How?!

  That wasn’t possible! I knew for a fact who the Precursor before me was! Alveron had flat out told me the story of Zheng Wei, and how he had reformed…the Gyreite Church…

  Of whom Aurelius was the head of…

  But…but to be honest, Aurelius really didn’t look like a Chinese man. Had I…just made an assumption based on the name I had found in the Netherim database in Hollow Hill?

  No. No way was it that simple. Zheng Wei was described as being long dead. Aurelius had to be a different Precursor, but who? That name certainly hadn’t been on the list, so I had to assume ‘Aurelius’ was an assumed name. Something he had taken here on Vereden. I racked my brain for a moment, trying to remember all of the different names of past Precursors on that list, only to come up short. I’d seen that back before my mental abilities had been enhanced by Ringed Mind, and now I was cursing myself for fool for not doing something as simple as writing the damned thing down.

  Fuck, how was I supposed to know I would stumble upon another Precursor who had seemingly faked his own death?!

  I think it started with a Tem-no, a Ten? Ten-something K-something.

  Goddamnit.

  I couldn’t focus on this right now. Obviously, ‘Aurelius’ had business in Blutstein-

  (Which might just involve me. This shit always seemed to involve me.)

  But he was only tangential to the reason I was here in the first place. I had my own reasons for being here, things that were much more immediately important.

  Time to compartmentalize. Core Ring could ponder the implications of this.

  I shoved it to the side and focused back on the figure of Wenzel up on the stage, shaking Aurelius’s hand. The two of them were standing in perfect profile, allowing the entire audience to see their clasped hands. “Be welcome in the City of Spires, Your Eminence. By my authority as Regent Lord of Herztal, know that the Gyreite Church shall never find the hospitality of the House of Eisenherz lacking.”

  Aurelius dipped his head, and I heard the old man speak for the first time. “I thank you for your most generous welcome, Lord von Steinmark,” He said, his kindly, aged voice colored by a very faint accent. It…almost reminded me of the common Rorician one, but there was something ever so slightly different to it. “As always, I have found both the city of Blutstein and its people to be very kind and appreciative of both the efforts and teachings of Gyreism. If you’ll permit me, I would like to lead the gathering in a short prayer.”

  Wenzel bowed his head graciously, stepping back to allow the man center stage. “Of course, Primector.”

  With a short dip of his own head, Aurelius turned to face the quietly gathered ranks of the Ball and clasped his hands before him. “Please, join me in blessing his most joyous of occasions, my friends and brethren.”

  Everyone around me clasped their hands together in a copy of the Primector’s movements and dipped their heads. Some, I think, weren’t doing it so much out of reverence for the faith as they were doing it to be polite. I caught more than one eyeroll from the populace, but…they didn’t look like they wanted to rock the boat, so to speak. Even my own Captains were doing it. I did the same, bowing my head and clasping my hands together as Aurelious began to speak, a certain reverent tone suffusing it. "From the book of Gomohia, verse three, lines twenty-four to twenty-seven:

  In the turning of sorrow, let mercy be our guide.

  In the stillness of ash, let grace take root.

  For the first hands that shaped us still cradle us unseen,

  As the Gyre turns ever toward the light of truth.

  Amen.”

  “Amen,” I droned to the accompanying voices of hundreds of others. With that, Aurelious spared the Ball one last smile and stepped back to allow Wenzel to take the reins once more.

  “Primector Aurelious has generously decided to hear petitions from the gathered tonight. You may approach the stage, and his assistants will allow the faithful to speak to him in an orderly manner. This is a gift,” Wenzel said, a small note of warning in his voice. “And I very strongly urge you not to abuse it and waste his time. Now, normally, this is where I would formally announce the start of this Ball. However…I have one more announcement to make.”

  I drew in a quick breath, exchanging glances with my Captains as I did so. This had to be it.

