The stark white marble of the Aethel Palace dissolved into a canvas of liquid gold.
Regius sat on a patch of grass, the warmth of a late afternoon sun pressing against his back. The lake nearby stretched out before him, a vast mirror of sapphire glass that captured the lazy drift of clouds and the soaring arc of distant birds. The water lapped gently against the pebble shore.
"Push, Kael! Use that boulder of a shoulder!"
The shout pulled Regius's gaze from the horizon. Ten feet away, beneath the sprawling canopy of a large tree, the squad had turned a flat stump into an arena.
Kael and Vera were locked in combat. Their right arms clasped together, elbows dug deep into the wood tabletop. Kael's face had turned a shade of crimson that rivaled a ripe tomato. Veins roped across his neck, pulsing with every beat of his heart. His bicep trembled, sweat coating his skin as he threw his entire arm against Vera's grip.
Vera sat opposite him on a log, looking entirely unbothered.
She held Kael's hand steady with the immovability of a wall. In her left hand, she held a crisp green apple. She took a loud, crunchy bite, chewing thoughtfully while Kael groaned in agony, his boots digging furrows into the dirt.
"You're using… your summon's strength," Kael wheezed, his voice strained through clenched teeth. "Cheater."
"Natural talent, old man," Vera mumbled around a mouthful of apple. "Olin, call it."
Olin stood by the stump, checking the holographic readout on his Sigil Link with the seriousness of a referee at an official sports game.
"You have maintained position for forty-five seconds, Kael," Olin said. "Statistically, your arm is reaching failure; you won't hold much longer. I have fifty credits on Vera pinning you in the next ten seconds."
"Bastard... bet against me," Kael grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he surged again, trying to move Vera's arm even a fraction of an inch.
Milo perched on a thick tree branch above them, legs swinging freely. He grinned, his eyes gleaming with the promise of mischief. He plucked a leaf and twirled it between his fingers.
"Fifty credits on Kael. I trust him. He's just warming up."
"You're going to lose those fifty credits, Milo," Vera swallowed. "And he's not warming up. Look at him trembling."
"I will have the credits when Kael wins!"
Milo snapped his fingers. A shadow beneath the stump rippled, detaching itself from the wood. A little shadow house cat materialized. It flowed over Vera's boot and batted its tail at her nose.
A feather-light touch.
"Achoo!"
Vera sneezed. The sudden, violent jerk of her body transferred instantly to her arm.
CRACK.
She slammed Kael's hand down with enough force to split the stump down the middle. Splinters jutted outward. Kael yelped, clutching his wrist as the stump cracked.
"Ow! Vera!"
"Bless you," Milo called from the tree, laughing so hard he nearly slipped from his perch.
"Milo!" Kael roared, tossing the apple core at him with lethal accuracy. The scout caught it mid-air. "You little pest! That's not within the rules! Rematch!"
"Winner by technical knockout!" Olin declared, scooping imaginary winnings into his pocket. "The house always wins."
Regius watched them, a soft laugh escaping his chest. The sound felt foreign, bubbling up from a place he usually kept locked tight. Here, stripped of his titles and his secrets, he felt light.
"Hey, Boss."
Milo dropped from the tree, landing silently in the grass. He walked over to where Regius sat by the water's edge. He frowned, his gaze dropping to Regius's hands.
Regius held his steel sword across his lap, methodically polishing the blade with a piece of oilcloth. The metal gleamed, flawless and deadly.
"Again?" Milo sighed, squatting down beside him. "We have one day off in three months, and you chose maintenance duty?"
"Rust sleeps for no one, Milo."
"Neither do you, apparently. Give me that."
Milo reached out and gently pried the oilcloth and the sword from Regius's hands. He took the sword, sheathed it with a sharp click, and put it out of reach behind him.
"You possess a terrifying talent for violence, Boss. Truly. But you are absolutely terrible at living leisurely."
"I am relaxing."
"You are scanning the hills to see if a sniper could hit us from the edge," Milo deadpanned. "I can practically hear the gears turning in your head."
Regius stopped and blinked. "Those are indeed good sniping spots."
Milo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He picked up a flat, smooth stone from the riverbank, weighing it in his palm.
"Here. Want to see something?"
Milo stood up and flicked his wrist. It was a casual, loose motion, devoid of tension. The stone flew, kissing the surface of the lake.
Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Plunk.
Four perfect hops before it sank beneath the surface.
"Your turn." Milo handed him a stone.
Regius took it. He stood up, brushing grass from his trousers. He stared at the water. Analyzed the surface tension, the angle of entry, and the rotational velocity needed to maximize the lift coefficient against the drag. He adjusted his stance, planting his feet for optimal torque.
SPLASH.
