Emyr Oona Kinnock strode down the Northwing Hallway of the Kinnock’s ducal palace alone.

He left his room just a couple of minutes ago, right after coming home from the Academy. A messenger crane from his mother had been waiting on his desk, fluttering its paper wings to keep itself barely an inch off the wood. Tapping the crane's head revealed its message: that his mother had summoned him and his elder brother, Kale, to meet with her in the Ward. In five minutes.

He’d splashed some water on his face and washed the dust off his hands before leaving his room. Five minutes. It was barely enough time to go across the palace and into the Ward. He could run, of course, but impropriety was heavily punished.

The palace halls were deceptively simple in ornamentation. Pink-veined marble slabs that were a uniform five paces to a side comprised the floor. The walls were clad in ironwood, aged and lacquered such that it was tougher than tempered steel, but carved delicately enough to be incredibly aesthetically pleasing.

Tapestries depicting flower fields, beasts on the hunt, and warriors fighting the Wyldlings lined the walls, alternating with large porcelain vases filled with flowers from the garden. The Season of Air filled the fields with bright red and orange colours as the leaves turned and fell, awaiting the touch of the cold Season of Water, or Ice as some preferred to call it.

The butlers and maids gave him a deep bow as he passed, their uniforms pressed perfectly. Emyr passed by them with no comment or even acknowledgement of their existence. He did take note of them, but more often than not, they faded so well into the background that it was as if the cleaning were done by unseen hands.

The left side of the hallway soon opened into the courtyard where the willow trees hung over a shallow brook. The babbling of the water was accompanied by the plonking sound of a wood ornament driven by the flows, and the melodic chiming of wind bells hanging by the beams. Sitting by the bench was a young girl barely out of her first decade. Her dark skin was smooth and silky while her blue eyes peered intently into a thick, leather-bound book. His sister, Alicia, didn’t notice Emyr--but then, she wouldn’t notice it raining until it soaked her dress if she were engrossed in a book. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her Shieldmaiden, one of the Dinias, watching over her.

His own Shieldmaiden, Isabelle, was still at the Academy, probably practising her martial skills. He didn’t mind her absence and, actually, found her a bit too cloying at times.

Nearly five minutes after he received the letter, he managed to make his way to the Ward with seconds to spare. The area was completely isolated from the rest of the palace, despite being at its heart. It was the place where the Kinnocks and their vassal family, the Dinias, practised.

It was a circular building nearly a hundred paces across, though the dome that served as its roof was barely three storeys high. Much of the Ward had actually been dug into the mountain and there were only two ways to enter it. Emyr made his way to the front door, where a couple of Koinos Colossi stood guard. The emblem of House Kinnock, twin greatswords crossed and pointing to the right, with a bolt of lightning between them, was etched on the Colossi’s chest plate.

The Koinos on the right turned its head to stare at him, orange glowing eyes sending a fierce, spine-tingling glare. After a moment, both Colossi tapped their chest plates with their right fists, sending out a drum-like boom. The door opened.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Emyr hastened inside. The antechamber was small compared to the rest of the building, merely the size of a marble slab. As soon as he entered, the front door closed and chains of runescript lit up for a blink of an eye. Emyr felt a familiar yet invasive feeling crawling against his skin. As soon as the runescript dimmed, the doors on the opposite side opened.

He followed the curving pathway, ignoring the stairs and ladders that led inside. Once he’d made a full circle, he went through a passage and into a large chamber lit brightly by a false sun on the roof.

The central chamber was set up like an arena with the floor covered with loose sand. Emyr’s eyes darted to the figures within. One was his elder brother, Kale, and the other he recognised as his mother.

Emyr was already taller than Kale by a single inch, though whenever they stood next to each other, he still felt dwarfed by him. On the other hand, his mother, Lucille Sybil Kinnock, was only an inch taller than Emyr but her aura of confidence made her seem nearly a dozen or more inches taller.

“Mother, Kale,” Emyr called out, but neither of them turned to look at him.

They faced each other in training gear, and with weapons, real weapons, drawn. Emyr sat on a stone bench a few paces away, and settled down to watch, though his hands trembled when he looked at Mother.

Kale stood with the sword raised high, near five paces away from the other. Mother held her greatsword with the point grounded but two other greatswords floated within an arm’s reach of her. The moment Emyr’s bottom landed on the bench, it seemed a signal was conveyed and his elder brother leapt forward with a deafening roar.

Crimson light gleamed around the edge of the long blade and it left an afterimage in its wake. Kale only took a single step and he was still four paces away. Logically, there was no way his edge would have reached Mother but of course, his Facet did its work. The crimson afterimage quivered and as soon as the swing was complete, with the tip of the blade a couple of inches from the sand, it flew forward, wind whistling as it cut through the air.

A pace from Mother, one of the floating greatswords darted forward and spun, while a pair of metal gauntlets materialized on the hilt. The blade met the Stormwind Cut and Kale’s weaker Animus shattered. The other greatsword darted forward, and piece by piece, a suit of armour materialized, starting with the gauntlets and ending with a plumed helm. The sand blasted away from where the sabatons kicked out and the Guardian slashed horizontally, aiming to bisect Kale.