  Wenzel stood up straighter, clasping his hands behind his back. “A short time ago, a group of concerned citizens noticed a certain…gap within the fabric of Herztalian society. The Martial Orders are one of the central, load-bearing pillars of our great nation. Without them, the ranks of those who aspire to the moniker of ‘Classer’ would be greatly diminished. Together with the trained Magi and Cultivators of the Academy, and the fearless patriots of our glorious Army, they stand as part of the bulwark against the ravening hordes of monsters that threaten not just Herztal, but Vereden as a whole. However, we recently lost one of our oldest institutions due to the capricious nature of its leader. The Order of Solstice’s Flame is gone from the shores of Herztal, never to return, and it is my belief we are better off without them.”

  That was certainly an opinion. Public sentiment about Shacklock’s Order was mixed, especially in the aftermath of the Construct War. Some were happy about their exile, while some really weren’t. Just like the Eclipsed Dawn, the Solstice Flame had been a deeply entrenched facet of not only Blutstinien life, but in Herztal as a whole. Many, many business contracts had gone up in smoke with their exit from the market, and it was pretty obvious that their absence had something to do with the economic woes that had been growing. Those who had been more inclined to the Loyalist cause likely weren’t appreciating the reminder of how they were gone. And as I discreetly took in the sentiment around me, I did see some sour faces.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “However, the Herztalian spirit remains unbowed,” Wenzel continued. “In the face of adversity, a certain group of citizens has taken it upon themselves to forge a new Order. Something purpose-built to confront the unique problems currently facing our people. Something…that a member of the royal family has chosen to become a founder of. Esteemed colleagues, I yield the floor…to Princess Isolde, of House Eisenherz.”

  There was an audible intake of breath among the crowd, then, as people began to understand this might be more important than they had thought. As I’d realized, a royally acknowledged Martial Order was a big deal, and now they were too.

  The hall was silent as Isolde stepped forward from her position near the back, Wenzel stepping back so she could take his place. As she did so, I couldn’t help but quickly glance over at Aurelious.

  The man had leaned forward in his sandstone chair and was now watching Isolde with keen interest in his ‘blind’ eyes. Somehow, he must have felt my regard, because I saw those milky orbs glance my way, meeting my own eyes. A slight smile crossed his lips then, and I could read a hint of approval in the gesture.

  Isolde stared out quietly into the crowd for a moment, gaze roving across the myriad upper strata of her people. “This…” She started slowly. “Was not my vision. It was not what I envisioned for myself, nor what I was trained for. With the loss of Alaric, the future of the royal lineage and Herztal itself was forever changed. Despite his misdeeds and my brother’s ultimate fate, once upon a time, our future looked to be bright under his leadership. That vision is lost to us. And so, my future changed as well. Oskar shall be High King before long, and it is the belief of not only myself, but the Regent Lord, that we wish to usher in his reign with a more stable Kingdom.”

  Mine and most of the audience’s gaze swung over to Oskar then, to find the young man standing straight-backed and proud. However, I don’t think it was a self-focused form of pride. Rather, it was evident in the smile and gaze he had fixed on the back of his sister.

  Good. I was worried, for a moment, that Wenzel and Isolde hadn’t read him in on our plans.

  “We differed on how we intended to do such a thing, before a third party approached us,” Isolde continued. “With a plan for a new kind of Martial Order. Something intended to right the internal wrongs plaguing our people. Something meant to provide a safe haven for those who have been burned by the turning of the tides. Something that, in his own words, was meant to help people, and not to fight them. Esteemed Lords and Ladies of Herztal…I give you the architect of this new Order. Sir Nathaniel Eugene Hart.”

  Murmurs broke out among the crowd then, and I only had a moment to gripe internally about hearing my full name spoken aloud. Gradually, heads and eyes that recognized me fell on my form, standing on the edge of the aisle that led up to the stage. I felt a feminine hand nudge me in the small of my back, and I knew the time had come.

  This was the moment I had been both looking forward to…and dreading, ever since we’d discussed how it would go. Not just because of the announcement of our Order. But…for other things.

