Inside the chambers of the citadel, an elegant young girl stood gazing out a tall window. She wore a dress of deep royal blue, and her hair fell in a groomed cascade like spun silk. She carried herself with an innate charm, looking out over the very kingdom she had been entrusted to protect.
"Father... when are you coming back?" she whispered to the glass.
The young princess, Elara, was one of the youngest rulers in recent time across the Scattered Realms. She seemed reliable and reasonable for her age, but her lack of experience as a person of authority was a constant, quiet plague on her confidence. Her father, the King of Vex, had left to visit one of their distant territories on the continent of Osteria. She had been tasked with overseeing the kingdom in his absence.
A knock came at her door. The young princess looked away from the window, a flicker of hope brightening her face. She expected, and dearly wished for, a particular individual she always confided in.
"You may come in!" Her voice was gentle, a little squeaky, an earnest attempt at formality and authority that came out endearing instead.
The door opened.
It was a maid.
Elara's mood fell instantly. A visible sadness etched across her features, a sorrowful look of deep disappointment.
"Your Highness... is everything alright?" the maid asked softly.
The princess snapped back to focus, looking away. "Oh, it is nothing. You may carry on as you wish."
"Thank you, Your Highness," the maid said, and began detailing the day's minor schedule adjustments.
Elara didn't hear a word. Her thoughts were elsewhere, and she simply nodded along, agreeing to whatever was said.
With a sigh, she stepped back from the window and bumped into something solid. Two gentle hands steadied her by her shoulders.
"Be careful, Your Highness. You are the only ruler of this continent at the moment."
She flinched, then turned, one hand flying to her chest. Her expression melted into one of profound relief.
"Oh! Goodness... Frederick. I have informed you not to act this way. And I do not recall giving you my permission to enter, young knight."
Frederick allowed himself a soft laugh. He looked at her, at the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. She was his duty, his new oath, his everything.
She looked away, a little flustered. "Do you know that entering the private chambers of royalty without explicit permission, especially when you are not yet an officially sworn knight, carries an ill omen? Frederick, I suggest you hide before the guards..."
He laughed again, a warm, easy sound. "Oh no, that is not why I am here, Your Highness. I did not come on a whim." His tone softened. "I wanted to see if you were faring well. And... I have news regarding that young man we spoke of. Lucid."
She gave him a look then, more of a glare. "I must remind you that public opinion grows restless with each passing day. A solution must be seen through soon, or else, on my behalf and by Vex's royal decree, I will have to act."
"Such big words, my Highness," he said, his voice gentle as he looked at her. "You have... grown."
"Much have you," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips.
Frederick looked up at the ornate ceiling. "Is that so?"
"Yes. You are not like the man I found that day. They had abandoned you. You were kept as a death row prisoner, until I saw you." Her voice grew quiet, remembering. "You were kind, even when broken. In your last moments, you gave water to the horse that transported you in chains, using rainwater pooled in your hands. You carried yourself with compassion and kindness... even when death was close. I had never seen such a thing. You shielded the very guards who wished you death from the sun."
She stepped closer. "I ask you, of that place you called home... what must they have done to warrant such desertion? Even here, my father would not have allowed you to live. So I gave you freedom. A new place. A new title."
"And you became a protector. You could have done anything. Yet you chose to be a protector. A lawful resident. A guard. A proto-knight. Not just any knight... my knight but in official title." Her voice swelled with a mix of pride and affection. "If you graduate, I have a spot secured for you right next to my throne. When I become queen. You are the best mentor, despite your youth, and your talent is extraordinary. My, what pasts have you lived to be like this?"
Frederick looked away, the upper half of his face shadowed. "Oh. I see."
"Frederick... what was it? I got a little carried away. Forgive me," she said, suddenly formal again.
"A princess never apologizes to her subjects," he reminded her gently, a lesson from their past.
She flushed, reminded that even now, before her official ceremony, he still had things to teach her. "And I suggest you do not barge into a royal's room without their permission. For I trust you know the grave consequences such an act carries, correct?"
"Yes. Death," he said, and she laughed as if it were an old, dark joke, a true thing that once was, but was not the case now.
Frederick turned and opened the door to leave. "The Epsilon Mass Clearing is soon. The whole kingdom will come and cheer."
"It is held every two years, is it not?" she asked.
"I will triumph. And I will become a knight."
"My knight?" she asked, her tone hopeful.
"Yes," he said simply.
"Mmm." She looked away, a playful grin on her face. "My, how immature."
He started, taken aback.
"A knight swears an oath to his people and before he swears it to any single person," she stated, her voice clear and sure. "That is what it truly means to be one. See? I have grown in a lot of ways, Frederick. Thanks to you."
