Juliet grasped at the remains of her clothes, but not before curtseying to Keaton before exiting.

"I haven't seen you in a year or two!" Marcus gripped Keaton's shoulders.

"Three, actually. And apparently, I'm seeing much more of you right now." Keaton cleared his throat, pulling back.

"Well, my daily baths have been getting more interesting. It is what I need to start each morning. I recommend it highly."

"Can I recommend some pants?" Keaton offered playfully. At his brother's insistence, Marcus gathered up his clothing and dressed quickly.

"So, you're home. That means father is back as well." Marcus grumbled, pulling on his pants and boots.

"He was quite upset that you were not there to greet him."

"I know you're just an aeromancer, brother, but pyromancers are supposed to be upset, grouchy, and over all enraged all the time. It's our defining characteristic." Marcus chuckled, waving away Keaton's worry.

"Grouchy? He branded Uncle Jonas for disobeying him. What do you think he will do to you for not showing?" Keaton said, unconsciously rubbing his own neck and remembering the markings on Jonas's.

"Ah, it's fine. I'm sure Jonas deserved it." Marcus shrugged, buttoning up his shirt before the large mirror.

"There is a dinner tonight. Please plan on attending." Keaton pleaded.

"I attend what I wish to attend. The crowned prince goes where he pleases." Marcus snorted.

"Father is in a mood. I feel as if our presence is required to keep the peace not only between mother and father but also between father and everyone else. A few nights of peace are all I ask for. Your presence at the dinner will go a long way to soothing his anger. I need you to do this for me."

"Do we like each other enough for me to do so?" Marcus asked coyly.

"We pretend to, mostly. Besides, father says he has an announcement." Keaton shrugged, returning his brother's playfulness.

"An announcement?" Marcus slipped on his jacket, fixing his collar as he examined himself. "I wonder what the old fire goat has to say."

"Perhaps he found a bevy of beautiful princesses for your choosing. I am sure each one of them comes with an ironclad alliance to solidify your future rule." Keaton joked.

"It's more likely he has found someone for you, brother. You have been at his side all these years, haven't you?" Marcus corrected.

"Maybe you're right. I didn't think it would this soon, to be honest. I know it's my responsibility, but---"

"But what? But you don't feel like being sold off like a slab of beef to some underage, spoiled princess for land and title?" Marcus said.

"That and maybe I would like to have a bit more in common with them. We are expected to be together forever. It would be nice if forever wasn't horrible." Keaton complained, shifting uncomfortably.

"Keaton, it is the responsibility as the second son to---well, I don't need to recite it, do I? You were always more diligent in your studies of royal law." Marcus styled his hair.

"I know it. I just don't agree with it." Keaton sighed.

"What do you want, Keaton? You want to be the crowned prince? You want the fame and the absolute power to follow?" Marcus questioned, holding out the temptation to see if his brother would bite. To his surprise, Keaton didn't.

"I want to be free of this royal life. I don't have your talents of gluttony. Such a life would be wasted on me."

"Well, it's hard to argue facts with you, brother. You know me very well." Marcus smirked, pouring a glass of fire brandy. "Wait? After three years, suddenly, you want nothing to do with royalty?"

"If it is imprisonment or freedom, I choose freedom." Keaton stated solemnly.

"Well, I will not argue with you, considering your decisions have absolutely no bearing on my ascendance. So do as you want, live free, live as a… whatever." Marcus cheered, finishing his glass in one gulp before setting it down.

"I'm glad I have your blessing." Keaton sighed.

"Blessing or not, I want to be there when you tell mother and father." Marcus wrapped his arm around Keaton's shoulders, leading him onward. "This should make for a very entertaining dinner."