“So?” Ezenti said.

It took a moment for Ian to collect his expression and remember where he was.

“That was incredibly vivid,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I have to say I’ve been repeatedly impressed with your skills, Ezenti. You aren’t a ninety-ninth percentile practitioner for nought.”

“Yes, well, my Remorse abilities aren’t exactly as flashy or offensively inclined as yours, decemancer, but I make do.”

Ian’s brow twitched. Not offensively inclined, he says? When he can incapacitate my mind from a distance?

“But you haven’t told me what you think,” Ezenti said, sipping his tea.

Ian shook his head. “I thought you disliked Euryphel,” he said softly. “Though in your vision...you worried for him, like you knew him.”

Ezenti laughed harshly. “Of course I worried for him. He was the son of my good friend, a man I deeply respected.”

“You were friends with Huron?” Ian asked.

Ezenti frowned and set down his tea cup. “Huron came into the Prime of Fives three decades ago, succeeding his father, Jur’imen. It was unexpected that the position of Crowned Prime would fall to Jur’imen’s son; we honestly expected someone else to claim it. And yet, Huron won the position fairly. Ultimately...” Ezenti sighed. “Huron was gifted, born to rule, better in every way than his father. He managed the impossible task of brokering peace with Selejo and pacifying our southern neighbors.

“He shouldn’t have died to O’osta’s ambition, not in the way he did, not when he did. The man was still young, only in his mid-fifties. We all had faith that he’d lead the Union into an era of splendor.”

“And then he died,” Ian voiced.

“Yes, and then he died. How could we not worry for his foolish son, challenging O’osta after only a few months? Last anyone knew, neither of the boy’s affinities had exceeded 90%. He had absolutely no chance.” Ezenti shook his head. “And then you saw how things proceeded, how Euryphel achieved the impossible.”

Ian inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“Euryphel is a prodigious talent, there’s no doubt about that,” Ezenti spat. “But he was too young when he became the Crowned Prime, too inexperienced. We all wanted him to step down, but he refused.”

“Of course he did,” Ian muttered under his breath.

“Yes, well, he’s stuck around for the past...oh, it must be eleven years, now. Yes, we had the tenth anniversary celebration last June...”

Ian cleared his throat. “Ezenti, I was under the impression that Euryphel was a capable ruler.”

Ezenti paused, stopping his tangent and meeting Ian’s gaze. “Sure, he’s a good ruler. But he’s wasting away here, we can all see it. He’s never been happy like he was back before his parents died.”

“How did his mother die?” Ian asked.

Ezenti waved his hand dismissively. “You can find out for yourself; it’s not secret.”

For the next minute or so, they ate their sandwiches in silence.

“Why did you show me the duel, Ezenti?” Ian asked.

“So you can see Euryphel as he could be,” the man replied, chewing. “Not as he’s become.”

“It sounds like you’re asking me to do something,” Ian murmured. “But I’m not sure exactly what it is.”

“Skai’aren,” Ezenti intoned. “Euryphel won’t step down as Crowned Prime. He’s too stubborn, feels too much pressure to carry on his father’s legacy of peace. So, for his own good, I have a request to ask of you.” He took a sip of now-cold tea, scowling before placing the cup back down. “Thrash Selejo until the Eldemari is no more, her ashes scattered to the wind. When we conquer Selejo, there will be no more burdensome peace, only dominance.”

Ian’s mind suddenly fell into chaos. He blinked, then replied, “You speak as though you want this thrashing to happen before I ascend, Ezenti.” In other words, within the next few months.

The prime nodded. “It’s the ideal time: Selejo and its allies would be caught by surprise, and they’d be cornered both by the external threat we pose...as well as the threat of an incoming descendant.”

“You really want to attack Selejo first, break the peace?” Not only was Selejo larger and more populous, but it had alliances with the SPUs neighbors. If Selejo decided to attack, the SPU would likely be doomed, even with Ian’s support.

If even I know this, Ian thought, then Ezenti should be aware several times over.

“The peace is already on a timer. As soon as the Eldemari learns that you commenced your ascension in Pardin, she’ll do absolutely anything in her power to kill you. And now that you’re allied to Euryphel, it’s all the excuse she needs to strike.”

“There must be another way,” Ian murmured. He refused to believe that the only sure-fire solution to the problem of Pardin ended in his death.