The stone hit the water with the force of a hammer strike, digging in immediately and vanishing with an ungraceful explosion of water.
Milo snorted. "You threw it like you're going to kill a monster. You just destroyed the lake, Regius."
"The angle was correct," Regius frowned, picking up another rock. "It must be the rock's fault."
"Yeah, yeah, we all said that once," Milo laughed, nudging his shoulder. "Stop thinking. Being logical won't help you. It's about the touch. You have to feel the water and the rock. Like this."
Milo threw another one.
Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip.
Seven hops. The ripples expanded outward in a perfect pattern.
"See? Easy."
Regius looked at the ripples. He picked up a third stone. Took a breath, letting the gears in his head quiet down. He pushed aside the thoughts filling his brain. He focused on the weight of the stone and the stillness of the water.
He threw it.
Skip. Skip. Plunk.
"Two!" Milo cheered, clapping. "Progress! By next year, you might even beat Tavus. He's up to five."
Regius smiled. It was a small, inconsequential victory. But standing there, with the sun warming his face and his friend beside him, it felt more significant than any duel he had ever won.
———
Night claimed the sky, wrapping the campsite in a blanket of stars. The glittering stars burned bright and clear above, watching over the small fire that crackled in the center of the clearing.
Fresh trout roasted on skewers, filling the air with the savory scent of charred fish and woodsmoke. The squad sat around the warmth, bellies full, boots off, basking in the glow.
Kael sat on a log, scraping a clump of dried mud off his heel with a stick. He flicked a chunk into the fire, where it hissed and turned to ash.
"I am still finding muck from that accursed swamp," Kael grumbled, inspecting his boot. "I swear, I will be finding green sludge in the joints of my armor for the next decade."
Vera let out a laugh, nearly choking on her drink. "Oh gods, the swamp."
"Don't," Regius groaned. "Please. Let's leave that memory in the ground."
"We absolutely must relive that," Milo grinned, leaning forward into the firelight. His face lit up with the storyteller's spark. "It is a classic. The 'Sovereign Grade' prodigy versus the infamous Swamp Monster."
"It was a mud pit…" Regius muttered through his fingers.
"So there we were," Milo began, adopting a dramatic, hushed voice, using his hands to paint the scene in the air. "Tracking a swamp monster. Nasty business. The ground is basically soup. Kael is wading through, miserable. Vera is sinking up to her knees. And then there is Regius."
"He refused to get dirty," Olin chimed in. "And hopped from root to root like a noble playing a game of 'floor is lava.'"
"I maintained tactical elevation," Regius protested, though he felt his ears burning.
"So," Milo continued, ignoring the interruption, "Boss spots the monster. He goes for this heroic, flying leap to cut it off. Beautiful form. Textbook execution. Except..."
"The root was rotten," Kael said.
"Snap!" Milo clapped his hands together. "Regius goes down. But he plunged straight into the deepest, foulest sinkhole in the entire area.
"I tried to get out," Regius defended.
"Flailing around like those ancient inflatable tube men!" Vera laughed, slapping her knee.
"You tried to use a gravity spell to push yourself up, but you just pushed yourself down harder! Ended up like a carrot!"
"And the sound!" Milo wiped a tear from his eye. "When Vera grabbed his collar and yanked him out? It sounded like a..."
"SCHLOOP," the squad chorused in unison.
"A loud, wet suction cup," Milo finished, wheezing. "And out pops the Heir of House Aethel. Covered head to toe in mud and grime, looking like a swamp goblin. You even had a little frog sitting on your shoulder."
Regius lowered his hands. He looked at them. They were laughing at him, but the sound lacked malice. It carried a deep, familial affection that warmed him more than the fire. He remembered the shame he felt in that moment, the fear that they would lose respect for him, that his mask of competence had slipped too far.
But they hadn't cared. Vera had wiped the muck off his face. Kael had checked him for leeches. Milo had named him the "Frog Prince."
Regius felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
"The frog," Regius admitted, shaking his head. "That was the indignity that broke me. It refused to leave."
"It liked you!" Milo grinned. "See? Even nature knows you're a princess."
The laughter slowly died down, leaving a comfortable silence that felt heavy with contentment.
"To the Iron Swords," Kael raised his alcohol. "May our boots dry out, and may our blades never rust."
"To the Iron Swords," they answered, raising their mugs.
Regius looked at them. He looked at everyone's smiling faces, illuminated by the dancing flames. They looked happy.
Wake up, my liege.
Regius froze. The campsite dissolved into smoke. The trees twisted and hardened into the walls of a house. The stars turned into floating embers.
Perimeter breached.
Regius gasped, his eyes snapping open.
The golden hour was gone. He lay in the dark guest room. And the house was under siege.