Frederick was momentarily speechless. He looked away, a complex emotion crossing his features, and moved to open the door fully.
Before he could step out, a small hand grabbed his wrist.
"Please... live," she whispered, all playfulness gone, replaced by raw, vulnerable sincerity.
"I will," he promised, his voice firm.
He closed the door gently behind him and stood in the grand hallway. He looked up at the vaulted ceilings of the mansion, and for a moment, tears traced quiet paths down his cheeks.
But he had to continue.
"Sir Frederick? What is it?" a young maid asked, noticing his pause.
He turned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with a familiar, playful gesture that made her blush. As he withdrew his hand, he plucked a clean napkin from behind her ear.
"Thanks for the napkin!" he said, his usual playful demeanor returning like a mask.
The maid giggled, and the sound echoed lightly. Other servants and butlers passing by smiled. He had found his home here. The feeling it gave him was as chilling in its responsibility as it was heartwarming in its acceptance.
Yet a single thought remained, echoing in the quiet of his mind as he walked away.
'Can I hold this oath? Can I carry their wishes? Can I bear her duty?'
***
Lucid stood before a massive board that took up most of one wall in the dusty Valerius house library. Papers were pinned and pasted across its surface, connected by a chaotic web of red thread that looped from one note to another, circling names, dates, and locations. He had one hand on his chin, deep in thought.
"Alright, I'll go over it again, Alice," he said, his voice flat and slightly irritated, as if he'd said this a million times already. "The mass clearing of the Epsilon Rift is in three days. Mary, Brian, and Garfield are joining us as a team."
"But how will you get the blueprint, Lucid?" Alice asked, her mental voice pressing. "You keep avoiding the specifics."
"If I told you you could leave an Epsilon Rift at any moment without being noticed, as long as you're an Enlightened, would you believe me?" he shot back.
"No! That's why I am asking you again!" she retorted, frustration clear in her tone. He smacked his own forehead lightly and sighed. He gestured with his hand, and a bright white mote of light appeared above his open palm. It grew, forming into several delicate, luminous links of chain that floated in the air—his Chain of Heart, the chain of envy manifested not for combat, but as a demonstration.
"I can control your fate essence pool more freely now," he stated. "I'm not an Enlightened, but if I pull on it just hard enough at the right moment, I can create a localized... exit. A short-term Rift-Seed."
"Like how you healed that Oni girl in the mountains," Alice said, understanding dawning.
"Yes."
"But... you almost died then. Were it not for my trait stabilizing you..."
"That was before. I know more now. Besides, it's what they did. My old comrades from Earth. We theorized about it. It's in the name: Epsilon Rift. Epsilon stands for an infinitesimally small, positive quantity. It's almost the weakest structured rift an Illuminated can safely enter and leave. And it's not a hostile rift, meaning Unfaithfuls don't naturally leave the rift."
"So there must be a trial inside," Alice followed his logic.
"Yes. A specific objective." Alice confirmed.
"What is it?"
Lucid pointed to a cluster of notes on the board referencing old academy texts. "It varies, but the common thread is insignificance. A trial of non-liability. A trial about nothing. It exists for no grand reason, yet exists for a small, trivial purpose. The objective is so minor, so mechanically simple, that the rift can be cleared at any moment by anyone with a basic understanding of the Rifts and control of fate essence"
"Oh," Alice said, her tone shifting. "Then you needn't worry, Lucid. If it's that simple..."
"Unless you are *only* Awakened, or worse, just a Latent," Lucid cut in. "If you don't have the instinctive spatial sense of an Enlightened, you'll just roam. You'll wander the non-space of the rift for what feels like days, running into pockets of Unfaithful placed there as obstacles, tiring yourself out before you ever stumble upon the trivial objective. That's why they go in groups and as Awakened, to minimize the risk of getting lost and to cover more conceptual ground faster. Safety in numbers and shared perception."
"I see. Then what is our move?"
"We leave."
"When the others are focused on their trial, we slip away. We use the Rift-Seed inside the rift, combined with a hard pull on your fate essenceas as we loom the threads of fate, to create a temporary exit point that leads not back to the staging grounds, but to a coordinate I can set." He tapped a note on the board that simply said 'Fenshore Manor - West Gallery'.
"We go to the Fenshore house *as we leave* the rift. We take the blueprint, and we get out before the rift collapse is registered."
"But what about..." Alice started, then her voice trailed off. She tried to form the words, as if a new and troubling thought had crossed her mind.
"About what?"
"No. Nothing," she said finally, her presence in his mind retreating slightly, subdued. "Yes. We leave."