“There is only one way to save Pardin, you ignorant...” Ezenti snarled, then shook his head. “Euryphel must have told you what happens when a descendant comes, hmm?”

Ian was incensed by Ezenti’s judgmental attitude. Did it give the man pleasure to treat him like an idiot? “He said that a descendant will come like a flaming comet, likely leveling the city. I understand that. But from my perspective, it seems like the Eldemari could just evacuate the city and the surrounding region. The damage to the city itself might be catastrophic, but she could claim payment from me. It’s my fault, after all; moreover, she would have an indebted ascendant to call on.”

Ezenti shook his head, his expression solemn. “It seems you’re treating this a bit more seriously than I originally thought, though to be honest, that’s not saying much.”

Ian felt the urge to walk out of the room then, but controlled himself.

Ezenti continued: “What you proposed...it’s not how things work. The Eldemari isn’t one for half-measures. She’d sooner prefer to wipe out the SPU and kill you rather than evacuate Pardin. Actually, she’d probably prefer to take Euryphel as her consort, giving her the legitimacy to claim the nation as her own, and then kill you.”

Ian swallowed a gulp of cold tea. “That sounds absurd, Ezenti; I refuse to believe that the Eldemari is really so unreasonable.”

“You’ve never met her.”

“Do you really think striking Selejo preemptively is the only way?”

Ezenti sighed, seeming to give the question genuine consideration. “At the very least, taking out the Eldemari is a good start.”

Ian didn’t want to entertain the idea of assassinating a foreign leader. He was even less enthused with the idea of “thrashing” Selejo: in an all-out war or conquest, regulars would ultimately pay the steepest price in blood.

Ian honestly felt confused by Ezenti’s words: Did he really believe that the best thing for the Crowned Prime and the SPU was destroying Selejo? If anything, it sounded like Ezenti was trying to remove Euryphel from power, using Ian as his unassuming tool. Ian stared at the man, reconsidering what he’d experienced in his vision of the duel between Euryphel and O’osta.

If he assumed that Ezenti had unsavory motives, he could interpret the vision from a different angle. Ezenti was a peak Remorse practitioner: Modifying the emotions he felt in his own memory should be well within his capabilities. Thus, showing Ian a modified vision, one in which Ezenti expressed paternal concern for the prince, would be a potential strategy to endear Ian to his side.

Ian recognized the cunning in such a strategy: trying to convince him to do what was best for the first prince, even if the prince didn’t realize it himself.

“Ezenti...” Ian sighed, trailing off. “I can’t agree with what you’re saying. There should be another way.” Shaking his head slowly, Ian folded his napkin, bowed his head, and stood, moving to excuse himself.

“I know you have little reason to trust my words, after how I’ve treated you,” Ezenti muttered just as Ian reached the room’s threshold. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m irritable, nasty, difficult to handle. But one thing I’m not is dishonest.”

Ian gave him one last piercing look before leaving.

Those could be the words of an honest man, or an excellent liar.

—

Later that evening, over dinner, Ian brought up his meeting with Ezenti.

“He seemed to think that the Eldemari would absolutely refuse a peaceful option,” Ian ranted. “That she’d never consider just evacuating Pardin and one day reaping the debt that I would sow.”

“You know, you’re quite animated when you’re angry,” Euryphel observed.

Ian shot him a disapproving look before continuing. “Besides, it’s all the Eldemari’s fault anyway, funding the Infinity Loop. What did she expect to happen if she went about researching how to awaken an army of latent practitioners?”

Euryphel covered a budding smile with his sleeve, his eyes creasing with mirth. “In her defense, she certainly wouldn’t have anticipated you.”

“Well maybe she should have!” Ian growled. “I’d believe someone like me wasn’t meant to awaken at all. And yet, her Infinity Loop project went and awakened a sleeping beast. Y’jeni, Eury.”

Euryphel’s expression suddenly grew stern. “Stop being absurd,” he replied. “It’s not her Infinity Loop project; she’s just given the experiment a bit of funding, to see if its hypotheses about the nature of awakening affinities possess any merit.” He paused, frowning.

“But in response to what you first said, about the Eldemari not evacuating Pardin,” Euryphel began again, taking in a deep breath, “it’s not as easy as you make it sound. It’s possible she’d need to evacuate all of Pardinia. Can you imagine the logistical nightmare of relocating over a fifth of Selejo’s populace, providing them food, shelter, facilities? Can you comprehend the economic impact of destroying Pardin, Selejo’s capital of commerce?” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Well...”