His brother didn’t stay put. As soon as his Stormwind released, he kicked off to a side and attempted to close, though only to be met by the Guardian. With a grunt of effort, he forcefully stopped his forward momentum then ducked under the slash, tightening his body like a spring. As soon as the blade passed over him, he retaliated with another upwards diagonal cut.

The Guardian accepted the blow to its side but it was made of nought but materialised steel. The blow dented the breastplate and pushed it aside while Kale sought the opening created, trying to thread the needle through Mother’s defence network. But of course, there were two floating blades.

By the time Kale got past the first Guardian, the second had materialized and pincered him. From there on, he managed to fend off the attacks for a minute before a blade was pressed against his neck.

Emyr could hear Kale’s heavy breathing from where he sat. Mother hadn’t moved an inch, her brilliant blue eyes didn’t even track the other’s movements. Only when he lowered his greatsword and retracted his Animus as the Guardian blades flew back to her side.

“Credible progress.”

Mother swung the blade she held over her shoulder. As soon as the metal touched the fabric of her jacket, it adhered to it. The moment her hands left the hilt, the other two greatswords flew to her back and attached themselves to the first sword.

“Thank you, Mother.” Kale bowed his head. He performed the same movement, the metal adhering to the cloth on his back.

Both of them turned to Emyr. Mother pointed to the east gate. The three of them made their way there, Kale and Emyr following two paces behind her.

The room they entered was decorated lavishly. There was a table set for the three of them, with three butlers waiting to serve. Once they settled down and the afternoon tea served, the butlers left with a bow then closed the door behind them.

“How was your day?” Mother asked, nodding to Emyr. “You’re one of our few Sharom elites and I can’t guide you properly.”

Most of the Kinnock scions end up in Agaza, naturally. Their Heritage was almost a pure battle one. Emyr didn’t receive the Kinnock Heritage and he didn’t receive the Oona one, either. He got a throwback from an Ancestor, a Kinnock who lived about seven generations ago. His wasn’t one that was readily useful in a fight, or at least, not without a great deal of training. Kale was more than enough to hold down that fort anyway.

“Interesting,” Emyr replied. “Master Alfein has released an Animus meditation technique to increase Animus and ambient Chaos resonance. I’ve been trying it, but I haven’t gone beyond the basics yet. The class is mostly divided between our two factions with only two people on the fence.”

“Who?”

“Two of the girls, Anika Haru Finley, and Yuriko Mishala Davar.”

“I see, I suppose your suit hasn’t progressed?”

Emyr sighed. “None whatsoever.”

“I doubt you’d ever get her interested in you,” Kale chuckled while holding a cup of tea to his lips. “You’re just not…manly enough, I suppose...crude as the term is.”

“Yes, Miss Davar is an outlier in our class.” Emyr shook his head. “Her Animus manipulation skill is nothing short of incredible, even if taken from the surface level. What I could glimpse underneath is…well, I’ve never seen a Novice divide her control that many times.”

“How many?” Mother added a bit of cream to her tea and a cube of refined sugar.

“At least five.”

The teacup on its way to her lips froze just for a fraction of a second before it resumed as if nothing had happened. “You’re sure she’s still a Novice?”

“Master Alfein’s list hasn’t changed.”

“I see. Well, as a Mishala scion, I don’t find that surprising at all.”

“Is the Mishala Clan really that important?” Kale asked.

Emyr would have asked the same but since his brother beat him to it…

“Quite important, yes.” Mother placed her cup on the saucer and rested her chin on her palm. “Hmm, what does she look like?”

“Blue eyes, golden hair all the way to her hips. Beautiful.”

Emyr could plainly see the interest in his brother’s eyes. He was interested in her, too, but since she didn’t seem interested in him, or any boy in class as far as he could see, he was content to admire her from a distance. There was a strength and determination in Yuriko Davar’s Anima that reminded Emyr of Mother, physical beauty aside.

“You’re smitten.”

“No, not at all,” Kale said quickly, “merely attracted by her potential, both as a person and as a potential partner.”

“It doesn’t hurt that her looks match all of your tastes, doesn’t it, brother?” Emyr said frankly.

“And not yours?”

“Well, she’s...er, never mind,” Emyr stuttered. Fact of the matter was that she did hit all of his tastes, too, but he was pretty sure his tastes were the ones that changed. He wasn’t really into pale-skinned girls until three weeks ago.

“Interesting,” Mother said slowly. “It seems you’ve both found a potential match. That she’s a Mishala scion is a good thing, too. If we can form an alliance with that Clan then it would go a long way towards our plans for this plane.”

“Forgive me if I’m presumptuous, Mother, but Miss Davar has two older brothers, one already of age while the other coming close to it. Could we not form an alliance through them instead?” Kale asked.

Mother clicked her tongue.

“Brothers. That’s your answer right there. The Mishala Clan is matrilineal. They will not acknowledge an alliance through male children. Not to the extent that we need. So, you two have a task ahead of you. I’m sure one of you can woo her easily. Don’t let all those lessons go to waste.”

“Yes, Mother.” Both of them answered.

Emyr’s fingers tightened on his cup. The Kinnock House and the Esras House had long been in contention on who shall rule Rumiga and this was but one of the ways the Kinnocks could get ahead.

Thankfully, their goal was exceedingly pleasant to look at and quite fascinating, too. Emyr licked his lip and glanced at Kale, whose face showed nothing but confidence.

This was one time he wouldn’t let Kale get one over him.