  It was incredibly ironic that Aurelious was here to see this.

  I took a deep breath…

  And stepped forward into the aisle, to stand in it alone.

  Now, eyes were starting to fall on me, far more numerous than before. As I calmly approached the stage, the whispers started, but I paid them no mind. Besides.

  They’d have more to gossip about soon.

  The guards didn’t stop me as I climbed the steps, and before long, I stood at the side of Isolde. I felt a momentary quaver in my stomach as I stood there, staring out at more people than I had ever addressed before, before my will hardened.

  Showtime.

  “Greetings, noble Lords and Ladies of Blutstein. Of Herztal,” I started, a smile growing on my face. I swept out into a nearly theatrical bow, completely at odds with the serious atmosphere that Wenzel and Isolde had fostered. When I straightened up, I saw the reaction I had wanted. An almost kind of…familiar exasperation, something I hoped was reminding them even a little about who we were replacing. “I…am Nathniel Hart. As some of you may remember, I am he who slew the Calamity known as Rhazal, Father of Monstrosity, in the waning days of the Construct War. I did so while I was serving, at the time, as a member of the Eclipsed Dawn, as I was and am still the personal apprentice of Grand Marshall Greycton. That time in my life has passed, but I still possess a desire to serve the people of Herztal in my own way. However, I must confess…that is not all I am. It is time to let you all in on a little secret. Something that I, the royal house, and my mentor have all kept quiet on, at my request. But that time is coming to an end. If I am to better aid the downtrodden of this country, then that endeavor must be born from a place of truth. For some, it will be a mere curiosity. To others, of striking historical importance. You see, I am not from these lands. In truth, I am not from any lands upon the face of Vereden.”

  “I…am a Precursor, born of Old Terra.”

  I was gratified to hear a sharp, shocked inhalation behind me, coming from the direction of the thrones.

  For most in the audience, I could tell that they didn’t understand what that meant. On the faces of over ninety percent of them, I could see only confusion. But, the people who did know what that was…

  I was gratified to hear their gasps and read the shock that stole over them.

  My smile widened. “And I believe I can help you more than I have. There is a great deal I want to share with the people of Vereden, and I shall start here in Herztal. Beginning with this, the formation of our Order. The Order...of the Polaris Reach.”

  As I reached into my pocket and withdrew the small armband intended for Isolde, something odd happened. Something that nearly caused me to immediately jump straight into a combat-ready state. I think I would have, if I didn’t recognize the Aetherial signature inherent to who this belonged to.

  Gasps rang out across the audience, now properly amazed, as I turned in place to see something amazing.

  A massive, illusioned flag of hardened light, floating in midair and waving proudly in an invisible breeze. It was large enough to cast a shadow over the entire stage, here at the head of the hall. The construct looked to be nearly fifty feet long at the bare minimum. It bore the colors and markings of the Order of the Polaris Reach, looking as realistic as if it had been hand-stitched by a particularly skilled Tailor.

  I didn’t know it was possible for my smile to get any wider, but it did. Because there was only one illusionist that I knew, who had both the skill and care for me to cast such a Spell.

  I wonder, just where was she doing it from?

  I didn’t want to waste the perfectly good dramatic moment she had hand-delivered to me, though. I retrieved the armband from my pocket and affixed it to the right arm of a visibly surprised Isolde. When I was done, I grabbed her hand…

  And raised it along with my own, to jut sharply into the air.

  Thankfully, Wenzel wasn’t put off for long either. He stepped forward and spoke in a loud, commanding voice. “I give you…! Marshall Nathaniel Hart and Commander Isolde Eisenherz, of the Order of the Polaris Reach!”

  Applause stole over the hall, then, as the crowd overcame their shock at the sight of the flag. There were even more than a few cheers mixed in with the sound of it. I don’t know if the appreciation was for the commitment I was making to this country, or if they were just entertained by the drama of the moment.

  It didn’t matter, though.

  This was the moment where it all truly began. The word was out, now.

  No backing down.