“Would you ever be able to pay back such a debt?” the prince asked, fiddling with a lock of hair. “Likely trillions of auris in combined damages and economic slowdown, at a bare minimum. Not to mention the crippling of Selejo’s defenses along the Bay of Ramsay, which would be a small disaster in its own right.”

Ian crossed his arms. “Seems pretty hopeless.”

“You seem to be seriously considering the possibility that you’re going to ascend,” Euryphel said, giving Ian an appraising look.

How could I not consider it? Ian thought. “You said that there’s only a chance, that it’s not a sure thing, but that isn’t how you and the other primes have been acting.” Ian sighed and turned away, looking out the window of Euryphel’s parlor. “I suppose it’s useless denying that I’m significantly more powerful than any one member of the princes or Guard,” Ian muttered. “Even when including a ninety-nine percenter like Ezenti.”

While Ian spoke, Euryphel fetched two glasses and a tall handle of liquor with an ostentatious “SELEJO” import label. After pouring out an approximation of a shot, he walked over and handed a glass to Ian.

“Cheers,” Euryphel said, clinking his glass. “If nothing else, we can celebrate the return of Selejan liquor.”

Ian sniffed, then tilted the glass back to take a sip. “Whiskey?” he asked, licking his lips.

Euryphel nodded, sitting back down in a parlor chair. “It’s an undeniable fact that Locuda province has the best whiskey in the West.”

Humming, Ian leaned back and let his head fall limply over the chair’s crown. “Prince, isn’t there anything you need me to do?”

The prince’s eyebrows rose, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Haven’t you been looking into uses for that large soul gem you made?”

Ian nodded.

“Well, that’s something,” Euryphel said. “If you can develop something similar to the glosSword, that would be of huge benefit.”

Ian opened his mouth, then looked up, as though mulling over his words. “You can’t really believe that this is the best use for my talents, right?”

Euryphel’s brow twitched. “Obviously,” he muttered after taking a sip of the whiskey. “Ian, to be fair, you’re a bit difficult to deal with.”

“How so?”

The prince sighed and shifted his position, pulling his legs up onto the chair. “You don’t want to do what I need you to do,” he stated. “You don’t want to go into Brin, or Godora. You don’t want to assassinate enemy spies or scouts. To be frank, you’re quite unwilling to engage in any action against our soon-to-be-hostile neighbors. It’s put me in a difficult position.”

“You never–” Ian was about to say “asked,” but stopped himself. Knowing Euryphel, he’s probably asked me numerous times in countless different ways.

“You really need me to do those kinds of things?” Ian asked quietly, looking down at the patterned rug.

Euryphel was silent for a few seconds. “When war eventually makes its way to Zukal’iss, I have faith you’ll join me to fight. The problem is that acting defensively is acting too late.”

“Is conflict inevitable?” Ian asked, finally meeting Euryphel’s eyes. Ezenti had said as much, but he wanted to hear it from Euryphel himself.

“Yes.”

“And you believe that acting first will minimize harm?”

“It’s the best way to preserve ourselves; it’s also the only option that might force the Eldemari to capitulate,” the prince replied. “If she leads the offensive with the other Ho’ostarian nations at her side, she will have all the momentum she needs to wipe us out.”

“So in a sense, you want me to stop the war before it begins. With decisive violence.”

Euryphel cocked his head. “In a sense.” The prince stood and walked over, collecting Ian’s finished glass and returning it to the empty kitchen.

“Is there any way to be sure that I will ascend?”

“Not that I know of.”

Ian nodded, then stood up and stretched. “And the longer I wait to be more sure, the less time we’ll have to act.”

“And the longer she’ll have to come to the same conclusion as us,” Euryphel stated coolly. “The Eldemari’s End affinity is more potent than mine: Don’t underestimate her ability to interpret the web of destiny.”

The prince walked over to the door, opening it to reveal Ian’s room. “Give it some thought.”

“Sleep well,” Ian replied, voice tired. When the door closed behind him, he drifted to the bed and collapsed.

I didn’t become a practitioner to win wars, he thought. I didn’t become a practitioner to turn the political landscape of the West on its head.

“Too bad you can’t always get what you want,” he whispered, closing his eyes.